Tom, Bahmos, and the other two men finally regained their vision after nearly an hour and a half.

  Bahmos had remained by the lizard’s corpse for much of that time, unmoving, his face unreadable. He looked like a scholar lost in thought.

  For a while, he said nothing. Then, without preamble, he ordered the men to assist him in burying the creature. Jim suggested disposing of it by other means, but Bahmos refused.

  Together, the four of them hauled the beast’s lifeless body toward a clearing where the grass grew thick, entwined with the gnarled roots of trees. The weight of the carcass dragged at their already-exhausted limbs, their labored breaths breaking the silence. They hadn’t gone far before fatigue forced them to stop.

  Tom wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “Want me to ask one of the villagers for a shovel?”

  Bahmos shook his head. “After what they just went through? No.”

  Julun frowned, confused. “Then how are you going to bury it?”

  “There’s a small one in the carriage. Bring it.”

  Without further argument, Julun retrieved the tool, and Bahmos set to work. I didn’t linger to watch him dig. My mind was elsewhere, seething with frustration over the lack of transportation—and worse, the looming possibility that the monster might return at any moment.

  We had no choice but to stay close to the adventurers. The creature had feared them. That was our only advantage.

  Perched atop Jim’s shoulders, Jer-kal shifted, her gaze landing on Natasha. “I need to speak with you. In private. It’s about that boy of yours.”

  “Ulah?” My stomach twisted. “What is it?”

  Jer-kal didn’t answer me. Instead, she said, “Your mother will tell you if she thinks you should know.”

  Is he… dying?

  I couldn’t hold back. “Please, just tell me,” I urged.

  Natasha rested a hand on my shoulder. “Vernisha, I’m sure it’s nothing—”

  “I’m not stupid. Don’t treat me like I am.” My voice came out sharper than I intended, carrying more anger than fear.

  Natasha hesitated, conflict flashing across her face. Then she exhaled and turned to Jer-kal. “Just tell us both. She can handle it.”

  There’s no way Ulah is dying… We haven’t even reached the damn capital yet. He was just sleep-talking… I was with him the entire time, watching him closely. There was nothing unusual. No seizures. No sudden cold sweats. Nothing.

  Jer-kal spoke with deliberate slowness, her words weighted with something I couldn’t name. “I didn’t have enough time to heal him properly, but I managed to analyze his body for a few seconds. And… it’s strange. Too strange. My monster’s healing and traditional methods won’t work on him.” She met Natasha’s gaze. “I thought you should know.”

  What?

  I almost shouted, “That doesn’t make any sense! What do you mean he can’t be healed?”

  Jer-kal’s voice remained level. “I didn’t say he can’t be healed. I said normal healing won’t work on him. He’ll need something far more advanced… something like gene-editing surgery.”

  Jesus Christ.

  A cold, trembling sensation overtook me. “But why?” I demanded. “Why can’t he be healed normally? What’s happening to him?”

  Natasha’s expression shifted. She seemed to be grasping at words, her gaze flickering like she was standing before an audience she wasn’t prepared to address. Then, slowly, she spoke.

  “It’s hard to explain.” Her fingers curled slightly. “His body… it doesn’t recognize itself. Healing won’t restore his original form because, to his body, the ‘original form’ doesn’t exist anymore.”

  She tapped Jim’s brow lightly, drawing his attention. “His hair is black now. If I pull out a strand, another black one replaces it. But if he was born with white hair, a white strand should grow in its place. This isn’t an injury, it's how his body is designed. The little boy's DNA is changing.”

  I get it. He’s becoming someone else.

  Shit. The more time we wasted, the further the transformation progressed. And the further it progressed, the harder it would be to reverse.

  Natasha reached into her pocket and withdrew a small, hardened object—one I recognized instantly. The same bread roll I had given her earlier.

  She held it up. “Have you seen this before?”

  Jer-kal raised an eyebrow. “It’s a bread roll.”

  Jim squinted. “Yeah… just a stale one.”

  “It’s kind of a bread roll,” Natasha corrected, her voice laced with an urgency they didn’t yet understand. “It’s what these two ate. And it’s the reason they’re changing.”

  She turned to me. “Where did you get this?”

  “In front of a Balash temple. On the Hill of Vaera.”

