The ominous feeling had barely surfaced in Ethan’s mind when he instinctively raised a hand.
"Don’t—"
But before he could act, a streak of golden light swept past.
Astrid was suddenly there, draped around his neck, swinging lightly like a pendulum. She was small, almost delicate, with a face that still carried the glow of youth. Her golden hair fell in long waves that brushed his waist, catching the light with every sway.
For a heartbeat, Ethan felt her softness press against his chest, and his heart betrayed him with a brief flutter—imdiately replaced by dread.
Oh no...
He shifted his gaze, bracing himself for the inevitable.
Sure enough, Lyla’s eyes were already on him, sharp enough to cut him in half. At the sa ti, a pain like fire shot through his side. Ethan had no idea what kind of combat training Lyla practiced, but sohow her deceptively delicate hand had managed to twist his flank in a way that ignored all of his defenses. Cold sweat ran down his neck, and though he wanted to wince, he dared not let it show.
"She... she’s the last survivor of the Golden Falcon tribe I told you about," he blurted quickly.
"Oh?" Lyla arched a brow. "Doesn’t that make her your..."
"Yes, but she’s injured—up here." Ethan tapped the side of his head. "She doesn’t rember much. She only rembers . She thinks I’m..."
His explanation ca out in fragnts, but he trusted Lyla to piece it together.
And of course, she did. After a long mont, she released her grip on his waist and leaned closer instead, brushing Astrid’s golden hair away from her face. The girl had fallen asleep again, her delicate features relaxed against Ethan’s chest.
"Wow... she’s beautiful," Lyla murmured, stars glittering in her eyes.
Ethan glanced down at Astrid. There was no denying it: she was stunning. Among the won present, only Lyla could rival her, though their beauty was of completely different kinds. Astrid had the air of a fairy-tale princess, a living porcelain doll, while Lyla’s charm was vibrant and magnetic.
"If you ask ," Lyla said sweetly, her voice carrying a second aning, "she’s the real bomb, isn’t she?"
Her eyes flicked toward the distance, where the other seven won stood watching.
Ethan gave a helpless smile. She wasn’t wrong. Astrid wasn’t just beautiful—if she regained her mories, she could beco an explosion waiting to go off. With her terrifying speed-based Ability, few could match her. If she decided to strike him—or worse, those he cared about—he doubted he could defend against it. That thought alone was enough to give him a headache.
"Ahem... she’s a bird, you know," he whispered into Lyla’s ear.
Lyla only chuckled, her laughter soft but dangerous.
Ethan cleared his throat, eager to move the attention elsewhere. "Everyone, how does this world compare to the Sea of Death? This is just a Hidden Territory, after all. One day, we’ll explore the greater world outside!"
He motioned for the group to follow, planning to return to the Whitmore family estate. He wanted to give them all a proper welco.
The mont he said it, the air turned lively.
"Yay! I haven’t had Big Brother Ethan’s big sausages in ages!" Dot squealed, bouncing like an excited rabbit.
Ethan, who had just turned to lead the way, nearly tripped and face-planted. He spun around, staring at Dot with wide eyes.
The rest of the group turned their gazes on him, their expressions growing stranger by the second.
"What?" Dot asked innocently. "Don’t you all know? Big Brother Ethan has big grilled sausages! I ate them when I was six! Back then, he said big sausages weren’t healthy for little kids. But he promised when I grew up, I could eat as many as I wanted! And now Dot is already fourteen, so Big Brother Ethan can’t go back on his word!"
She rattled the words off in one breath, her head tilted, looking impossibly guileless.
Ethan wanted nothing more than for the ground to open and swallow him whole. Why, oh why, had he ever said that to her years ago?
Dot wasn’t done. "Oh, and yesterday Big Brother said his big sausages were originally for a woman nad Lyla! He said Lyla loves sausages the most! That must be her, right?"
Dot pointed straight at Lyla.
Lyla, who had been glaring daggers at Ethan, suddenly froze as the conversation dragged her into its mortifying depths.
Ethan, anwhile, could feel the heat of a dozen judgntal stares burning into his skin. Words utterly failed him. In desperation, he waved his hand, and with a flicker of energy, several grilled sausages appeared in his grasp.
These were the last leftovers he had, the ones he hadn’t already thrown to the Infernal Hound.
He didn’t hesitate. In a blur of movent, he shoved one sausage into Dot’s mouth before she could say another word. With another sharp twist, he placed a second directly into Lyla’s mouth.
The result was... catastrophic.
Both won now stood there, each with a sausage dangling awkwardly from their lips. Ethan wanted to smack himself twice for how bad this looked. He had only ant to clarify that "big sausages" were literal food, nothing more. But the sight before him was beyond salvaging.
He stared down at the sausages still in his hand, his voice weak. "Um... anyone else want one?"
He avoided looking at the won, instead turning to the four n.
"Can they be paired with drinks?" Hank asked, his eyes already glazed over.
"Disgusting," Blackie spat.
"Get lost," Uncle Jed snapped.
"I’ve got my own," Micah muttered, glancing down at his crotch.
Ethan pinched the bridge of his nose. At least Ormund was staying quiet—finally, soone acting normal.
Then Ormund bent over and vomited.
"...What the hell," Ethan groaned.
The humiliation was complete.
And then, as if to drive the dagger deeper, a soft sucking noise ca from his chest. Ethan looked down in horror. Astrid, still half-asleep, had lifted her face toward the sausages. Her nose twitched, her dazed expression childlike as she murmured, "Slls so good..."
Without hesitation, she slipped from his arms, snatched the rest of the sausages from his hand, and began devouring them like a starving wolf. In seconds, only one was left. She stared at it, reluctant, her eyes flicking to Ethan as though torn between keeping it or sharing.
Before he could stop her, Astrid shoved the last sausage into her mouth whole. This ti she didn’t bite—it hung there as she licked and sucked at it like a sweet treat. Her doll-like face, her puffed cheeks, and the sight of her lips working at the sausage was enough to make Ethan bury his face in his hands.
"Let’s just go already," he muttered.
Lyla stood nearby, her angelic smile hiding the unmistakable glint of a predator ready to strike. Ethan’s heart hamred wildly.
’It’s over. My future is dood.’
He forced the most awkward smile of his life. "Uh... Lyla... let’s go back."
"Alright," she said, smiling again—but this ti, she took Astrid’s hand instead of Ethan’s.
In one smooth motion, Lyla gathered the seven other won, whispered sothing among them, and linked arms with Astrid as if they’d been friends all their lives. The nine of them walked away together, casting the occasional glance at Ethan. Once, Lyla even tilted her chin at him, a gesture so subtle and terrifying that Ethan dared not try to eavesdrop. He had no idea what they discussed, and that terrified him more than anything.
"You’re in trouble, boss," Micah said, barely containing his laughter.
Ethan didn’t answer. His mind was chaos.
"Boss lady’s amazing," Blackie added. "The way she carries herself, no one can match her."
"Still," Ormund chid in, eyes wide with admiration, "the boss is incredible too. If our tigresses back ho ever got together like that, the world would burn down!"
"Even so..." Uncle Jed sighed, then gave Ethan a slow, deliberate thumbs-up.
Ethan could only manage a weak smile. He pointed off in the sa direction the won had gone. "Let’s follow."
"Alright!" the n chorused.
They bent their knees in unison, readying to leap into the air.
That posture. Ethan’s heart skipped.
"Don’t—" he shouted, rembering the disaster from before.
But it was too late. The four n launched themselves skyward.
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