Harra sprinted through the forest, his feet pounding the ground. Even from a distance, he could feel it in the air, the fight between Fignar and the Arachne had reached its peak...
And then, in an instant, the tide shifted.
The clash that had soared into the skies now plunged to the forest floor. Harra pushed himself harder, trying to reach them—
To help.
To intervene.
But before he arrived, just shy of the battlefield.
He felt it.
The Arachne King's mana had vanished.
And yet...
Fignar's presence still remained, burning strong.
Had he lost?
Harra skidded to a stop, heart pounding in his chest, if Fignar had won, he would've noticed him by now.
He'd be next.
He'd be slaughtered.
But Fignar didn't come.
Instead, a sound echoed through the clearing, a loud, pained grunt.
Harra stepped forward, slipping through the trees until moonlight washed over the scene.
And there they were.
Sirius stood over Fignar, who kneeled before him.
The Arachne King loomed tall... then spoke.
Harra heard it all—the trembling apology, the final breaths of the Minotaur King. Fignar's end was quiet, pitiful even, a humiliating contrast to the fury and pride he'd worn in life... then came the execution.
And only moments after leaving, Sirius returned, now standing silently over Fignar's lifeless body.
What happened next was even more baffling.
Sirius's power surged until it matched Harra's own. Even exceeding it. The sheer volume of mana pouring from him was impossible. No demi-human, demi-beast, or even human, could achieve such a leap so quickly.
Since his birth, Harra had never witnessed anything like it, an ability that let someone gain power by absorbing a fallen foe. It was madness. No, it had to be a Blessing... there was no other explanation.
Harra stepped forward, ready to question the Arachne. But he stopped cold.
To his left, something stirred.
A presence.
Calm, but suffocating. Beautiful, but dangerous.
The Druid ambassador of the forest.
Raya.
An entity best left undisturbed.
Harra instinctively tried to pull back, but it was already too late. Both of them had noticed him.
"Harra," Sirius said, turning. "You actually came."
"Have you finally changed your mind about adding your clan to our republic?" Raya asked, a flower blooming from her crown of vines.
Harra ignored her completely, his gaze fixed on Sirius.
"I have a proposition for you," he said. Because no matter how he looked at it, the Arachne clan had changed. They were strong now. Strong enough that Raya had come to bring them under her republic.
If Harra wanted to keep the Fenrir safe, this was the move.
"How about we start an alliance? A permanent one this time," Harra offered. "We Fenrir are skilled hunters, elite trackers. If you partner with us, your people will never have to worry about food again—"
"No," Sirius cut in. Then yawned.
"It's the same thing I told the flower lady. I'm not interested in joining any factions." He turned away with a tired wave of his hand. "I just want to eat and go to bed, alright? Now—shoo, shoo."
The ground beneath them shifted, softened. A flower bed unfurled across the forest floor, stretching for miles in every direction. Roses, tulips, dahlias. Thousands of them. Breathtaking.
"I would like you to reconsider," Raya said gently, her voice like wind through leaves. "The Republic is a gathering of the strongest demi-humans in the forest. You would gain protection from every allied clan. Aid, resources, backup should you ever face—"
"No," Sirius cut in, roses crumpling beneath the sole of his shoes.
The offer was good. Too good.
That was the problem.
"You don't get something for nothing," he muttered. "Not in any world. Find someone else."
A wall of thorns erupted from the ground, rising fast, blocking his path. Raya remained still, her smile just as wide. "I would love for you to reconsider—"
Flames flickered across Sirius's palm. The flowers withered and ignited.
"No."
More thorns surged upward, denser this time, reinforced with mana, curling around them and forming a tight cage. "I wasn't suggesting," Raya said calmly. "Your blessing... it's incredible. You absorb the power of those you defeat. You will be a key player in the future of this forest."
Sirius turned to her, his gaze hollow, cold.
His mana surged, pulsing outward in a wave that shook the thorns, the earth beneath them, even Harra. A webbed blade grew in his palm, twitching with restrained force.
