Bound by Furious Anger
The pollen fog swallowed my vision.
It wasn’t just mist—it was a living veil, thick with spores that clung to my lashes and skin. The world became a blur of white and drifted with the colors of the rainbow… and in that blur, only one thing was clear.
My horn.
It glowed through the haze, a small, cruel lantern on my forehead—crimson light spilling just far enough to show the ground beneath my boots and nothing more.
I kept my head still.
Only my eyes moved, scanning the fog like a hunted animal pretending it isn’t afraid.
What is she planning? I thought.
…Doesn’t matter.
The moment the thought landed, flame sparked in my left hand. I shaped it into a bow—clean, practiced—like the one Tessa wielded when she fought Death’s Mercy.
It was new to me. But the basics of firing a bow were easy for me to pull off.
If my eyes were useless, then I needed to be ready to attack anything that moved.
I drew a flame arrow and held it aimed into the fog.
And I waited.
One beat.
Then another.
Nothing moved. Nothing breathed. The forest itself felt like it had stopped.
Thirty seconds passed—maybe more. My shoulder began to tremble, muscles protesting the drawn string.
In a battle, half a minute is an eternity.
And in that eternity, everything can change.
“Krai—look out!”
The shout came from my side.
I turned—And my heart stopped.
A face I had been chasing through dread and silence appeared in the fog as if the world had decided to offer me peace.
For a moment, time slowed.
And even though I couldn't see, that face was clear as day.
His scar. The manacle over his left eye. That goatee I used to think made him look older than he was.
Everything was clear.
Too clear, it made me lose my breath.
A hand grabbed me around the stomach and yanked me sideways before my brain caught up.
A pointy root speared up through the place I had been standing.
The arrow I had drawn misfired.
The flaming shot veered to the side and slammed into a tree, exploding in a burst of heat and light.
I hit the ground hard, rolling through dirt and petals, mind still stuck on one impossible thing:
Who… pushed me?
I sat up.
The bow dissolved from my hands without me telling it to.
My eyes widened as if staring could make the world explain itself.
Explain why Marcus is standing there.
“Are you okay, Krai?” he asked—voice steady, genuinely concerned. Not even looking at me at first. His attention stayed forward, as if he was already tracking the threat in the fog.
“Ol-old man Marcus…” My voice cracked. “Is that really you?”
Only then did he glance my way.
“Yes,” he said simply. “It’s me. But we don’t have time for that.”
My chest tightened.
“We’ve been looking for you—” I pushed up to one knee.
Another barrage of pointy roots snapped toward us.
Our attention drifted towards it, and we moved together, dodging. Barely.
“Damn it,” Marcus hissed, scanning the fog. “With all this mist, we can’t see where the attacks are coming from.”
I barely heard him.
My mind kept tripping over the same impossible stone:
He’s here. He’s alive. He’s—
“Krai.” Marcus’s hand struck my shoulder, snapping me back into the present. “Listen. I’ll go draw her out. You shoot the moment you have a clean line. Don’t miss.”
Before I could question him—before I could even swallow—
He ran.
And vanished into the fog like he’d never existed at all.
“What—wait!” I reached out to him.
Then I followed.
For a split second, the fog parted where he passed, a narrow corridor opening—
But when I tried to force my way through, it closed like a mouth and slapped into my face. I threw up an arm instinctively, blinking as spores coated my eyes.
I lowered my hands and shot my eyelids wide open.
The world was foggy again.
“Old man?!” I called, wandering aimlessly.
A root snapped from behind.
I turned, and without time to evade, I blocked—
“Tch!”
It pierced my forearm.
Pain flared hot and sharp.
I grabbed the root and yanked it out with a growl, blood slicking my fingers.
It hurt—but my panic hurt more.
“Sir Marcus?!” I called again, clutching my arm.
No answer.
Not even a sound to suggest he was out there doing what he promised.
What’s going on? Why did he run into the fog alone? How is she still tracking me? Can she see me in here?
Nothing makes sense.
I staggered forward, one hand pressed to my forearm, trying to orient myself by feel alone.
