HPV 2

A wave of nausea twisted my insides as I opened my eyes.

“……!”

My vision rocked violently up and down. I was being carried high over someone’s shoulder, and they were running fast.

When I jerked my head up, I could see the ground growing distant. The person’s feet would stop abruptly, then break into another frantic sprint without direction.

I was unmistakably being kidnapped. A jolt of tension surged through my entire body.

But I didn’t scream or struggle—not right away. My instincts kicked in before blind panic, and I began scanning my surroundings.

The forest is on fire.

Flames, red and wild like writhing beasts, were devouring the trees. Everything in sight burned crimson, thick with smoke. The air was hot—too hot to breathe properly.

The one carrying me ran like a beast, dodging fire without pause.

He could’ve left me behind while I was unconscious—but he didn’t. He chose to bring me with him. In that sense, maybe he had saved me.

But the way I was slung over his shoulder made my pelvis throb. His arm tightly clutched my knees, and my upper body jolted painfully as it bounced downward. I clenched my teeth, doing my best not to throw up.

Does he not realize I’m awake?

Maybe because I was hanging upside down behind his back, my face wasn’t visible… but more likely, he was too focused to notice.

His feet, tough enough not to blister, were badly burned and twisted. It must’ve hurt, and yet the man ran without hesitation.

He was clearly shaken—kept changing direction, stumbling to halts only to start again. When a flare erupted right in front of him, he froze altogether.

Harsh panting, occasional low growls—his entire body was drenched in sweat. The man was furious.

He knew this fire wasn’t natural. He knew someone had started it to kill him.

And I knew exactly what was happening. Better than he did.

This was another scene from the game. Right after the cultists spoke about the half-blood beast in the opening, the black screen brightened to this very moment.

The whole forest burns. And in the middle of it, one man runs, ragged and desperate.

“Banwes. ‘One who long ago gave up on being treated as human.’”

A man who had been persecuted simply for existing. Hunted endlessly by the royal army until he found his way to the Byahil Forest.

But the cult had also received the kingdom’s bounty notice for half-bloods. So they too set out to kill him, using any means necessary.

The result was the blazing forest before my eyes.

Hancanera, the spirit’s proxy, had given permission to set the forest aflame to capture the beast. A fire lit by the cult—burning life in the name of purification.

There was no way Banwes could escape with his own power alone. If nothing changed, he would burn to death.

And the one meant to save him at the last moment—

“Hey, grab my hand!”

Paronai. The protagonist. A warrior destined to one day slay the black dragon.

Bursting through the flames, Paronai would extend his hand to Banwes and pull him out. Their fateful, dramatic first meeting.

…And somehow, I was now part of that scene.

Banwes tried desperately to break through the flames, but the fire had spread too far. The air grew thinner, breathing became harder, and the paths narrowed. His steps grew noticeably slower. He looked around more often now. The smoke and ash dulled his senses.

Even with how fiercely the forest burned, the trees imbued with spirit energy—the sacred ones—remained untouched. The fire targeted only what it meant to destroy.

“Urgh…”

Banwes’s right side caught fire. It was close to my legs, and my chest tightened even more.

Where is Paronai? Why hasn’t he shown up yet?

He’s the top student at the capital’s swordsmanship academy. He came to this territory after accepting a monster-slaying request.

By chance, he discovers the burning forest and senses life within it—and rushes in.

It may sound insane… but Paronai is the protagonist. He’s different.

So why the hell isn’t that amazing guy here yet?

Sweat poured down from the heat. I felt like all the moisture in my body was being drained. I glared around as if I could summon the protagonist through sheer frustration.

Tension was mounting. Was the story really going as it was supposed to? If he was even a few minutes late, this man would die. And so would I.

That was when I forced my head up—and saw something.

Between the canopy of trees above us, the sky peeked through. It was bright.

A peaceful, serene blue. My head spun.

It’s daytime.

