Mizarka relayed the news to the others. The reception was not optimistic, though they agreed it was the only way they could ever find their captured friends or at least know their fates. It was more important for Rhynsa because this could be the chance to gather more allies, even if he did not think it would be that simple. Maybe he did have some sort of luck, though he hoped it did not dry out because of this.

Rhynsa assumed that they would give him pointers as to where to look, then he would come back and report whatever he found. To his surprise, Mizarka the Jackal hellhound declared that she was coming with him.

“(Hey, wait a second),” said Rhynsa. “(I thought you’re the leader of this ragtag bunch).”

“(I’m not. I’m just assertive),” said Mizarka with a wink. “(And besides, they might trust me more. You’re not the kind of person who can explain things, especially not if you sound like you’re asking for a fight).”

Rhynsa scoffed. “(Don’t blame me if things get rough).”

“(That applies to you too, Fuzandre, or whatever your name is. You got a name, right? Or am I not worthy to hear it?)”

“(Is that what you think of me?)” Rhynsa sighed. “(I’m Rhynsa. Unaffiliated).”

“(Okay, Rhynsa. I know where were ambushed, but from there, it’s your turn).”

“(Yeah, yeah, I know).”

“(Do you always act like a jerk all the time?)”

“(Can’t help it. C’mon, let just get this over with).”

Mizarka sighed, wondering if Rhynsa was not a good pick for the rescue mission. She was not very sure about asking a stranger to help her and had started to doubt if Rhynsa would going to see things through. She had a feeling that he might be the type of person who’d choose the easiest option: end their sufferings. For Mizarka, it was just lazy, especially if there was still a chance. It also showed that he or she was too selfish to help, and the Jackal had a fair share of that during her journey through the Underworld.

She hoped the surface would provide her a kind of solace. Now, she found that it might not be that simple. Yet, it couldn’t be helped. After all, it wasn’t that much of a risk if she was the one keeping an eye on things.

The two traveled by foot, with Rhynsa keeping his cloak on (but his hood off, per Mizarka’s insistence). She had seen the Fuzandre brown-furred body and was intrigued by how his wings were structured. It intrigued her enough for her to start a conversation.

“(So, some of you have an extra pair of limbs for wings),” said Mizarka. “(How does it feel like? Having six limbs, I mean).”

“(What’s the sudden interest?)” asked Rhynsa.

“(Come on, don’t act so distant. If we want to get through this together, we might as well know each other better. Don’t give me that ‘I work alone’ shit, because right now you aren’t).”

Rhynsa sighed and said, “(It means more things to maintain and more risks to consider, not to mention the higher risk of having your wings clipped).”

“(You always think negative stuffs?)”

“(I am talking out of experience. I can count several instances I almost lost my wings just because I got a pair of extra limbs. Hell, you might as well feel lucky only having a pair of arms and legs, plus your tail. If you’re good, you might live with only one of either pair, but you don’t want to lose one of your wings).”

“(Because you can’t fly?)”

“(Why do you think our feet looks like these? We are not meant to stay on the ground too long. Well, some might disagree, but we’re the best when we’re on flight. So, imagine what it feels like to lose it).”

Mizarka wondered about it, though she knew Rhynsa would give her a snap response that was too short for anything. Nevertheless, she asked, “(You almost got your wings cut?)”

“(Saved by the enemies),” said Rhynsa. “(Ironic, isn’t it? Almost got the short end of the stick. You might as well kill me at that point, but Fuzandres aren’t known to be that merciful).”

“(Ah),” said Mizarka, who started to sympathize with Rhynsa. “(I’m sorry).”

“(Say sorry when you know I have no wings to be proud of. For now, let’s just get on with it. Are we close to where you said you were ambushed?)”

“(It’s not too far from where we are),” said Mizarka. “(There is a big, open road near a forest where we were ambushed).”

“(How long has it been since then?)”

“(A week or so. Hopefully, the prints are still there).”

