Suddenly, Elias stopped in his tracks and murmured in a low voice, "Art, we've got company. Don't make any sudden moves."
Art frowned, confused. "Company? There's no one out here in this frozen tundra. Let's keep moving."
With a firmer tone, Elias retorted, "I'm serious, Art. Something's watching us. Any sudden movement could make it attack. Try to look intimidating. Straighten up that frail body of yours and show a scary face."
Sensing Elias's seriousness, Art complied, albeit clumsily. He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and tried to look menacing.
Then, a translucent figure, resembling a wolf, emerged from the mist, growling softly. Its eyes gleamed with an ethereal blue light, and its icy breath curled into frozen clouds.
"Woof! Woof!"
Elias pulled a bayonet from the panel on his arm. As soon as the weapon materialized in his hands, the wolf lunged without hesitation.
"Shit!"
Thinking fast, Elias raised his arm to shield his neck, offering it as a distraction. The wolf, trained to go for vital points, aimed for the jugular. Its imposing figure, almost two meters tall, made the attack deadly.
But before it could bite, the creature conjured an ice ball in its jaws, freezing part of Elias's arm. Taking advantage of the proximity, he thrust the bayonet into the wolf's neck with surgical precision.
[Phantom Ice Wolf has been eliminated.] +50XP
As the wolf's translucent body disintegrated into snow and ice, Elias stepped back, relieved but still tense. "Damn it... stupid beast," he muttered, massaging his partially frozen arm.
Beside him, Art stood frozen, his face pale and eyes wide in shock. Then Elias noticed a small stream of liquid running down Art's pants.
"Shit," Art muttered, shame plain on his face.
With empathy, Elias ignored his companion's embarrassment. Instead, he pointed to the wolf's remains on the ground. "Well, there's the pelt you wanted."
Art, still trying to collect himself, replied in a low voice, "Right..."
An awkward silence hung between them until Elias, trying to lighten the mood, commented,
"Interesting how this beast acted differently from regular wolves. Instead of biting my jugular, it tried to freeze me."
Art, surprised, nodded. "Freeze you? It must be some kind of ice elemental wolf."
Elias raised an eyebrow.
"Ice elemental wolf? I don't know... I think 'Spectral Wolf' suits it better. After all, it was invisible."
Art rolled his eyes and sighed. "Fine, 'Spectral Ice Wolf.' Happy now?"
Elias paused, thoughtful, before adding, "Actually, its name is Phantom Ice Wolf. When I killed it, I clearly heard that name."
Art let out a short laugh. "Sure, Elias. Maybe you're schizophrenic. You should see a doctor."
Before Elias could reply, Art changed the subject: "Can you make a fur coat out of it?"
Elias grinned, looking at the frozen remains. "Yeah, I can make a coat... and maybe even a nice barbecue. I've always wondered what Phantom Ice Wolf tastes like."
"You're joking, right?"
Elias's grin widened. "Of course I am, idiot. These things don't even exist in my world."
Suddenly, Art remembered something and, still skeptical, asked,
"I almost forgot, but... how did you know the wolf was watching us if it was invisible?"
Elias thought for a moment, as if considering the best way to answer.
Finally, he said, "Instinct, I guess. Over time, with enough experience, you start sensing threats around you before you can see them."
Art murmured, more to himself than to Elias,
"Experience killing monsters..."
He stopped staring into the distance and focused on the wolf's pelt. He needed it—for the coat—more than anything else at that moment.
As night approached, the two began setting up camp. Elias tended to the fire while Art prepared the wolf's meat, already thinking about what he could do with it.
After a few minutes, Elias leaned back and said, without much enthusiasm, "If we had some salt, this meat would taste ten times better."
Art gave a tired smile and commented, "I'm lucky to have you here with me. I have no idea how I'd survive alone in this place."
Elias, with a calculated touch of irony, replied, "I couldn't agree more. Without me, you'd be totally screwed."
Art sighed, shaking his head, and murmured, "It's almost impossible to have an honest conversation with someone who makes a joke out of everything."
After a few moments of silence, Art turned to Elias and said, "I'm getting sleepy. Let's take turns keeping watch. I'll sleep first; then you wake me up. We'll switch until sunrise."
Elias, staring at the fire, responded in a low voice, "Alright. Got it."
