[Realm: Álfheimr]
[Location: Heart Kingdom Outskirts]
Mikoto had expected something grotesque, perhaps even something absurd, when he imagined the so-called Deseruit Beast. The way Gretel spoke of them, he had assumed they were either a recurring problem or a familiar thorn in her side.
He hadn't been wrong.
The first to emerge slinked from behind a gnarled, half-dead tree. It padded forward. A wolf-like creature, though the comparison felt shallow. It was only slightly larger than a natural wolf—twice the size, maybe—but its presence carried pressure. Its fur was a lustrous, ink-black pelt broken by patches of deep crimson armor, not grown like bone, but layered like hardened chitin. A thick, scaled tail trailed behind it, twitching slightly.
It sniffed once.
Its glowing red eyes snapped instantly to Mikoto.
He didn't flinch. He simply looked past it, unconcerned, letting his gaze drift calmly toward the left.
There stood the second.
A hulking, simian beast, its build reminiscent of a gorilla—but exaggerated. Its arms were far too long to allow any natural gait, knuckle-dragging limbs thick with muscle. Deep purple skin stretched taut across its frame. Black fur framed its shoulders and jaw, thick as a mantle. Behind it, a long, scaled tail—reptilian in nature—slithered back and forth, agitated, hissing with a sentience of its own.
Then the third emerged—and she made the other two feel almost expected.
At the center of the path, with the confidence of one unafraid of interruption, came something stranger still.
The lower body was... oddly mundane at first glance. A scorpion's body, though enormous—easily the size of a horse, maybe larger—and black in color. Her legs tapped the ground with a rhythmic clicking. Yet instead of clawed pincers at her front, there were only slim, chitinous forelimbs folded neatly beneath. But that wasn't what drew attention.
What made Mikoto's gaze narrow was the figure mounted upon that chitinous frame—the woman.
Her upper body emerged where a scorpion's head should be, melded seamlessly with impossible anatomy. Bare-chested, her lavender hair fell in long waves across her chest, veiling enough to obscure, though not from modesty. Her golden eyes were half-lidded, sleepy with indifference, her expression one of melancholy—as though she were perpetually disappointed in the world around her. Her beauty was undeniable, but there was something eerie about it, too.
She tilted her head slightly as she addressed the gathering, her tone carrying a bemused sigh.
"Oh dear..." Her voice was melodious, but it carried irritation. "It seems this is becoming a routine, hm?"
The hulking ape snorted beside her, its deep gravelly voice cutting through the air. "Annoying woman."
The wolf, still eerily silent, hadn't shifted its gaze from Mikoto for even a second. Its body remained still, but its muscles tensed.
Across the clearing, Gretel gave a tight grin, clearly unbothered. "Oh? Aren't you glad to see me again, Cassandra?"
The scorpion-woman—Cassandra, it seemed—turned her golden gaze toward Gretel, but her face remained unreadable. "Glad is a word, I suppose," she murmured.
"Break woman," the gorilla beast growled again, louder this time, eyes flicking toward Gretel with something between rage and hunger.
Cassandra's tail twitched, coiling subtly toward the ape's side. "You'll end up in pieces, fool," she said flatly.
Mikoto, watching quietly, noticed a drop of saliva sliding from the corner of the wolf's mouth. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly.
("It's salivating.")
The wolf had yet to blink, its gaze boring into him like it could see through his skin, into the flickers of mana within. But Mikoto neither shifted nor looked concerned.
"But I am curious," Cassandra mused, cocking her head slightly as if seeing Mikoto clearly for the first time. "Who is your adorable little friend?"
Gretel's demeanor shifted. She stepped forward, just slightly. "Come now. Mikoto's off-limits."
"Hmm... cute name," Cassandra replied, as if tasting the syllables. Her eyes flicked back to him. "Delicate little thing."
"Still," Gretel sighed, her expression tightening, "this is becoming excessive. You know how the villagers get. You showing up again isn't helping."
