Chapter 44: A Step On The Right Path
"Ah... he is strong. Finally... I can rest..."
The thought staggered weakly through Avin’s head as his vision blurred into darkness. His chest rattled with shallow, broken breaths. His muscles, his bones, everything screamed for release.
Then—
tap.
Something struck the bridge of his nose.
"Ow—!" His eyes snapped open, watery and stinging. Hovering over him was Leo, expression flat, one hand holding a small glass vial filled with thick red liquid.
"Drink it," Leo said curtly.
Avin blinked up at him, then at the vial, then back at Leo. His chest rose and fell heavily.
"...What is it?"
"It’s a health potion," Leo replied, green eyes narrowing slightly as though insulted by the question.
"A... health potion?" Avin muttered. His mind, even through the fog of pain, jumped immediately to old memories. "Like in video games...?"
The thought nearly made him laugh, if laughing didn’t hurt so much. Still, if it was anything like that, then it would heal him. Maybe even immediately.
There was just one problem.
"Um," Avin croaked, his voice ragged. "...Can I get some help?"
Because moving even a finger felt like hammering a nail into bone. Every nerve screamed rebellion.
Leo sighed—loudly, theatrically, a sound meant to make it clear how much of a nuisance Avin was. He crouched beside him and, without ceremony, yanked the cork from the vial. Then he shoved the glass neck into Avin’s mouth and tipped it down aggressively.
"Ghhh—" Avin gagged, the bitter liquid flooding his throat. He coughed and sputtered, rolling onto his side as the potion burned down into his chest. "Chhk—haahhh—!"
Leo pulled the empty vial away, utterly unbothered, watching as Avin wheezed and hacked on the dirt.
This bastard, Avin thought, clutching his throat. He smacked his lips. ...Wait. It tastes like... nothing? Huh. Interesting.
Then the realization hit.
He moved his arm.
It didn’t hurt. Or rather—it hurt, but in a distant, numbed way, dulled to something survivable. His muscles obeyed him again.
"Oh?" His crimson eyes widened. He raised both arms, staring at his hands. "I can move..."
The potion’s effect was immediate. His limbs were lighter, his wounds knitted at least partially. He wasn’t whole, but he wasn’t a shattered husk anymore.
"Get up," Leo said, his tone clipped and cold. "We’re running late on schedule."
Avin pushed himself upright with a low groan, unsteady but capable. He glanced once at Leo’s back as the man turned and began walking, expression unreadable.
For a moment, Avin hesitated. Then he followed silently, each step stiff, until his gaze drifted back.
The battlefield.
The grass painted red. The earth soaked with gore. Chunks of what had once been a man splattered across broken roots and rocks. The stench of iron thick in the air.
Avin’s throat tightened. He would remember this sight forever.
"You did alright."
Leo’s voice cut through his haze of thought.
Avin’s head turned sharply. Leo walked ahead, not bothering to look back, but the words landed like a blade in Avin’s chest.
"But you did not do enough."
Avin’s gaze faltered.
"Your peers are far above you," Leo continued, his voice sharpening. "They would have dealt with that brute with ease. No struggle. No delay."
Avin’s eyes widened, spiraling into thought. What? People my age... could defeat that? That monster? Just what kind of hell am I walking into at this academy?
Leo kept speaking, calm, precise.
"You only acquired your power recently, and already you managed to survive. That’s impressive... to a degree. But don’t mistake survival for victory."
He paused, then: "You did well. Do better."
"...Ah. Yes," Avin muttered, his chest tight. He trailed after Leo, unable to shake the unease blooming inside him.
Eventually, they came upon a second carriage—the one their other guards had fled with.
Leo approached the door, peered inside, then pulled back. His smile faded to a thin line.
"These cowards..." he said with a sigh. "They ran."
He turned toward the front, toward the horses still tied to the abandoned carriage.
"Bring your luggage," Leo ordered.
"Okay." Avin clambered into the carriage, pulling free his battered suitcase. He carried it to Leo, who was already untying the ropes.
With casual ease, Leo ripped the thick leather reins free from the carriage. His fingers clenched—snap—splitting them apart like thread.
Avin froze, suitcase in hand. His mind whispered, What the fuck is this monster?
Leo, ignoring his stare, worked quickly. He looped the ropes around the horses’ necks and fashioned makeshift reins, a crude but functional harness system. The simplicity of it made Avin blink.
Leo gestured sharply. "Bring it."
Avin lugged the suitcase closer, watching as Leo threw it atop one horse with a single motion, then swung himself into the saddle with fluid grace.
...
...
Silence.
"What are you doing?" Leo barked suddenly, eyes flashing.
Avin jumped.
"Get on the other one. We don’t have time."
Avin swallowed hard, eyes flicking from Leo to the horse. "Um... yeah."
The problem was obvious.
He didn’t know how to ride a horse.
He never had. Never wanted to. Back on Earth, he’d mocked the very idea.
"Why would I leave my life in the hands of an overgrown goat?" he’d always said.
Now fate laughed in his face. Because here he was, expected to mount one or be left behind.
Avin exhaled sharply, steeling himself. He approached the horse with agonizing slowness, hands hovering uncertainly.
Leo’s voice cut through the silence, dripping with irritation. "Get on the fucking horse, please, Young Master."
Avin glanced at him. Leo’s face said it all—frustration carved into his expression, annoyance in every line of his posture.
"Right, right..." Avin muttered. He gripped the saddle, braced himself, and hopped up.
And to his shock—
"Oh... this is fairly easy," he whispered.
Then the world tilted.
His balance shifted, his grip slipped, and—
THUD!
He slammed shoulder-first into the dirt.
"...Ow."
For a long moment, Avin lay flat on his back, staring at the sky. He tilted his head toward Leo.
Leo stared back, expression neutral, green eyes narrowed in disdain.
"...What are you doing, Young Master?"
Avin forced a nervous laugh, scratching his head.
"Uh... my clothes are a little slippery on the horse’s skin."
Leo’s eyes narrowed further. "...We’re wearing the same material."
"...Haha," Avin chuckled weakly. "Just trying to lighten the mood."
"Since when," Leo said flatly, "have you ever tried to lighten a mood?"
Avin’s smile died.
Leo sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Please. Get on the horse. We are wasting time."
"Yes, yes." Avin scrambled to his feet, brushing dust from his sleeves. He gripped the saddle again, hopping up more carefully this time. He landed awkwardly, stiff, clutching the rope reins like they were his only lifeline. His back was ramrod straight, every muscle tense.
Leo gave him one more glance—long, unimpressed—then turned his horse forward and started down the road.
Avin gulped, sweat trickling down his temple.
"Oh no," he muttered. "How do I ride this? I never—"
The horse beneath him shifted.
Then it moved.
Avin yelped, nearly losing his balance as the creature stepped forward, picking up pace naturally, following Leo’s mount without any command.
"Oh... oh thank god," Avin whispered, clinging tighter to the reins. His body rocked unsteadily with each step. The horse’s muscles rolled under him like waves, every jolt rattling his already battered body.
The road stretched out ahead. The forest loomed behind. And with each clop of hooves, each sway of the saddle, Avin’s thoughts spiraled deeper.
Toward the academy. Toward the unknown. Toward whatever monsters—human or otherwise—awaited him next.