“(So, when was the last time you taste blood?)” asked Rhynsa. “(You look like you’ve not drank for years).”

“(I haven’t fed for a month),” said Arnulfe short.

Rhynsa, surprised, said, “(A month?! No Fuzandre turn feral in just a month!)”

“(No one’s going to think straight if they haven’t eaten for a while, right?)” said Arnulfe.

“(I think you should learn how to drink in increments if you really want to survive up here),” said Rhynsa. “(No one is going to appreciate being drained out of their blood. Then again, you and I are from different Fuzandre subraces, so I can’t tell).”

“(Then, how about if you teach me how to control it, then?)” asked Arnulfe.

“(Didn’t your tribe teach you how to do that?)”

“(Well…I don’t even know what my tribe is. I grew up with hellhounds and Fuzandres. Outcasts).”

“(Ah).”

Rhynsa considered that Arnulfe might not had a normal childhood, or even a normal body. Rhynsa had met furless Fuzandres like Arnulfe, but he did not bother to learn the rate of which they needed to feed on blood. Moreover, Arnulfe and Rhynsa looked so radically different. Rhynsa had an extra pair of limbs for wings, while Arnulfe’s wings were also his arms. He was slightly smaller and stockier than Rhynsa, not to mention being younger than he was. Rhynsa guessed that he was maybe around 18 or somewhere around 20.

Yet, his cheerfulness and overall positive attitude, especially when he expressed his happiness to Mizarka who saved him, made Rhynsa wonder if Arnulfe decided to face life’s challenges with optimism. Such optimism was like something of Rhynsa’s past, one that was lost when he was disillusioned by everything. Arnulfe had a long way ahead of him, and he was yet to be hardened by the harshness of life.

But then, it wasn’t long before Arnulfe gasped, then his face turned serious (at least for a Fuzandre). He then grabbed his head and said, “(Wait! This is no time to celebrate! We got a big problem!)”

“(Problem?)” asked Mizarka.

“(Of the demonic kind!)” He then grabbed Rhynsa’s shoulders and said, “(I heard it from one of them! They are going to summon something more dangerous than those dog-like demons!)”

“(How dangerous?)” asked Rhynsa.

“(I’m not sure! It’s something about a Circle demon).”

“(Circle…?!)” This time, Rhynsa became agitated, as did Mizarka. Both seemed to realize the implications those words meant.

“(If Circle demons are involved, then we can’t stay here!)” said Mizarka. “(This is getting out of hand!)”

“(I agree),” said Rhynsa. “(First priority is to get all of you to relative safety. I can tell all of you need just that).”

Mizarka nodded and immediately instructed the hellhounds she saved to get their injured and follow her while Rhynsa readied his rifle, hoping that no one was going to ambush them while they were very vulnerable.

They were fortunate that it wasn’t the case. However, it became clear to them that, while they escaped the area without further complications, Tragoria had descended into chaos much faster than they initially thought. There were explosion noises and sounds of battle echoing through the air. Shots of guns and otherworldly shrieks turned the region into a warzone. Tragoria was no longer the quaint countryside it once was.

They reached the village where Mizarka’s group turned into their home. The heartfelt reunions were cut short by Mizarka, who insisted that they started their journey towards Adaline. Everyone agreed.

Rhynsa decided to follow them, intending to tell Anarim about his first success. He knew that if he left them, he would not be able to report the findings and the group would be lost in an unknown land. Even if he did not like it, they regarded him as their guide.

“(Starting to wonder if I should ask them to pay me),” thought Rhynsa. “(Winsel owes me some compensation after all this).”

But the thought of being paid or not did not matter if he did not survive, or when he started to think for the greater good and not for himself. Even then, he realized he had found an opportunity to both expand his search and even finish what Anarim Winsel started: to find the survivors of the House of Caropus.

Yet, he wasn’t the only one who thought about it. Just when he was going to ask about it to Mizarka, the Jackal said, “(I know you’re eager to ask about my connection to the House of Caropus. Now, I know you will use the information I give you properly).”

“(You said it like you’re testing me),” said Rhynsa. “(I highly doubt it).”

“(I’d go and save them myself, anyway. Your help reduced the risk).”

“(Whatever you say, Jackal. Now, tell me. Who are you to them?)”

“(I was…an aide).”

“(Aide? For whom?)”

“(For one of the crown princes of House Caropus. I was there when they need to discuss matters in the court, and during the worst of the Uprising. I helped him escape, but along the way, the Uprising separated us).”

“(Well, I was hoping you’d know where he is. Good thing I don’t get my hopes up. Still, the fact that you’re a Death’s Jackal is enough to help find more allies. I haven’t met any Death’s Jackal before you).”

“(We’re not exactly a very common subrace),” said Mizarka. “(And we mostly populated the gates to hell proper, supporting House Caropus).”

“(Hence your anti-demon crescent sword).”

