HPV 76

Banwes moved to the abandoned outpost alone, looking at a map, without anyone seeing him off.

It was his own wish not to be seen off.

Since he would only be gone for half a day, he did not pack much. He had no particular attachment anyway.

Only one thing, he had made sure to bring with care.

—Give him one of your belongings.

I handed him my sunset coral stone and the robe I used to wear.

It was strange. Something had been taken from me, yet my heart felt more full than before.

***

Before leaving, the man abandoned his pride by dragging a boy out from the darkness.

—Stay by Riarun’s side. Share the same room.

—It should be easy to hide so Riarun does not notice.

Bzhan nodded without complaint. It was better for me if you stayed out of sight anyway.

Even if not an elf, Riarun—had something I wanted.

Though he felt a little empty without Banwes, Riarun did not simply lock himself away in gloom.

He peeked out, cautiously snooping around the castle.

Truthfully, he had been curious about the castle’s atmosphere.

When Banwes was with him, he never had the chance to properly look around.

He had spent time inside, sneaking glances at Banwes, sometimes napping together in different beds, at other times bickering meaninglessly, losing track of time.

Bzhan followed behind like a guard.

But the problem was not Riarun.

The problem fell upon the boy who had once yearned to be an elf.

—It would be better not to use concealment. There are too many who can see through it.

When he first arrived at the castle, the High Priest had advised him so.

When Bzhan frowned, the High Priest added,

—Bzhan. Among humans too, there are those who stand tall.

As a test, he had tried hiding, but the High Priest’s words proved true.

Everyone noticed his presence and stared. Hiding only drew more attention.

And eventually, one knight blocked Bzhan’s path.

Bzhan unknowingly scowled.

But strangely, the knight before him looked more surprised than hostile.

“Have you trained in swordsmanship?”

It was Sir Ian Hathor, the old knight whom Paronai had so desperately admired.

Bzhan did not know why this brawny old man had stopped him for questioning.Nor was he curious—he merely tried to step aside.

Seeing this, Riarun, who had gone ahead, turned around and answered for him.

“Bzhan is an archer.”

It is swordsmen who climb the steps toward swordmastery.

Archers were little more than monster hunters or northern archery troops.

“Rare, but there are those who wield sword energy with a bow.”

The old knight did not give up and continued to bother Bzhan.

Even if Buzan tried to evade him with elf’s footwork, the old knight was faster.

The boy’s eyes, hidden beneath his messy hair, shook violently.

“Can you imbue the arrowhead with sword energy?”

“No. Don’t speak to me.”

The answer was outrageously curt, but the old knight paid it no mind.

“Just try it once. Show me. If you dislike my old age, I’ll introduce you to a fine teacher.”

Bzhan endured the old knight’s pestering until finally shaking him off.

Had the signal for the resonance weapon not come, he would have been tormented much longer.

Doo-ong!

A simple yet grand sound, as if a giant drum had been struck, rang out.

The soldiers on the wall were astonished.

Their mouths hung open as they watched monsters on the hill writhe like maggots, devouring one another.

‘……’

Only Riarun and his companions thought of the one person who have been excluded from this place.

The resonator continued to tremble.

Outside the walls, the mass of monsters died, drooling greedily. Sometimes, a few monsters foamed at the mouth and tried to charge down.

One even smashed its body against the wall, causing a rain of arrows to pour from above.

Compared to the hundreds and thousands filling the hill, the few were laughable.

Cheers spread among the soldiers, convinced of their victory.

“We can’t always use this, but if we’re pushed back, there’s nothing better!”

The engineer in the command tower shouted in high spirits.

The weapob continued to unleash fierce vibrations, killing the monsters.

As Riarun sat inside the castle, idly tapping his toes, a mage he had never seen before approached.

“Ugh?”

Bzhan suddenly appeared behind him and blocked the magician.

Sweating nervously, the magician turned to Riarun.

“You are the guarantor for the half-blood, Aren’t you ?”

Then, in a calm voice, he reported the findings of the detector.

“A corrupted magic presence, higher than a high orc, has been detected from the direction of the abandoned outpost.”

