Adlet and Florian, frozen for a few moments by the sheer shock of the threat, eventually managed to regain their senses. By then, the two men had already disappeared, and the boys began to flee as well.
Their thoughts were still scattered, making reasoning difficult; they simply ran as fast as they could, trying to put distance between themselves and the looming danger.
After roughly ten minutes of frantic sprinting, they finally escaped the reach of that terrifying presence. This small respite allowed them to recover some of their composure.
"I think we're out of danger… for now," Adlet said, panting heavily.
Florian said nothing but gradually slowed, coming to a stop, equally winded. It wasn't the ten minutes of running that had exhausted them, but the intense fear they had endured until now.
"What do we do now?" Florian asked at last, agitation clear in his voice.
"We'd better head back to Villa-Sylva to regroup… But that's exactly the direction those two men were headed, and whatever was following them," Adlet explained.
"There's no way I'm getting closer to that thing!" Florian snapped, still visibly trembling. "There must be other camps near the wall; maybe we can skirt it to…"
Adlet immediately felt a surge of imminent danger. He summoned his Aura and lunged at Florian to shield him. He barely had time to push his friend to the ground before something struck him violently in the shoulder.
A sharp pain seared through him; it was the first time he had been injured since becoming a Protector. Until now, he had always avoided harm through his powers, but this time, his abilities weren't enough.
Adlet instantly realized that something dangerous had targeted them. He searched for the attacker, scanning the direction from which the strike had come—but there was nothing in sight.
"Get up, Florian! We're under attack!" he shouted.
Panic-stricken, Florian scrambled to his feet and enveloped himself in his own Aura. Another blow struck Adlet in the back, tearing into his flesh.
This time, Adlet reacted swiftly, catching a glimpse of their assailant: a massive green lizard, its four-meter-long body trailed by a ten-meter tail that swung with threatening force.
"A Bind Lizard…" Adlet breathed.
A rank 3 species, renowned for using its tail like a whip—injuring enemies from a distance before ensnaring them to crush bones or suffocate. The creature, now aware of being detected, stopped circling and faced the two boys directly, less than ten meters away.
With no need to hide, the lizard unleashed its power, radiating a predatory hunger designed to intimidate any challenger.
"Rank 3… lower level," Florian whispered, trembling.
"Yes… we'll need to work together to survive this," Adlet noted.
"No… we need to run," Florian said, taking a step back.
"Wait! This lizard is faster than us—it won't let us escape," Adlet countered, grabbing his friend's arm.
"You can't possibly fight that thing! It's suicide!" Florian cried, struggling free and sprinting in the opposite direction.
Though reluctant, Adlet followed. Staying together was the wisest choice if they hoped to survive.
The lizard caught up in no time, moving parallel to them five meters to the right, weaving effortlessly between the trees. It whipped its long tail toward them, which they narrowly dodged, the attack smashing into a nearby tree.
"See? Running won't help!" Adlet shouted, trying to reason with Florian.
But Florian didn't respond, continuing his desperate flight.
Adlet realized he couldn't rely on cooperation. Endless dodging wasn't an option; he had to come up with a plan—alone. Perhaps he could slow the creature enough to escape; for now, it was the only idea in his mind.
Focusing on the lizard's movements, predicting its strikes, Adlet noticed Florian had manifested his three wolf tails with his Aura.
"You're finally ready to team up?" Adlet asked, a hint of relief in his voice.
But before he could finish, he was hurled backward. He instinctively turned and saw Florian had pushed him with one of his tails.
Adlet hit the ground hard, watching his comrade continue running without a glance.
"Why?" he thought, swallowed by a profound despair.
The answer was simple: Florian had found a solution to ensure his survival—something Adlet had never considered but which was undeniably effective.
The sight of the massive lizard passing by brought him back to reality.
"Is this the end?" he wondered.
He faced the brutal truth of this world: survival belonged to the strongest and most determined. One wrong encounter could cost your life. One had to be capable of surviving alone. The harsh simplicity of this realization brought an unexpected calm to Adlet.
"The end? Hardly…" he muttered, rising to his feet.
His despair and confusion at Florian's betrayal were replaced by determination and a fierce will to win.
"Protectors fight alone? Fine. I'll fight alone."