Rhynsa was a little skeptical, but at least it wasn’t more than a month. Considering that Mizarka’s group barely reached the surface, namely a week, the Fuzandre was more concerned with the presence of either a Crossing Gate, which was a portal linking the surface world with the Underworld, or a summoning circle, which would spawn demons. Either one of those would not help. Good thing Rhynsa came prepared with Demon Hunting weapons, in case the worst came to past.

When they reached where Mizarka pointed out the area where the rest of her group was taken, Rhynsa silently sighed. The worst-case scenario did not happen and the prints were still rather fresh. Among the dried prints of wagon wheels, horseshoes, human shoes, and pawprints, there were indications of a struggle. However, the most important part of the investigation was very apparent: the prints of a Fuzandre.

Unlike the paws of hellhounds and Lycans, Fuzandre prints were closer to human’s feet than canine’s paws. The digits were very prominent, and the claws even more so. Fuzandres never stood on their own feet for long. Many times, they preferred walking a short distance before hopping and flew the rest of the way with their wings. Rhynsa learned how to walk like a normal surface dweller during his time wandering on the surface, though even he was still unprepared to walk all the time, hence his nocturnal activity.

Rhynsa found that he was lucky, though unfortunately not for the rest of the group. He then called Mizarka to tell her about his findings.

“(So, what do you got?)” asked the Jackal.

“(There were signs of struggle),” explained Rhynsa. “(Dirt road is considerably disturbed. Someone is being dragged away. Near the side, see the depressions? They were forced to kneel. I count at least five…six pairs. Are there six of you missing?)”

“(Seven. Including the Fuzandre).”

“(No blood splatter, meaning that no one was executed. One point for survival chance, I suppose),” said Rhynsa. He then followed one of the prints, which disappeared into the forest. “(The Fuzandre is running away. He’s fast. Not surprising. He has wings, after all. Prints on the mud looks like he’s jumping. No. Bounding).”

“(Bounding?)” asked Mizarka.

“(We can’t walk or run like you do. Sometimes, we hop, hence the wings).”

“(That explains his rather awkward way to walk),” said Mizarka. “(So, how you come you can walk normally?)”

“(Been up here long enough to know no one is walking like bats. Anyway…ah, shit).”

“(What?)”

“(Fuzandre didn’t get far. Someone shot him).”

Rhynsa noticed a dried pool of blood as he walked deeper into the forest.

“(Signs of struggle. The Fuzandre tried to fight back, but unfortunately, he’s overpowered),” said Rhynsa. “(No indications of being dragged, meaning that someone carried him on their backs. Pretty considerate).”

“(Okay, so…where are they now?)”

“(Well, we can always follow the group of prints going to the west road),” said Rhynsa. “(I bet we’ll find a camp full of your people there. Expect a lot of resistance).”

“(Which is why I came prepared. I hope you too, Rhynsa).”

“(You might need more than just that funny-looking sword of yours if you want an edge against them),” said Rhynsa. “(Don’t get me wrong, but we are not dealing with just hounds).”

“(I know. Demons, right? Good thing my ‘funny-looking’ sword is capable of that, too).” Mizarka then pulled out her sword, which curved inward with the sharp edge outside. “(And for your information, this is called a crescent sword).”

“(Or an oversized sickle).”

“(You wanna know how sharp this sword can be?)”

“(Okay, I got your point),” said Rhynsa. “(How about we deal with this as fast as we could?)”

Mizarka let out a wry smile as she sheathed her crescent sword. Rhynsa never thought someone could match wits with him, or maybe she was more annoyed than witty.

“(I really should learn how to shut up before I lose a limb or two),” thought Rhynsa.

As they followed the footsteps, they started to see the extent of the damage caused by the impending hellish incursion. The beautiful rural landscape, once full of life, was reduced to a wasteland of death and destruction. The hellhounds did not spare anything, be it cattle, wild animals, humans, Lycans, or even fellow hellhounds. The region was also hot and dry, almost like the Underworld. An eerie silence, followed by echoes of tortured screams, did not make things easier for the two.