But no matter how far I walked, the outside trees never seemed to get any closer. The fog never seemed to thin. I couldn’t even tell if I was moving forward or in circles.
Another attack came.
I jumped aside.
Roots speared the ground where I’d been, then retracted back into the haze like a snake slipping under leaves.
Argh—where is he?!
I released my forearm and formed another flame bow. Another arrow.
I aimed in the direction the roots had withdrawn.
And fired.
The arrow cut through the fog and lit a thin path—briefly—like a candle in a storm.
Nothing.
No impact. No hit. No scream. Just fog swallowing light.
Hopelessness crawled up my ribs.
Then—I heard a sound from that same direction.
A struggle. A scrape. Something moving that wasn’t roots.
My breath caught.
I drew another arrow immediately, knuckles white.
“Old man Marcus!” I shouted.
No answer. But the sound continued—faint, uneven, urgent.
So I moved toward it, slow and cautious, eyes straining into blank white.
Step.
Step.
The noise was closer now, then farther, then closer again—like the fog was playing with distance.
Then a shadow shifted.
My instincts fired before I could reason it out.
I released the arrow without hesitation.
Impact.
The explosion flashed through the fog.
And I sprinted toward it at once, already drawing a second shot—ready to strike again if whatever I hit even twitched.
But when the light cleared enough to see—My stomach dropped.
It was Marcus.
“N–No…” I whispered, and the flame bow dissolved as if it had never existed.
My body moved before my mind did.
I dropped to my knees beside him.
My eyes were wide, lips parted, hands shaking so badly I couldn’t even pretend I was steady. The air smelled like scorched wood and burnt petals.
Marcus lay there—blackened at the edges, smoke still curling faintly from his clothes.
I wanted to touch him.
I couldn’t bring myself to.
“K–Krai…” he coughed.
The sound snapped through me like a whip.
“I told you… to stay…”
He coughed again, wet and thin, like the fog itself was drowning him. Or was it my flames?
“Why… why didn’t you listen?” His voice cracked, not angry—just disappointed in a way that hurt more. “I told you it was dangerous… but you didn’t listen. Just like last time…”
My breath hitched.
I gasped like someone had punched the air out of me.
Then my head dipped, shame pressing down so hard it felt physical.
“I—”
The words died in my throat.
Before I could force the rest out, Marcus’s eyes dimmed. His body went still.
No last speech. No gentle ending.
Just… gone.
“Old man,” I said, voice small. “Old man… wake up.”
I leaned in closer, refusing to accept the stillness.
“Old man Marcus…!”
This time I didn’t hesitate.
I grabbed him and shook him hard—too hard—like I could beat life back into him.
“Wake up! Wake up!”
Nothing.
He didn't flinch.
No breath. No warmth returning.
My hands slipped off him.
His body fell back to the flowers with a soft thud that sounded like a door closing.
I stared down at my trembling fingers as if they belonged to someone else.
Tears blurred my vision before I even realized they’d come.
I covered my face, trying to wipe away the scene—wipe away the smell, the heat, the fact that it was my hands that had done it.
“No… no, no, no—!”
The words exploded out of me.
I rocked on my knees, shaking, voice breaking into something ugly and desperate.
“What have I done?” I choked.
The corpse lay on the ground, and I wailed like time would rewind.
My breathing turned jagged. Too fast. Too shallow. Hyperventilating—like my lungs were trying to outrun my guilt.
“Pathetic.”
Florene’s voice slid into the fog.
Not surprised. Only… bored. Disappointed even.
My breathing stuttered, and I raised my head slowly.
I had searched for her through the fog until my eyes burned.
And yet she stood in front of me like she’d been there the whole time—looking down on me, literally and figuratively, as if my grief were entertainment.
With a lazy flick of her wrist, the fog thinned just enough to see each other.
The world sharpened. Revealing her position fully.
“You—!” Rage snapped through my veins. I swung my hand, and an arc of flame tore forward.
Florene hopped back easily and smirked.
Then she laughed—provocative, delighted.