From that moment, Riarun lost focus, mouthing silent words over and over.

No. It can’t be.

Normally, he would have endured out of sheer stubbornness.

***

When he was young, he abandoned human sanity to survive in a great forest.

Living like a beast in a human body.

Suppose someone had witnessed that.

What would they think first?

Disgusting. Repulsive. Filthy. No wonder he’s not treated as human.

Roaring instead of speaking like a man. Amazing he can even walk on two legs.

What filth clings to that beard?

Better to collar him and lock him up in a cage.

The man closed his eyes and forced the memory of his former self back into the depths of his mind.

Never again, never would he return to that.

Not as long as there was someone who treated him as a human, as a man.

Not even where that person could not see.

He steadied his mind, recalling Riarun’s face, voice, gestures, and even his annoying expressions one by one.

—You didn’t even marry, and because of me, you lost your… purity. Doesn’t that bother you?

At that time, Banwes had wanted to ask: Then are you not alright?

If you’re not alright, why ask such a thing?

While traveling, time and efficiency had mattered more.

Naturally, they had bathed at the same time and place, without even bothering to turn their backs, covering only their thighs with a single towel.

After that night had passed, Banwes reflected on all the days that came before.

Why hadn’t it happened back then?

How had nothing occurred?

It was mortifying to realize it only now, yet he was also incredibly relieved.

He recalled every memory of seeing Riarun’s bare body.

In all those memories, he sprang up, unable to even hide the swelling in his groin, and threw himself at Riarun.

He fell to his knees and pleaded.

Pleaded for what?

He would beg for permission.

And in every one of those imagined scenes, Riarun recoiled in shock.

No matter how he tried, Banwes could not envision a Riarun who accepted him.

Yet, even for him, there was one moment of mercy.

That night, even if it had begun because of the demon, Riarun had clearly enjoyed it.

The honest, fevered reactions he showed could not have been faked.

The experience remained in Banwes’s soul as a powerful stimulation.

Even the next morning, carnal desire still clung to him.

Thankfully, when he saw the faces of the others, his lust quickly cooled, and he could move about without straining his clothes.

Still, even the slightest lapse in focus would drag his mind back to that night’s memories.

His body would heat up; his lower half would, crudely and eagerly, throb with expectation.

Through the demon, he had experienced something unforgettable…But the demon must disappear. Suppose he imagined it—no demon, only him and Riarun, looking solely at each other.

Then…Riarun would be whole again. But his partner would still be a monster.

A monster who had to forcibly restrain himself whenever the weapon’s signal vibrated, a being made to confuse beasts.

He was not someone who could match Riarun. Not ever, not at any time.

Banwes swallowed his emotions alone in the cold, damp outpost.

To keep himself from turning into a monster, he committed the most savage act a human could.

He untied his trousers. His heavy manhood toppled forward with a dull bounce.

Before even gripping it, it had already swollen, twitching on its own.

The blood vessels stood thick under the rough surface of his palm as he gripped it hard, almost as if throwing himself into battle.

Ignoring the sound of the weapon, his eyes were bloodshot—and yet, his lower half stiffened just from imagination. It was absurd.

He took a deep breath and gripped his shaft tightly, sliding his hand up and down with rough, unfamiliar strokes.

Even though he had never done such a thing before, the flesh column swelled further, pulsing against his hand.

His breathing grew rough, his hips rocked instinctively.

Images of Riarun’s lewd figure flashed vividly before his eyes.

Thinking back, it was fortunate that Riarun was not meek by nature.

Had he been the kind to easily yield to temptation, no one would have left him alone.

What Banwes had done to him… so many others would have longed to do the same. He wished no one else would lay a hand on Riarun. He wished he alone could have him.

He alone should know him.

He wanted to keep making love like they had that night.

A beastlike groan leaked from his throat.

Startled, the man refocused, concentrating all his senses on the stimulation below.

It was a contradiction—forcing himself to pursue extreme rationality, while at the same time, irrationally gripping and moving his sex with the clothes Riarun had given him.