The forest grew quieter the farther they walked.
Moonlight filtered through gaps in the clouded canopy, silver streaks painting the dirt path beneath their feet. Crickets chirped somewhere in the darkness, and the wind rustled the leaves with a whisper that felt just a little too deliberate.
Akiha walked beside Fumika at an easy pace, neither of them speaking much at first. Their breathing had finally settled after leaving the temple, though his chest still felt tight—not from exhaustion, but from everything that had happened since the summoning.
Both of them had more than enough to worry about, yet neither voiced it. Panicking would only make things worse.
Another world. No safety net. No welcome mat.
He thought as he glanced sideways at her.
Fumika had removed her cardigan, draping it loosely over one arm. After a few steps, she reached up, slid her glasses off, and tucked them carefully into her pocket. Then she stopped walking.
"Hm… the wind is annoying," she muttered.
Before Akiha could ask what she meant, she pulled a hairband from her pocket and gathered her straight, waist-long black hair, tying it into a single ponytail.
Akiha blinked.
Oh.
Without the thick lenses obscuring her features, her face looked sharper—cleaner. Moonlight traced her cheekbones and caught the natural curve of her lips. Her posture shifted too, shoulders straightening slightly. And without the oversized cardigan hiding her frame, it was obvious she wasn't nearly as plain as she pretended to be.
She noticed him staring.
"…What?" she asked flatly.
He snorted. "I see that you still hiding the real you."
She froze for half a second, then sighed. "You knew it anyway. So there's no point of pretending."
"I've known you since we were kids," Akiha chuckled lightly. "Of course I knew."
They resumed walking.
She was quiet for a moment before speaking again. "Middle school was… annoying."
That was one way to broke the silence, Akiha thought.
"Staring. Whispering. Rumors. Confessions I never asked for," she continued, eyes fixed ahead. "Getting cornered just for saying 'no.'" Her fingers tightened around the cardigan. "I didn't even do anything. I just existed."
Her voice dipped, edged with bitterness. "Teachers said I was 'misunderstanding kindness.' Girls said I was 'showing off'—even when I wore the same boring uniform as everyone else. When all I wanted was to go home early and play games in peace."
Akiha exhaled slowly.
Yeah. I remember.
He'd been there. Same school. Same classrooms. Watching from the sidelines, powerless in his own way.
"You cut your hair short back then," he said quietly. "Started wearing baggy clothes. Glasses."
She smiled without humor. "And suddenly, everyone lost interest. Funny how well it worked."
"…I'm sorry," he said after a moment.
"For what?"
"For not being able to do anything."
She shook her head. "You were getting stepped on too, remember? By Renji and his pack of idiots."
His jaw tightened at the name.
Even here, that bastard still gets everything. Fuck the universe.
"At least I don't have to worry about my streams anymore," she added.
"…Your sponsored one," Akiha said.
Her shoulders slumped. "Yeah. Tonight was supposed to be big one. Early access. Featured slot." She laughed weakly. "Guess I ghosted my audience pretty hard."
He laughed dryly. "You'll explain someday."
"As if we can even go back," she replied just as dryly.
They were nearing the edge of the forest when—
Everything went still.
Too still.
Akiha felt it before he heard it—a pressure crawling up his spine, the unmistakable sensation of being watched. His steps slowed, then stopped.
"…Fumika," he whispered. "Did you hear that?"
"Huh—?"
The bushes to their left rustled.
Not wind.
Something heavy scraped against bark. Leaves shuddered violently, forced aside by sheer mass.
Two pinpricks of red light ignited in the darkness.
Akiha's blood ran cold.
"I think we should start running," he said.
"What?"
"RUN. NOW!"
The thing burst from the bushes.
It looked like a rabbit—if a rabbit had been dragged through a nightmare and stitched back together wrong. Its body was the size of a dog, muscles coiled beneath mottled gray fur. A jagged horn spiraled from its forehead, stained dark. Crimson eyes locked onto them, and when it opened its mouth, long fangs glistened with saliva.
It screamed.
A shrill, ear-splitting shriek that stabbed straight into Akiha's skull.
Fumika screamed too—a sharp, girly-startled kind of cry.