"I wasn't either," Sirius replied. "Don't make me say it again."
Raya met his gaze, held it for a long second, then finally let out a sigh.
The thorns crumbled into petals, floating away on the breeze.
"I didn't want to resort to coercion. I apologize," she said, tone softer now.
"I don't care," Sirius replied, already walking away.
Harra watched the Arachne king walk away, his presence still clinging to the air like static. The hairs on the back of Harra's neck bristled. Killing two kings in less than a week was unheard of. Not for any low tier race.
"Are you scared, mutt?" Raya teased.
Harra smirked without turning. "You weren't exactly eager to fight him either. Who's really afraid?"
Raya chuckled softly, her form melting into the ground, dissolving into a patch of chrysanthemums that swayed gently in her wake.
Harra glanced at the fading petals, then back toward the forest trail where Sirius had vanished. Somewhere ahead, the hybrid walked, stomach growling loud enough to hear through the trees.
He let out a low, nervous laugh. Not fear, at least not entirely. Something else.
Respect maybe.
Or maybe the quiet realization that Raya was right: Sirius was a problem. One that could level the entire forest if left unwatched.
"Scary," he muttered.
———————
By the time Sirius returned to the village, a fire was roaring.
This wasn't his first meal with the Arachne. But it was, without a doubt, the most memorable.
They had gathered in a wide circle, seated on logs, stones, and the forest floor itself. In the center, a massive boar turned slowly over an open flame, its skin blistered to a crisp golden brown. Garura stood beside it, rotating the spit with steady hands, his face painted crimson.
While Sirius and the others had been locked in a deadly struggle with Fignar, the village had quietly transformed.
A new hut had gone up, not as sturdy as the others, but functional. Smoke drifted out from its open roof, a large fire burning within.
The kitchen.
Sirius could smell it even from where he sat, roasted fish, charred beef, the scents had dragged his hunger back to the forefront of his mind. He glanced inside and caught a glimpse of Rue and Martha at work, their faces flushed with flame and panic.
"Do you think this is tasty enough?" Rue asked, taking a small bite of the roasted fillet, her brows furrowed.
"You already fed it to him once—why didn't you ask him?!" snapped Martha, the clan chef, her hands trembling as she hovered near a pile of ingredients.
"We were busy, Martha!" Rue shot back. "Do you think he liked the last one, do you think it needed salt?"
"He's part human, isn't he?" Martha muttered, reaching for a thick green leaf holding a pool of seawater. "Then boil this."
Rue flicked her finger, a tiny controlled flame blooming at the tip. She held it beneath the leaf, hot enough to boil, but not enough to melt through. Moments later, the water hissed away, leaving behind fine sea crystals.
Martha wiped the sweat from her brow with one hand, then reached out with the other to sprinkle the coarse salt over the fish.
"It's done..." she whispered.
"Do you think he'll like it?" Rue asked.
"If he doesn't..." Martha said solemnly, "then I shall take my own life as punishment."
Without another word, she marched toward the hut's entrance, watching Rue walk out with the fish carefully arranged on wide leaves.
The village buzzed with life, the Arachne laughing and chatting around the fire. Sirius watched them with a smile. Despite the reverence they showed him, they still spoke freely in his presence—and that, more than anything, made him happy.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Rue approaching, a large leaf cradled in her hands, delicately holding freshly cooked fish.
She knelt before him, lowering onto both knees as she presented the meal.
Sirius glanced down. It was the same dish he'd eaten before, filleted fish, unseasoned but roasted to perfection.
It had been tasty, filling even, though it had lacked a little something. But he'd never mentioned it. The Arachne didn't need cooked food—this was all for him. He wasn't about to criticize their effort.
"Thanks," he said softly, watching as Rue placed the leaf on the small wooden table in front of him.
The scent came up immediately, warm and rich, curling into his nose and practically yanking him forward.
