Zane was starving—hungry as a wolf. So, the moment Shelby handed him a bowl, he began to devour the well-cooked meat from the massive cauldron, bite after bite, like a machine on overdrive.
"How is it?" Shelby asked casually.
After swallowing down a hearty chunk, Zane grinned. "It's heavenly. Shelby, if this coaching career of yours ever fails, do me a favor—open a meat restaurant in Whistler Town."
It was clearly meant as a compliment, but Shelby frowned at the word fail.
"Oh, come on," Zane laughed. "Can't take a joke? I'm praising your cooking! Besides, nothing's going to happen to you—not while I'm around. You protect me now, but someday... I'll return the favor."
Shelby smiled from ear to ear and waved his chopsticks. "Enough with the nonsense. Just eat your fill."
The two of them dug in like ravenous beasts, devouring every chunk of meat that came from the Carniphant—an animal the size of a full-grown elephant. Before long, all that remained were piles of picked-clean white bones stacked beside the fire.
Not a shred of meat remained in the cauldron.
Shelby was the first to let out a loud burp.
Zane followed with an even louder one.
"Good," Shelby chuckled. "That means you've stuffed yourself full."
"Yeah," Zane groaned, leaning back. "Stuffed like a rice dumpling."
Without missing a beat, Shelby began gathering the large white bones.
"What are you doing now?" Zane asked suspiciously. "Whatever you're planning… just don't."
"Don't overreact," Shelby replied. "These are for tomorrow. The bone marrow inside them is more nutritious than any of those pro-super-vitamins they hand out at the Academy."
He casually lifted the massive cauldron as if it weighed nothing and dropped it into his interspatial pouch. Then he grabbed all the bones and tossed them onto the still-burning embers. The flames crackled as the bones hissed in protest.
Shelby piled fresh logs on top of the bone heap, letting the heat slow-cook the marrow through the night.
"Alright," he said, clapping his hands together. "Enough survival lessons for one day. Hit the sack."
Not that Zane needed to be told twice. After that much food and effort, he was barely staying upright. He stretched, lay down beside the fire, and used his rolled-up coat as a pillow.
As he stared up at the sky, sleep tugged at his senses. But one strange thing caught his attention.
The sky here was unfamiliar.
Stars glittered brightly in clusters across the velvet expanse, but the constellations were all wrong—none resembled what he knew from Earth.
And then he saw them.
Three moons.
Hanging side by side in the sky like sentinels.
One shone silver-white, nearly identical to Earth's moon.
One glowed blue, reminiscent of ocean waves.
And the last burned a deep crimson—like the rusty dust storms of Mars.
"Three moons... with different colors," Zane murmured in awe. "What a strange place."
His voice faded into a drowsy whisper as his eyes finally closed.
Shelby, lying nearby, looked up at the moons with a different emotion—nostalgia.
"Tch. What's so good about them?" he muttered. "Earth's moon is way cooler. Brighter. More beautiful than all three of those combined."
But even as he dismissed the sight, his voice softened.
A flicker of longing crossed his face.
"Whatever," he grumbled. "Once this brat finishes his mission, I'm getting out of this forsaken world. For good."
He let out a long breath and shut his eyes.
Though both were fast asleep before long, they didn't drop their guard completely. Shelby's survival instincts remained finely tuned. He trusted his danger sense more than any alarm clock.
No beasts came that night.
Maybe it was the smoke and fire that kept them away.
Or perhaps it was the sheer pressure radiating from the two sleepers.
Especially from the man who only looked middle-aged—Shelby, the kind of figure whose presence made even predators think twice.
For one rare moment in this corrupted, chaotic world, the night was peaceful.
Almost… like home.
Morning came. The chirping of strange, multicolored birds filled the clearing. Their shapes were unfamiliar—some with glowing beaks, others with shimmering tails—as they zipped overhead, singing their alien songs.
Zane yawned and stretched, blinking against the early sunlight as it filtered through the leaves. He got up, walked over to the stream, and brushed his teeth with a herb Shelby had given him the day before.
Meanwhile, Shelby was already busy.
He had pulled the charred logs off the fire and revealed the pile of bones beneath—blackened and softened overnight by the slow, smoldering heat. With practiced ease, he began peeling back the outer layers as if he were peeling roasted potatoes. From inside, he scooped out a thick, dark paste of bone marrow and collected it in a steel container.
"Come here, Zane."
Zane approached, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
Before he could protest, Shelby spooned a dollop of the warm bone marrow into his mouth.
Zane's eyes widened. After brushing his teeth, his palate had been unusually fresh—so the savory, rich flavor of the marrow hit his taste buds like a divine revelation.
"Mmm…!" Zane moaned. "Can I have more?"
Shelby grinned. "Fine. Half of it's yours. But eat in moderation—we won't be stopping anywhere today. The mission's priority now."
Zane nodded eagerly and shared the marrow with him. It was smooth, thick, and filled with energy. By the time they were finished, he felt like he could punch a mountain apart.
They ventured deeper into the forest.
Zane encountered beast after beast. Some ran the moment they saw him—driven by instinct or fear. But a few malevolent creatures stayed, thinking him an easy meal.
They were wrong.
Zane dispatched each with a flick of his finger, his control sharpening with every encounter. And today—he noticed—his flicks were even stronger than the day before.
He wasn't surprised.
He had gained another tonne of internal weight from the Set of Arcane Rings overnight. But unlike before, his body no longer resisted it. Psychologically, or perhaps unconsciously, he had accepted the burden. It no longer felt oppressive. It felt like a part of him.
He welcomed the weight now.
And with every step, every movement, it seemed his body was adapting—becoming more efficient, more precise.
They passed over several terrains: wetlands, dense jungles, rocky slopes. And then, just past midday, they began ascending a mountain trail.
Zane noticed it first—a plume of smoke rising from the peak.
At the top was a mansion made of old, red bricks. Elegant in its simplicity, it looked almost out of place in such a wild world.
Smoke curled gently from its chimney.
"Hmm… Maybe someone lives here, far away from all the ruin," Zane muttered.
Shelby halted and crossed his arms. "I'll stay here," he said. "From now on, you deal with whatever comes. I won't intervene unless absolutely necessary."
Zane looked back at him, a bit surprised.
Shelby continued, "Stay alert. This place feels… wrong. Remember—life is fickle and soft. It'd be a shame if you died too quickly."
The words could've been offensive, but Zane knew better. Beneath Shelby's teasing tone was genuine concern.
He nodded silently and continued up the path.
As Zane neared the mansion, a strange feeling crept over him.
It wasn't fear… but reverence.
He realized something unsettling: not a single bird perched on the trees near the mansion. No ants crawled across the ground. No cobwebs in the corners.
Nothing.
"Very strange," he whispered. "It feels like I'm stepping onto sacred ground."
He finally stood before the mansion. It was old, yet well-maintained. The red bricks gleamed faintly under the sunlight, and ivy curled gently along the edges of the windows.
Cautiously, he called out, just in case someone was inside. It wasn't like they'd understand his language—probably.
Then, the front door creaked open on its own.
A soft, melodic voice greeted him from within.
"Welcome, my dear guest from the outside world."
Zane froze.
The voice was calm. Warm. Inviting.
And unmistakably speaking in English.
His heart pounded. Who—or what—was waiting inside?