Captain Don's words seemed to have finally done the trick and awoke Drake from his trance. As the haze cleared up and the fog dispersed from his mind, he looked as if he was just awoken from a deep slumber.

Listening to the old man's words, the clarity gradually returned to his mind. Hesitantly he nodded at his words, with a nod, he pulled his sword down, and though he kept it unsheathed, it was now lowered, its tip facing the ground.

Seeing that the anger, the rage faded from the boy's look and that his weapon was lowered down, the old man revealed a tired smile, as he did the same and put away his short sword as well.

Next to them, Crone who was still down on the ground meanwhile have completely forgotten his earlier ordeal. The shock of the sudden turn of events made his adrenaline spike, causing him to temporarily ignore the horrible, searing, pulsating painful sensation coming from his shattered, right fist.

Now, however, as the situation once again calmed down, he was violently jolted back to reality with the sudden return of a surging, searing, sharp torture. With gritted teeth, he reached for his broken right fist with his left hand, gently caressing it and turning his attention back towards the front of the Medical Tent, where Derick and Galina were still busily attending the sprawled-out, unconscious girl's.

Though he wished for some attention for his poor, miserable self, he didn't utter a single word of complaint, and just kept silently enduring by himself whilst lamenting his recently made poor choices.

…

With the situation resolved, and noticing that the silver-haired boy would probably not let himself be succumbed to the anger he felt, Captain Don sheathed his sword back into its holster at his right side, as he walked closer to the boy.

He put his right hand over his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze, then a rub, he spoke with a warmer, friendlier tone.

"I understand what you feel boy. Believe me, I do…" He said, taking a quick glance towards the side where the three girls laid. He sighed at their sight, as he continued. "Just like Aina and Eina, even Naybeah… just like you all are already, even the missing Young Master, are important to me, to us. Though our start earlier today may have not been the most ideal, we are all part of one big family now."

Drake didn't react to the elderly captain's words, his gaze was fixated on their chained captive instead. He looked at him with a cold, ugly look. His sword-wielding hand was shivering with all the emotion, the dark, hidden desires he was forcefully pushing back down.

Even though he wanted nothing more than to strike away and separate that ugly, horrific-looking half-insectoid, half-wolf-like head off from this monster's body, he did not act.

After some time, he finally heaved a heavier sigh, confirming the victory of his mind over his heart. The shivering, trembling of his hand gradually calmed down before Drake finally acted and sheathed his sword back into its bandage-like wrappings at his side. Though the sword was glimmering with a fierce brilliant light and was transmitting its will and intent of wrath, Drake ignored it and put Mort back to its makeshift holster.

As he sighed, the Captain's expression shifted, from the forced, tired-looking wry smile to a more natural curvature, he nodded at the boy.

"Good. Remember, not just you, but believe me, that everyone else in the camp would want nothing more than to torture this beast to the cruelest, most painful death possible for what he did."

He gave a gentle pat to the boy's back as he stepped forward, closer to the creature.

"Yet, we need to think rationally. If there's one of these…" He paused his speech for a moment as he scrutinized the beast from head to toe. His smiling expression vanished instantly, transforming into a serious, cold outlook as he continued. "…well, whatever the hell these things actually are… We can be sure there are more of its kind. Seeing how powerful just this single one was, I don't even want to know what we would do if a full group or gods' forbid… a dozen of them would suddenly emerge from the ground below and ambush us."

His face turned solemn at the thought, he leaned closer to the creature's face, taking his time to slowly digest the horrific, nightmarish sight. The bristly, sharp fur that covered the beast looked to be hard, like small, short needles covered most of the creature's body, even most of its head albeit much shorter. Only its front, its face was free from them, replaced by a much softer, lighter-toned one. If one would not count the insectoid, 4 pairs of bead-like eyes, the creature's head mostly resembled that of a wolfish origin.

It had a pair of sharp, fur-covered ears growing from the upper half of the side of its head, though from a first look it would probably seem as if it were growing from the top of its head as it towered towards the sky.

It had an elongated nose and consequently, a shape of a head, with its jaws placed directly below. A single row of razor-sharp teeth could be seen inside its mouth. From the previous encounters, it seemed that the beast was capable of unclasping his jawbones and open its mouth unnaturally wide, seemingly capable of swallowing its prey fully if needed. From the look, it seemed that the creature was an omnivore, a natural-born predator.

Looking below the strong, wide neck that connected its head to the rest of its body, the creature's two pairs of arms were situated to the same shoulder socket. Though Don was not a scholar, at most an experienced hunter, he could guess that probably had a mutated, much wider scapula to be capable of housing, not one, but an additional arm and have it jointed on each side.

From the previous encounter, it was clear that all four of the creature's arms were fully functional, having their own set of nerves, and could be operated on without hindering the other in any way. The creature, despite its size and how one would expect, was dexterous, nimble, and incredibly agile. Adding its brutish explosive strength to the mix, it wasn't that big of a mystery how could such a monster be a threat to that anyone.

As Captain Don was staring at the creature silently, taking his time at scrutinizing it to analyze its most characteristic features, the beast was doing the same. Its 8 dark, beady gemstone eyes were focused on the older-looking bareskin in front of it.

Though its taunting, disdainful smirk has long since left its expression, like its oppressors, the creature had a thirst for knowledge, it wanted to understand more of these invading otherworlders deeper.

Were they a threat? Were they related to the ones noted in the legends and myths of their tribe? If so, why did they come back? What do they want?

---

AN: Hey there Readers!

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