For minutes, Faust walked uninterrupted while analyzing the ambient he was in. The forest was mostly like a normal forest, with trees, bushes, pebbles, and small stones. It was not plain either; the rugged terrain had multiple deformations. In fact, the only unusual thing about the area was the color of the leaves and grass, which were a rusty yellow, and of the tree trunks, which were gray.

  Even so, the leaves and grass color did not puzzle Faust so much; it was similar to the appearance the forest around his village would assume during autumn. Gray trunks were weird, though; he had never seen anything similar to it before. Well, back in the ice area he had seen ice spikes on earth; gray trunks were not much weirder.

  While he was moving through the yellow and gray forest, a strong smell entered his nostrils, causing him to stop in place as he instantly recognized the odor coming from ahead.

  Blood!

  Blood meant something. A smell this strong meant this something was either heavily injured or dead. In any case, that meant danger.

  In only a second, Faust reacted instinctively to that thought and readied himself for the possible danger while distancing himself.

  Besides the smell of blood there was no sound of scuffle or scream of pain... therefore, what was emanating the odor was likely dead. Still, not being able to be sure, Faust waited.

  Patience was the key to solving such things, so he would wait. For a while, besides the rustling of leaves and the soft whistle of the wind, there was no other sound.

  Finally, gathering sufficient courage, Faust decided to approach the source of the smell. Carefully and slowly, he moved towards it, positioning himself with the branch in his hands as a small spear.

  Faust breathed in and out, then completely held his breath and moved in complete silence. The smell was coming from behind bushes; these frail nature walls were the only divisor between him and the source of the reek.

  Without hesitation, Faust leapt over the bushes and in a single motion guided his wooden spear towards the source!

  It hit, pierced, was stopped by the earth, and then snapped in half.

  However, once he got the bushes out of the way, he saw there was no need to attack it. The thing he was attacking was indeed dead, even "deader" than he predicted. It was a carcass; half of it was missing. Observing it, Faust could easily conclude that it pertained to a wolf, a wolf which had a white-gray fur that, although bloodied, was unforgettable, one of the creatures that massacrated his village years back... a wind wolf.

  Wind wolves were strong, far more agile than a normal wolf, which were already a threat. They were easy to discern because of their glistening white-gray fur and pristine jade eyes. Though the last characteristic was impossible to tell on this one, since its upper half was completely gone.

  It had been jagged, forcefully removed from the rest of its body by what seemed claw and teeth marks. Quickly, Faust was able to tell that whatever had killed this wind wolf was not only stronger but also far bigger than it; the mangling of its tail and claw injuries on the back legs indicated so.

  Although normally Faust would gulp and have his body drenched by cold sweat by such a sight, this did not happen. It was not that he was not afraid; he was, a lot. But he was forcefully repressing his fear, just like he had to do multiple times. In such a short period, he was already turning into a master at hiding it.

  Showing fear in a survival situation was weakness. Multiple times he had heard hunters and guards talking about such a thing. They could not tremble, not cry or run. Enemies recognize weakness and capitalize on it; he could see as such in the caravan on the way to the dungeon.

  When fighting, the guards showed no expression; they seemed like stone creatures ready to kill anything coming their way, relentlessly and unafraid. When the fighting was over, they would exhale, and Faust could swear he saw a few of them trembling, but never during the fight.

  Experiencing it first hand in the snow area was enough to cement that fact. If he hesitated, he would be attacked and possibly injured, maybe killed. So, he could not hesitate; it was impossible if he wanted to survive.

  I can’t, he thought, looking at the carcass laying in the yellow grass. I can’t end up like this. If… there’s no ifs… I can’t. I won’t. Fear means death. So was this wolf afraid? Or was it simply overpowered? Both, probably. But for now, the thoughts of a wolf matter little…

  Faust leaned closer to the carcass and analyzed it better, noticing the wounds were deep and from them, a strange yellow bubbling liquid was seeping, similar to sap but thinner. Assuming it to be poison or something similar, Faust did not touch it.

  Seeing his broken makeshift spear, he quickly moved towards a tree and broke another branch, sharpening it while observing the area. It did not take long for him to notice some markings on a couple of trees and on the ground itself: bloody paws that moved deeper into the forest, away from the beacon of light.

  They are big… a bear? The thought made Faust shudder. No… it seems even bigger. I can’t stay around here and find whatever creature that is.

  With that thought on his mind, Faust fastly bolted away from the area, running amidst the trees. Being brave meant not being foolish. If he had to fight, he would not hesitate, but if he could avoid it, why would he not?

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  That strategy seemed to work well until now.

  The balance between cowardice and bravery was the key to success. If the enemy is far stronger than yourself and you know you have no chance of fighting it, then it is not bravery; it is stupidity. It did not matter if he won by a small or large margin; it did not even matter if he won at all. It only mattered if he survived. As long as he was alive, he could win some other time and lose as much as he wanted.

  Yes, that is it. He nodded in confirmation to himself as he ran towards the beacon of light. I only need to survive.

  …

  Something on the scope of hours had passed, and besides trees and grass, Faust found nothing else. When he had first seen the dead wolf, he had made the wrong assumption that it would not take long to find another living being and that there was a great chance he would have to fight it.