They met several travelers trying to get away. Rhynsa could tell that they saw things beyond their wildest imaginations, and it traumatized them. Considering the screams, the Fuzandre could guess what they had witnessed.

“(It starts to feel like the Underworld already),” remarked Rhynsa. “(Well, except the trees and the grass, of course).”

“(Have you been down there lately?)” asked Mizarka. “(This isn’t as bad. The demons somehow industrialized the shit out of the Underworld, but most of the technology down there are as twisted as the inferno they hailed from).”

“(I can’t imagine how things like the Uprising turned into…this).”

“(Rhynsa…what were you doing during the Uprising? It has been 20 years since then, right?)”

“(Believe it or not, I was a general for the kingdom of Drundas, and also the liaison between the royal family and my tribe).”

“(By Drundas, you mean…?)”

“(Yeah. The House of Schelkz).”

“(Sounds unbelievable).”

“(They screwed with a low-ranking demon’s mind. I think making an alliance with a Fuzandre tribe is not as unbelievable).”

“(They really did that?)”

Rhynsa dryly chuckled. “(Heh. Can’t prove that now, can we?)”

“(I bet they were good company).”

“(Is that sarcasm?)”

“(No, it wasn’t. So…it wasn’t good company, then).”

“(It was up to a point. I should’ve seen it earlier. They were cold and ruthless, with no mercy against their enemies. But what could I do? I was this 20-something Fuzandre among hellhounds. I don’t have friends, I train by myself, and the other generals were older than I was. I was there because they wanted a partnership. Guess how that ended up).”

Rhynsa’s chuckle was part being amused by his misfortune and part pained by the ordeals he went through ever since his exile. Mizarka, who had a chance to listen, started to understand Rhynsa. She could only sympathize, knowing that he was as much a victim as she was.

“(I thought my life ended then and there, and all I could think of was revenge. Well, too bad it was short-lived. Ever since then, I wanted to find the rest of the family members and see how they became. Would they follow Hynorsi and Leahn Schelkz or would they be someone else? Their sons survived, of course. One, illegitimate, became a wandering prince. Another, still too young to understand, grew up to become the one who saved me from the grave I dug for myself. If it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t be here talking to you and agreeing to save your people. I’d just leave and never look back).”

“(This hellhound sounds very interesting),” said Mizarka. “(If he can change your heart, then he can change a lot more. This whole mess would’ve been…).”

Then Mizarka noticed Rhynsa’s sad expression and quickly realized what it meant.

“(I thought that was the case, too. I guess we can’t have everything. That Schelkz prince I mentioned? He died saving me. Can you believe it? He saved a good-for-nothing exile like me, just because he could. He had a future ahead of him and…I don’t know what got in his mind. I thought it was stupid. But…).”

“(It’s not stupid),” said Mizarka, sympathizing. “(It’s his duty to save his subjects).”

“(Me? His subject?)” Rhynsa chuckled. “(I’d rather die).”

“(Yet that’s what made a good king. If he’s just like you thought he’d be, then he wouldn’t gain any respect from anyone. In fact, he would end up dead in the gutter. It is true that monarchs gained enemies, but not all of them are. That Schelkz prince was convincing you in the most extreme way possible: by dying to see you alive).”

“(I think you got the wrong idea here, Jackal),” said Rhynsa. “(You know what I believe? I believe he never expected to be killed to save me. But then, shit happens).”

“(That’s not what my king did),” said Mizarka. “(If it wasn’t for him…we--).”

“(Save your story for later),” interrupted Rhynsa. “(I think we’re close).”

“(Eh? But—)”

“(Trust my senses. There are hellhounds in the forest. They made a lot of noise).”

Then, there were whip crack noises coming from the forest. The echo it made, and the muffled noise of someone yelling, made their position known to Rhynsa. He could even ‘visualize’ who or what was doing that due to the loud noise creating echoes that reflected off some objects, which seemed to be a pole with a hellhound being tied to it.