“Hahaha! Why are you so angry?” she asked. “Didn’t you want to meet him?”
She spoke as if she’d arranged a reunion party, not a murder.
“And after I went out of my way to set up the meeting,” she continued, tilting her head, “you go ahead and kill him.”
Her smile widened.
“How cruel can you be?”
My advance stopped mid-step.
Denial clawed up my throat.
“No— I— It wasn’t my fault!” The words came out messy, frantic. “He… it was your—your spell. You did this!”
Accepting it was too much. My mind shoved the blame away from my hands because if it stayed there, I would break completely.
Florene’s expression didn’t change.
“Me?” she said calmly, almost amused. “Don’t be foolish.”
She lifted her chin as if explaining something obvious.
“How can I kill someone who isn’t real?”
“Huh?”
My eyes blinked hard, confused in a way that felt humiliating.
“What are you talking about?! He’s lying right there on the—!”
I spun around.
The body was gone. The flowers he had laid on were intact.
No scorched corpse. No Marcus.
“What…?” My voice cracked. “Where is he?”
Florene smirked again.
Another flick of her hand. And the pollen fog completely dissolved, unraveling her like a cloth being pulled off a mirror.
The clearing returned piece by piece.
Clear.
Cold.
Empty.
“But—how…?” I whispered, searching the ground like he might be hiding beneath flowers. “He was right here. I had him in my arms!”
I was shouting at nothing. At air. At the memory of a weight that wasn’t real.
Florene watched me with open satisfaction.
“What you saw was a hallucination,” she said.
“What…?”
“It was a dream you stepped into,” she replied, casual as breathing.
My voice stayed low, but it shook. “What are you on about?”
"Just what I said," She replied.
Florene spread her arms as if presenting a stage.
“Rainbow Garden of the Living,” she said, savoring the name. “A spell that creates hallucinations for anyone trapped inside it.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“Whatever you hold tightly in your mind… becomes real.”
I didn’t speak.
Not because I understood. But because my thoughts were turning into ash.
She took my hope… and used it against me.
Seeing my silence, Florene decided to break me further.
“Look at your forearm,” she said, pointing.
I glanced down automatically.
The pain I had been ignoring—gone. The wound that was bleeding—gone.
My arm was intact. Perfect.
I turned it over, staring, eyes widening.
There was no puncture. No blood. Nothing.
My stomach churned.
So even my injury… was a hallucination?
So Marcus… was not real? Nothing but... a dream.
Then and there, I felt it sting.
This was all a trap wearing his face.
My head lifted slowly. My eyes locked onto Florene.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked lightly. “Didn’t you enjoy your reunion?”
“So you’ve been toying with me?” I said, voice flattening into something colder than grief.
Florene smiled, pleased. “I couldn’t break my promise to Syria so casually. So I had to keep entertaining you. You should consider yourself lucky. After all, you get to play with the Superior Spit of Flowers.”
The rage I’d felt before was nothing compared to what surged now.
If she had only said Marcus was dead and left it at that. I could have carried it. I could have mourned it.
But she didn’t stop there.
She carved into it. She made my grief perform for her. And I couldn’t let that slide.
Florene’s smirk deepened—proud of herself. For some reason, she liked that I was breaking.
Something in me snapped quieter than a scream.
Mana tightened around me in a violent spiral. The crimson aura wrapped my body like burning cloth, heat rising until the air itself warped and shimmered. Even the ground seemed to recoil from me—petals lifting, dust trembling, bark cracking faintly from nearby trees.
“Oh…?” Florene cooed, mocking me. “What will you do now? Get even angrier?”
I didn’t answer.
I drew my arms in close, and the sound that came out of me wasn’t words anymore.
It was a Wail—A roar.
Rage pouring out so hard that it felt like it would tear my ribs open from the inside.
The limit I thought I had—was breached. The cap that had kept me from growing strong—gone.
I was over the line. Over myself.
"His mana is increasing."
Florene’s eyes shone with interest.
Not fear. Not panic. Interest. Like she’d been waiting for this.
I saw her mouth curve again, just slightly—like my loss of control meant something she wanted.
