Gabrio fired his pistol once again. He went down on his knees and with trembling hands, reached out for the spear he had wielded. Wrapping his fingers around the spear, he stood up and with a leap, plunged the spear on the beast, and twisted it. Arching his back, he wrestled the spear, until the spear was firmly lodged inside the beast.

Throwing himself to the side, he felt his back on soft grass. Though the sled he had made lessened his burden. What made things dangerous was the environment and natural predators that appeared during day and night. The deeper he moves into this unforgiving jungle, the crueler the predators were. For the past weeks that he had been trekking, sneaking, and stalking around this jungle. He had realized how limited he was in terms of abilities to navigate dense jungles.

It didn’t help that with the baggage he was carrying around. He was always encumbered, and had to result in wrapping himself with fur and what protective materials he could gather from the forest. His tattered coat reinforced with fur, and his limbs wrapped with scales.

His face is as pale as a clean sheet of paper. His hands and arms wrapped with coagulated blood and bile from the creatures he had killed.

Gabrio had believed firmly that the gun was the greatest equalizer. That belief in him seemed like it was almost fanatical now. If it wasn’t for the pistol and gunpowder. How could he live? If it wasn’t for the bang that it produces and the stingy smoke it produces, how could the evil be driven away?

“These are my guns,” he said with a deranged tone of voice, “there are many like these, but these ones are mine.”

His eyes were unfocused. His lips formed a weary smile. Gabrio took out his pouch and reloaded three of his pistols. With most of them being breechloaders, it was easy for him to do it. Of course, just because he had pistols means that he would use them.

Creatures that are like what he had just killed were tenacious beings that could not be easily killed unless he shoots them in the head. The spear was his best companion, while the pistols were the ones that did the killing blow. Most of the creatures he were facing were fast, tenacious, and barely could be hit unless they stayed still. Though Gabrio has been improving, he was still not a marksman or a crack shot that could accurately hit a moving target with ease. Not to mention that he had no reason to dump all of his ammunition on one monster so he could just keep a distance. Not to mention that despite being breechloaders, these pistols still needed a minute or two to be reloaded, and in that minute he could be dead.

His tactics so far was to pin down the enemy, draw his pistol, aim and then fire. Of course, when faced with predators who are swift on the jungle, he had no choice but to lead them in narrows.

His main advantage was that the pistol acted as deterrent and deadly weapon for him. The gunshot produced by the pistol could rattle a pack of the four-legged wolf-like creatures he had been trying to defend from.

There are times when the gunshot doesn’t scare them, forcing himself to drag the sled to the narrow tight spot where his back is covered and the front was the only defensible point of attack. Due to the fears that he had for him and Mana. He was on constant alert. Most of the pains that he had were his wrists, and the usual seizures that he had to endure. One thing that he had decided to do was to only inject his pain-alleviating opium when he was having seizures during battle.

Leaking out a hollow laugh, pressing both palms against the soft grass, he stood up, dragged himself to where Mana was and dragged the sled out in the open. Upon dragging the sled, he stopped, reeled back, and made involuntary movements on the ground. His eyes rolled back, and he arched his back so much. The movements stayed with him for five minutes until he got himself back to his feet and pushed on.

“On your feet, not on your knees,” Gabrio decided. He had been repeating that mantra like a prayer to the Gods. The one thing that he wished right now was that he would not go gentle.

Other than the switching cold and hot weather, there were also problems with how he got his water. A week ago, when he found no clean puddle of water, and with the wet branches and woods making it impossible for him to create fire. He had forced himself to drink water that he had not boiled, and though he lasted four days without feeling its effects. He started vomiting, and reeling in pain. He had to wipe his ass with a leaf, and even weakened himself further. At this point, he was running on adrenaline and this madness and desire to see his patient’s safely.

For the weeks he had been observing Mana. Despite how vulnerable she was, how defenseless she was, and how he could do anything. Gabrio didn’t find it in his heart or even mind to do it. Just the thought of it even repulses him so hard. What would Mother Galena think of him? What would Brother Cato do if he hears his thoughts? Nonetheless, the thought doesn’t even enter his mind nowadays. How could it enter his mind when he was in constant pain and danger?

Gabrio felt drained. He felt so tired that the thought of delivering Mana back to the fleet or just the thought of her waking up and going off alone became his maddening desire. This place was not a place of hope, and though he was someone who could appreciate silence, he wasn’t fond of loneliness, not being able to talk to anyone, only having to vocalize his thoughts so that he wouldn’t go mad.