The words came out rough, almost defiant — but Adlet felt their weight the instant he spoke them.
Something shifted.
The Bind Lizard felt it too.
The boy who had been scrambling moments ago now stood still, shoulders squared despite the tremor running through his limbs. There was no confidence in his stance — only refusal. Refusal to flee. Refusal to break.
The creature's posture changed.
Its head lowered. Muscles tightened beneath green scales. The playful rhythm of its movements vanished, replaced by something colder, sharper.
It struck.
The tail snapped forward with terrifying speed, cracking like a living whip. Adlet barely raised his arms in time. The impact drove him backward, pain detonating through his forearms as if his bones had been struck with iron rods.
He stumbled.
Another strike came immediately — low, sweeping. He jumped back just enough for the tail to graze his thigh instead of shattering it outright. Fire exploded through his leg.
The lizard did not pursue recklessly.
It moved.
Always moving.
Circling just outside his reach, tail swaying, eyes locked on him with unsettling focus.
Reach and mobility, Adlet realized grimly. That's the fight.
He tried to advance once — only once.
The tail lashed out again, faster than before. He crossed his arms instinctively, the blow slamming into him and throwing him into the dirt. His breath left him in a strangled gasp.
Pain screamed through his body.
But he stayed conscious.
Fear is your first enemy, his master's voice echoed in his mind. If you panic, you die.
Adlet forced his breathing to slow.
He stopped chasing the creature.
Stopped trying to win.
He defended. Retreated. Watched.
Each strike carved deeper into his endurance. His arms trembled. His legs felt heavier with every step. Dirt clung to his skin, blood seeping through torn fabric.
The lizard tested him.
A half-strike. A feint. A sudden acceleration meant only to force a reaction.
Adlet reacted — and learned.
The tail always led. The body followed. The creature never overcommitted.
I can't outlast it, he realized. And I can't reach it.
Then he remembered Lathandre.
Not a technique.
A principle.
Sometimes, his master had said, you don't create an opening. You make the enemy believe one already exists.
Adlet let his stance break.
His shoulders sagged. His breathing grew uneven, ragged. He took a step back — then another — clumsy, off-balance.
The lizard slowed.
It crept closer, tail curling lazily, eyes narrowing.
Adlet let himself fall.
Not cleanly.
His knee hit the ground first. Then his shoulder. He rolled onto his side, a sharp cry tearing from his throat as he went still.
The forest held its breath.
The lizard approached cautiously now, curiosity flickering through its predatory focus. Its tail slid around Adlet's body, tightening instinctively.
Adlet's hand closed.
He grabbed the tail and pulled.
Hard.
The sudden force yanked the lizard forward, claws tearing gouges through the soil as it slid several meters before slamming into a tree trunk with a dull, heavy impact.
Adlet did not let go.
He braced his feet. Twisted his body. Pulled again with everything left in him.
Flesh tore.
The scream that followed was raw, animal, furious.
The tail came free in Adlet's hands, writhing violently on the forest floor as the lizard staggered back, shrieking, blood spraying across leaves and bark.
For a moment — just a moment — Adlet thought it was over.
Then the wound began to close.
Scales reformed.
Muscle knit itself together with horrifying speed.
"No—" Adlet breathed.
He rushed forward anyway, wielding the severed tail like a whip. The strikes landed — deep, savage cuts opening the creature's hide again and again.
And closed.
Ten seconds.
That was all it took.
The lizard's regeneration was monstrous.
Worse — the tail was already reforming.
An endurance fight will kill me, Adlet realized, chest tightening.
But something else had changed.
The lizard's movements, once effortless, were no longer perfect. Its agility dulled — just slightly — each regeneration stealing something from its balance.
Adlet adjusted.
He changed his grip.
When the lizard lunged again, he swung the tail not like a blade — but like a club.
The impact landed on its forelegs with a sickening crack.
Bone shattered.
The creature collapsed, shrieking, its mobility gone in an instant.
Adlet did not hesitate.
He closed the distance, throwing himself onto its back, arms locking around its throat. The lizard thrashed violently, snapping and clawing, but its broken limbs could not reach him.
Adlet squeezed.
His vision darkened.
Seconds stretched into eternity.
Then the struggle weakened.
And stopped.