  Jim gave a half-shrug. “Jer-kal probably wouldn’t know anything about that. But Lo might—he used to study Balash history.”

  Relief surged through me. “Call Lo over.”

  Lo approached at a brisk pace. “What is it?”

  Jim quickly summarized, mentioning the strange effects of the bread. Natasha handed it over, and Lo turned it over in his hands, his fingers brushing along the hardened crust with a thoughtful frown.

  He stroked his chin. “Why didn’t you ask one of the scholars at the temple? They’d know more than anyone else.”

  I had considered it. But we had been in a hurry, racing to Sundawn for help. The scholars had knowledge, sure, but they didn’t have the power to fix this.

  And besides, a darker thought whispered at the back of my mind—one I hadn’t dared to voice.

  What if this wasn’t supposed to happen? What if they wanted him dead?

  Maybe the bread wasn’t meant to be eaten at all. Maybe it was forbidden.

  Natasha exhaled, shaking her head slightly. "I did think of that," she said, her voice steady, "but a temple that harbors something so suspicious isn’t likely to be entirely honest with me."

  Without another word, she broke the bread in half and let both pieces fall to the ground.

  The chunks landed on the paved road, rolling slightly before coming to an eerie stop. The three of us stood in uneasy silence, eyes locked on the bread. Natasha simply stared.

  "Give it a minute," she murmured.

  My pulse quickened as I watched. At first, nothing happened. But then… it moved. Just the faintest shift, like the slow curling of a dying leaf.

  What the hell is going on?

  Lo bent down, plucking one of the halves from the ground. He hesitated for a moment before asking, "Can I keep it?"

  Jim shot him an incredulous look. "Are you suicidal?"

  "No," Lo said, inspecting the bread as if it might whisper secrets to him. "I just want to see how my monster reacts to it."

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

  Natasha gave him a slight nod of approval. He muttered a quiet thanks before tossing half the bread high into the sky. His monster leaped, jaws snapping shut around it. It sniffed, chewed once, then again. But it didn’t swallow immediately. Instead, it kept chewing, its expression unreadable.

  The three of us exchanged glances, a silent question passing between us.

  Jer-kal broke the quiet. "You made it eat it...?"

  Lo shook his head, lips pressed into a tight line. "No. I just wanted it to taste it." His expression twisted into something between disgust and disbelief, as though he'd just swallowed something rancid. "It tastes like monster flesh."

  ...What the hell?

  Natasha remained unreadable, her face betraying little.

  Jim turned to her. "You’re sure you found this in a Balash temple? Not a Darsean congregation?"

  "Yes."

  "And how do you know for sure?"

  Her eyes flicked to him, irritation laced in her tone. "Because I’m not stupid."

  Lo exhaled sharply, shaking his head like a tired parent dealing with a stubborn child. "I’m just saying, they like taking over Balash temples just to mock them. It’s easy to mistake one for the other. I’ve been fooled before."

  "I understand what you’re saying, but I’m certain it wasn’t one."

  Lo studied her for a moment longer, then gave up with a resigned sigh. "Sure, whatever. When you reach the capital, find a Vlanods doctor and a Balash scholar. The scholars might know something."

  She nodded once.

  He took a slow, measured breath. "I hope it works out. Losing a kid and a partner..." His voice faltered. "It hurts like hell."

  Natasha glanced at me before responding. "I imagine so."

  Jer-kal clapped her hands together, shattering the somber moment. "Alright, we still have a monster to catch. We can’t stand around discussing your family issues."

  Lo arched a brow. "You want to take a more direct approach?"

  "I think so. If we stick with your method, we’ll be waiting for hours."

  Lo clicked his tongue. "Fine. I’ll switch monsters. I want to be out of here within the hour."

  Jer-kal smirked. "You should just tell your wife you’ll be late."

  "Or I could just say, ‘K chertu etu missiyu.’"

  She shrugged. "Nub’ol wouldn’t want you going to jail. Not over a date."

  "But I wouldn’t mind." He grinned, earning an eye roll from her.

  Jim had told me what had happened here.

  A monster had escaped from one of the designated monster zones, its instincts driving it toward the nearest cluster of life to kill and consume. Three hunters had been sent after it two days ago. When they failed to find it, they assumed it had retreated to the zone.