“(Made out of the same unknown metal that made the gates of hell. Too bad we can’t have more. We left most of them in our kingdom).”

“(It’s not a total loss. The surface dwellers have their own brand of anti-demon weaponry).”

The group continued their slow pace, with Mizarka and Rhynsa staying on guard. It would take them one more day to reach the Adaline-Tragoria border, and they needed to stay out of the main roads. Both Rhynsa and Arnulfe flew over the group, checking the surroundings for ambushes. Their echo senses could help as an early warning, and two Fuzandres worked much better than just one.

Everyone thought that close to the borders were where they could relax from demonic attacks and be worried on the reception of the humans and the Lycans. However, that wasn’t the case, especially when there were hellhounds attacking the border. The route they chose, based on Rhynsa’s direction, put them directly in the middle of one such conflicts between factions of hellhounds.

Upon getting out of the forest they traveled after a brief rest, sounds of battle filled the air. The sound reflected on the surface as echoes was enough for the two Fuzandres to ‘visualize’ the situation beyond the trees.

“(If we follow this road, we’ll come upon the conflict),” said Rhynsa. “(We can go through the forest and stay out of the conflict, but there is no guarantee that it will be safer).”

“(What if we force our way through?)” asked Arnulfe. “(I don’t think they’ll expect us to jump on them. Also, didn’t Rhynsa say about allies on the surface? We can bet one of them is not going to attack us).”

“(We can’t risk the children, Arnulfe),” said Mizarka. “(Think about them, will you?)”

“(I don’t mean every one of us).” Arnulfe then turned to Rhynsa. “(You know what I mean, brother).”

Arnulfe’s expression was too obvious for Rhynsa to misinterpret. As a fellow Fuzandre, his face was easy to read especially if his beady eyes were brimming with excitement. With an exasperated sigh, Rhynsa said, “(Oh, why does this always happen to me?)”

“(Come on. Don’t be like that),” said Arnulfe. “(Consider it a way to gain more trust. That’s why you’re here, right?)”

“(That does not mean getting all excited for being the distraction!)”

“(Well, I got some beef with them, so I might as well take this as that opportunity).”

“(You…).” Rhynsa groaned. “(Fuck it. Let’s get this over with. The rest of you, go follow your leader and get to safety. We’ll try and find you later, so don’t wander off in the forest or you’ll get lost).”

The hellhounds nodded in agreement. They knew better than to be confused in a land foreign to them. Rhynsa was their only way to get around without being confused and taking too much risk to themselves.

One of the hellhounds acted as their leader and directed the rest of the group to safety, while Mizarka exchanged words with him and returned to Rhynsa and Arnulfe, brandishing her crescent sword.

“(So, what’s the plan?)” asked Mizarka.

“(I was going to ask you that),” said Rhynsa. Reluctantly, he turned to Arnulfe and said, “(I hope you know what you’re doing).”

“(I do, actually. Rhynsa, why don’t you go up to the trees and do…whatever it is you’re good at. Mizarka can stand by and wait for my signal).”

“(And I thought just a while ago, you were this starving, literally bloodthirsty beast).”

“(I’ll so you what I am capable of. That way, maybe you consider me your equal. Hell, maybe I’m—)”

“(You don’t want to finish that sentence, kid. Just get on with it already).”

Arnulfe silently nodded as Rhynsa opened his wings and flew to a nearby tree branch. He never thought he would meet a chipper, slightly arrogant Fuzandre who could annoy him. No one acted like that throughout Rhynsa’s journey. Most of the hellhounds or Fuzandre he met either distrusted Fuzandres or reminded him of his tribeless status. He stayed out of everyone’s business for 20 years, and it turned him into a hardened vigilante with a dash of sarcasm and hypnotic gaze.

And all that did not prepare him for Arnulfe’s antics, especially when he revealed how much of a risk-taking fool he was. Just as Rhynsa checked the targets, which were hellhounds preparing to execute their latest catch (a different group of hellhounds protecting a group of humans and Lycans), Arnulfe, with even Mizarka unable to anticipate his move, jumped out of hiding and throw up his arms, which at the same time also opened his wings.

“(Hey, look at me! I’m a target!)” he cheerfully exclaimed.

“(What?!)” exclaimed Rhynsa in surprise.

“(You idiot!)” whispered Mizarka, who’s still hidden. “(This is your plan?!)”

The hellhounds did turn towards him. Rhynsa and Mizarka could see that they were surprised by how random Arnulfe was, and possibly because of his appearance. A furless, gray-skinned Fuzandre opening his wings seemed like an interesting thing to look at, especially after he declared himself a target.

Despite of being confused, two of the hellhounds took the initiative and tried to shoot him before asking him. All that did not matter for Arnulfe. Contrary to what Mizarka and Rhynsa thought, he knew what he was doing.

“(Made you look, didn’t I?)” Arnulfe’s pupilless eyes slowly turned red. His voice also turned menacing, a complete opposite to his cheery voice. “(Good).”

