A Journey Unwanted-Chapter 406 - 396: Bravest Beast

[Realm: Álfheimr]

[Location: The Great Forest]

The scent was familiar, rose and berries.

It didn’t belong in a dead forest like this. It cut through the stench of blood and bark, through the sharp cold that now lingered in the air. A very distinct scent, one which he would never forget.

It could never.

After all, that scent belonged to that person—someone never forgotten, someone who always lingered in the mind even while it was clouded. It was the kind of memory that refused to fade, not even when time tried to grind it down. He would never forget, especially now.

But now he questioned just how he knew that scent so intimately.

Not recognition or just a vague familiarity. It felt personal, far too personal, like it had been near him for years, like he had lived in it, breathed it, bled around it. And that made his thoughts snag, because he could not immediately place why.

Why that armored man seemed so familiar.

The figure that watched was simple in appearance, at least compared to the various Deseruit Beast littering the forest. This was not a creature crossed with many others, nor was this an unnatural looking one. There were no extra limbs, no mismatched mouths and no wrong anatomy fused into something grotesque. It looked whole and complete.

A lion, a simple lion.

Granted it was many times larger than a mere lion, but it was one nonetheless. Its body absurd, made of pure muscle, its fur thick enough that it looked like a protective layer. A golden mane bristled with the wind, thick and wild. Its golden eyes were fixed on the carnage far beyond what any normal creature could see—eyes that didn’t just look at the bodies and the ice, but looked at the one who caused it.

Despite its simplicity it was no less imposing, a towering form of a predator that did not discriminate. It didn’t matter if you were beast or man, weak or strong. If you were in its domain, you were prey until proven otherwise.

"B-bravest lord!" A shrill cry from above took his attention.

A Deseruit Beast, this one shaped like a lanky ape with gray fur and frail wings attached to its back, landed roughly behind the imposing lion. It stumbled as it touched down, claws scraping against the ground, wings twitching like they barely worked. "T-the human is too strong, b-bravest lord! I-I watched it myself—he’s cutting through us like we’re nothing! W-we stand no chance if we keep throwing bodies at him!" The Deseruit Beast exclaimed, panic spilling out faster than sense.

The lion did not turn to look at it. It didn’t need to.

"A human that is not," the lion stated, its voice imposing. It wasn’t a roar, but it carried like one. A deep sound that rolled through the area, heavy enough to make the smaller Deseruit Beast instinctively lower its heads. "That familiar scent carries something else," its deep voice rumbled, certain. Then the lion’s gaze sharpened, locking forward with a sharper focus. "But someone who dares trample on my domain, this shall not stand." It growled out, it was not mindless rage. It was authority. A ruler speaking. "Whether he is man, monster, or something in between—he has spilled blood on my ground, and he will answer for it."

"Y-yes bravest lord! Y-you’re right, you’re right!" The ape-like Deseruit Beast chanted, shaking with frantic excitement, as if just saying it would make the opposition weaker. "Show these fool! Show him what happens when outsiders think they can walk into our forest and live! Show him why you’re the bravest lord, the strongest lord—show him he should’ve turned back the moment he stepped inside!"

The lion’s tail flicked once, then its voice dropped to a firmer tone.

"Let none interfere, I am no coward who needs assistance." The lion declared.

The lion’s powerful body coiled.

For a creature so large, the motion was compact—like a spring being compressed until the metal screamed. Its legs bent, shoulders sinking and spine tightening in a smooth line. He held the position for a few seconds.

Then, in the next instance, his body shot upwards suddenly and violently.

The ascent was so powerful the air burst and shrieked, the pressure snapping like a whip. A visible ripple rolled through the clearing, dust flaring outward. The ape-like Deseruit Beast behind him didn’t even have time to squeal again—its frail wings snapped open instinctively, and it was still thrown backwards as if struck by an invisible hammer, tumbling across broken ground before it could even react.

The lion shot through the air, and for a heartbeat the world seemed to tilt with him.

The momentum, however, could not combat his weight.

Gravity took claim quickly.

But below was his destination either way.

His large body plummeted, yet he did not panic—not even as the ruined ground beneath sought to claim him. There was no flailing, correction or desperation. Only the certainty of a predator committing to impact, trusting the earth to endure him.

His form plummeted, landing harshly through one of the ice structures still embedded into the ground, the pillar detonated beneath him.

The force of his weight was much too intense, to the point of breaking the ice beneath his paws into glassy plates. A shockwave ran through it, and the entire column collapsed inward, shards bursting out in a violent ring. The lion landed on the ground hard enough to kick up dust and a thin wave of force—an impact that shoved loose stones, snapped dead branches, and made the remaining ice structures tremble.

For a moment, the clearing was silent.

Then a voice cut through it.

"Looks rather dull."

Grimm’s muffled voice rang out, unimpressed. He stood firm despite the force of the landing, sabatons planted in the earth, sword held loosely at his side. The shockwave had pushed at the cloth in his armor and tugged at the ends of his wild red hair, but it hadn’t moved him.

He stared at the large lion whose strong frame was already tense.

It looked too simple in comparison to the various Deseruit Beasts he had slain thus far.

A large lion.

