Rio sat on the ground, shoulders drawn inward, arms locked tightly around Oathkeeper.
Not because the small Soul Dragon was fragile.
But because he was.
His grip was too tight—fingers digging into soft scales, knuckles pale with strain. His hands shook no matter how much he willed them not to. Holding Oathkeeper was the only thing keeping him together, the only proof that something in this world still responded when he reached for it.
Behind him, his tail twitched and curled, betraying every thought he tried to suppress. Every sound made his ears flick—too sharp, too fast—drawing attention he desperately didn't want.
He felt exposed.
Stripped.
Wrong.
Slowly, reluctantly, he looked up.
Filip was already watching him.
Rio hated that.
He hated that Filip could see him like this—small, shaking, clinging to comfort like a frightened child. He wanted to speak. To explain. To joke it away.
He couldn't.
His throat was tight. His chest burned.
The look in his eyes said everything he refused to voice.
Don't look at me like this.Don't pity me.Please… don't leave.
Filip understood anyway.
He moved closer and crouched down, careful, controlled—like approaching a wounded animal that might bolt if startled.
"Hey," he said quietly. "I'm here."
Not loud. Not dramatic.
Certain.
"I'm not going anywhere."
Filip gently shifted Oathkeeper into one arm and extended his free hand.
Rio stared at it.
His pride screamed at him not to take it.
His body ignored that entirely.
He grabbed Filip's hand with humiliating urgency—too hard, too fast. Fingers locking around it like a lifeline, like letting go meant disappearing entirely.
Filip didn't comment.
He simply tightened his grip and helped him up.
For half a heartbeat, Rio thought—maybe.
Maybe he could stand.
Maybe it wouldn't be that bad.
Then his feet touched the ground.
And his body betrayed him completely.
His balance snapped backward, tail throwing off his center of gravity like an anchor he didn't know how to control. His legs reacted too late, muscles misfiring, ears flattening in panic as the world tilted away from him.
"Woah—!"
Filip caught him instantly, pulling him forward before he could fall.
Too close.
Too personal.
Rio froze against him, mortification flooding his face so fast it made his head spin. His ears drooped low, burning hot. His tail curled tight around his leg, trying—pathetically—to make itself smaller.
He hated this.
Hated how helpless he felt.
Hated how obvious it was.
"I—" His voice came out weak. "This is… humiliating."
Filip didn't laugh.
Didn't tease.
Didn't even smile.
"You didn't fall," he said calmly. "That's progress."
Rio clenched his jaw.
That wasn't comfort.
That was mercy.
And somehow, that was worse.
Filip studied him—not critically, not judgmentally—but with quiet focus. Relief flickered briefly across his face.
Rio was embarrassed.
But he wasn't breaking.
That mattered.
Inside Filip's mind, the god's warning echoed again.
A hostile world.Constant danger.No forgiveness.
They couldn't afford this weakness—not for long.
"We'll take it slow," Filip said. "But we need to move. And we need equipment."
Reality didn't care about pride.
They started walking.
If it could even be called that.
Rio's steps were stiff and uneven, each movement overthought and undercontrolled. His tail refused to cooperate, swaying with emotion instead of balance. Every unfamiliar sound pulled his attention sideways, ears twitching without permission.
He felt ridiculous.
Like a puppet with tangled strings.
Filip matched his pace without hesitation, adjusting naturally, as if this—supporting him—was the most normal thing in the world.
After a while, Rio straightened a little.
"I think… I can do this," he muttered.
He let go of Filip's hand.
For exactly two seconds—
He stood.
Then his body tipped backward again.
Filip caught him immediately.
No hesitation. No surprise.
Just arms around him before he even realized he was falling.
Rio groaned softly, face burning. "…I almost had it."
"You did," Filip replied. "That's longer than before."
Rio exhaled shakily. "…I hate this."
"I know."
As they reached the statue near the temple, the conversation died.
The figure towered above them—an archer frozen mid-draw, posture flawless, expression carved with absolute certainty.
And the body—
Pointed ears.Long, elegant tail.
The same as theirs.
Rio swallowed hard.
"So…" he said quietly. "…this was planned."
Filip nodded. "Yeah."
At the base of the statue, the equipment waited.
Filip knelt first, examining his pile carefully.
The backpack was clearly designed for their new bodies—white fabric reinforced with blue seams, shaped to rest comfortably even with a tail. The straps adjusted naturally, fitting against his jacket like part of the same set.
The dragon mark was stitched into the back.
Oathkeeper's symbol.
The sword followed—white-and-blue blade, perfectly balanced, the emblem etched near the hilt. When Filip held it, the weapon felt… cooperative. Willing.
Rio watched silently as Filip moved through his equipment with growing confidence.
Then he turned to his own pile.
The bow.
White limbs traced with blue lines, the dragon emblem carved deep into the grip. It looked beautiful.
It also looked intimidating.
He picked it up carefully and knelt, mimicking the statue's stance. Nocked an arrow. Drew—
—and failed.
The string barely moved.
His shoulders trembled. His teeth clenched.
He released it slowly, shame flooding his chest.
"…Of course," he muttered. "Of course I can't."
Filip didn't comment.
That somehow made it worse.
The rest of the gear followed—backpack, book, flask, arrows.
All marked.
All deliberate.
"They expect us to survive," Rio said quietly.
"Then we will," Filip replied.
They packed everything in silence.
Finally, they stood—well, Filip stood. Rio leaned heavily against him.
"…Plan?" Filip asked.
Rio looked toward the pyramid.
"We rest," he said. "Read. Recover."
He hesitated—then grabbed Filip's arm again, grip tight and unashamed this time.
"…Let's go."
Filip lifted Oathkeeper, adjusted his stance to support Rio, and together they moved forward.
Rio hated how much he needed the help.
But more than that—
He was afraid of what would happen if he didn't accept it.
And for now…
Surviving mattered more than pride.