“(I think it’s time we crash the party),” said Rhynsa while readying his rifle. “(Now, Jackal, I suggest you do what I say if you still want the element of surprise. I’ll go up the trees and give you a signal).”

“(My name is Mizarka).”

“(Okay, Mizarka, I’ll give you a signal. You do what you do best, but make sure you don’t jump the gun. You ready?)”

Mizarka nodded, hoping that Rhynsa could come up with something, considering how confident he was.

Rhynsa himself wasn’t going in without assessing the situation first. He knew Mizarka could understand that engaging the enemy without proper preparation was a recipe for disaster. He promptly flew to the trees, which was where he would be the most capable. It was also where he would be able to assess the situation better.

He also expected the situation to be bad, though the situation presented to him seemed to be more cruel than bad.

The whipping sound was, as Rhynsa suspected, was from someone being whipped, which happened to be a hellhound being tied to a pole. The others were forced to watch as the hellhound’s back was ravaged by the relentless whip, which had nine strips, each tipped with sharp blades. The others were pleading for the torture to stop, but their captors relished on the sadistic cruelty.

Rhynsa wasn’t a stranger to such sight. He had seen far worse than a hellhound being whipped. He was, however, drawn by the growling noise near the edge of the camp. The noise was drowned by the whip crack noise and was very subtle, but once Rhynsa caught it, he quickly turned his attention to it.

“(Well, well),” said Rhynsa as he looked down his scope. “(You have seen better days).”

What Rhynsa saw was a fellow Fuzandre, completely immobilized by the ropes restraining him. He was naked and furless, almost as if he was humiliated by being shaved. Anyone would assume that, but Rhynsa knew there were furless Fuzandres as much as there were furless hellhounds. The growl could be interpreted as an attempt to shout or talk, which was impossible with a big bit gag stuffed in his mouth, forcing his jaws open, showing his prominent fangs.

However, something in the Fuzandre’s eyes troubled Rhynsa, along with his ashen gray skin. He was not like any furless Fuzandre, but something else. Maybe he was from a tribe far from where Rhynsa’s was. Either way, he could help as a distraction for Mizarka.

Unfortunately, Rhynsa did not account for Mizarka’s increasing anger and impulsiveness. Witnessing one of her friends being cruelly tortured while the other hellhounds laughed at his suffering was enough to cause her to impulsively jumped in, letting out a loud roar that caused the other hellhounds to turn at her. They soon pointed at her and some even tried attacking her. They were promptly slain by Mizarka’s crescent sword, which was far more lethal and far more brutal than Rhynsa initially though. Her glare was cold and full of rage.

“(Can’t she at least hold on for a little longer?)” thought Rhynsa with a sigh, before he looked down his scope and said, “(This is why I work alone!)”

Shooting the rope holding the strung-up hellhound off, Rhynsa caused some of the hellhounds to be drawn to him. However, it wasn’t to his disadvantage. He might as well change his attack to the offensive, anyway. Jumping off the tree branch he perched on, he pulled out a pair of combat knives, one held in reverse grip, then opened his wings to delay his fall. This also made him capable to position him over two hellhounds before he stabbed both through their skull as he fell on top of them. To his surprise, their heads were sizzling.

“(Oh, now you’ve done it),” said Rhynsa as he pulled out his knives. The brain matter and blood evaporated as if they were boiled water, further confirming what Rhynsa had suspected since the sizzling.

The hellhounds did not look that much different from a normal one, which made Rhynsa assumed that they were at the initial stages of demonic corruption. If they were late stages, they would look and act like the feral hellhound monsters that claimed Ifrit’s life. Normally, Rhynsa would not care, but then, he owed his life for the Schelkz who sacrificed his life. Therefore, he had a reason to be angry.

“(Do you even realize what you throw away?)” said Rhynsa as he made a stance. “(Do you?!)”

His adversaries, taken aback by Rhynsa’s sudden rage, were distracted long enough for both Rhynsa and Mizarka to engage them in a pincer attack. The hellhounds were quickly slain by the two, some of which let out white, sizzling smoke like hot steel touching flesh. The ambush was a success.

