Jurgen and his team were already on their way to Dunkers village, far beyond the country and deep into a landscape that resembled a desert. It was not entirely barren, but it stretched wide and vast, turning the distance ahead of them into what felt like an endless journey. The sun bore down heavily as they trekked, its heat steadily wearing on them with each step.
The group had remained silent since the beginning of the walk, maintaining a steady pace without interruption. That silence was eventually broken when one of the other two spoke.
"You have quite the confidence speaking to an emperor like that."
The others instinctively spared a glance in his direction. Jurgen, however, did not respond immediately and continued forward without turning.
"It'll take us till evening to get there. So less talking. More walking."
The response only irritated the boy further. By now, he had begun to conclude that the one leading ahead of him had a natural tendency to provoke people without effort.
"What does that mean?" he asked.
Before the tension could build further, Bubbles moved forward slightly, as he often did, attempting to ease the situation.
"So, what kind of enemies do you think we'll be facing?"
A low scoff came from behind them, one that nearly slipped into a laugh.
"The type that'll get your fat ass killed."
The voice carried a mocking edge, light in tone but deliberate in intent.
Bubbles turned his head slightly in response, his expression settling into something close to faint disappointment. He had only been trying to ease the tension. His gaze lingered briefly on the boy's red hair, which moved with the hot breeze, carrying a darker shade within it that was almost black under the light.
He let out a small, uneasy laugh, making another attempt to smooth over the now awkward atmosphere.
The group gradually fell silent once more as they continued forward, their pace steady against the long, unbroken stretch of land ahead.
After a while, the same boy who had spoken first shifted again. He reached for his iron bottle, which was nearly empty, and took a long, greedy gulp, tilting it upward to make sure not a single drop was wasted.
It was not enough.
Frustration settled in as he cursed under his breath and tossed the empty bottle aside.
"Hey. We've been trekking for long. Let's take a rest."
This time, his voice carried no restraint.
Jurgen ignored him. The only thing that concerned him was facing whatever awaited them in the village. He had no tolerance for interruptions when he had already set his mind on achieving something.
"I'm talking to you."
The boy's voice carried a milder tone now, not overly aggressive, yet far from gentle.
He increased his pace with visible irritation and placed a firm hand on Jurgen's shoulder, forcing him to halt. Jurgen stopped, turning his head slightly as the boy fixed him with an intense stare.
"I don't like being ignored," he declared.
"Nyugen… was it?" Jurgen asked.
His gaze met the boy's without wavering, though there was no interest in indulging what he regarded as childish confrontation.
The boy confirmed it without words, his silence enough to affirm the name.
Jurgen turned to continue walking, but Nyugen's grip tightened, refusing to let go. His free hand began to crackle with what appeared to be lightning, a clear indication that he was not without ability.
"I said… I don't like being ignored."
This time, his tone carried more force.
From behind them, the red-haired boy let out a quiet laugh, clearly unimpressed, though still entertained by the situation. Bubbles, on the other hand, quickly stepped in, urging them not to escalate things further and suggesting that Jurgen take a rest as well.
That only added to Jurgen's irritation. If Bubbles chose to lower himself out of fear, that was his decision, but Jurgen had no intention of allowing that to extend to him.
"I don't remember anyone making you leader of this group."
Nyugen's voice now carried a clear challenge, each word deliberate.
"Then do something about it," Jurgen replied, his gaze now fixed forward.
Nyugen hesitated slightly, a flicker of surprise breaking through his anger as he tried to understand what Jurgen meant. Was he being underestimated?
Jurgen repeated the statement, just as plainly, in case it had not been understood the first time. His expression remained unbothered, as though he had already concluded how this would end. He had seen this type before, and to him, boys like Nyugen often hid insecurity beneath displays of aggression, pressing over matters that held little real weight.
"He's not wrong on that statement," the red-haired boy added.
He had already withdrawn from the situation, arms folded across his chest, his expression still carrying quiet amusement. To him, it resembled little more than an argument between children, one that did not require his involvement.
Frustration built within Nyugen as his gaze flicked briefly toward the red-haired boy, then returned to Jurgen, who remained facing forward without the slightest shift. There was no reaction to draw from him, no opening to press further. Nyugen found himself without anything to counter with.
The lightning crackling in his hand gradually subsided, and with a low hiss, he released Jurgen's shoulder.
By then, the sun had already begun to settle, dipping toward the horizon and casting a deep amber tone across the dry landscape. Even so, it was clear that night would reach them before they arrived at the village.
This guy… he was the guy that fought those two head-on in the arena. If I had engaged him, I don't think I'd have won. Even still, we'd just exhaust each other before the mission, Nyugen admitted inwardly, his gaze lingering on Jurgen.
He had witnessed the entire fight at the arena that day, and the memory alone was enough to make him reject the idea of confronting Jurgen directly, not after what he had seen.
Even Jurgen, in his own way, seemed somewhat relieved that the situation had not escalated. Though he hated admitting it but he was not entirely certain he could handle Nyugen, especially since he couldn't feel that familiar Reira anymore and not without a clear understanding of the ability the boy possessed.
They finally reached the village and arrived at what seemed like a wide space that divided them from it. A bridge rested across the gap, allowing for easy crossing. There was no gate, and the village itself remained eerily quiet.
They crossed and walked into the village, only to be met with thick mist that moved slowly through the entire area. By then, night had fallen, which made the atmosphere even more unsettling.
Jurgen swiftly scanned the surroundings before stepping up to a nearby door and knocking three times. As he waited, he considered the possibility that the residents had locked themselves indoors because of the criminals.
"This place is hella creepy," the red-haired boy said as he shifted.
"I know right!" Nyugen replied instinctively.
He paused soon after and turned to look at the speaker.
"Yeah… we didn't quite catch your name, strange teammate," he added, his hand rising awkwardly in a brief gesture before settling back down.
"Arrow," the red-haired boy replied flatly.
"Arrow as in Arrowlius or like Arrowden?" Nyugen responded, a trace of mocking humor in his voice. He found it difficult to believe that someone would simply answer with 'Arrow' as a name.
Jurgen had knocked several times without receiving a response. After a final set of three knocks, the door groaned slightly as it opened just enough for someone to check. The movement suggested a degree of caution, as though the person inside had taken a small risk in revealing himself.
Jurgen quickly introduced himself and his comrades, and they were welcomed inside. The man appeared to recognize them from their uniforms, and more importantly, he was the one who had been repeatedly sending letters to their division. What a coincidence.