The sound of heavy metal striking the tough flesh of the demon still echoed in James's ears, like a endlessly repeating image. He saw the massive body of the Minotaur Demon get knocked back several paces by the impact from the mysterious silver object, before it roared with even greater pain and fury.
The dust still swirled, but amidst the confusion, the figure of a man appeared, standing before him, a barrier between him and the demon.
The man was middle-aged, perhaps in his mid-thirties, tall with broad shoulders. The dull gray leather cloak he wore was torn and stained with blood in several places, indicating a recent battle.
A short, neatly trimmed beard covered his chin and jaw. His sharp, handsome face, though grim, was etched with vast experience, like someone who had lived through countless battles or a military life.
What stood out the most, giving James an inexplicable sense of relief mixed with surprise, was his pair of dark brown eyes. They were unbelievably calm and composed, devoid of any trace of fear.
It was as if the snarling Minotaur Demon before them was just another fierce wild animal, not a demon from the pits of hell that had nearly claimed his life.
An aura of cool composure and stability radiated from this man, making the utterly terrified James feel strangely safe.
He glanced at James, who was lying on the ground breathing shallowly, for only a moment. His eyes were assessing but held no hostility. He then spoke, his voice steady and firm, yet imbued with a power that inspired confidence.
"Still with us, lad?"
James tried to voice a reply, but all that came out was a ragged breath laced with the taste of blood. His ribs still ached so much he could barely move. Warm blood seeped from the wound above his left eyebrow, running down his cheek.
Meanwhile, muscles all over his body continued to tremble and ache as if jolted by electricity again and again—the after-effect of pushing the power of his Void-Born Apex Bloodline beyond its limit to resist the Minotaur Demon.
In the end, all he could do was gather his remaining strength and give a slow, difficult nod.
"Good. Then stay put. I'll handle this."
The middle-aged man spoke simply, with no boast of his own power, yet every word was laced with an authority and a calm that made James trust him completely.
He couldn't see how the man did it, but an instant later, the sounds of battle erupted once more. The roars of the Minotaur Demon mingled with the heavy clang of metal and the whistling sound of a spear being swung with great speed.
Suddenly, the soft trotting of a horse drifted on the gentle breeze. A carriage slowly emerged from the treeline beside the road, approaching slowly before stopping a short distance from where the clash was still underway.
As James tried to peer through the dust and dim light, he saw the figure of a middle-aged woman sitting in the driver's seat. She was not a tall woman, but her grip on the reins was firm and strong, weathered by a life lived under the sun and wind. Her skin was slightly sun-tanned, complementing her jet-black hair, which was tied back simply.
Her face, unadorned by any makeup, held a sharp clarity and a calm composure. The dull brown cotton cloak she wore had a few old patches but was still clean. Her every posture was steady and firm, like a pillar a family could lean on in a world full of uncertainty.
"Ann, go check on him," she commanded, her voice soft but decisive.
A girl of about sixteen opened the carriage door and jumped down nimbly. Her skin was pale, as if rarely touched by the sun, but her large, light-brown eyes hid an intelligent and poised gaze behind a calm expression. Her long, jet-black hair was half-braided, letting the ends swing with her steps. Her movements were delicate yet filled with an agility beyond her years.
"Where are you injured..." her voice was soft, but steady and clear. It was tinged with a natural concern, not panic or fear.
James tried to speak, but his throat was still dry and filled with the taste of blood, rendering him speechless. He could only point a finger to his aching ribs and the cut above his eyebrow, from which blood still seeped.
Ann nodded slowly in acknowledgment, showing no signs of alarm. She knelt beside him, slipping her seemingly delicate arm under James's armpit, before helping him up with a gentle yet firm strength that seemed to belie her small frame.
James felt his body sway as another jolt of pain shot through him when he was moved, but Ann held on, supporting him patiently until he could step up into the carriage without losing his balance.
Inside the carriage, the faint, pleasant scent of dry pine and clean blankets filled the air. It was a strangely safe and warm smell. The seats were upholstered in old but well-maintained and sturdy leather.
The dim light filtering through the window curtain... everything inside was a stark contrast to the world outside, filled with brutality and death.
It was truly "a warmth hidden in the shadows."
