Ruok wiped the thick blue blood from his dagger with the edge of his sleeve, smearing it more than cleaning it. He stared at the stain for a second, then shrugged.
"Time to rest, Bignum?"
The massive orc tilted his head, slow and confused, like the question didn't match the situation at all. Around them, the battlefield still groaned—wounded beasts twitching, soldiers dragging bodies, the smell of burnt flesh mixing with wet mud.
Then—
The horn roared.
Low at first.
Then louder.
Then everywhere.
Bignum's eyes snapped to Ruok. "How did you know?"
Ruok didn't even look at him. He adjusted his grip on the dagger, casually. "Guess."
Bignum frowned harder this time. "You guess too good."
Ruok smirked faintly. "Would you believe me if I said I've seen this before?"
Bignum stared at him for a moment longer, then snorted and turned away. "You are weird, half-breed."
He started walking back toward the camp as the signal echoed again.
Ruok followed, slower, glancing up.
The silver dragon was already rising, cutting through the smoky sky like a blade. Its wings pushed the air so hard it flattened the grass in waves.
"I'll take that as a compliment," Ruok muttered.
Behind them, fireballs and shards of ice rained down to cover the retreat. The Trods howled, confused but relentless.
Above, the phoenix descended.
Flames folded inward, collapsing into a single figure.
Minerva.
She landed lightly despite the chaos, her boots barely making a sound against the mud. Not a drop of dirt touched her. Her posture straight, chin slightly raised, eyes already scanning the field as if she owned it.
Ruok slowed without realizing.
He stared.
Bignum glanced down at him and caught it immediately. "Stop staring, half-breed. You want trouble?"
Ruok blinked, then looked away—poorly. "I'm not looking at her. I'm looking at… the piles of corpses."
There were no piles of corpses in that direction.
Bignum didn't reply. He didn't need to.
Ruok kept staring.
"…Very impressive corpses," he added under his breath.
Right on cue, Olga stepped forward and blocked Minerva's path.
Ruok sighed. "Here we go again."
The tension snapped back into place like it never left. Soldiers slowed, pretending not to watch. Some openly turned their heads.
Olga's shoulders were already tight. Minerva stood like a statue.
Words started flying again—sharp, fast, heated.
Ruok didn't focus on them this time.
His eyes shifted.
Mephyst had arrived.
His entrance was eye-catching but not in a good way. He walked slowly, calculated, and full of confidence. Unfortunately, his belly bounced as he walked.
Ruok's grip on his dagger tightened slightly.
"…Yeah," he muttered. "Him again."
For once, he kept his mouth shut.
The argument didn't last long this time. It burned fast, then died just as quick when Mephyst stepped in, faster than it should have.
Not because of his word, but because the women had had enough of his antics.
Soon, the leaders separated.
The crowd broke apart as nothing happened.
Ruok exhaled slowly.
"Still creepy," he whispered.
Bignum had already started walking again. "Camp."
Ruok nodded, then paused.
His eyes drifted back to Minerva.
Then forward again.
"…Yeah," he said to himself. "I'm definitely making bad decisions again."
He turned and followed Bignum—
but not for long.
Because after a few steps—
He peeled away.
Quietly.
And started following Minerva instead.
**
Minerva walked into the human encampment without slowing her pace, her presence cutting cleanly through the noise of the camp. Around her, soldiers moved with purpose—some carrying the wounded, others reinforcing tents, a few just sitting in silence, staring at nothing. The smell here was different from the battlefield. Less blood. More sweat, smoke, and boiled herbs.
At her side walked a middle-aged man in polished armor, barely scratched despite the war outside. His posture was straight, his eyes sharp, scanning every movement around them.
Ruok narrowed his eyes from a distance. He followed anyway, keeping just far enough not to be obvious.
They stopped near a large command tent, where fewer soldiers passed by.
Ruok took his chance.
He rushed forward.
"Princess—Princess! I have something to report!"
The armored man reacted instantly. He stepped in front of Minerva, one hand already on the hilt of his sword, body angled just enough to kill without blocking her view.
Ruok froze, then quickly dropped to one knee a few feet away.
Minerva lightly tapped the man's shoulder.
"It is fine, Mr. Shuward," she said, her voice calm, measured. "If he intended harm, he would not announce it so loudly."
Shuward didn't argue, but he stepped aside only slightly—close enough to intervene in a heartbeat.
Silence followed.
Minerva said nothing.
She simply looked at Ruok.
Ruok… stayed kneeling.
Seconds passed.
Then minutes.
His legs started to tremble.
Oh come on… say something, he complained inwardly. My legs are about to file a resignation.
His face stayed serious, but his thoughts were not.
Is this a test? Is she waiting for me to die respectfully?
Just as his balance began to betray him—
"Stand," Minerva said at last. "And speak."
Ruok looked up like he had just been granted mercy from execution. He pushed himself up—
Bad idea.
His legs cramped instantly.
"Princess, there's a traitor in the ranks, and your—"
His voice cut off as his body tilted forward.
Time slowed.
His eyes widened.
Oh no.
He stumbled straight toward her.
Instinct kicked in—arms moving forward to catch himself—
Which, unfortunately, made it look like he was about to embrace the princess.
His face came dangerously close to hers.
And then—
He saw her lips.
Pale red, slightly parted. Seductive without trying. Close to his without him knowing.
For a split second, everything else disappeared.
The noise. The camp. The war.
Gone.
…Wait.
His thoughts stalled—completely distracted by how close they were, by the way her lips barely moved with her breath, by how unreal it felt in the middle of a battlefield.
Then—
Her eyes.
Cold, sharp, and no hint of panic.
Reality slammed back.
Ruok snapped his head sideways at the last possible moment—
Their cheeks brushed.
A light, accidental contact.
His hand slammed hard against the wooden pillar beside her, stopping the rest of his fall just inch away from their body to collide.
They froze there.
Close enough to feel each other's breath.
Ruok's arm braced beside her, body leaning forward—
A perfect, accidental imitation of a romantic wall slam.
Except one side clearly wasn't impressed.
"…I can explain," Ruok said, voice tight.
Minerva didn't move.
Not even slightly.