The decision was made swiftly, one of the villagers quickly brought Levi's gas cylinders from the generator. Riku and Levi, their faces grim with a shared sense of foreboding, prepared to venture into the ominous eastern woods. Two sturdy horses were saddled, their breath misting in the cool evening air under the soft glow of the village's electric lamps. A small crowd of villagers gathered, their faces etched with concern, offering to accompany them. Couronne's voice was the loudest, her worry for Riku evident in her insistent pleas. Others echoed her sentiment, their hands reaching out, offering their meager weapons and unwavering loyalty.
But Riku, his gaze firm, refused them all. "This could be dangerous," he stated, his voice carrying a weight of authority. "I need everyone to stay here, to protect the village. Levi and I will scout ahead. If there's a threat, we'll assess it and return with a plan." His words, though reassuring, did little to quell the underlying anxiety in the air. He knew the villagers trusted him, but the unknown nature of the threat in the eastern woods cast a long shadow.
With a final nod to the worried faces, Riku mounted his horse, Levi settling onto his own steed beside him. They rode out of the village gates, the hushed farewells of the villagers echoing behind them. The familiar path leading into the eastern woods seemed darker than usual, the trees looming like silent sentinels guarding a hidden secret.
Once they had ridden a fair distance, the soft glow of the village lamps fading behind them, Riku glanced back, ensuring they were out of sight. He then pulled his reins, bringing his horse to a halt. "Levi, stop."
Levi, ever observant, reined in his own horse, his sharp eyes scanning their surroundings. "What is it, Dola? Change of plans?"
Riku turned to face him, his expression serious. "we're not going there.
Levi's brow furrowed in his characteristic scowl. "The hell you're not. You're the one who agreed to check it out. What changed?"
"I'm sending Igris," Riku replied, his gaze returning to the polished steel. "He can scout the area with far greater speed and stealth than either of us. If there's anything dangerous out there, he'll know before we even get close."
"Sending your shadow puppet into the unknown?" Levi scoffed, his arms crossing. "That thing's our wildcard, Dola. If something unexpected happens, something that can actually threaten it, we'd be losing our most powerful asset. We should be there, ready to react."
Riku finally looked up, his black eyes meeting Levi's intense gaze. "And if there is something out there that can kill Igris, Levi, what do you think the chances are of normal humans like us going in there and surviving? Close to none."
He stood up, the cleaned blade now sheathed at his hip. "Levi, I am not Commander Erwin Smith. I will not senselessly sacrifice anyone, not even a being like Igris, to blindly advance into danger. The lives that have been lost… they were choices made to save more lives, a desperate calculus of survival. This is different. If there's a chance, even a small one, to gather information and avoid potential casualties, I will take it. In my eyes, every life in this village, including our own, holds the same value."
Levi remained unconvinced, his jaw tight with a stubborn resistance to Riku's cautious approach. He saw Igris as a weapon to be deployed decisively, not a mere scout to be risked on a preliminary investigation. Yet, a grudging part of him knew Riku was right. The logic was undeniable, however frustrating it felt to his action-oriented nature. The potential loss of Igris without gaining crucial information was a risk they couldn't afford.
He let out a long, frustrated sigh, the cool night air carrying the sound away into the darkness. "Fine, Dola," he conceded, his voice rough. "Send your… whatever Igris is. But make it quick. We're sitting ducks out here if whatever spooked your villagers decides to come looking for us." He shifted in his saddle, his gaze fixed on the dark treeline, a palpable tension radiating from him.
Riku nodded, a silent acknowledgment of Levi's unease. He closed his eyes for a moment, focusing his intent. A faint crimson shimmered into existence beside him, the imposing form of Igris materializing silently in the dim moonlight filtering through the trees.
"Igris," Riku commanded in a low voice, his gaze meeting the knight's unwavering crimson eyes. "Scout ahead. The eastern woods. The villagers reported unusual activity. Identify the source, but do not engage unless absolutely necessary for your own defense. Report back to us as soon as you have information."
Igris inclined his helmeted head in silent understanding. Without a word, he moved with an ethereal swiftness, melting into the darkness of the woods, his crimson form disappearing among the shadows as if he were a part of them.
Levi remained stubbornly unconvinced, his frustration simmering beneath the surface. "Still think this is a waste, Dola," he grumbled, his gaze fixed on the darkened woods where Igris had vanished. "Power like that… it should be respected, utilized for something significant, not sent off on what could be glorified pest control. You're treating him like some disposable tool." He didn't, couldn't, comprehend the intricate web of emotions and strategic considerations churning in Riku's mind.
Riku turned to Levi, his black eyes piercing in the dim moonlight. "Should we respect those who are strong, Levi?" His voice was low, almost a whisper, yet it carried an unusual intensity.
"Of course," Levi affirmed, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Strength is a force to be reckoned with. Ignoring it is foolish."
A bitter smile touched Riku's lips. "Then I think, by your own logic, you must not respect any humans at all."
Levi's eyes widened slightly, a flicker of offense in their sharp depths. "That's not what I meant, Dola, and you know it."
The weight of the past few days crashed down on Riku. First, the brutal self-mutilation, a desperate gamble that had left phantom pains still echoing in his limbs. Then, the fruitless journey to the elven ruins, the crushing disappointment of a reunion that never happened. A deep sadness had taken root, a quiet ache in his soul. But it had been a muted sorrow, a dull throb.
Levi's words, however, struck a different chord, unlocking a floodgate of pent-up anguish and a simmering resentment he hadn't fully acknowledged. It wasn't just about Igris; it was about a lifetime of struggle, of powerlessness.
"Then I think," Riku shouted, his voice cracking with an raw emotion that startled Levi, "you should join some other race, Levi! Because each and every one of them we've encountered is more powerful than humans! Flugels that can erase existence! Monstrous beasts that tear through steel like paper! Werebeasts that stalk in the shadows with primal strength!" His voice rose with each example, fueled by a sudden, explosive anger. "Respect those who are powerful?" he continued, his voice trembling. "And what about those who are weak? Will they be crushed like insects? Their lives meaningless because they can't cleave through titans or command legions of shadow knights?" His chest heaved, and for a terrifying moment, it looked as though he was on the verge of tears, his carefully constructed composure shattering.
Levi stared at Riku, taken aback by the sudden eruption of such raw emotion. "It's not like that, Dola," he said, his voice softer now, a hint of defensiveness creeping in. "I… I didn't mean it like that. I'm on your side, remember? Always. No matter what happens."
But Levi's words did little to stem the tide of Riku's long-suppressed pain. Old memories, sharp and brutal, began to flood his mind – the faces of villagers lost to rampaging monsters, the desperate struggles against overwhelming odds, the constant fear of extinction that had haunted his people.
"Say, Levi," Riku began, his voice thick with unshed tears, each word laced with a lifetime of unspoken grief and rage. "Is it our fault that we're weak? Were we born deserving to be prey? Do we have no right to live, to breathe, to simply exist because we are not blessed with monstrous strength or magical abilities? Is that why… is that why most of my people… die meaninglessly?" His voice cracked on the last word, the shout tearing from his throat, raw and filled with a lifetime of witnessing the brutal cost of human fragility in a world teeming with power. The raw agony in his voice hung heavy in the night air, a testament to the deep scars of survival etched into his soul.