Dylan's words hung in the air, carried away only by the heavy sound of his footsteps. He was carrying Maggie's wounded body on his back. Breathing in deeply, he took another step.
The silence stretched a moment longer, until a figure appeared between the trees—Élisa, leaning against a trunk. She had both suitcases with her—one on the ground, the other strapped to her back. She was awkwardly holding Dylan's pistol, her arms trembling as she saw them approach.
Dylan met her gaze and saw the panic take hold as she realized Maggie's condition. Élisa's eyes widened, frozen in place, until Dylan finally laid Maggie down, gently resting her against the tree.
She wore only a bikini top and military pants. The top, torn to shreds, no longer covered anything of use.
Dylan rummaged through Maggie's bag and pulled out some bandages and first aid supplies. Dropping to one knee, he slowly pulled her toward him… and froze for a moment when he saw her back.
Claw marks. Bite wounds. Blood everywhere. Her back was nothing but a raw, red mess.
The tiny cotton pad soaked in alcohol he held… felt completely useless.
His hands trembled.
He looked up. Maggie's eyes met his—cinnamon brown, dimmed by pain.
"Commander, you're gonna have to grit your teeth."
---
Maggie's muffled groans rang out despite her efforts to hold them in. Her bloodshot eyes locked onto Dylan with a look heavy with resentment.
The pain was tearing her apart. Everything burned. Her rough growls no longer sounded human.
Dylan wrapped the bandages with precision—like someone who'd seen this kind of thing before. He did his best, keeping his eyes away from her exposed chest—given her condition, there was no way to cover her back without making things worse. The wounds were cleaned, but some clearly needed stitches. He had nothing for that.
Lost in the middle of nowhere, they had to improvise with whatever they had.
Now wrapped in bandages, Maggie leaned against the tree trunk. The fabric was already staining red. Her breathing slowly steadied. Her eyelids dropped, heavy with exhaustion.
Dylan took three steps back. He stopped near Élisa, who had stayed silent the entire time.
"You're good at this… Are you a medic too?" she asked. Her voice cracked, fragile, on the verge of breaking.
Dylan shrugged, gaze drifting up toward the canopy above.
"I've seen plenty of wounds like that… on the front lines. I wasn't always numb to the screams of soldiers. So I picked up a few things from the med teams."
Élisa nodded slowly, as if something finally clicked in her mind.
"Still… you're really good. She's already asleep."
Dylan stepped closer to the commander to check. He brushed her forehead—she was sleeping deeply, like a child drained after too many tears.
"We're going to have to watch the area," he said, his voice low but firm. "We're vulnerable now. Maggie can't fight anymore."
His gray eyes gleamed with a cold resolve—like forged steel.
Elisa nodded without protest. Her gaze lingered on Maggie for a moment, then she murmured:
"The anima gems... they strengthen the body and the soul, you know that. They erase imperfections. I've even heard that, when one reaches Awakening, scars disappear. If we give her one now, maybe it could help her heal faster... Don't you think? And it would boost her strength. A win-win, no?"
Dylan lifted his head. The light filtered through the leaves, soft and shifting, as if even the sun was holding its breath.
"I don't have many left," he said after a silence. "And I can't give her one. Last night, I only managed to absorb one, during meditation. Yeah, I want her to heal. But me too… I can't afford to be weak anymore."
His eyes drifted to his hands—dirty, calloused, as if they still echoed the screams of the battlefield. He sighed.
"If I haven't eaten since yesterday, it's not to act tough. My appetite's just... gone. But I'm still human. I'll get hungry. Soon."
He shook his head, a dry chuckle escaping his lips.
"Things aren't looking good going forward. And I can't stay weak."
"Well, I kind of agree with you," Elisa whispered, leaning slightly beside Maggie. "You have no idea what could be lurking in this forest... I haven't left it in over thirty years. My village, our former tribe, we got stuck in the middle of a den of demonic beasts. Each more fearsome than the last."
She cast a vague glance up toward the canopy, as if her memories were strung between the branches.
