Chapter 330: Hidden Danger
One thing had to be said—compared to Talulah's long-winded speeches about the so-called future, it was Patriot's brief answer that resonated more deeply with Steven.
Sometimes, what he needed was nothing more than a simple answer like this. Yet Talulah still could not walk her path with the same unwavering conviction Patriot displayed.
It wasn't that Talulah's ideas were wrong. It was just that, more often than not, only actions—not words—were what truly moved people.
After stuffing the guerrilla fighter's storehouses full of things like cooked potatoes and bread, Steven finally stepped out of the warehouse and met the gaze of the silent Wendigo standing guard for him.
"Your words are cool and all, but we still need to find a place to settle these people. The guerrillas can't possibly feed them for a lifetime."
It was a cruel truth. Steven was sure that the guerrilla leader before him knew this perfectly well—he had simply chosen not to say it aloud.
Patriot only gave a slight nod, not answering the question directly. Perhaps he, too, had no way to resolve the problem at hand for now.
"The two girls you're looking for should be among the infected refugees at the outskirts of the camp. As for the ore you need, come back to me once you've found Talulah."
After pointing out the general location of Talulah and Alina, Patriot hesitated for a moment, as though there was something else he wished to say to Steven, but could not bring himself to voice.
This hesitant demeanor stirred Steven's curiosity all the more.
"Is there something else you'd like to tell me? Please, don't hold back."
Steven halted his steps toward Talulah and asked directly. From the way Patriot looked, it seemed very likely this was about Talulah.
"I don't like speaking ill of others behind their back, but… your Draco companion carries the scent of someone I deeply despise. If she is truly connected to that being, then you must tread with utmost caution."
After a brief pause, Patriot finally gave voice to what he had sensed. He didn't know whether Steven himself had noticed, but all he could do was issue a warning.
That presence was none other than the Deathless Black Snake spoken of in Ursus's ancient legends—more accurately, a kind of will that was passed down. Patriot's past dealings with its previous incarnation, Kashchey, had been anything but pleasant.
That scheming, war-mongering stench that seeped from every inch of Kashchey's being was something Patriot utterly loathed.
Why Talulah bore traces of his presence, Patriot could not say for certain. Still, judging from her bearing and conduct, he could guess a few things.
But it was precisely because of this that he did not wish for Yelena to grow too close to her. For the time being, Talulah simply had not earned his trust.
"Oh? You mean the Black Snake? Of course I know about that. But Black Snake is Black Snake, and Talulah is Talulah. They are not the same entity. Besides—I trust my companions."
Upon hearing Patriot's words, Steven immediately understood what he was referring to. Talulah bearing the aura of the so-called Deathless Black Snake was something he had long known.
In fact, he himself had once been tempted by that thing. But before long, the voice that had whispered in his mind was promptly driven out—by nothing more than a cup of milk.
In theory, if he wanted to help Talulah remove that thing's possession, it actually wouldn't be that difficult.
But he still respected Talulah's own wishes. Since she had never once brought up the matter of the Black Snake with him, and since that thing hadn't even awakened yet, he naturally let her be.
If it really endangered Talulah, he wouldn't even need Patriot to remind him—he would have already dragged her over for a round of "cupping therapy and scraping," pulling the Black Snake's will right out of her consciousness.
"Very well," Patriot said after hearing Steven's reply. He merely nodded, then went off to arrange for the transport of ores to Steven.
Since the boy had spoken so decisively, there was no point in pursuing the matter further. Besides, if this miraculous youth really was as extraordinary as he seemed, perhaps he could indeed bring about some unexpected surprises.
Even that so-called Deathless Black Snake, in Patriot's eyes, was far less mysterious than this black-haired youth.
After parting with Patriot, Steven soon spotted a familiar figure in the outer camp.
Among a group of children bearing the signs of infection stood an Elafian girl with long, lustrous silver-gray hair. She was holding a worn-out book, recounting to the little ones tales from Ursus' history.