The fire in the game had broken out in the dead of night. Which meant Paronai was supposed to arrive here at night, too.

This wasn’t right. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. The timeline had shifted.

…Because of me?

Did my escape cause this? Did Hancanera give the order early because of me? What if this fire is meant to burn me alive?

Swallowed by despair, I let out a choking cough.

I must’ve inhaled too much smoke. The fit of coughing wouldn’t stop, and before long, the man realized I was awake.

“Cough, cough…”

Soot had stained my mouth and nose. My throat felt like it had been scraped raw. The heat was so intense, it made every breath a struggle. Banwes lowered me from his shoulder. He propped up my back with one arm and cradled the back of my head with a large, calloused hand.

“Don’t die.”

It wasn’t concern. It was a command, laced with fury. His red eyes blazed like streaks of blood in a storm.

“Are you going to pin your death on me? Don’t die. Survive. No matter what.”

His ragged voice cracked as he shouted. Through my blurred vision, I felt him slap my cheek. Hard.

He probably hadn’t meant to hurt me—but his hands were rough, and pain bloomed across my skin. Still, it brought me back to my senses.

Just then, a burning tree cracked overhead and came crashing down. Bright red flames surged toward us.

⸻

A deafening boom rang out as the flames exploded higher. Ash billowed in thick clouds. It looked like hell itself.

It was a razor-thin moment, but the man moved with inhuman reflexes and leapt aside, dodging the blow. He survived death by a hair’s breadth.

The first thing he did—without even thinking—was check the youth clutched in his arms to see if they were still alive.

The small human had only just woken up and was already slipping back into unconsciousness. Maybe they were especially fragile—even among humans—because it took only a moment for them to reach the brink of death.

The fire would soon consume even this last patch of space. At the edge of life, the man—was furious. His eyes glowed brighter than the flames.

This small life. This gleaming, vivid presence. A human with fresh, clean blood. Banwes knew that even if he were to burn, it would take him a long time to die. But this one—they would stop breathing in an instant.

So it’ll be my fault, won’t it? Humans always said it was me. They blamed every misfortune on me.

If I was going to die like a dog anyway, I should’ve done what they claimed and killed at least one of them.

As Banwes stood on the brink, consumed by bitter thoughts—

“No. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

A thread-thin voice slipped out from beneath his arms.

Banwes looked down at him.

“Because I won’t let that happen…”

The soft voice murmured as if it had seen straight into his heart. Banwes couldn’t understand what he meant. Couldn’t understand—and that made him furious. Why waste words on the verge of death?

But even as his consciousness faded, Riarun’s thoughts continued. Without stopping.

Paronai chose to save Banwes because he saw through him. Because he realized what others refused to: that this man, scorned as a cannibal and a cursed monster, had never killed a single soul. That his spirit was untainted.

But if Riarun were to die here in this fire, even indirectly, Banwes’s soul might be stained. Even if it wasn’t his fault.

That couldn’t be allowed.

One second. Two.

Banwes suddenly felt something strange.

It started with the sensation of a tiny leaf brushing against his skin, like a soft whisper.

Riarun’s eyes shot open—and from that small, fragile body, a torrent of fierce energy surged out like a waterfall.

This was why Hancanera had been wary of him as a child. Why he lived in fear until the day he was officially chosen as the cult’s future leader.

Because Riarun had more potential. A stronger affinity for communion with the spirits.

That might’ve changed now that he hadn’t become high priest—but…

Banwes, still kneeling, stared at the wave of spiritual energy erupting before him. He had never seen anything like it. His pupils, stretched wide in shock, wouldn’t shrink.

A whisper grazed his chin, pulling him back to reality.

“Hold onto me. I’ll save you.”

The wave of green light, vibrant with life and blessing, refused to yield to the cruel flames. If anything, it grew stronger.

Banwes’s powerful, solid frame didn’t hesitate. He pulled Riarun into his arms with forceful resolve—as if the two of them would merge into one.