“Hold tight!”

  Everyone—except Rowan—was speechless, frozen mid-breath as Anatolian’s voice rolled through the swarm like a thunderclap of pure irritation.

  The timid, pale-furred goat who fainted at the sight of one bug was gone.

  In his place sat someone else.

  His fur—usually a gentle cream—had shifted darker, streaked with shadow, patches deepening into charcoal black as if burned by his own anger. His eyes, normally wide and watery, now narrowed with razor focus. Even his horns seemed sharper under the dim light.

  Tidewhisper whispered, “That’s… not the same goat.”

  Lira was stunned. “Did he… evolve??”

  Rowan sighed, rubbing his forehead like a man revisiting an old burden.

  “No. He’s always been like this.”

  Pyrope blinked rapidly. “W-what?”

  Rowan pointed with his thumb.

  “That’s Anatolian’s He has a Dual personality. The timid one faints… and that comes out.”

  The goat snarled at a flea clinging to his sleeve.

  “…If one more of you touches me, I swear I’ll eat your legs.”

  Lira leaned closer to Rowan. “He… he can talk like that??”

  Rowan nodded grimly.

  “Yes. And he’s the best driver I’ve ever met—but only in this mode.”

  Anatolian cracked his neck once, muttering darkly,

  “…Pathetic pests.”

  And then—

  Everything changed.

  The Driver’s Instinct Awakens

  Anatolian grabbed the reins—not with fear, but with a dominating snap.

  The giant black-ant mount reacted instantly, its antennae perking, body tensing as if it had just received orders from a battlefield commander instead of a trader’s driver.

  Tidewhisper’s eyes widened.

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  “He’s syncing his mind with the mount…!”

  Rowan nodded.

  “Anatolian’s inner trait. Only appears when he’s fully unconscious for too long or when something pisses him off beyond repair.”

  The fleas surged again, a living tidal wave slamming against the caravan.

  Anatolian snarled, leaning forward.

  “Move.”

  The ant mount obeyed.

  Not slowly.

  Not cautiously.

  But with violent precision.

  Its legs struck the earth like lightning, weaving around the thickest parts of the swarm. It leapt over fallen logs. It sidestepped tree roots without losing momentum. Its antennae flicked in harmony with Anatolian’s every twitch—as if goat and insect shared the same mind.

  Pyrope grabbed the side rail.

  “This speed—!?”

  Lira screamed, half terrified, half amazed.

  “We’re flying!!”

  Tidewhisper clung to the seat with both paws, eyes bulging.

  “Rowan! Is this normal!?”

  Rowan kept his balance effortlessly despite the chaos, tone completely tired.

  “Yes.”

  The forest blurred around them, a smear of shadow and green. Fleas smashed into trees trying to keep up, bouncing off bark and vanishing behind the speeding caravan.

  Anatolian’s mouth curled into a furious sneer.

  “Too slow.”

  He jerked the reins.

  The mount swerved sharply, making a tight U-curve impossible for a beast its size. Pyrope nearly lost his footing but caught himself on instinct.

  Lira clung to Rowan.

  “Are we—are we going to die??”

  Rowan answered with a straight face.

  “No. He just drives like this sometimes.”

  Tidewhisper screamed into the wind.

  “THIS IS SOMETIMES?!”

  The Fleas Fall Behind

  They hit a clearing.

  The swarm tried to follow—

  But Anatolian shifted again, leaning forward with deadly focus.

  “Jump.”

  The ant mount responded instantly.

  It vaulted, vibrating the ground as it landed on solid stone—the remains of an ancient fallen wall. The fleas slammed uselessly against the stone base below, piling up but unable to jump that high.

  The swarm thinned.

  Then broke apart.

  And finally—

  disappeared entirely.

  Only the forest remained behind them, breathing heavy with defeat.

  Everyone exhaled in silent shock.

  Everyone except Rowan.

  Near the Rooster Kingdom

  The wild path changed—trees grew straighter, less twisted, and the air sharpened with the distant cry of territorial birds.

  Tidewhisper was the first to recognize it.

  “We’re close… This is Rooster Kingdom territory.”

  Anatolian didn’t reply.

  He was still glaring into the forest behind them.

  Pyrope looked at him carefully.

  Lira whispered, “Is he… going to stay like this forever?”

  Rowan finally stepped forward and hit Anatolian’s head hardly with his fist.

  “Hey. Shift back.”

  Anatolian blinked once.

  Twice.

  His pupils softened.

  His fur slowly lightened from black to cream.

  And then—

  “W-wait—WHAT—WHAT HAPPENED—WHY AM I STANDING—WHY ARE WE—WHERE ARE WE—AM I DEAD—ARE WE DEAD—”

  He fainted again.

  Face-first.

  Tidewhisper caught him by the collar just in time.

  “For a goat, this one defies every law of sanity.”

  Lira laughed shakily.

  “At least we survived…”

  Pyrope stared at the fainted Anatolian with a mix of fear and admiration.

  Rowan heaved the biggest sigh of the journey.

  “Welcome to traveling with us.”

  Ahead of them, through the thinning trees, stood the first watchtower of the Rooster Kingdom—tall, iron-feathered, crowned with banners snapping in the wind.

  They had made it.

  And the world outside was finally beginning to listen.

  not by chance, but by something hidden beneath the surface.

  Some roads awaken what was never meant to stay quiet.

  If you’re enjoying the journey, any support — a follow, a comment, or simply staying along for the ride — helps more than you might think. No pressure at all.

  And the world has started to notice who’s passing through.