They kept walking.
The path was no longer merely gray—it had become suffocating, as if the mountains themselves were slowly closing in around them, watching… counting their steps.
After a long while, Lulu stirred in Likath's arms.
She opened her eyes.
But—
she didn't speak.
No "big brother."
No question.
No complaint.
She simply looked ahead.
A steady, deep gaze—nothing like the wandering curiosity of a child just waking up.
As if she had seen something in her dream… and decided to keep it to herself.
Likath tightened his hold on her slightly, assuming she was still half-asleep.
But she didn't close her eyes.
She was fully awake.
Rolin noticed.
He noticed her unusual silence,
the way her gaze didn't roam the world with curiosity,
but settled on emptiness… as if she were listening to something only she could hear.
He hesitated for a moment,
then pushed the thought aside.
Not now.
Not this moment.
Two hours passed.
The silence during them was so dense it became audible.
Then—
AAAAAAAH!
A scream.
Loud.
Ripped apart.
Terrified… and afraid.
A scream unmistakable to the ear.
The scream of someone who realizes—at the very same instant—
that they are about to die.
Rolin stopped abruptly.
His breath froze.
He didn't need an explanation.
He didn't need confirmation.
The monster…
had reached Novak.
A second scream tried to become words…
and failed.
Then it was cut off.
A heavy stillness fell over the mountains.
Rolin instinctively turned his head toward Likath—
But Likath…
did not stop.
He didn't turn.
Didn't ask.
Didn't even change the rhythm of his steps.
He walked as if nothing had happened.
As if the scream
were no more than wind crashing against stone.
Lulu…
didn't tremble.
She didn't cling tighter.
She showed no fear.
She kept looking ahead,
her wide eyes reflecting something strange…
Not terror.
But silent understanding.
Rolin clenched his fist.
"So that's it…"
he thought.
"Likath heard it.
He heard it clearly."
And still—
he chose to walk.
They kept moving.
And behind them,
deep within the mountain,
something chewed slowly…
And it was not yet full.
After many long hours,
the sun slid behind the mountain peaks, as if being dragged into an abyss with no return.
Dusk fell.
A creeping cold slipped between the rocks, and the light turned a dead copper shade before vanishing entirely.
They entered a narrow crevice, barely wide enough for their bodies.
No fire was lit.
No one suggested it.
No one dared.
Lulu fell asleep instantly—exhaustion pulling her into deep slumber.
Her small breaths were calm, as if she had temporarily withdrawn from this cruel world.
Rolin leaned his back against the stone wall
and lowered his head.
Not to sleep…
but to think.
An indeterminate amount of time passed.
Then—
Footsteps.
Quiet.
Measured.
Metal sliding close to skin.
Likath.
He drew his sword slowly, almost without sound.
The blade caught a faint reflection from the dying sky.
And before the sword could rise—
Rolin spoke, low and emotionless:
"Are you planning to kill me in my sleep, kind soldier?"
Likath froze.
One second only.
But it was enough.
His face returned to its calm mask, his voice steady—yet heavier than it should have been:
"You're the reason.
You're the one who killed them."
Rolin slowly raised his head.
His eyes were cold. Empty.
As if the accusation had never touched him.
And in that moment—
Everything returned.
***
Three days earlier.
Among jagged rocks.
Likath was polishing his swords, his movements steady and silent, like a ritual.
Rak and Lulu sat by the fire—Rak speaking enthusiastically, waving his hands, while her eyes sparkled with admiration.
Novak, meanwhile, sat alone, far from the light.
Rolin approached him.
Sat beside him.
Novak raised an eyebrow, studying the young man.
"What?
The world rejected you, so you came to sit with an old man?"
Rolin smiled—a calm, effortless smile.
"No…
But you're the only one here I don't distrust."
The hook was cast.
Novak paused.
Surprised.
"And why is that?"
Rolin looked him straight in the eye.
"We're the weakest two here.
That man with the bulging muscles—"
his gaze flicked toward Rak.
"He looks at us like defects.
I'm certain… he'd get rid of us at the first crossroads."
Novak followed his gaze, stared at Rak for a moment, then looked back.
"Maybe…
But don't worry.
The soldier's with us."
Rolin laughed.
A short laugh.
Cold.
"Why are you laughing?" Novak asked, irritated.
Rolin turned to him, his voice lowering, sharpening.
"Because you're a fool.
Forgive my rudeness."
He paused.
Stood slowly, took one step away, then said without looking back:
"Have you ever seen a lamb
trust its butcher?"
Then he walked away.
And Rolin was certain of one thing—
Novak
had swallowed the bait.
***
Rolin returned to the present.
He looked at Likath, who still stood with sword in hand.
He said calmly, lethally:
"I didn't kill anyone.
I merely…
let them choose their own ends."
Silence fell between them.
And within the narrow crevice,
between mountain and darkness,
something outside…
was listening.
Likath tightened his grip on the hilt, fingers digging into leather until his knuckles whitened.
He spoke low, barely restrained:
"You were the one who told me Novak was acting strangely…
that he was doing suspicious things.
Then you pushed Novak to poison Rak…
so I'd kill Novak myself.
Isn't that right?"
He took half a step forward.
"But it seems your plan…
didn't end the way you wanted."
Rolin's smile widened.
Not much.
Just enough.
Then he laughed.