Without another word, Art lay down and quickly fell asleep. Meanwhile, Elias took the first watch, staying alert under the cold, dark sky.
However, the calmness of that night brought something he didn't expect: memories of everything that had happened before he arrived in this world.
The events were still fresh, like open wounds. Now, with no distractions, those memories flooded back like a storm.
With a weary expression, Elias stared into the dancing flames of the fire and cursed under his breath, "Damn cigarettes... How I miss Helena."
After a long night, the sun finally broke over the horizon, painting the tundra in orange hues. Art stretched with relief and called out, "Hey, the sun's up. Let's get moving."
Elias opened his eyes, blinking against the morning light. He nodded in agreement, stood up, and brushed the dust off his clothes.
"You're right. We need to find a community soon. If we keep sleeping out here, we'll freeze to death."
Art agreed and, after a moment of hesitation, asked,
"Elias, can you teach me some martial arts? I did boxing when I was a teenager, but I barely remember anything."
Elias thought for a few seconds, then nodded. Having someone who could defend themselves would be a huge advantage.
"Sure, but you'll need to be committed. You can't survive here without knowing how to fight."
The two followed the river, keeping a watchful eye on their surroundings to avoid ambushes by predators or magical creatures. The environment was silent, save for the constant sound of flowing water and the rustle of the cold wind.
Suddenly, Elias stopped abruptly, his eyes fixed on something in the distance.
"Look there," he said, gesturing discreetly.
Art followed the direction of his gesture and noticed a thin column of smoke rising in the distance—probably from a campfire.
They crouched down to approach cautiously. Elias carefully studied the scene: three people were gathered by the riverbank, two men and a woman.
Something about the scene caught his attention. "This is strange..." murmured Elias.
"Why?" asked Art.
"They're armed, but not with guns or pistols. Just crossbows, swords, and staffs. It feels out of place."
Art explained, "Maybe, because this is an alternate world and there's magic, they never developed gunpowder."
Elias didn't argue and agreed with the theory.
He kept watching. The woman in the group seemed relaxed, chatting with the other two. This detail intrigued him. In his experience, gangs rarely allowed women in their ranks, except in subordinate roles.
"Maybe they're civilized," Elias concluded, though cautiously.
He explained the situation to Art but didn't leave out a warning:
"Listen, even if they seem peaceful, you never know. Stay sharp. If anything goes wrong, the best strategy is to run. We can't risk a direct fight. Only fight if we have a clear advantage."
Art nodded, feeling the weight of the situation. The decision was hard but clear: approaching them meant taking a risk, but it also offered a chance to find allies or help.
Carefully, the two moved closer to the camp.
The tall man, armed with a sword, stepped forward and firmly demanded, "Who are you, and what are your intentions?"
Elias signaled for Art to raise his arms in a gesture of surrender. Calmly, he replied, "We come in peace. We're just wanderers, lost, looking for help."
Before more could be said, the woman in the group intervened, her voice soft but firm:
"Lucas, they seem like good people."
Lucas, however, didn't lower his guard and shot her a stern look.
"Alice, not now. Get your fireball ready. They're suspicious. Look at their clothes! They're probably servants of the Demiurge."
Alarmed by the accusation, Art quickly tried to defuse the tension. "We're not under anyone's orders! We're lost and just want to find a community where we can get our bearings."
The other man in the group, silent until then, cast a critical eye over the newcomers before speaking in a calmer tone. "Maybe they got separated from the Daemon."
Lucas, still wary, shook his head. "I doubt it. They don't look heroic at all."
Ethan, however, responded firmly, cutting off the argument: "Shut it, Lucas. Trust me."
Turning to Elias, Ethan briefly explained, "If you're truly lost and without a Daemon, head west. There's a Daemon there who might help you."
Elias tried to ask more questions, seeking to understand who or what this "Daemon" was, but Ethan wouldn't give further answers.
Faced with the latent hostility and the clear cultural differences, Elias weighed his options.
He could insist on staying with the group, risking hostility from them or others who might notice their strange clothes and behavior, or follow Ethan's advice.
With a subtle glance at Art, Elias made his decision. He murmured:
"Let's head west. Better not push our luck here."
Art nodded, and the two slowly backed away, careful not to appear threatening, leaving behind the tension of that encounter.