"We were hunting," Cassandra said without hesitation. Her voice carried the air of someone tired of explanations. "We stumbled across the path. That's all."
"Right. 'Happened to come upon the one trail leading into the mountains.' Sure," Gretel replied, her tone edging toward dry disbelief.
"Stupid woman. Want food," the ape interrupted again, pounding one heavy fist into the ground.
"The—" Gretel began to retort, but her words were cut short in an instant.
The wolf lunged.
It happened with no sound, no warning—only the sudden, violent displacement of air as the beast launched itself at Mikoto, gravel exploding beneath its feet.
But Mikoto didn't flinch.
He shifted his weight to his left heel.
The moment the beast reached him, his slender leg shot out in a sharp, compact arc—one clean kick delivered. His boot struck the wolf square in the ribs.
A sickening crunch echoed through the clearing. Blood and saliva burst from the creature's maw as it howled, airborne now, its body sailing back through the air until it collided with a nearby tree.
The impact shattered the bark, the tree snapping in half with a dry, splitting crack. Bark showered from the upper branches as the beast fell, limp and wheezing, to the ground.
A stunned silence fell over the group.
Cassandra's brows lifted slightly. The ape halted mid-growl. Even Gretel blinked once in muted surprise.
Mikoto calmly lowered his leg.
"Keep that mutt in check," he muttered, annoyed. "Next time, I won't just knock the wind out of it."
The ape bellowed, baring jagged teeth as it stepped forward. "LITTLE HUMAN PAY—!"
But Cassandra raised one hand. The beast froze instantly.
"He attacked first," she said smoothly. "That boy had every right to defend himself."
Her tone carried authority. The ape glanced at her, then backed down, grumbling in frustration.
Gretel, meanwhile, watched the downed wolf carefully.
("Why did he go straight for Mikoto?") she wondered. ("He's usually less aggressive... not bright, but not reckless.")
Mikoto, for his part, was almost eerily calm.
("He sensed my mana,") he thought, staring at the barely-conscious beast. ("Not just noticed it. Reacted to it the moment I flexed it. Maybe... to them, mana is a delicacy? His senses seem sharper than the other two, though.")
He glanced toward Cassandra, now gently gesturing to her companions.
"Well," she said with faint resignation, "I suppose we're done here."
The gorilla moved first, lumbering over to the unconscious wolf. With surprising care, it scooped the beast up into its arms, cradling it like a wounded brother.
"We won't bother you again," Cassandra added. Her scorpion body pivoted smoothly, dozens of legs tapping over the ground. She didn't look back.
Mikoto watched them leave in silence.
"Well... that was quicker than I expected," Mikoto murmured softly, brushing a stray strand of hair away from his face as he glanced toward the battered tree. His eyes lingered for a second longer than usual before shifting to Gretel. "You made it sound like those things were a recurring nuisance. A proper problem. But that didn't feel like much of anything."
Gretel exhaled through her nose, a mix of a chuckle and a sigh, her arms folding over her chest as she leaned slightly on one leg. "Yeah, well. Usually, I don't solve encounters by kicking one of them halfway across the glade and calling it a day." Her eyes narrowed slightly, thoughtful now. "That wolf—he usually isn't that violent. He's reactive, sure. Feral even, like most of them. But he's not reckless."
"He?" Mikoto echoed, tilting his head faintly. "You mean that thing with the fur and exoskeleton. That was male?"
"More or less," Gretel replied, shrugging. "Not like they care for labels. Not the way we do, anyway. The Deseruit Beast aren't big on names or identities. Cassandra and a handful of others are exceptions. Oddities."
Mikoto blinked, as if filing away the detail in silence. Then his voice sharpened just slightly. "So did that mutt think I looked appetizing?"
Gretel raised a brow. "Well, you're dainty. Pretty, too. Might've confused you for something small and easy to chew on."