"Like I told you when we met, the Hystrix was just a lower-ranked creature. Second rank, to be exact. But even at that level, it's a serious threat—especially with all those quills it can fire like projectiles. It could even kill technically stronger creatures."
At the mention of "ranks," Dylan raised an eyebrow, curiosity sparked.
"You tossed that out earlier, yeah. But you never really explained what those ranks are. What makes the Hystrix second rank? What exactly are these classifications?"
Elisa swallowed slowly, then explained:
"They say there are seven ranks of creatures in this world. These ranks mostly define their level, the density of their spiritual essence, and their mastery of it. But between two beasts of the same rank, there can be a huge gap in power depending on their level of awakening."
She paused, as if to gauge their focus.
"The Hystrix is considered second rank because it has a special ability: it can launch its quills at supersonic speeds, like your bullets. Some higher-ranked beasts can die from its attacks. And the opposite's true too—creatures of the same or lower rank might scare it off… if they have a tactical advantage."
Her gaze darkened.
"Unlike humans, who are classified solely by their level of awakening, demonic beasts are ranked based on four factors: raw strength, level of awakening, overall threat, and mastery of spiritual essence. Some of them don't even need awakening to be walking nightmares."
"Usually, it takes at least ten awakened warriors of the first tier to bring down a second-rank beast..." she added, her voice heavy with bitterness. "But the Hystrix… it slaughtered more than a hundred the day it attacked my village. It's not just brute strength—it's that ability that makes it so dangerous."
Her eyes subtly tracked Dylan's expression, as if afraid of reliving that night through her own words.
"Its projectiles are fast, unpredictable… and many. There's no shelter. They pierce rock and trees alike. That bony creature you fought earlier…" She paused. "You might've survived purely by luck. It was probably the same rank as the Hystrix, but it hadn't reached awakening yet. That's why it went down easily, despite its armored body. It hadn't awakened its ability."
Dylan slowly lowered his head toward the ground, her words falling over him like a cold rain. He stayed silent for a moment, then asked in a deeper voice:
"What about humans then? Don't they also have spiritual or magical abilities?"
This time, Elisa's voice softened—she offered a faint smile as she answered:
"They do, of course. Once a human reaches awakening, they unlock what we call stigmas. These are marks, symbols, etched by the soul itself onto the body. Organic runes—not chosen, but given. Each stigma is unique. A manifestation of one's inner power, anchored in the flesh."
"These runes, once activated, let us use gifts—what some call 'faculties.' But beware, the stronger the power, the more it drains your vital essence. And the body has to keep up… or it breaks."
"The runes evolve with their bearer at each tier," she went on, her tone more composed, almost ceremonial. "And the awakened are measured by three key traits: density, refinement, and control of their spiritual essence."
She traced soft circles in the dirt with her fingers, illustrating her point.
"Each tier is a leap, a chasm crossed. The ranks, in order, are: Perception Awakening, True Awakening, Stigma Engraving, Essence Fusion, Refinement, Soul Ascension… then comes Transcendence… and finally, the first steps toward Apotheosis."
She raised her head again, meeting Dylan's eyes.
"But even if it sounds linear, each tier has its own dangers. At every level, failure can be fatal. An unstable essence can consume the bearer from within. And if the body isn't ready, it can literally shatter under the pressure."
A heavy silence fell.
"Each tier has a name, a distinct identity. The Perception Awakening, for instance, is when you begin to feel the essence around you. Sounds change. The world changes. Even your own breath, your own pain, become different signals. And those who aren't mentally prepared… go mad."
She turned away briefly, her eyes lost in the shifting foliage above.
"And despite all that, many still choose the hard path toward power on this continent. Many rise. And others fail miserably... The world has become one where strength is law. Being weak has become a sin in itself."
Dylan accepted the elf's words. Even if she hadn't said everything, he understood—more than enough. He turned his gaze to Maggie, leaning against the tree. She seemed far too calm for someone just pulled from the jaws of those beasts.
He let out a sigh and murmured under his breath:
"I guess you and I are both sinners. We don't even qualify for the first tier."