“Heh… heh heh…!”
Run…
He ran—ran and ran—through a forest so dark he couldn’t see an inch ahead.
The middle-aged man pressed forward, trying to ignore the pounding of his heart, which felt ready to burst at any moment.
“Huff…!”
There were no sounds behind him.
Only the presence—an overwhelming, monstrous presence—that threatened to seize him by the scruff of his neck at any moment.
An aura of killing intent so suffocating, so visceral, it felt like it would tear him apart within seconds.
He couldn’t look back.
He didn’t dare.
There was no room for that—not when he could feel death breathing down his neck. It was rare for anyone in the world to have the courage to stare their own end in the face.
“…Ha…!”
He was afraid.
Even though he was the head of the hunting dogs, the “Hounds” under Countess Cernard—a man who had seen and survived countless horrors—he was terrified.
He had clashed swords with aura-wielding masters, driven daggers into the throats of mages who could summon wonders with the flick of a finger. He had witnessed grotesque, nightmarish scenes that most people wouldn’t believe even if they returned from the grave.
But nothing—nothing—he had encountered compared to the girl with snow-white hair.
She was something beyond description.
Beyond common sense.
She was absurd in every way—a monster, yes, but even that word felt too small. She was a storm incarnate. A natural disaster in human form. Something the human body could neither resist nor confront.
He knew—without a doubt—that resistance was futile.
Just a short while ago, he had thrown everything he had at her, unleashing the thunderbolt Karbella with all his might. But with a casual flick of her hand, as if shooing away a fly, she had rendered all his attacks useless.
At that moment, he gave up.
Any intention of fighting her dissolved completely. After all, once you realize your attacks do nothing and any counterattack will kill you instantly, continuing to fight becomes the height of stupidity.
The gap between her and himself—and the entire pack of hounds—was insurmountable.
So he ran.
He ran without looking back, gritting his teeth and forcing his legs forward. He pretended not to hear the dying screams of the hounds behind him. He sprinted through the forest, trying to shake the suffocating fear clinging to him.
And when the last scream vanished into the distance and silence descended, he knew.
Of everyone who had entered the forest, he was the only one left alive.
“…Hah…”
There was no shame in their deaths. The hounds were disposable—orphans picked off the streets and trained like animals. Sacrificing such worthless lives was acceptable if it meant he, a noble descendant of Cernard, survived. It was a bargain, really.
Only one thing mattered now.
And the moment the screaming ceased, he felt it—the monster’s gaze shifting to him.
“Ha… ha…!”
So he kept running.
He ignored the way his chest threatened to explode. He didn’t stop for even a second.
But the presence—that dreadful presence—was still behind him.
Closer and closer, it loomed.
The moment he slowed, the moment his stamina gave out, she would take him.
He could feel her.
The white-haired girl made no effort to conceal herself.
Why would she?
To her, this was just a game.
A hunt.
A form of amusement.
She was leading him, her prey, exactly where she wanted him—like a mole being herded to its trap.
He knew he was being toyed with. But what choice did he have? Better to run than to die on the spot.
“…!”
Suddenly, an overwhelming burst of killing intent exploded behind him.
The earth trembled, as if the forest itself cried out. He squeezed his eyes shut, convinced it was the end.
“…Ah?”
But then—nothing.
The murderous aura vanished completely, like it had never existed. As if it had all been a hallucination.
“…”
Only then did his senses return.
When he opened his eyes, he was standing in a clearing.
It was obvious—this was where the white-haired girl had been herding him all along.
He scanned the area, tense, and then—he saw her.
A woman he knew all too well.
“…Sarah…!”
At the sight of his lovely niece, the nightmare seemed to dissolve. The surreal terror gave way to bitter reality.
But instead of relief, anger rose within him.
Yes, it was all because of that d*mned girl.
If Sarah hadn’t been kidnapped in the duchy of Decaraznan, none of this would’ve happened. He wouldn’t have entered the forest, and the hounds wouldn’t have been slaughtered by that monster.
So yes—this was her fault.
All of it!
“…You’re awfully relaxed, lounging around in a place like this.”
Only a low, hoarse growl came from his throat. His body was wrung dry of strength, having been chased by Aria without rest.
But that didn’t matter anymore.
What mattered now was the fury boiling in him—and the target of that fury stood right in front of him.
“…Uncle. You came all this way, even sacrificing so many people to chase down one girl.”
Sarah looked up at him with a sorrowful gaze.
The middle-aged man curled his lips into a twisted sneer.
“Yes. Cernard cannot afford to lose a ‘commodity’ like you so easily. Sarah, don’t you understand? Do you have any idea how much effort we put into raising your value? To sell you at the highest price, at the most opportune moment, I can’t afford to let you go. Not now. Not ever!”