Mikoto's lips curled into a scowl. "Can it."
She chuckled.
Mikoto's attention turned thoughtful again, and his gaze drifted out over the scarred land around them—the bone-white trees, the brittle grass beneath their boots, the ashen horizon that seemed to stretch endlessly. "What was with those three anyway?" he asked. "There was something off about them that wasn't their appearance. I kept catching flickers—like interference, almost. Weird frequencies."
Gretel frowned slightly, unsure of what he meant exactly, but intrigued nonetheless. "You mean like noise?"
"Not quite," Mikoto replied, folding his arms. His loose shirt shifted with the motion. "More like a tension. It felt layered. Each of them felt like they existed in multiple places at once, like something stacked on top of themselves. You've fought things like that before?"
Gretel shook her head. "Not like those three, no." She paused, letting the silence hold for a breath. "The Deseruit Beast, they're similar to the Nil in some ways. Not entirely, but close enough that the comparison holds. They draw from something else. I think they call it Manus Dei."
Mikoto's brow furrowed faintly. "Manus Dei? The Hand of God?"
"That's what it roughly translates to, yeah," Gretel said. "It's not divine though. But it's power and it's theirs. Unlike the Nil, who are scattered, diluted across humans, the Deseruit Beast are born steeped in it. Every single one of them carries a unique ability."
"All of them?" Mikoto asked, voice skeptical.
Gretel nodded. "Yeah. Every last one. That's why they're dangerous. That wolf, that gorilla, Cassandra—they all have powers tied to that essence. But I've never fought them directly. Never had reason to. They don't know my Schema, and I don't know their limits. There's a sort of unspoken avoidance between us. Mutual deterrence."
Mikoto was silent for a moment, weighing her words. "So do they just eat humans?" he asked at last. "Is that why they're out here in the first place?"
Gretel sighed, her expression turning more solemn. She looked out toward the dead forest, at the thin limbs of trees that never regrew. "Some of them, yeah. The more feral ones crave it. Human flesh. Something about us draws them. I don't know if it's our bodies or something in our blood, but... apparently we have something they need."
Mikoto's expression remained neutral.
"But not all of them," Gretel continued. "Those like Cassandra—they can survive on normal food. If they had access to it. But the village they're from..."
She gestured vaguely around them—at the blackened roots, the cracked earth, the stale wind.
"This place was one of the major battlefields during the Dragon's fight. Over a century ago. And it's still dead. The soil's ruined. The water's poisoned. Nothing grows. They can't cultivate anything. Even now, after all this time, the land refuses to heal."
Mikoto's ears honed in on a single word.
"...Dragons?"
Gretel looked at him like she'd just been asked if the sky was blue.
"You don't know about them?" she said slowly. "You really are a dolt."
"Just answer," Mikoto said flatly.
"Right, right." Gretel rolled her eyes. "Two dragons. One red, one white. I don't know all the specifics, just the obvious stuff. They've been locked in a cycle of battle for as long as anyone can remember. They sleep for years, then wake up and level everything in sight while fighting each other. They don't pick sides. They don't care about kingdom or history. They just fight. And every time they do, the land suffers."
Mikoto's mind was already elsewhere.
("White and red, huh.") His gaze dropped to the ground, contemplative. ("Like the Arthurian myth—the red Dragon of the Britons, the white of the Saxons. A symbolic struggle, but maybe here it's literal.")
He spoke again.
"What are their names?"
That question surprised Gretel more than it should have. Not because it was strange—but because it was specific. Of all the things Mikoto could've asked—how strong they were, how long they'd been alive—he asked that.
"Their names?" she repeated, blinking. "Why does that matter?"
"Just answer."
After a moment, Gretel relented. "Ddraig and Albion," she said. "That's what they call themselves, at least. You'll hear them scream it across the sky when they fight. No one forgets those names once they've been shouted loud enough to shake mountains."
("Of course,") Mikoto mused internally. ("How ironic.")