Rebirth Of The Forsaken

The sun had dipped below the horizon, casting the forest in hues of twilight. The sounds of their boots crunching against the dirt trail were the only company Yohan and Elara had for a time. After the intense skirmish with the bandits, the quiet felt heavier, almost suffocating. 

Yohan's sharp eyes scanned the surroundings. As the dense foliage began to thin, he spotted a small clearing by a gently flowing stream. The moonlight reflected off its surface, painting the scene in silvery tones. 

"We'll camp here," Yohan said, his voice calm and devoid of any exhaustion despite the earlier fight. 

Elara nodded, though she still clutched her staff tightly, her knuckles white. She followed him to the edge of the stream and sank to her knees. The cool water felt like a balm against her trembling hands. She splashed her face, letting the coldness ground her, washing away the dirt and dried sweat from the day. 

Yohan set his satchel down and began to methodically check his gear. He removed the lightweight black armor he'd donned before leaving the estate, carefully inspecting it for any damage. Though it had served its purpose well, ensuring his mobility during the fight, the battle had left faint scuffs on its surface. 

Elara glanced over at him, her gaze lingering on his calm demeanor. Finally, she broke the silence. "Do you always fight like that?" 

Yohan didn't look up from his armor. "Like what?" 

"Like... it doesn't faze you," she said, her voice tinged with a mixture of awe and curiosity. "Those bandits could've killed us, and yet you didn't hesitate. You were so... precise." 

Yohan placed the armor aside and began cleaning his dagger with a piece of cloth. The blade gleamed in the moonlight, free of the blood that had marred it earlier. "Hesitation gets you killed," he said flatly. 

Elara frowned, hugging her knees as she watched him. "It's not just that, though. The way you move... it's like you've done this a hundred times before. But you're so young. Where did you learn to fight like that?" 

Yohan paused, his hand tightening slightly around the hilt of his dagger. He didn't answer immediately, his red eyes fixed on the weapon. 

"Survival," he finally said, his voice quieter than before. 

Elara tilted her head. "Survival?" 

He nodded, placing the dagger back in its sheath. "In my experience, no one comes to save you. You either fight, or you die." 

The weight of his words hung in the air, silencing Elara for a moment. She studied his face, trying to read the emotions behind his cold exterior, but his expression was as unreadable as ever. 

"I guess I've always believed in trying to help others," she said softly, breaking the silence. "Even if it means putting myself at risk." 

Yohan's gaze flicked to her. "That's why you almost got yourself killed back there." 

Elara flushed but didn't look away. "Maybe. But if I stop helping people, what's the point of any of this?" 

Yohan leaned back against a tree, his arms crossed. "The point is staying alive. You can't help anyone if you're dead." 

Elara sighed, though a small smile tugged at her lips. "You really don't let up, do you?" 

He shrugged. "Practicality saves lives. Sentimentality gets you killed." 

For a while, they sat in silence, the soft babble of the stream filling the void. Elara eventually pulled a small pouch from her bag, revealing a handful of dried fruits. She offered some to Yohan. 

"Here," she said. "You need to eat too." 

He eyed the offering for a moment before accepting a piece. "Thanks." 

Elara smiled, watching as he ate in silence. For all his coldness, she could sense a quiet kindness beneath it, a side of him he kept buried deep. 

As the moon climbed higher into the sky, Elara found herself speaking again, her voice softer now. "You know... I feel safer with you around." 

Yohan glanced at her, his crimson eyes reflecting the moonlight. "You shouldn't rely on me." 

"Maybe not," she admitted. "But I do. And I think you care more than you let on." 

He didn't respond, his gaze drifting back to the stream. For a moment, Elara thought he might ignore her entirely. 

Then, in a voice barely louder than a whisper, he said, "Just don't slow me down." 

It wasn't much, but to Elara, it felt like a small crack in the wall he had built around himself. She smiled, pulling her cloak tighter around her shoulders as the night air grew colder. 

"Don't worry," she said. "I'll keep up." 

Yohan closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the tree. The path ahead was long, and the challenges they would face would only grow more daunting. But for now, the quiet companionship of the moment was enough. 