They ran.
Branches clawed at their clothes as they tore down the narrow dirt path cutting through the forest. The monster thundered after them, each impact shaking the ground, its hot, wet breath feels close enough that Akiha could almost feel it on his neck.
Too fast—!
How did those kingdoms' representatives even pass through this narrow path?
Did we take the wrong direction?
Everything had happened inside the temple walls. He'd never even seen which path they'd taken.
Akiha's lungs burned. His legs screamed. Every breath felt shallow, useless.
"AKI-KUN, IT'S CATCHING UP!" Fumika cried, her voice fraying with panic and exhaustion.
"I KNOW!"
The path suddenly dipped—and then—
Walls.
Tall log walls rose out of the darkness like a miracle, thick timber reinforced with iron bands. Torches burned along the ramparts.
A city.
"So close—!" Akiha gasped. "We can ask for help there!"
The twisted rabbit shrieked again, closer now. He could hear its claws ripping through dirt, snapping twigs like toothpicks.
Think! Do something. Anything.
Then he remembered—His skill.
Blood Magic.
It felt stupid. Reckless. But there was no time to hesitate.
Akiha bit down hard on his thumb.
Pain flared white-hot. Warm blood welled instantly.
He focused—not on the monster, not on fear—but on the sensation. The pull. The response.
"Blood Magic!" he said, activating his skill.
The blood obeyed.
It thickened, hardened unnaturally, drawing itself into a thin, pen-sized spike hovering shakily in the air before him.
Just slow it down—!
Still running desperately, he glanced back over his shoulder and hurled it backward with his mental command.
It launched, just as he wanted it to be.
The spike grazed the monster's shoulder.
The rabbit screeched, its body jerking sideways as it stumbled mid-stride, claws skidding across the dirt, yet—
It didn't fall.
It didn't stop.
But it slowed—just enough.
"That helped!" Fumika shouted, half-hopeful, half-terrified. "And… kinda cool, honestly!"
Akiha didn't answer. His vision swam, a dull pounding spreading through his skull.
So that's the anemia part…
But I barely used any blood—why am I already dizzy?
The city gate loomed ahead—open, guarded.
"HELP!" Akiha shouted. "MONSTER BEHIND US!"
Two guards snapped to attention, spears flashing.
The rabbit lunged.
Steel struck.
One spear punched straight through its skull. The second blow followed immediately, slicing cleanly through its neck.
The creature collapsed in a twitching heap, red eyes dimming at last.
Silence fell.
Akiha dropped to his knees, chest heaving, hands trembling. Fumika bent over beside him, gasping just as hard.
"…We're alive," she muttered. "Apparently."
"Yeah," Akiha said hoarsely. "That thing scared the shit out of me."
One guard nudged the corpse with his boot. "Low-rank horned rabbit. Aggressive little bastard."
That was low-rank?! Akiha thought, stunned.
The other guard looked them over. "You two alright?"
"Y-Yeah," Fumika said, straightening. "Thank you. You really saved us."
The guards' gazes lingered, taking in their strange clothes—from their perspective.
"Never seen you around," one said. "You new here?"
"Y-yeah," Akiha replied, still fighting for breath. "Something like that."
"…What kind of outfits you're wearing? It's kinda— Wierd…" the older looking guard asked.
At least save your opinion to yourself, old man…
"Uniforms," Akiha answered honestly.
"…Right," the guard said, clearly unconvinced but uninterested enough not to press. He jerked a thumb toward the gate. "If you want in, entrance fee's one silver coin per person."
Akiha stiffened.
"…Entrance fee?"
"Rules are rules, lad. No identification, you pay. It's a simple, safety measure."
He leaned toward Fumika and whispered, "You got any of this… 'silver coins' they asked us?"
She stared at him for a second.
Then leaned in just as close and whispered back, dry and flat, "And how exactly did you expect me to have isekai currency, Aki-kun?"
They stood there under the torchlight—sweat-soaked, exhausted, penniless, and very much outside the city gates. Behind them, the forest loomed dark and alive.
They must enter the city, for the sake of their own safety.
Seeing them whispering suspiciously, one of the guards cleared his throats.