Unfortunately, the hellhounds were not the only ones there. The commotion attracted more, now with several feral demons similar to Barghests accompanying them. Realizing they were outnumbered, Mizarka quickly cut the bonds of her comrades, to which they quickly armed themselves with the weapons discarded by the slain hellhounds.

Rhynsa, on the other hand, ran to the Fuzandre and tried to cut through the ropes restraining him. Before that, though, the Fuzandre might had something to say, so he removed his gag. Then, in a twist, the Fuzandre tried to bite Rhynsa’s neck. Rhynsa realized this and stopped him by holding his jaws.

“(Hey, stop that! I don’t remember ever giving you permission to drink my blood!)” exclaimed Rhynsa.

The Fuzandre roared in frustration, apparently turning feral. That’s when Rhynsa realized why the furless, ashen gray Fuzandre had eyes that worried him.

“(How long have you been like this? A year?)” asked Rhynsa, which was answered with incomprehensible growls.

Just then, Mizarka and her allies, still engaging the enemies, said, “(Rhynsa, get Arnulfe off and help me!)”

Then Rhynsa, who quickly had an idea popped in his head, looked at Arnulfe, the furless Fuzandre, and said, “(You want some blood, do you? I don’t know how much sensibility you have left in there but promise me you’ll tear your enemies and not your saviors. In any case, go wild!)”

In one single swing of his knife, he cut most of the ropes. The furless Fuzandre quickly leaped, with Rhynsa cutting the last rope just in time before it became taut and stopped Arnulfe. In his feral state, Arnulfe did not hesitate to pounce on one of the hellhounds and bit through his throat, tearing out flesh like a wolf tearing out its prey’s flesh. Seeing such sight wasn’t something new for hellhounds. However, they did not expect Arnulfe to be doing that.

“(What the hell did you do?!)” asked Mizarka as Rhynsa joined the group, shooting one of the canine-like demons and disintegrating it.

“(I should’ve asked you that!)” exclaimed Rhynsa. “(When was the last time, he drank blood?!)”

“(How does that have anything to do with…whatever the fuck he is now?!)”

“(That’s Blood Frenzy. When a Fuzandre is deprived of blood intake for an extended amount of time, they’ll be reduced to a feral state. Just get your people back before he makes them his prey!)”

Mizarka, upon seeing how brutal Arnulfe was, agreed with Rhynsa and told her comrades to run, bar some who decided to stay and support both Rhynsa and Mizarka. Arnulfe’s distraction proved to be a game-changer, as many were slain by him, followed by Rhynsa and Mizarka taking care of the rest. Compared to their combat skills, the hellhounds were nothing. It wasn’t long before everything was over.

As Rhynsa and Mizarka stood down, they saw Arnulfe still feasting on one of the hellhounds he pounced. It wasn’t really feasting, though he was drinking a lot of blood, to the point of turning the hellhound he drank into a dried husk. The sight of it unnerved Mizarka.

“(Whoa, don’t get too greedy there),” said Rhynsa as he touched Arnulfe’s shoulder. “(Easy, now).”

Arnulfe, now satiated, turned to the rest of the crew. He then said, “(You came for me. I…I thought…).”

Rhynsa realized that Mizarka and the others were still stunned by the horrific thing they witnessed, so he said, “(She risked her life coming for you. But I guess they don’t understand our little customs).”

“(You risked your life, too, brother),” said Arnulfe.

“(We’re not from the same tribe).”

“(I have no tribe. Everyone is my brother).”

Rhynsa scoffed. “(Yeah, whatever),” he said. He had not heard a fellow Fuzandre calling him ‘brother’ ever since his exile. It felt like a distant memory at that point.

This also made him easier to sympathize with Arnulfe, though he wasn’t sure if the furless, ashen gray Fuzandre went on the same path with him. Maybe he was lucky that Mizarka and her comrades considered him a friend instead of a monster, though it could easily change after showing how brutal he could be.

Maybe it was inevitable, especially if they wanted him to return to normal.