  Because of that, he was already bracing himself for the eventual need of combat, especially if he had the bad luck of something finding him before he found it. Thankfully, that did not happen.

  Although he failed to find anything or anyone, an uneasiness in his heart grew by the moment.

  The strange feeling, eating at his mind as the seconds passed, was not something he was completely unused to. Back in the snow area, he had already experienced the feeling of his mind being affected by the fog, which had slowed down his thoughts. Only now, that he was out of that area, could he truly understand its hindering effect.

  In fact, his processing capacity had been reduced by a good margin back in the frozen landscape, enough to make him unable to think of things he normally would. As time had passed there, the effect had grown stronger and stronger until finally, now that he was in the forest, it was diminishing.

  Yet, this new strange feeling was not connected to that. Instead, it was connected to something deeper. Instincts, maybe? It warned of a factor: ahead of him, there was death. Not his own, but death. Faust knew his instincts were decent, but this was no instinct alone but him perceiving things around him passively!

  Small signs had been shown to him for a while already, and he had been unable to actively glimpse them until now. Smells of blood and ashes, droplets of dried blood on the grass and trees, patches of grass only slightly burnt down.

  As he kept walking, these signs made themselves more noticeable, until he finally saw it. Ahead of him, a clearing. Not a natural one that the forest simply had, but an abnormal one. It was created out of destruction, made by unmaking the trees and grass in an area.

  Faust instantly reeled back in stupor as he observed the gruesome scene ahead of him.

  Bodies! His eyes widened in surprise. So many bodies!

  Charred, cut, blown apart, pieces of them… bodies… many bodies, at least dozens of them, all littering the artificial clearing. Below these vestiges of death, there was no more nature. It was all burnt down, destroyed.

  The grassless earth had been seeped with blood, giving the brown soil a reddish tone. In only an instant, Faust could partially understand what had happened here and the cause of his instincts.

  “Mana,” he exclaimed subconsciously as he observed the carnage. Only mana would have the power to cause such destruction.

  Either it was that, or a monster which broke every single limit Faust knew of. He tried not to think too much of the last alternative; if such a creature truly existed, then it was hopeless, hopeless to think of escaping.

  From what he had read and heard through his life, mana was powerful enough to cause such a thing. Maybe, only maybe, some other village had a mana user powerful enough to create such chaos. Yet, a lingering question was still present in his mind. Why?

  If it was not a monster, not nature, not an accident… why would someone do that? Why would anyone kill so many of their own kin, of their own race? It made no sense in his mind. Was killing at that level truly necessary? Maybe it was, but why? Was it a conflict, was it interest, was it simply to have fun? Pondering could only go so far; without further clues, he had no way to determine what happened.

  Still, there was no denying it. He was not alone inside this place anymore; there were others… though dead. If there were many dead, then there should be those alive too. He could only rely on his luck that he would not find the killers.

  If he had to fight someone who had mana, he would die. If he attempted to run, he would die. The flashes of his short escape against Chris resonated inside his brain.

  Well... On the very least, that was a good thing. Even if they were dead, there were people. Yes, that should be a good thing, he convinced himself, choosing the half-full cup.

  Even as his heart pounded fast, Faust forced himself to enter the charred plains and investigate. The first thing his eyes landed upon was… clothes. Many of them were blackened and completely burnt, but the few ones that still had surviving cloth could prove enough to be used as vestments.

  Nearing a body whose shoes were not completely destroyed, he leaned closer to it and put both hands together as he internally thought of the Guide of the afterlife prayer.

  Goddess of the forest, let their bodies return to you.

  Goddess of the mana, may their energies be yours once more.

  Goddess of the sun, may your light shine bright upon their paths.

  God of the dreams, disperse their nightmares and quiet their minds.

  God of the death, guide them peacefully to their final destination.

  May their beings remain under divine protection.

  While the fact Faust did not actively worship any God had not changed, he still had his respects for the dead... somewhat.

  In any case, he quickly removed the shoes from the corpse and wore them. They were made of a cheap brown leather and were a size too big for him, but better than walking barefoot.

  Then, he went to another body and removed its shirt. It was black and tattered by flickers of fire, with some holes in the cotton, but again, better than to be without clothes. Once more, it was a size too big for him.

  From corpse to corpse, he went, looting and grabbing pieces of clothing. He found pants on the body of someone close to his size, likely a youngster too… how fearful. Imagine dying this young. Faust could not, not anymore.

  Then, he also tried to find weapons, but most of them were destroyed and turned into ashes already, making him unable to even find their traces. In the end, there was no salvageable weapon, which seemed weird judging by the fact that cloth had survived.

  Was it purposely taken away? Did it mean this act of slaughter by fire was something purposely made as well? Theories assaulted his mind, but once again there was no way to be sure.

  Faust kept moving and searching through any useful remains inside the burnt area. Then, he heard something behind him. He quickly turned around and pointed his new stick towards whatever it was.

  A wolf. Its fur was white and gray, glistening with the pride of a hunter. It was a wind wolf. Faust had been so distracted thinking of what had happened moments ago, he had failed to notice the beast following him.

  Before he was able to think further, to analyze further, to prepare further, the wind wolf howled towards the black sky and with slow menacing steps, approached him.