※
Somewhere deeper in the Zeus Woods, Asahi was still running.
And the woods were alive.
Florene had said it, and now he was living it. Every direction looked the same, every path felt like it turned him back on himself. The air carried no landmarks, no certainty—only the feeling that the forest was deciding where he was allowed to go.
He’d been running for too long.
Too long to pretend it was fine.
Even to him, the thought crossed his mind.
He slowed and tried to catch his breath, eyes scanning the trees—an instinctive mistake.
In the Zeus Woods, the moment you stopped trusting your own movement, you lost the thread even faster.
Miss Reina told me not to get lost, he thought bitterly.
Well… that’s a bust.
“Damn it, Ryu,” he muttered, breath ragged. “Where the hell are you?”
Frustration started to creep in—
Then a roar rolled through the forest.
The sound was faint from his distance, but it arrived with a pressure. A spike of mana so violent it made his skin prickle and his stomach sink.
Asahi froze.
He turned his head toward it, eyes widening as the air itself seemed to lean in that direction.
…What was that?
He didn’t need long to understand.
“That’s Ryu,” he whispered, face shifting into outright fear. “And he’s completely losing it.”
He changed direction instantly and sprinted toward the surge, forcing his body through thickets and branches.
Before, he couldn’t sense Krai at all. Florene’s mana coated the entire Zeus Woods like a blanket, smothering everything beneath it.
But now—Now my presence was too big to hide.
Come on... Faster.
He ran harder.
※
My mana didn’t calm. It only compressed.
The wild surge that had been roaring around me pulled inward—tightening, condensing, becoming sharp instead of wide.
The heat stayed. The pressure stayed.
I stood upright, breathing slowly, eyes narrow and cutting—like an eagle's.
The clearing became still. Quiet.
Nothing dared to move, except for the air.
Florene and I faced each other without moving.
But the air between us rose with tension anyway, heavy and charged. You could cut it with scissors.
Slowly, I raised my hand, two fingers pointing at her.
Nothing fancy. Just a gesture so simple it felt insulting.
Florene’s brow lifted.
“What are you going to do with—”
I cut her off.
“Crimson Flare,” I said casually.
The tips of my two fingers lit up—one red dot forming in the air in front of them.
And the moment the dot appeared—It fired.
A laser of crimson heat tore through the space between us.
Florene’s eyes widened.
She moved, but it was too fast for a clean dodge. But she avoided death.
The beam grazed her cheek—And unlike her clone, she didn’t dissolve into petals.
For the first time, her body took real damage. Showing even a superior spirit bleeds red.
The beam kept going.
It pierced through trees and boulders as if they were paper—ripping, exploding, turning the line of its path into shredded ruin.
Where it finally ended, the forest erupted.
It was a refined form of Dragon Breath, but it still held the same devastation. Just faster and more precise.
Florene glanced back at the devastation for half a heartbeat—Then her gaze snapped back to me.
Because my fingers were already glowing again.
Another Flare was coming.
Her expression sharpened. She had to act.
I fired.
This time, she forced roots up from the ground in an instant—thick, dense, layered like a wall.
For a breath, the roots held.
Then the last root in the line began to melt—glowing orange-gold in the middle, liquefying under the beam’s heat.
The Flare was breaking through.
Florene clicked her tongue and threw herself to the side, rolling once, landing on one knee.
She looked up. And found me still facing forward—still calm—still not caring what trick she would try next.
That should have been a deadly mistake. Yet I stood there like I was already past fear.
Florene’s mouth curved, realization hitting her.
“Well… damn,” she muttered under her breath, almost amused despite herself. "I guess he was right."
Her eyes narrowed.
This kid… He might actually be an Arch Human.
And he’s strong.
I lowered my head slightly and stared at her through my lashes.
At that moment, there was nothing left in me but the desire to end her.
Winning was just a bonus feeling. And escaping was not an option anymore.
For what she did to Asahi. For what she did to my hope. For how she laughed while I broke.
Only death could satisfy me. And from the look on her face—She knew it.