  But they had been wrong.

  The beast resurfaced, tearing through homes, forcing residents to flee—only to be hunted down one by one. The team now suspected the monster was aware of their pursuit and was consuming as much as possible, growing stronger in preparation for an inevitable confrontation.

  Jim hadn’t mentioned it explicitly, but I knew what that meant. The monster had likely bred. Given the time it had been loose, there was a high chance it had spawned offspring. Eventually, they wouldn’t be dealing with just one.

  The only saving grace? The offspring would all start at level one. Easy to kill. Just… a nuisance.

  I sat in the dry grass, waiting. But good news didn’t seem likely.

  Lo’s monster had reached its limit, both in time and stamina. He recalled it, frustration evident in the tightness of his shoulders. Without his tracking skills, the others had to rely on different methods.

  Jer-kal and Jim had been left to protect the villagers. The former had taken it upon herself to move as many as possible to a single location—a cluster of dry grass outside one of the remaining houses. But, predictably, not everyone was cooperative.

  "That’s not my house! Take me to my home!" A middle-aged woman flailed in Jer-kal’s grasp.

  Jer-kal’s patience was wearing thin. "Once it’s safe, I will."

  Scattering them across different homes would make protection nearly impossible.

  Of course, some tried to run the moment she set them down. Jim made sure that didn’t happen, moving with ridiculous speed to block their escape, his broad chest serving as an unmovable barrier.

  Naturally, that only pissed them off more.

  People hated being corralled, especially when it came from a Vlanods.

  "This shit ain't right!" A gaunt man in ragged clothes spat the words. "If the monster comes back, we’ll be easier targets! You know that. You fucking know that!"

  Jim shook his head. "You being in one place means we won’t have to worry about jumping around to protect you all individually."

  I suspected there was more to it than that. Probably bait. A massive plate of food for the monster. Easy levels.

  The man scoffed. "And you don’t think keeping us in one place will just make it more eager to come back and kill us?"

  “If we’re here, no.”

  A woman glared at him. “When the guild hears about this, I hope you know you’ll suffer for it.”

  Jim’s lips curled into a sneer. I saw his fist clench before he took a slow breath and asked, “Would you like me to inform my operator about this?”

  “Yes!”

  He pulled out his pyramid communicator and did as she demanded. When he finished, he said, “He told me to make sure you’re all safe.”

  “That’s bullshit. Let me talk to him!” She stepped forward.

  He raised a hand, stopping her in her tracks. “No.”

  “You damn Valuzaaa.”

  The moment the slur left her lips, Jer-kal, who had been moving about, came to a halt. Jim stared at the woman, his expression unreadable.

  “Can you repeat that?” he asked.

  “Rarthar,” a young man—maybe her son—tried to intervene. “She didn’t mean that, sir. It just—”

  “No, no. She definitely meant it.” Jim took a step forward, his voice calm but firm. “I just want to make sure I heard it properly.”

  But the woman, clearly lacking any sense of restraint, started screaming, “Valuzaa! Go meet Valuzaa! Die like Valuzaa!”

  Valuzaa was one of the most infamous figures in Vlandos history. A Vlandos who had never made a name for himself, he had simply supported Yer-oli-pon, along with other Vlandos who sought a better life under human rule. Seen as an easy target, he was tricked by a group of humans, tortured, and killed. His body had been paraded around as a warning to his kind.

  That wasn’t even his real name. It was a twisted, mocked version of it—his true name long forgotten. Calling someone a "Valuzaa" wasn’t just an insult. It was a threat. It meant: You and all your kind will meet the same fate.

  Jim stood directly in front of the woman. Her bravado wavered as fear crept into her eyes. He placed a hand on her shoulder, offering a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

  “Be careful with your words.”

  His hand lingered a moment longer than necessary before he let go. I couldn’t help but wonder what he would have done to her if his communicator hadn’t been on.

  Meanwhile, Natasha’s attention was elsewhere. She watched the people around us—especially the couples and those with children. Some grumbled bitterly about their loss of freedom, while others clung to their children’s lifeless bodies, sobbing and begging Jer-kal to bring them back.

  It reminded me of the sick and the poor pleading with a god for food and medicine.