A short, muffled laugh—joyless.
"Why are you laughing?"
Likath snapped, the sound like a slap.
Rolin lifted his head slightly, his eyes glinting in the shadows, and said with cold mockery:
"My plan didn't go as intended?
Who told you that?"
He stood slowly, stepped forward once, his voice lower… and far more dangerous:
"My plan…
went exactly as I wanted."
Likath froze.
One second.
And in that second, something inside him cracked.
"What do you mean?"
Rolin answered calmly:
"I didn't need you to kill Novak.
I needed Novak alive…
just a little longer."
Likath stared at him, as if seeing him for the first time.
"Why?
Didn't you realize—"
Rolin cut him off.
"Realize what?"
His smile widened, but never reached his eyes.
"That this mountain isn't the real enemy?
Or that Rak would've died sooner or later?"
Then he said it slowly, word by word, like a nail being driven into Likath's mind:
"There is a defiled monster…
following us."
The air froze.
Even Lulu, asleep in the corner, shifted slightly—as if her body sensed danger before her mind could.
Likath lowered his sword slowly, his voice hoarse:
"You…
you knew?"
Rolin nodded.
"For longer than you can imagine."
"And that's why…"
Likath said, the pieces finally aligning,
"that's why you kept Novak alive…"
"Exactly."
Rolin stepped closer.
"The monster doesn't hunt the strongest first.
Or the smartest.
It chooses…
the slowest.
The weakest.
The one who screams the most."
He looked into the depths of the crevice, where the darkness felt alive.
"Novak wasn't a burden…
he was a delay."
Silence.
Then, softly:
"Moving bait."
A chill crawled over Likath's skin.
"You used all of us…"
Rolin shook his head slowly.
"No."
He met his gaze directly.
"I used the mountain."
Silence reigned.
And somewhere—
far away… or far closer than it should have been—
something heavy shifted.
A deep breath.
As if the mountain itself
had answered.
The silence between them remained.
Not the silence before violence—
but the heavier one.
The silence born when two people realize that the real fight
will not be decided by a single blow.
The sword was still in Likath's hand,
but the blade lowered slightly—
not retreat,
but hesitation.
He spoke low, strained:
"You don't see people…
you see probabilities."
Rolin didn't deny it.
He tilted his head slightly, as if considering an old question.
"And probabilities…
are all that those who wish to survive possess."
Likath stepped half a pace forward.
"Survival?"
He laughed, bitter and hollow.
"You call this survival?
Leaving a man to be torn apart alive?
Pushing another to his death?
Planting doubt… then standing aside?"
Rolin slowly raised his eyes.
There was no defense in his gaze.
No remorse.
"Did they die because I wanted them to?
Or because they were weak
in a place that does not forgive weakness?"
Likath clenched his jaw.
"You hide behind words."
"And you hide behind a sword,"
Rolin replied calmly.
He paused, then continued:
"Tell me, Likath…
how many people have you protected in your life?"
No answer.
"And how many died…
because you chose to protect someone else?"
Likath's fingers trembled on the hilt.
"This is different."
Rolin smiled faintly. Tired.
"It always is.
We call killing 'duty' when it's in our hands,
and 'betrayal' when others do it."
He stepped closer—without hostility.
"The only difference between you and me…
is that I don't lie to myself."
Likath raised his voice for the first time:
"You stripped them of their right to choose!"
Rolin shook his head slowly.
"No.
I gave it to them."
He met his gaze.
"Rak chose to be strong…
but blind.
Novak chose to live longer…
at another's expense.
And you—"
He stopped.
Then said coldly:
"You chose to keep walking when you heard the scream."
Heavy silence.
That was the true wound.
Likath didn't deny it.
He lowered his voice:
"If I had stopped…
we all would've died."
Rolin nodded.
"Exactly."
He took a deep breath.
"So don't pretend you're better than me.
We're alike…
I just took the step first."
Likath asked hoarsely:
"And the child?
Is she also… a probability?"
For the first time—
something changed in Rolin's face.
Not fear.
Not guilt.
But something deeper…
more human,
and far more terrifying.
"No."
He said it instantly.
"She is not a probability."
Then, more softly:
"She is the reason."
Lulu shifted in her sleep,
her small breaths slicing through the tension like a thin thread of light.
Likath looked at her.
Then at Rolin.
"And if you had to…
would you sacrifice me for her?"
Rolin didn't hesitate.
"Yes."
It wasn't cruel.
It was honest.
Likath swallowed.
"Then…
what's the difference between you and the monster?"
Rolin stepped closer, until less than an arm's length separated them.
He spoke calmly, as if explaining a universal truth:
"The monster kills because it is hungry.
And I—"
He looked into the darkness beyond the crevice.
"I kill because I understand."
He paused.
Then added:
"And the mountain respects those who understand it."
Something shifted in the distance.
A heavy breath.
As if the place itself agreed.
Likath slowly returned his sword to its sheath.
Not because he was convinced.
Not because he forgave.
But because he realized the ugliest truth of all:
In this mountain…
Rolin was not the most dangerous.
He was the most fit to survive.
And behind them,
in the unseen darkness—
the monster drew closer…
amused that humans always argue
before they are eaten.
Rolin raised his hands and smiled like a devil at Likath:
"Choose.
Every path here
is paid for in blood…
condemned one"