I Have a Military Shop Tab in Fantasy World-Chapter 116: A Respite

The grass whispered beneath Inigo’s boots as he crouched low, his M4 Carbine cradled tight against his shoulder. The treeline up ahead opened into a small meadow bathed in the last golden streaks of sun. Just beyond the tall grass, a boar rooted lazily at the earth. Big. Muscled. Oblivious.

Inigo signaled to Lyra with two fingers. She caught the movement and paused behind a tree, giving him the space to take the shot. This one was his. After everything—they both knew he needed this. Not for the food. But for the quiet. The normalcy. The grounding.

He exhaled slowly, let the tension bleed from his arms. The rifle was familiar weight, a piece of his old world strapped to his present. He didn’t even need the optic. Just muscle memory.

The boar twitched, ears flicking. But the suppressed shot cracked like a whisper, and the creature dropped without a sound.

Inigo lowered the rifle. "Clean."

Lyra stepped up beside him, giving the fallen animal a nod of respect. "Nice shot. That should feed us for a couple days."

"Let’s not waste it," Inigo said, kneeling to start the field dressing. His combat knife slid cleanly under the hide, practiced and methodical. Blood stained the grass, but neither of them looked away.

They worked without speaking. The forest around them began to hush, the wind sighing gently through the canopy. Somewhere a bird called. It was a peaceful kind of isolation—empty in the way that made space for thought.

By the time they made camp, the sun had disappeared beyond the cliffs, casting the landscape into soft indigo shadows. Lyra gathered dry wood, and Inigo got the fire going with practiced ease. Sparks danced upward, vanishing into the growing night.

Fat sizzled as boar meat roasted over open flame. Inigo sat with his arms resting over his knees, watching the fat drip and crackle. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until the scent hit him.

Lyra handed him a skewer. "Eat."

He took it. "Thanks."

They ate in silence for a while. Chewing. Watching. Listening. Then, finally, Lyra broke the quiet.

"I still can’t believe it worked," she murmured. "The plan. The timing. The shot."

"She was arrogant," Inigo replied, eyes still on the fire. "That’s why it worked."

Lyra poked at the embers. "She let us get that close. Trusted you more than she should have."

Inigo’s jaw tightened. "She thought I’d be like everyone else. Bend the knee to power, or bargain for safety. She thought I wanted something."

"And did you?"

He looked at her. "I wanted to end it. That’s what I wanted."

The fire crackled between them. The wind shifted, bringing the cold in earnest now. Stars began to appear in the sky above, tiny lanterns scattered across a sea of black.

Lyra hugged her knees. "I keep thinking about Arienne. And Korrik. The way they went down..."

Inigo’s face darkened. He could still see it. Korrik screaming defiance as the Rift’s mutated spawn dragged him under. Arienne lighting the sky with one final burst of magic to give them the seconds they needed. Two lives bought for a chance.

"They didn’t hesitate," he said, voice low. "They saw what needed to be done and did it."

Lyra nodded slowly. "We don’t even know if they would’ve survived... if we’d had a better plan..."

"There wasn’t time," Inigo cut in. "You saw that creature. That spell. The Rift was opening wider. She was calling something through. If we had waited..."

"She would’ve killed us all," Lyra finished for him.

They both stared at the fire.

For a long time, nothing moved but the flames. The only sound was the soft crackle of wood and the whisper of wind across the stone.

Inigo leaned back on one elbow, staring up at the stars. "Do you believe in fate?"

Lyra blinked. "What?"

He gestured at the sky. "I used to think everything was random. That the universe didn’t care. That you make your own luck, live and die by your own grit."

"And now?"

"I don’t know," he admitted. "But I survived something no one should’ve. Got pulled into another world. Was given a system that shouldn’t exist. If that’s not fate..." He trailed off.

Lyra followed his gaze. "Maybe it’s not fate. Maybe it’s punishment."

He turned to look at her.

She didn’t flinch. "We survived. They didn’t. Maybe that’s the price."

Inigo didn’t respond right away. He sat up, stirred the fire with a stick, then added another log. The flames licked higher.

"I don’t want it to be punishment," he said. "I want it to mean something."

She smiled faintly. "Then make it mean something." freewёbn૦νeɭ.com

They fell into silence again.

Eventually, Inigo unrolled his coat and laid it across the flattened grass. Lyra did the same on the opposite side of the fire. They lay facing the warmth, backs to the wind, the flickering glow casting shadows across their tired faces.

Before sleep claimed them, Lyra’s voice broke the silence one last time.

"Do you think it’s really over?"

Inigo opened his eyes and stared at the dying fire. "No."

She nodded, as if that was the answer she expected.

Then sleep took them both—fitful, but real.

And in the darkness beyond the cliffs, something shifted far away, as if the world had taken a breath... and wasn’t finished yet.

Lyra shifted in her bedroll, the firelight casting soft shadows over her cheek. Inigo remained awake, watching the embers pulse and collapse, one after another. Every flicker reminded him of a moment—Korrik’s last scream, Arienne’s eyes as she looked back one final time. There had been no time for goodbyes. No time for anything but action.

He sat up, pulling his knees close. The stars seemed brighter now, more vivid against the canvas of night. Maybe it was just the clarity that came after surviving something impossible.

A gust of wind stirred the fire, sending sparks into the air. Lyra murmured something in her sleep, the sound nearly lost to the breeze.

Inigo didn’t lie down again. He just sat there, rifle resting against his shoulder, keeping watch.

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