James occasionally glanced out the window, seeing only the blurred images of trees rushing by, punctuated by the eerie whistle of the wind from outside. This only made him feel even safer inside the carriage.
The middle-aged woman driving glanced back at him once before speaking in her calm voice, "We're heading to the safe hill to rest. Wait for my man to finish up here, and he'll follow."
James nodded, gritting his teeth to suppress the lingering pain. He leaned against the carriage wall to relieve the pressure on his ribs, one hand gripping the window frame tightly. His body still trembled slightly from the after-effects of overusing his power and the terror he had just endured.
Ann sat down quietly beside him. She took a clean cloth from a small bamboo tube, dampened it with water she seemed to have prepared, and gently dabbed the blood from the cut above his eyebrow.
The coolness of the wet cloth on his wound made him flinch slightly, but it was followed by a strange sense of relief. Her hands were light, steady, and unhurried. That gentle care began to slowly chip away at the paranoia that had gripped his heart.
"Thank… you…" James managed to force out the words, his voice as faint as an exhausted man's.
Ann responded with a faint smile at the corner of her lips. "My father always said, 'Help those weaker than yourself, if you have the strength to do so.'" After speaking, she turned to look out the window. Her gaze was sharp, but it held a clear shadow of worry as she looked in the direction the man had disappeared, where the sounds of battle were beginning to fade.
"He's… he's still fighting it, isn't he…" she murmured softly, as if asking herself more than anyone else.
The middle-aged woman replied from the driver's seat, her voice still firm but tinged with gentleness, "Yes… but he always comes back safely. You know that, don't you?"
The carriage traveled for a short while longer before stopping under the shade of several large, ancient pine trees on a hill that seemed to be hidden behind a dense part of the forest.
Darkness had now begun to fall, and the air grew cold quickly. Stars began to twinkle in a sky clear of smoke. Only the chirping of crickets and the sound of the wind rustling through the pines broke the silence of the night.
The middle-aged woman got down from the carriage. She said nothing, simply took a thick blanket from inside, spread it on the relatively dry grass under a pine tree, and then came back to help James down, letting him lean slowly against the tree.
James slumped against the pine trunk, exhausted, breathing softly. Ann sat down quietly beside him, her eyes still fixed on the path behind them, which was now completely dark, save for the soft moonlight filtering through the pine branches.
Nearly two hours passed. The darkness around him made James feel even colder, but the pain from his wounds had begun to subside, thanks to some kind of herb Ann had quietly applied for him earlier.
His breathing started to become more regular. He still felt exhausted and a dull ache in his ribs, but his mind was beginning to truly calm down.
Perhaps it was due to extreme fatigue, or perhaps it was the feeling of safety from being in the "shadow" of these helpers… because he wasn't running anymore… at least for now.
And then, amidst the silence of the night, a figure emerged from the treeline ahead. The same man in the dull gray cloak walked out from the moonlight, his posture elegant and steady.
A long silver spear rested on his broad shoulder. Though its tip was stained with the dark blood of a demon, it still gleamed, reflecting the moonlight.
His body was covered in demon blood and dirt from the fight, but he stood tall and proud, not quickening his pace nor showing any sign of fatigue. Only the faint smell of blood that wafted on the wind told of the fierce battle that had just concluded.
Ann shot up as soon as she saw him. She ran to hug him tightly around the waist. "Father! You're back!"
The man nodded lightly, his large, rough hand gently stroking Ann's head. The middle-aged woman, who had been watching quietly, closed her eyes and let out a long, deep sigh, as if a great, invisible burden she had been carrying had finally been lifted.
The middle-aged man turned to James. His gaze under his dark brows was as calm and composed as before, but in the dim moonlight, it no longer felt cold. Instead, it held a certain warmth that was truly reassuring.
"It's a good thing you were on our path, lad," his voice was even and firm, yet as warm as a hearth on a cold night.
James was silent for a moment, looking at the face of the man who had just saved his life, before gathering his strength to reply softly, "I… I was thinking the same thing."
The man nodded again, his hand still resting securely and warmly on Ann's head, like the roots of a great tree reaching deep into the earth.
Though the world around was still dark and cold, though the city he had just left was in ruins, here, under the shade of the great pine and the soft moonlight… James felt that some people still held a warm light within their hearts.