Chapter 21: The Eyes Tell Lies

  "That was quite a show, Master Ethan," Wolf said, sheathing his greatsword and walking over to the professor. His voice held unshielded admiration. "When you introduced yourself as a water mage, I thought that was your only specialty... I didn't expect your fire magic to be so formidable."

  Ethan offered a humble, composed smile. "You flatter me, Mr. Wolf. It was your distraction that allowed me to focus. In such dangerous places, teamwork is the only way to survive." He paused, his gaze drifting over the scorched cavern. "Traveling with such experienced warriors is truly a relief."

  Ronen didn't join the pleasantries. He walked straight to one of the bear carcasses and knelt, his short blade sliding out silently. He peeled back the charred hide to reveal the interior. The organs had been pulverized by some invisible, massive force—a stark contrast to the surface burns. His eyes narrowed.

  So... it wasn't the fire that killed it.

  He understood now. This was the mark of a true mage—the hidden lethality within the flames. Ethan had used the fire as a medium to channel energy directly into the beast's body, destroying its life force from the inside out. Simple, brutal, and efficient. It was no wonder nobles and merchants spent fortunes to keep a mage in their service.

  Ronen glanced at Ethan out of the corner of his eye. Even a scholar with little field experience could easily achieve what mercenaries had to risk their lives for. The power of magic... it really wasn't fair.

  He stood up, wiping the blood from his blade on the bear's fur. He quickly recognized the creature's origin and explained it to the group.

  "These are Frostbears, a variant of the Greatbear common in the north. Their danger level is about the same."

  Recalling the records from the mercenary logs, he felt a pang of regret. A Frostbear's most valuable asset was its hide. A pristine pelt could be traded at the Mercenary Circle for a handsome reward, and its fur made for excellent winter gear. But these pelts were charred and ruined.

  "The only thing left is the meat," Ronen said, his tone shifting to the practical caution of a mercenary. "Master Ethan, by mercenary law, the spoils are divided among those who fought. All that's left of these two is the meat. If you have no objection, I'll butcher them and we can share the portions."

  Ethan showed little interest in the remains and nodded graciously. "I know little of such things. I'll defer to your customs."

  Wolf agreed, and soon he and Ethan were deep in conversation about the finer points of the magic used. Ronen knelt back down, his blade moving with practiced, silent precision as he navigated joints and tendons. In the dim light, his face was half-shadowed, unreadable.

  Butchering was second nature to him. In the White Tiger's Fang, he was often the one tasked with it. Though the stench of blood and scorched organs was thick, he worked quickly. As he worked, he noticed Mary shuffling toward him, her head down and her fingers twitching nervously.

  "...Thank you. For earlier," she whispered, her voice still trembling.

  Ronen didn't stop his work, but his tone was gentle. He had seen her getting scolded by her mentor earlier. "It's fine. Anyone would have been scared in that situation."

  "But I almost got everyone killed..." Mary's head sank lower.

  Ronen stopped and looked at her with a small smile. "If you really want to look at it that way, you actually saved us some time. That thing was hiding in the shadows, waiting to ambush us. Your scream forced it to reveal itself early. You basically used yourself as bait—not many experienced mercenaries have that kind of courage."

  Mary blinked, clearly not expecting that perspective.

  Ronen sliced off a piece of meat from near the surface that had been lightly seared by the fire. The fat was still sizzling. He pulled a small leather pouch from his belt and sprinkled some dark red chili powder over it. The aroma was instant and mouth-watering.

  "Here. Try some. It'll help with the shock."

  Before he had even finished speaking, he held the meat to Mary's lips. The apprentice, still caught in her emotions, instinctively opened her mouth. A second later, the warm meat touched her lips. Her eyes widened, looking a bit dazed by the sudden feeding, but she began to chew naturally. Her cheeks puffed out like a little animal hoarding food.

  Then, her expression shifted. Her brow furrowed as the sharp heat of the chili hit her tongue, followed by the rich, savory juice of the meat. She let out a small hiss of breath, but her eyes lit up.

  "Hot... it's hot... and a bit spicy..." she mumbled through the food. But her chewing didn't slow down one bit.

  Ronen watched her—scared of the heat but unwilling to stop—and a hint of a smile touched his eyes. He didn't rush her, just held the meat until she finished.

  Mary swallowed the first bite, her lips reddened by the spice. She licked her lips and whispered, "...But it's so good."

  "Frostbear meat is excellent," Ronen said, returning to his work. He lowered his voice so only she could hear. "By mercenary law, you get a share of the spoils. When the mission is over, I'll save some of the best cuts for you—just don't let your mentor know."

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  Mary blinked and nodded vigorously, the warmth of the food finally replacing the lingering fear.

