Shun kept yapping as they trudged along the dirt path.
He talked like the horse was some paid therapist.
Three whole damn years with nothing.
No "are you still alive?" from his own family.
"I had to do everything myself, you know that?" Shun snapped, waving his hands as he walked. "Seekers work in the mornings, classes in the afternoon.
Explosions at night just to stay sane Kekeke.
"That stupid prestigious academy—full of nobles who never touched dirt in their fucking lives," Shun spat, glaring ahead. "They eat well, sleep well, complain when their tea's too cold." He scoffed, then froze mid-step.
"…Oh."
He slowed, hand rising to his chin, eyes drifting upward
he was actually thinking for once. "Wait. I'm a noble too."
A beat passed.
Then he snapped his fingers. "Yeah right. Noble my ass." His lip curled. "I can't even afford new fucking gear, for gods' sake." He kicked a small rock off the road, sending it skittering into the grass. "What kind of noble counts Klips before ordering food? What kind of noble sleeps in flea-bitten inns and patches his coat with stolen thread.
Dumdum flicked an ear. That was it. No nod. No reaction. The horse just stared at a patch of grass.
Shun glanced down at the horse and clicked his tongue. "Dumdum, you heartless bastard… at least try to act interested."
The horse stopped chewing. Stopped blinking. Just… stared.
Shun squinted. "…Do you even call that a stare?"
One eye was locked on Shun's face.
The other had drifted off somewhere else entirely—watching a butterfly, a rock, maybe the concept of grass. Who knows.
A few hours passed before Shun finally felt it hit him. The sky had begun to bleed orange, the sun dragging itself down toward the horizon like it was just as tired as he was. His legs ached. His shoulders burned from the weight of his bag. Even his thoughts felt slow.
"That's enough for today." he muttered.
The dirt road curved near a quiet lake, its surface reflecting the dying light in soft ripples. Grass grew thick around the shore, and a few trees stood nearby—perfect cover from the wind. Shun stopped and let his bag slide off his shoulders with a dull thud.
"Alright, Dumdum," he said, catching his breath. "We're camping here for the night."
He walked over to a tree and tossed his bag against its roots, already thinking about food and rest. Maybe starting a fire.
Dumdum didn't stop.
The horse kept plodding forward on the dirt road, hooves thumping in the same dull rhythm as before.
Shun didn't notice at first. He turned in a slow circle, scanning the area for a good fire spot. Dry ground. No tall grass. Close enough to the lake.
"Aight! This place is perfect," he said, grinning. "How 'bout it, Dumdum, we'll share—"
He turned.
Nothing.
"…Dumdum?"
Shun spun around, eyes darting. Left. Right. Behind the trees.
Then he saw him.
Still on the road. Still walking. Not even a glance back.
"…Oh you've gotta be kidding me."
Shun sucked in a breath.
"DUMDUM, YOU SMALL-BRAIN FUCKING HORSE!"
He bolted down the path, boots kicking up dust as he sprinted after the oblivious animal, voice echoing into the darkening road.
A bush suddenly shifted. Moonlight brushed across the leaves, and for a split second, something inside caught the light—
a faint purple glint.
Finally, Shun caught up to Dumdum, already out of breath.
"You stupid horse…" he muttered, giving Dumdum a light tap on the thigh. The horse barely reacted, still staring at absolutely nothing with his mismatched eyes.
"Tch. This is why I can't take my eyes off you," Shun sighed. "Let's register you to my
Link first so I can track you easier, you stupid fuck."
He raised his hand.
"Syl."
A translucent UI flickered to life in front of him, glowing softly in the dark. Shun scrolled through the options, squinting. "Link… yeah, there." He hesitated for a second.
"Register… Dumdum… Companion Beast?" He grimaced.
Shun sighed and corrected it. "Mount. Yeah. That fits."
The UI pulsed once.
[Mount Successfully Linked]
Dumdum's name appeared neatly on the side of the interface, fully registered. Shun stared at it, relieved. "There. Now you can't ditch me anymore."