The hellhounds and their captured targets stopped whatever they were doing and looked at Arnulfe.

“(Now then),” said Arnulfe. “(Play nice and drop your weapons).”

The aggressors promptly did so.

“(You can leave us now),” said Arnulfe. “(Walk until your feet bleed. Try and walk slowly. I don’t want you to cheat on me. Off you go).”

The aggressors walked away, still in a trance. Rhynsa and Mizarka were amazed by how the whole situation could easily be resolved. The brown furred Fuzandre, hoping it was safe, dropped off the tree branch he perched onto and approached Arnulfe, who broke his hypnotic suggestion.

“(Hey, kid…),” said Rhynsa. “(What…what did you do?)”

“(Sucking someone dry goes a long way),” said Arnulfe. “(Especially if you happen to be me).”

“(You’re making a dirty joke, aren’t you?)”

Arnulfe cheekily winked.

“(Was that a hypnotic gaze? That’s…too powerful, even for a Fuzandre),” said Rhynsa. “(All this from drinking a hellhound dry? I did that before and I can only completely control one).”

“(I don’t know. You should ask a member of my tribe if you know any. I don’t. I just found out about this ability by accident when I got into the same situation as before: starving and with an unsatiated thirst for blood).”

“(Then why didn’t you do this before, while we’re wandering down there?)” asked Mizarka.

“(I would if I don’t care about gaining your trust. I know how hellhounds are suspicious towards Fuzandre, especially if you happen to be the ugliest shit anyone has ever seen).”

“(You’re not ugly, Arnulfe),” said Mizarka. “(Well…except the fact that you don’t come with fur).”

“(Also, I can’t do this all the time. One per feed is my limit. I know you think it’s easier to just shoot them all down, but I don’t want to risk the children).”

Rhynsa also wondered what Arnulfe was thinking about reducing the risk towards the children that was crying just before the furless Fuzandre put them in a trance. Like everyone else, they stared blankly.

“(Maybe you should break them off the trance. Just a little heads up, kid. They might not appreciate it).”

Arnulfe promptly did so. The group he saved were dazed and confused to what just happened before they saw the furless Fuzandre waving at them.

“(A Fuzandre?)” said a hellhound before he noticed Rhynsa. “(Wait. Two?)”

“Ahh! A giant bat monster!” exclaimed a child, who ran to her mother. Everyone was suspicious by the three, especially since they did not look anything like Lycans. One was a black-furred hellhound that resembled a jackal while the other two were bats. Even the hellhounds were wary around the Fuzandres.

“(I know you are scared),” said Mizarka. “(But these two just saved you from getting yourselves killed. The methods aren’t exactly…normal, though).”

One of the hellhounds, who looked more lupine than the rest of them, translated what Mizarka said. The human he talked to, a dark-skinned man cradling his child, then said, “We appreciate your help, though you aren’t exactly the kind of savior we expected.”

“(Eh?)” said Mizarka. “(What is he saying?)”

“(He said he didn’t expect us to be their knights in shining armor),” translated Rhynsa, while also putting in his sarcasm. Rhynsa then turned to the group and said, “I don’t usually say this, but I prefer all of you to go with us until you reach your destination. Tragoria is no longer safe for everyone.”

“You can speak Tragorian?” said the human, astonished. He then turned to one of the hellhounds and said, “This Underworld you talk about sounds quite interesting, Ajugi.”

“Not everywhere,” said Ajugi. “Especially not now.”

“Yes, yes, quite so. We’ll accept your offer, giant bat. Like you said. Tragoria is no longer safe, be it humans or Lycans or our hound friends.”

The hellhounds nodded, some awkwardly. Even then, Rhynsa was more surprised that the humans trusted them easily. This made him ask.

“You know they aren’t Lycans, right?” asked Rhynsa.

“My in-laws are turned Lycans. I know a hound when I see one,” said the human with a smile. “And besides. Lycans don’t look like a Jack Russell Terrier.”

Rhynsa looked at the terrier-like hellhound and said, “Yeah. I know what you mean.”

“In any case, let’s go. We might as well introduce ourselves, hmm? I’m Ryan. Ryan Okaweni.”

“Rhynsa,” said Rhynsa

“Just Rhynsa?”

“Yep. Just Rhynsa. I’m not being an ass or anything. I don’t have a family name.”

Ryan nodded in acknowledgement, though Rhynsa could sense that he was sympathizing with the Fuzandre. Rhynsa again wondered if this was going to work. He never had anyone sympathizing with him before. Ever since he started pursuing Ifrit, life started to feel…different. Mizarka was relatable. Arnulfe was annoying but made things interesting. Then there is a human who sympathized with a bat monster. If he was his old, fatalist self, he would start think that the world was going crazy.

Then again, a crazy world meant it could get interesting. Rhynsa did not feel like it would change his past, but the least he could do was to see what the future had.

It was the least he could do to honor Ifrit’s wishes.