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Yohan and Elara sat by their modest campfire. The warmth was a welcome reprieve from the chilling breeze of the forest. Yohan, ever methodical, reached for his satchel and began taking stock of their supplies. 

From the bag, he laid out each item with precision: 

Dagger: Its blade was still sharp but bore scratches from recent use. Yohan turned it in his hand, mentally marking it for a proper sharpening. Lightweight Black Armor: Scuffed but intact. It had served its purpose well during the skirmish with the bandits, allowing him mobility while offering protection. Healing Pills: Two remained, shining faintly in the firelight like tiny gems. Each pill was a lifeline, and their scarcity gnawed at him. Rations: Enough food for perhaps two days. He frowned, calculating how much farther they had to travel. 

Elara, sitting across from him, watched in silence before mimicking his actions. She unwrapped her modest belongings, laying them on her cloak for inspection: 

Staff: Worn but sturdy. It had held its own against the bandits, though its limitations were clear. Herbs: Several small pouches containing medicinal plants she'd collected. Cloak: Simple and patched in places. It offered little warmth, but she clung to it out of necessity. 

"We're running low," Yohan said, his voice flat as he glanced between their supplies. 

Elara sighed. "I know. The forest has been tougher than I expected. But maybe we can find more along the way—food, herbs, something to trade." 

He shook his head. "Hope doesn't fill satchels. We'll need to hunt or find a trading post soon." 

Elara hesitated, then reached for one of her herb pouches. "If we come across anyone, I could try trading some of these. They're good for treating minor injuries." 

Yohan didn't respond immediately, his eyes fixed on the faint glow of their campfire. After a moment, he reached into his satchel and handed her one of his two healing pills. 

"What are you doing?" Elara asked, surprised. 

"You'll need it more than I will," Yohan said curtly, avoiding her gaze. 

"But—" 

"Just take it." 

She accepted the pill reluctantly, her fingers brushing against his as she took it. "Thank you," she said softly. 

Yohan grunted in acknowledgment and returned to packing his supplies. As he worked, his mind was already planning their next steps. The path ahead would be treacherous, but he intended to be prepared for anything. 

The campfire burned low, its embers casting a dim, reddish glow. Yohan had taken the first watch, his sharp gaze sweeping over the forest's darkened expanse. The air was unnervingly quiet, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves or the distant cry of a nocturnal bird. 

Suddenly, the system's cold, mechanical voice echoed in his mind: 

"Warning: Host is entering an area with increased activity of mid-tier beasts. Probability of encounter: 65%." 

Yohan's eyes narrowed. Mid-tier beasts… That's a problem. 

He stood, his movements silent and fluid, and stepped beyond the circle of firelight. The dagger was in his hand before he even realized he'd drawn it. The weight of the blade felt reassuring, though he knew it wouldn't be enough if a true threat emerged. 

Behind him, Elara stirred, sitting up groggily. "Yohan?" she called softly. 

"Go back to sleep," he said without looking at her. 

She frowned, pulling her cloak tighter around her shoulders. "What's wrong?" 

"Something's nearby," he replied, his voice low. "I don't know what yet, but it's watching." 

Elara's grip tightened on her staff. "Should we move?" 

"No," Yohan said, his tone firm. "It hasn't attacked yet, which means it's either testing us or waiting for the right moment. If we move, we might give it an opening." 

They stood in tense silence, the crackle of the dying fire seeming unnaturally loud. Then, faintly, a pair of glowing eyes appeared in the distance, reflecting the firelight. They vanished almost as quickly as they'd appeared. 

Elara's breath hitched. "Did you see that?" 

Yohan nodded. "Mid-tier predator, most likely. We'll be dealing with it soon." 

He turned back to her, his red eyes gleaming in the faint light. "Stay close. If it attacks, you don't hesitate. Fight." 

She swallowed hard but nodded. "Got it." 

The rest of the night passed uneventfully, but the tension lingered. When dawn finally broke, Yohan and Elara packed their belongings quickly, both acutely aware that the forest around them had grown far more dangerous. 

As they resumed their journey, Yohan couldn't shake the feeling that the predator's retreat had been deliberate. It wasn't fear that had stopped it from attacking. 

It was patience.