He lifted a hand to begin, but noticed the sudden silence.
The entire village had gone quiet.
Dozens of eyes were on him, plates of meat and fish resting on broad leaves in front of each person—untouched.
Were they... waiting for him?
"You guys can go ahead. It's no—"
"This is part of our tradition," Elendira interrupted, suddenly at his side, yanking Rue's ear for whatever reason. "Everyone eats after the king."
Sirius exhaled quietly, glancing around once more.
There was still so much he had to learn, not just about the world, but about his own people.
He started.
Bringing a cut of the fish to his mouth, the heat curled against his lips, the flavor blooming across his tongue. It was rich, tender and savory, with a hint of sweetness that surprised him.
His eyes slipped half-shut, head tilting back slightly. For a moment, the world faded, replaced by the taste alone.
When he opened his eyes again, Rue was still in front of him, hands trembling, as if his verdict on the meal would decide life or death.
Sirius chuckled. "You used salt, didn't you?" he said. "Was that for me? Either way... it's perfect."
Martha collapsed behind Rue, her breath dropping mid-gasp. Rue spun on her heels and shouted something unintelligible, seemingly shocking life back into the Arachne.
Then, like a chain of falling dominoes, the rest of the Arachne began to eat.
Their laughter and chatter returned with full force. Meat and fish vanished from leaves in seconds. Soft moans of delight rose from the crowd as flavor after flavor hit their mouths.
"Is this really what cooked fish tastes like?" Cela asked, holding a hand to her cheek in bliss. "It's so much better than when it's fresh."
"I know, right?" Rune grinned beside her, gnawing into roasted starrabbit. "We should eat it like this all the time!"
Sirius smiled, his chest warm.
Rue returned to his side, offering him a molded leaf-cup filled with water. He accepted it, raising it to his lips, then paused.
"Okay... I probably should've mentioned this earlier," he said. "But I can't drink saltwater."
In the background, Martha dropped to her knees, a webbed blade already drawn and pressed to her throat. "I have failed the young master," she cried. "I do not deserve the life he has given me—"
"I'm only half Arachne," Sirius added quickly. "My tolerance isn't as high. Martha, stop."
"At once," she replied, letting the blade clatter to the floor with a thud.
"But how do we get freshwater for you?" Rue asked, frowning. "There aren't any clean sources nearby. And the ones that do exist are in claimed territory."
"I see..." Sirius muttered.
He could drink saltwater if he had to, but it scratched down his throat and burned in his gut like fire. Not ideal. But maybe...
Desalination.
Once again, another subject he'd studied before going over to finance had come up. Sirius sighed then smirked. "Rue, do you have a bit of water stored up?"
"Yes!" Rue said, dashing back into the kitchen and returning with a large leaf shaped in the form of a cylinder, then tied with webbing. It had been filled to the brim with water.
"Alright," Sirius said. "We're going to need two additional cylinders just like these, and something curved to catch the vapor and funnel it into—"
"Why don't you just make water?" Rune interrupted, raising a finger. A bubble formed on the tip, wobbling gently. "It's not salt water or anything."
Sirius blinked. "The next step is to heat the saltwater and—" He stopped mid-sentence, watching as Rune casually poured out the saltwater and replaced it with the clean, conjured water.
"It's called distillation..." he finished weakly.
"Is everything okay?" Rue asked, tilting her head.
Sirius didn't respond. He stepped forward in silence, dipped his hand into the makeshift bowl, and scooped up some of the water. He brought it to his lips.
It was fresh. Clean. No scratch in his throat. No burning.
He swallowed. A small tear welled in the corner of his eye.
"Yeah..." he said, voice low, somber. "It's perfect."
There went the one practical application of seventh grade science he could've shown off.
Elendira appeared beside Rue in a blink, her foot slamming into the girl's side. "Learn to read the young master, you imbecile!"
"What did I do?!" Rue yelped, tumbling over.
Sirius just sighed, already walking away. "I should've just slept through the class..."