  After a rough processing, the team had gathered about six hundred pounds of fresh meat and three jars of bear fat. Ronen didn't pack it all; he left out several cooked chunks for lunch. After a morning of travel and a battle, it was nearly noon. They decided to eat right there in the cave. The Frostbear meat was indeed delicious, and eating it in the icy den lent the meal a unique flavor.

  Once Wolf had finished eating, Ronen quietly led him over to the bear's head.

  "What is it?" Wolf asked, noting the seriousness in Ronen's eyes.

  "Uncle, I've handled a lot of magical beasts," Ronen whispered. "I haven't seen a Frostbear before, but I've seen Greatbears plenty of times. These two... something's wrong with them."

  Wolf's brow furrowed. "What did you find?"

  Ronen knelt and pointed to the bear's hideous head. "Look at its eyes."

  Even in death, the eyes were terrifying—bulging out of their sockets, the surrounding muscles twisted and tinged with a sickly, decaying hue. More disturbingly, a murky, lingering murderous light seemed trapped deep within the pupils.

  "I checked the other one too," Ronen said, pulling a small leather pouch from his belt and carefully rolling out two eyeballs. "Look."

  The eyeballs lay in his palm, shimmering with a wet, dark luster in the dim light, as if they hadn't quite died. Ronen's voice dropped even lower. "They're... still a bit warm to the touch."

  Wolf reached out. The moment his fingers brushed them, he flinched almost imperceptibly—as if pricked by an invisible chill. His expression went blank for a fleeting second, as if he were seeing something haunting, but he recovered instantly. He studied the eyes, though Ronen got the impression he wasn't truly focused on them.

  Wolf handed them back. "Keep them," he said sternly. "These things are cursed. Don't touch them more than you have to. When the mission is over, we'll turn them over to the Circle."

  Ronen nodded and packed the eyes away, but he didn't stand up immediately. "Uncle," he said, looking up. "Remember the story Mary told on the road? About the Snowblind Wraith... it was about eyes, too."

  Wolf was silent for a moment. "...You think they're connected?"

  "I can't say for sure," Ronen said, standing up. "But it's a hell of a coincidence."

  Wolf didn't reply. He turned and walked toward the other end of the tunnel.

  Ethan and Mary had finished packing. The cave felt hollow and deathly still now that its masters were gone, save for the occasional crack of breaking ice. At the end of the tunnel was the bears' true nesting chamber. It was larger than expected, filled with natural alcoves formed by ice erosion. In the center lay a heap of dry grass and moss, messy and stained.

  To the left was a pile of bones—human and beast alike, crushed together. Scraps of torn clothing and shattered armor were half-buried and frozen solid. On the other side was a natural ice wall, beneath which lay the partially preserved carcasses of other animals—the Frostbears' larder. The extreme cold made death linger slowly.

  Ronen stopped before one of the remains. It was barely recognizable as human—just the lower half of a torso, slammed into the ice wall with such violence that it seemed fused with the frozen surface. The clothing was gone, and the exposed limbs were frozen to the ice. A dark brown bloodstain snaked down from the top of the wall—the source of the trail they had seen at the entrance.

  The one remaining hand was still clenched tight, the knuckles white as if it had never let go, even in death. Ronen leaned down and carefully pried the frozen fingers open.

  A tattered scrap of paper fell from the palm. Its edges were soft from blood and ice, and most of the writing was illegible. But one line in the center remained clear:

  "The eyes tell lies."

  Ronen's breath hitched. He turned and handed the paper to Wolf. "Eyes again."

  Wolf took it, his eyes scanning the script, but his expression remained distant, as if his mind were elsewhere. He gave it only a glance before whispering, "We still know too little. Perhaps there really is something in this region... something to do with eyes."

  He tucked the paper away hurriedly and looked around the cave. "There's likely nothing more here," Wolf said, his tone returning to its usual pragmatism. "We should head out. The blizzard might die down after noon; maybe we can find our bearings." He paused, as if trying to convince himself. "Maybe Vivian and the others saw the wagon and are waiting for us."

  Before leaving the chamber, Wolf turned to Ethan. "Master Ethan, is the mana in this area... still abnormal?"

  Ethan focused for a moment, a faint light flickering in his eyes. He shook his head. "The mana is always fluctuating; it's been like this for days. In this weather, the water and wind elements are naturally active, and the natural flow affects the mana trails. As for other 'abnormalities'..." He chose his words carefully. "At this moment, I sense no clear danger or anything truly sinister."

  Wolf nodded and asked no more.

  The group retraced their steps out of the cave. Light began to seep in from the entrance, the ice walls reflecting the pale, cold sky.