Adlet stayed there, chest heaving, blood and sweat soaking into his clothes, until he was certain the creature would not rise again.
He slid off and collapsed onto his back, staring up through the trees.
"After all this…" he muttered hoarsely.
"I've earned a chance to survive."
His hands trembled.
Not from fear.
From exhaustion.
Breathing heavily, Adlet watched as faint particles of light began to emanate from the lizard's body, flowing directly into him—its Aura being absorbed, a clear sign that his victory had transferred the creature's power to him. Fatigue overcame him, and he collapsed, the forest spinning around him as he drifted into darkness.
"Hello, Adlet."
The words roused him from sleep. Opening his eyes, he saw Pami floating above the usual river at the center of his spiritual realm.
"Pami! I've missed you so much!" he exclaimed.
"We've never really been apart," Pami replied.
"Yes, but it's better to talk like this, isn't it?" Adlet said with a laugh.
"Indeed. Keep progressing, and you'll soon access this realm at will," said the fish.
A wide smile spread across Adlet's face, but worry quickly followed—he thought of his state in the real world.
"What happened? Did I really defeat that lizard?" he asked, voice serious.
"Yes. You exhausted your Aura to subdue it, but you're still in a precarious state because of your injuries. You'll need to act quickly," Pami explained.
"Act? What do you mean?"
"You triumphed over a dangerous opponent, wounding it enough to assimilate it—restoring your Aura and gaining its regenerative ability. Did I miss anything?"
Adlet noticed that another of Pami's seven tails was now glowing a vivid green, a clear sign of the lizard's assimilation.
But why could he assimilate a creature now, when he never had before?
He realized: he had unconsciously desired the lizard's healing power. Assimilation required true intent.
"So I assimilated the lizard because I wanted its power?" Adlet asked.
"Exactly. You sought healing, so you acquired it—just as you did with the scarab for strength," Pami confirmed.
"I see… And you? How did I assimilate you?"
"I wasn't part of you at that moment, but likely, you sought to become a Protector—and I could offer that," the fish replied.
"Right. Makes sense," said Adlet.
"I'd stay longer, but you must return to your body to heal your wounds. I hope to see you again soon, my friend," Pami said.
"I won't miss it. See you soon, Pami." As the world around him faded, his eyelids closed.
Back in reality, he lay face-down in his own blood. Fatigue was gone, replaced by a surge of energy from assimilated Aura. He tried to move but felt the sting of injuries.
He rolled onto his back and began self-healing, recalling his first training with his master. Knowing one's capacity and necessity is key to using Aura.
With experience, he channeled his power, closing each wound. Five minutes later, every cut had vanished. He felt oddly weak, not from energy loss, but from blood loss.
"If I can rebuild skin, I can rebuild blood," he thought, focusing. A green Aura enveloped him, restoring him fully.
Adlet focused on the green glow of his Aura as it enveloped him, flowing through his veins, stitching his wounds together. He had never felt his power so alive before. This wasn't just healing—it was a transformation. His Aura had changed, had evolved, and with it, so had he. He wasn't just surviving anymore; he was becoming something more.
Standing, he tested his body—stronger than before. The new assimilation had elevated his power.
"I must be lower rank 2 now," he concluded.
As he stood there, his mind wandered back to the battle—the chaos, the brutality. He had fought, he had won, but at what cost? For the first time, Adlet questioned himself. Was this the life of a Protector? To face such violence, alone, without even the comfort of others by his side? Had he become someone different—someone colder?
His chest tightened, the weight of the question heavy. He had faced death and survived, but had he lost a part of himself in the process?
No time for that now. He wasn't finished yet.
Heading toward Villa-Sylva, he moved swiftly and stealthily, alert for ambushes. He had proven his strength, but this path—this life—was far from over.
During the month they had spent in this zone, Adlet and his group had confined themselves to patrolling the areas around Villa-Sylva, likely to minimize risks for the young Protectors. He now knew the way well enough to reach his destination within a single day, which gave him the confidence to move at full speed.
The city walls loomed in the distance, and the towering spires of the castle rose beyond them.
Adlet's heart pounded, but not with fear—this time, it was with resolve.
He had made it. He was back, safe and sound. He had proven himself worthy of his role as a Protector.
And he was just getting started.