Ragnar's gaze widened as he stared at it—the new occupant in the cave he had fought so hard for. His teeth clenched, and he couldn't help but say, "Shit! Of all the cases, why did it have to be this."
Right before him was another human—a man dressed in thick brown fur, boots particularly built for the snow. He was probably in the same age range as Ragnar, but larger, and much more battle-damaged than he was.
If they were going to count dried-up scars, though...
The large boy in the fur coat furrowed his eyes and said nothing. He simply stared at Ragnar, probably having the same thoughts as the young Lord.
And confirming Ragnar's worries, the large man stretched out his hand, and in it materialized a weird battle axe—formed of metal and some sort of bone.
'Fuck... he's going for the aggressive reply,' Ragnar thought, grasping the hilt of his sword tightly and taking a battle stance. He knew he could not win with his current injuries. However, he needed to be ready for the worst.
"Go from this cave. It's mine alone," the bulky man finally spoke.
Ragnar was infuriated by the way he spoke, almost yelling out in anger, "Your cave?" He spoke with a tinge of loathe in his voice.
"If I'm mistaken, were you the one to kill the Realm Beast guarding the cave in the first place?"
The man with the large battle axe seemed indifferent. He only frowned, then spoke with his uncomfortably loud bicker of a voice, "If that grade-one Wretchborn had been here when I came, I would have killed it nonetheless. So it does not matter if you killed it or not. This can only be decided by the rule of the Death Deity."
Hearing the boy say this made the young Lord a bit tense. He lowered his blade down till its tip pointed straight toward the ground. This approach was not going to end well for him. Looking at the man before him, Ragnar could already tell—this man had been in the Realm for more time than he had, maybe even a year had passed since he came.
Within a year's time, and now, the amount of arcane the man would have consumed would far exceed the reach of human expectations.
'It's not just about killing him... but what matters the most in any world is never strength... but information.'
Ragnar dropped his blade to the ground and raised both his hands into the air. His face scrunched up and he spoke:
"Let me stay with you till tomorrow at least. As you can see, I just arrived in this Realm. I have no knowledge of survival—teach me that," Ragnar spoke, his voice laced with pain and need.
For the first time, the large man changed his countenance and smiled, dismissing his mighty axe. Then he stood proudly in the embrace of the shelter Ragnar had fought for.
How infuriating.
"And why would I let you do that?" The man started to rub his chin and gave Ragnar a spectacle of a look. "What's my gain in all this?"
This was what the young Lord expected. He immediately replied him, indifferent, "I have food... real food in my ring. And I will give you a good amount of it."
From the sight of the hunter, Ragnar knew he would not be able to refuse a deal that prioritized food—real food at that. Not like the roasted meats of Realm Beasts he was consuming. And best of all—it came at no cost to the hunter.
The hunter took a few seconds to think about the deal, and then nodded.
Ragnar did not linger under the snow and abrasive wind for a moment longer before rushing toward the rock platform.
Taking a step off the stone and into the shelter—for the first time being freed from the snow and the wind—he felt as though he had been pulled out of icy water and into a room with a considerable amount of warmth, at least.
Reaching the platform, Ragnar firstly walked up to a corner at the end of the cave and there he sat down, curling up in a ball before he raised his gaze back at the hunter who had been staring at him the whole time.
Maybe amused, or something?
"What?! Do you want to eat the food or me instead?" he asked rudely. And the hunter lingered there for a moment before letting out a sigh and walking toward the opposite side of the cave where there was a bag he had left earlier.
He sat down and rested on the cave wall, also seeming a little exhausted himself.
But Ragnar envied him. The man before him had fur-made clothing and boots made particularly for the winter, this harsh condition, and he was barely even shivering—while the young Lord could not help but struggle against clattering teeth anytime he attempted to mutter a word.
"Food first. Information second," the man broke the short silence, stretching out his large palm to Ragnar.
Seeing this, Ragnar wasted no time in summoning a loaf of bread from his ring space, then walked toward the hunter with a simple, blank face.
He placed the loaf in the palm of the hunter, then retreated back to his part of the cave.
Sitting back there, he then stared at the hunter who was already greedily tearing into the loaf like a hungry dog that had nothing decent to eat for an entire month.
Well, this did not bother Ragnar. He waited a moment longer for the hunter to start the conversation that he paid for—and just as the silence was starting to get annoying, the hunter spoke.
"I am Hagi," he introduced.
But Ragnar seemed to not give his name a thought.
"I did not pay you to hear another insignificant name."
Hagi froze for a moment, glaring at the young Lord, before dismissing every conflicting feeling he attained at that time.
"I have been trapped in The Fallen Clutch for over a year. And it's not leisure—or even like any First Realms. You're especially lucky you met me on time. Before it got dark," Hagi lingered after saying this and stared outside.
Ragnar did the same. He waited and looked at the sky—there was no sun. It was as though the skies themselves were what lit up the vicinity. So there was no way to tell if it was going to be dark anytime soon.
But there was a strange feeling the young Lord felt in his veins—in his entire being—and he knew the same could be said for Hagi.
The feeling continued for a while, and then, as though a light bulb had been turned off—everywhere turned dark.
It was so sudden and strange, Ragnar was a bit thrown off guard.
He tried his best to peer through the darkness, but it was totally devoid—strangely so.
"If I were you, I'd be as silent as I can throughout the night," Hagi's voice, a bit shaky and strained, was the only thing Ragnar heard in this subtle dark. And despite it being whispered, it almost sounded like he was talking through the darkness.
"We'll continue our little chat tomorrow."
Ragnar heard him finish and became puzzled instantly.
What resided in the shadow and the dark... that made the one-year-experienced hunter this petrified?