A simplistic animal.

No grotesque mismatched limbs or even layered mouths. It also lack unnatural bone plating or insectile appendages. It was just a lion, yet Grimm could already determine this was no ordinary animal.

Call it instinct, or intuition.

Or maybe the fact the lion was absurdly large.

But it was more than size.

("It’s like static, buzzing on and off as if rejecting something.") Grimm could perceive a presence, not quite see it but feel it. The lion radiated with this potent presence, something that crawled across the senses. It was difficult to describe just what it was.

It was unique to the lion and not any of the other Deseruit Beasts.

Puck’s eyes narrowed, the pink slightly radiating with a small light. Her small armored hands hovered near her chest as if she were restraining herself from gesturing too sharply.

("Just as I thought, a Nil... and that Maledictum Sigil. He’s already on the Confligere stage of his evolution!?") Her brows furrowed as she sharply turned to Grimm, wanting to alert him to the danger—but stopped just short.

Because Grimm still looked relaxed.

And because Puck—being Puck—felt something else bloom beneath her caution.

Curiosity.

She glanced at the imposing lion and back at Grimm, weighing the space between warning and observation.

("I am curious though... how his abilities and he would react to a Null Schema.") Her gaze sharpened, bright and thoughtful, like someone watching an experiment unfold. Grimm’s power was odd, it did not follow natural laws, clearly. It didn’t behave like mana. It didn’t behave like fairycraft. It was something that refused simple categories. ("It might also come from the withered branch of the first tree.")

The thought made her eyes narrow further in intrigue.

The fairy’s curiosity got the better of her.

She determined Grimm would be fine without a heads up. So she merely drifted back and watched, hovering higher so she could see the entire clearing.

Grimm finally shifted his sword in his hand,.

"Such a powerful presence," Grimm noted, voice dry but attentive, as if he’d finally found something worth acknowledging. "You must be... the lord of this forest."

The lion’s response was immediate.

A thick, low growl escaped it, vibrating through its chest and the ground beneath. Its golden eyes locked onto Grimm with the unwavering focus of something that had never been forced to back down.

"If you know what I am," the lion stated, voice imposing, "then you already know what happens next. You do not get to stand in my domain, surrounded by the bodies of my beasts, and pretend you are simply passing through." The lion bared its teeth. They were sharp, long and thick, the teeth of something that didn’t scavenge. The teeth of something that killed properly. "None lays waste to what is mine and walks away."

Grimm tilted his head slightly, as if genuinely considering the statement.

"Is that right?" Grimm murmured. His tone didn’t rise. It stayed almost conversational, as if the lion had just said something mildly inconvenient. "Your speech is not impaired in the slightest," Grimm continued, voice still muffled behind the helmet. "Your mind doesn’t seem rotted out like the others, and for that alone you’re already a more interesting opponent than the entire lot I just carved through."

He lifted his sword a fraction, the tip angling toward the lion without urgency.

"Considering what I’m about to do to you," Grimm went on, "because if I’m going to end you, I would rather do it while listening to something that can form words instead of just screaming and snapping its jaws."

A pause—just long enough for the words to settle.

"For you see," Grimm added, "conversing may make this worthwhile. If nothing else, it will keep me from being bored."

The lion’s mane bristled, and its ears flattened.

"Big words," the lion said, voice dropping, thick with contempt, "but do not compare me to the beasts you slaughtered." It took a slow step forward, claws scraping against the ground. "I was made lord of this section of the forest for a reason. I am not one of those starving scraps that rushes at a blade and dies before it understands why," the lion continued, its golden eyes narrowing, pupils tightening. "I did not rise by accident. I did not survive by chance. I rule because I kill what needs killing."

Then its voice shifted.

The anger remained, but something else slipped beneath it. It almost sounded unsettled.

"But you," the lion said, and the words came slower now, "your scent." Its nostrils flared. It inhaled again, deeper this time, and Grimm felt that strange static presence flicker. "It is familiar, and I do not like that I recognize it," the lion rumbled as his gaze hardened. "Who are you?"

Grimm didn’t answer immediately, he stared at the lion for a long moment, as if measuring it.

Then he spoke.

"Would the answer matter," Grimm asked, voice quiet, "to a creature that’s about to die? Or are you only asking because some instinct in you is panicking, telling you that you’ve seen this kind of death before?"

The lion growled, a sound like rock grinding. Its muscles tensed, shoulders lifting, body lowering again into the posture of a killing pounce.

"Then," the lion snarled, "I will not show you any courtesy." It took another step, and the ground seemed to recoil beneath it. "I shall tear you limb from limb!" the lion roared, opening its mouth in a large, violent bellow that shook the trees and remaining ice structures.

The roar was forceful.

Dead branches rattled as frost shook loose from broken bark. The ice pillars shuddered, and thin cracks spread through them as if the sound were a weapon.

Puck, floating back, covered her ears in annoyance, her face scrunching with genuine irritation.

("Ugh, was that necessary?") She internally questioned, squinting at the lion like it had offended her.

Her eyes shifted to Grimm’s armored form.

He still seemed relaxed.

("Well,") Puck thought, lips twitching slightly, ("I bet he’s interested now at least.")