  “Please, just heal him again! Just try again!”

  A woman, her face streaked with tears, held a boy no older than five. The child’s body was horribly mangled—the entire left side missing, including his heart.

  Jer-kal’s expression softened with sympathy, but all she could do was shake her head. She whispered an apology and tried to step away, but the crowd wouldn’t let her pass.

  There were at least thirty people surrounding her, and the woman clutching the dead child looked elderly.

  “Please try again! You saved so many people here! You can try again—please!” The boy’s father pleaded, his voice raw with desperation.

  Jer-kal shook her head again. “He’s dead. There’s nothing I can do.”

  The father’s voice cracked. “Can’t you exchange lives? Take mine for his!”

  “It doesn’t have that skill yet. I’m sorry,” she said, her voice tight with sorrow.

  “You just don’t want to!” he snapped, pointing a trembling finger at her. “If you tried—if you really tried—you could save him!”

  “It doesn’t work like that—”

  “Bloody hell… what does it cost you to try? Huh?” His breath came in ragged gasps, like he had run a marathon. “Nothing. It takes nothing. But you probably enjoy this, don’t you? Watching humans suffer.”

  Jer-kal’s face remained impassive, but her voice was steady. “I do not take joy in this.”

  “T-then... do you have a child?” he stammered.

  “And what if I do?”

  “If something like this happened to him, wouldn’t you want the healer to try everything to save him?”

  “You don’t need to say that to make me understand your pain—”

  “Then how the hell do we make you understand?!” His voice broke, raw with grief.

  Jer-kal snapped. “He’s already DEAD!” She pointed at what remained of the boy. “I told you, I can’t bring back the dead! Why won’t you listen?! Do you just want the other half of him back? A body without life?”

  The father’s voice wavered. “That… that would be better than nothing.”

  Jer-kal glanced at Jim. He shook his head.

  She exhaled sharply. “Regrowing half of that body would take too much ether.” Her tone was cold, clinical. “My monster used almost everything it had today. Why do you think no one is fully healed? They only had their fatal or life-altering wounds fixed. It was all to ensure I could save as many as possible. Now, when the monster attacks again, I have no clue how I’ll heal anyone. So no, I can’t waste—I can’t use it on a dead child.”

  The parents stared at her as if she had promised them salvation only to rip it away.

  The father’s voice was thick with rage. “I hope—no, I PRAY—that this happens to your damn child.”

  Jer-kal gave him a mocking smile and walked past, brushing them aside with ease.

  Natasha turned to me, her expression somber. “What do you think about all this?”

  I hesitated. “It’s sad.” My mind drifted to Ulah’s death.

  “I think so too.”

  “Would you react like that?” I asked.

  She was quiet for a moment before answering, her voice soft. “If Ulah died? Yeah… maybe. What mother wouldn’t?”

  She cast me a conflicted glance before murmuring, “And I’m afraid of how you’ll react.”

  I swallowed. “What about Caren?”

  “If Caren dies… imagine how heartbroken Ulah would be.”

  I exhaled. “He would hate me.”

  “Yeah.” She nodded. “That boy only sees the good in his father. Maybe it’s my fault for telling him the same things I told you about yours. But unlike you, he believes it.”

  She looked away, almost as if talking to herself, and whispered, “When he gets older, he’s going to treat people the same way Caren does.”

  Her face shifted to confusion, as if my words had come out of nowhere. “What?”

  “He sees it. He learns it. To him, this behavior is normal. His father acted this way, and his mother never complained, so clearly, there was nothing wrong with it.”

  She scoffed. “You’re being ridiculous.”

  “No. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if all your learned behavior came from watching your parents.”

  She stared at me, caught off guard.

  “I never even saw my father, so no,” she said. Then, after a pause, she added, “I just realized… you and my mom are a little alike. You’d both kill your fathers if you had the chance.”

  “Why?” I asked, baffled.

  “He abandoned her when she needed him most. At least Caren isn’t like that… I guess.”

  I twirled my fingers, dismissing my own thoughts. “Actually, forget I said that.”

  My gaze drifted to Ulah, lying unconscious nearby. “I really hope we can save him. And when we do… please, give him more attention. Love him like you love me. Even if he loves you, I don’t want him to grow up realizing how much you favored me.”