Other than this pit he had found himself in. Gabrio fought his mind, finding the little things that he found throughout the forest, as tiny spots of hope, and that he grew to appreciate. Gabrio had lived in For Rava for years that he had been hardened. He knew himself enough and had experienced a war and dragged people out of danger as a war doctor. He had never been the kind to succumb to pessimism, but now he believed that the mind is as strong as the body.

With a weak body, comes a weak mind. He had deceived himself that the only reason he was feeling this helplessness, despair, and dread was because of the environment was in. With fear in his mind, he had become alert, and also wary of the things around him. But when he abandoned those fears, those dangers, and those despairs, he found himself thinking of the ‘need’ and the ‘have’ that he had deceived himself.

What does he need to do?

Bring Mana back to the fleet or wait until she wakes up on her own.

What does he have to do?

He had to keep on moving forward, and never stop himself from taking a step out of fear.

But all of that are just words and thoughts of a man who have been trying to fool himself to keep on moving forward. No matter how optimistic he was, the pain, the constant fear, it was something that weighed on him to the point that he felt like his knees would buckle. He didn’t have to prove anything, he didn’t even have to worry about Mana because at this point, there was no reason for him to do so. Why should he prioritize the safety of others instead of his?

However, he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t allow himself to kill the only good thing that he had been taught with. He had been molded by his teacher who butchered prisoners to advance medical science, being taught by criminals who should have been hung for their crimes. But being a doctor was the only thing that he had been passionate about. Compared to others, he was lacking, and his knowledge was barely passable to the other doctors who have shared their insight to him when he was roaming the Arkshelled Island.

But he prided himself on being a doctor that helps. It didn’t matter if the people around him would call him a vain man who only wanted to be praised by being a ‘good’ doctor. Though it was good for his soul and ego, the pleasure he got from seeing his patients. He was not a good person, not even necessarily a bad one. He didn’t find joy in seeing people who were helpless treat him like a savior, nor did he find pleasure in cutting up bodies or giving them medicines to give them false hope.

He just wanted to offer his hand and patch them up. The world had enough of good men fighting and killing for what they believed in. What’s so bad about believing in healing those that can be healed? Saving those that still can be saved? Of course, he wanted to do it with reason in mind as well.

Fort Rava had shown him the depravity of how low people can get. Nevertheless, Fort Rava was also the place that taught him that even those who have been in the dark could still be brought to light. Old Ernest was one of those people he knew that have been redeemed, but even Old Ernest didn’t believe that his soul still can be salvaged for what he had done in the past.

It was not even kindness that drove Gabrio to carry Mana around. He found himself thinking what drives him forward and yet with all reason and time to think about. Gabrio had concluded that it was not for pleasure, satisfaction, or even the euphoria of saving someone. He just did it because it was natural for a doctor to save a patient.

That was it. It was so simple and shallow that he found himself laughing. He thought of himself as a fool, an idiot, and so many self-hating ridicules he could tell himself to, but nevertheless, he didn’t want to abandon his patient. At least not until he was sure that she could live on and go back to the fleet.

No person would allow himself to suffer out of his own choice, but that didn’t stop him from believing in what he had strived to become. But even with all of these thoughts inside of his head, his body was still failing him. Gabrio found out that he had no tears to offer, only a hollow laugh that resounded throughout the trees.

A howl resounded, stopping Gabrio’s laugh. He held the spear tightly once again, and looked around him. Another three-foot tall wolf-like creature that was snarling at him. His body felt heavy. His eyes were in pain as he forcibly tore it open. He pushed Mana to the side of a tree and held the spear with his two hands.

Gabrio felt so weak that he wanted to sleep. It was so tempting to do so, but giving it all up after walking so far was frustrating. He couldn’t even roar, and all he could hear was the soft movements of the creature’s paws hitting the soft grass. Oh how he longed for those fangs to bite through his neck and just end it for him.

Nonetheless, he gave out a long exhale as he steeled himself, going for a crouch position, while aiming for the throat of the creature as he had done for quite some time. It was tempting to just die here, but again, he found himself unable to do it, thinking, that at the moment, it wasn’t time to do it yet.

Not yet, on your feet, never on your knees, Gabrio, he thought to himself as he plunges the spear, wedged it on the creature’s throat, pulled the pistol on his belt, and shot it on the head of the creature.