The children listened with rapt attention. After all, for them, the chance to take part in something as simple as this extremely makeshift "lesson" was already an unimaginable luxury.
Most of the time, following their parents meant either fleeing for their lives or struggling desperately just to eat. Words like "school" or "studying" were far too distant for them.
Only under the protection of the guerrilla fighter, and with a kind, approachable teacher like Alina, could they ever hope to experience such a rare moment.
As for their parents, exhausted as they were, they were simply relieved to have a safe place to entrust their children—one where someone would even teach them. That alone was more than enough to make them happy.
Steven did not interrupt this harmonious scene. He quietly took a seat behind Alina, waiting patiently for this lesson—one that was even less formal than an ordinary elementary class—to finish.
To put it plainly, Alina was just a village girl who had taught herself out of interest. It would be asking far too much to expect her to have any real academic credentials. Yet even simple history lessons and a bit of literacy were treasures beyond measure to these children.
By the time Alina carefully guided them through today's lesson, nearly half an hour had passed.
Steven, listening from the side, was nearly dozing off, but the children, unexpectedly, clung to her eagerly, hoping she would continue.
That was the difference between the children of the Infected and those of ordinary families: what could be easily obtained was rarely cherished, but what was hard to come by was forever unforgettable.
Even if the children clung to Alina as much as they liked, their parents would eventually take them back. Leaving the kids with her for a short while was fine, but for longer stretches, they still needed their own children to help out a little and ease the strain of life in this makeshift camp.
Alina didn't mind in the least. On the contrary, after pulling out a rather rough-looking piece of bread from her bosom and handing it out to the children, she rose with a gentle smile and began tidying up the mess they had left behind.
"Well now, trying to sneak in a diet, are you? If I'm not mistaken, that bread you just gave away was supposed to be your dinner, wasn't it? Have you even looked at yourself lately? You're far too thin. And I'll tell you right now, being that skinny doesn't look good at all."
Only after Alina had seen off the last child did Steven step up behind her, clearing his throat twice before speaking in a tone that was half-joking, half-worried.
At the sound of that familiar voice, Alina spun around at once, her face lit with surprise and joy as she looked at the young man who had somehow appeared behind her without her noticing.
"Mr. Steven? When did you come back?"
Her steps were quick as she closed the distance between them, and from her bright, excited expression, it was obvious how much she had been hoping for his return.
"Let's see~ maybe I came back just before our dear Teacher Alina started her lesson? Only, someone was far too focused on teaching and didn't notice me at all."
Steven answered with mock seriousness, but from the way his lips curved upward, it was clear he was in high spirits. After all, seeing an old friend again—wasn't that something worth being happy about?
"You're still the same as ever, always joking around. You could have called out to me earlier, you know."
Caught in the act of playing teacher, Alina seemed a little embarrassed. Her head lowered slightly, but her eyes never strayed from Steven's face, as if no matter how much she looked, it still wasn't enough.
"Well, I couldn't interrupt our Teacher Alina while she was working, could I? Besides, you still haven't answered my question. How many times have you done this already? Skipping meals like that is no good."
Steven stepped closer, gently taking hold of her delicate, slender arm. Compared to when he had left, she looked even thinner now.
Alina had always appeared fragile, but this time, her thinness carried a touch of sickness about it.
"I'm an adult, aren't I? Eating a little less won't hurt me. The children are still growing—what if they went hungry instead?"
Alina avoided his gaze as she gave her evasive answer.
Deep down, she knew she couldn't really justify it. Not just her—the entire guerrilla camp was struggling with hunger. To have even the bare minimum of rations was already a blessing. To her, giving her portion to the children wasn't anything wrong.
As for being thinner—compared to the suffering of those infected, what did that matter?
But Steven's response was not words. Instead, he pressed a piece of sweet, honeyed bread directly into her mouth.
"That won't do. If you go hungry, it's me who'll feel the pain."
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Note: Character Illustration is in this Google Drive:
https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1iuyfwNVFHzIi9H4rWNT_lAm7jTSiah_M
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