Chapter 4: Heavy heart,

Low breath.

Agi’s eyes swept lazily across the room, uncharacteristically sluggish for a born hunter. His gaze lingered on the chief, his usual composure absent. Agi noticed the trembling hands, the uneven breathing—signs he’d seen too many times before. The chief was deeply shaken.

Did he think hunters were infallible? Where does he think he is… Agi’s thoughts drifted, circling the truth. The chief did believe Agi was infallible. He thought legends didn’t bleed.

The chief had seen Agi fight, had watched him plan and plot with precision. He’d heard the stories—ones where Agi faced down nightmares and came out unscathed. Not once, until now, had he seen Agi bleed.

The chief stared at him, wide-eyed, his disbelief etched deep into his face. To him, hunters—especially exalted ones—were something beyond human, carved from a different existence entirely.

Agi’s eyes drifted again, settling briefly on the slouched figure of a boy seated in a chair by the door. The boy’s black hair hung past his eyes, and his head lolled slightly to one side. He was asleep.

For a moment, Agi’s gaze lingered. Eerie, he thought, how much the boy, Evans, resembled a younger Asketill.

Even in his hazy state, Agi could conjure the image of that toothy, bright-eyed brat from long ago. Asketill, who swung anything he could find, laughing until he collapsed from exhaustion, sleeping half the day away without a care in the world.

Across the room, a man with wild blonde hair leaned against the wall, his posture stiff yet slightly fatigued.

“William,” Agi muttered to himself. The man must have been the guard from earlier. His face looked clouded, as if he’d been abruptly pulled from the edge of sleep.

Finally, Agi’s gaze rested on Mireille. She stood apart from the others, her expression outwardly subdued but vibrating with a strange, barely concealed energy. He tried to make sense of her. Is she happy that I got injured?

He felt too tired to care about her motives.

When she noticed him staring, she smirked and wagged a finger at him. “You sure do enjoy sleeping in, don’t you?” she teased, shaking her head like a disappointed mother.

Agi didn’t respond. He only gritted his teeth and pushed himself upright. His muscles screamed in protest, and his bones felt as brittle as dried branches.

Mireille moved quickly, reaching out to push him back down. Her tone softened, concern cutting through her usual mockery. “You can’t get up yet, Agi. You’ve only been out for two hours.” Her grin faltered into a frown. “You’re still injured.”

He ignored her, though her words stuck with him. There was something about her tone—something familiar—that made him pause, even when he didn’t want to.

Lightly tapping his side, he muttered, “Two hours? Then why am I still injured? This seal… it’s worse than I thought.”

He tried to take another step, but the chief moved in front of him, a trembling hand gesturing to the bed.

“Sit,” the chief commanded softly, his voice barely masking the fear beneath it.

“This isn’t the place to rest,” Agi growled. His gaze sharpened, his irritation bleeding through. Something primal stirred within him, pushing to the surface. His pupils narrowed into slits as a strange, heavy force settled over the room.

The air turned suffocating, weighted by the presence of what others called Instinct. It was an innate power, raw and terrifying, that all hunters carried to some extent. Agi’s, however, was more refined—a beast in itself.

William crumpled to the floor immediately, unconscious, his head landing awkwardly in Evans’s lap. The boy, still asleep, remained blissfully unaware.

The chief stumbled backward, his body screaming at him to flee. His hands trembled despite his best efforts to steady them, and cold sweat dripped down his brow.

Behind Agi, a shadow loomed—massive, indistinct, and monstrous. Its jagged maw yawned wide, as if it could swallow the room whole, while claws large enough to blot out the sun scraped against the walls of reality.

The chief was frozen, paralyzed by the overwhelming pressure. The shadow crept closer, enveloping the space, until it felt as though the world itself would collapse under its weight.

And then it vanished.

A soft hand grabbed Agi’s wrist, and the monstrous aura evaporated like smoke in the wind.

“She’s… not affected?” Agi’s thoughts stumbled as he turned to face Mireille.

Her grip was firm but steady, her voice sharp as she scolded him. “Stop lashing out like a child.”

Agi jerked his wrist free, glaring down at her. “Lashing out like a kid?” His voice dripped with venom, though inwardly he cursed himself for his loss of control. Her immunity had unsettled him. It cracked the carefully constructed walls of his persona, and he hated it.

“What the hell do you know about me?” he hissed.

Mireille’s smirk faltered, but she didn’t flinch. She crossed her arms, her expression torn between frustration and something softer. “You think you’re the only one who’s been hurt?”

For the briefest moment, she faltered. Her mind betrayed her, dragging her back to a time she didn’t want to remember. The years peeled away, and she was no longer Mireille, the clever woman who could match wits with monsters. She was just a girl, frail and fading, whispering to her father through the haze of her own exhaustion. “I don’t regret it… I can bear this burden.”

Her chest tightened. She remembered the tears she’d cried when no one was watching.

But she snapped herself out of it, her resolve hardening. She wasn’t that fragile girl anymore. And she’d be damned if she let this overgrown lizard walk all over her.

Feeling a little desperate to calm him down, even temporarily she blurts out, “Who do you think saved you from my father?” She wanted to take back her own “You owe me.” She couldn’t stop the words leaving her mouth.

Agi frowned deeply, “I owe you? You should have let me die.” He turned forward. He decided he would kill the chief and leave this place. He’s losing control, it’s too dangerous. This world doesn’t have what he wants.

The chief could see the resolve in Agis eyes, “What guardian? You’re just as I thought you were.” His red eyes gleamed dangerously. “Out of all six you have the most fitting title, Exalted beast. It really fits you.”

Scales crawled up Agis neck stopping at his jawline, while a thin line of thick green scales crawled up his face.

“Father!” Mireille called out, “You promised you wouldn’t say anything.” She bit her lip, her finger rapping on her dress. The chief shot her a look before turning back to Agi and letting out a huff, going to help William up.

Agi began to reach out, planning to tear the chief’s heart out of his back, it’s deserved, a little thing like him wanting to play judge? Then he’ll be the executioner.

Mireille quickly latched onto him from behind, stopping him in his tracks.

“Let me go.” It was a warning, she could tell, it was her last warning.

“Would it be better if it was just me?” She asked him, almost pleading, pressing her head into his back. “Please… I can tell you’re wounded Agi, but if you take another step, I won’t be able to see anything but my fathers words.”

Agi gritted his teeth, he hated how his heart stirred, she’s nothing, just a villager in The End. She had her mysteries but it didn’t matter. To Agi it was a small matter, just another excuse.

He glared at the chief. Everyone pretends they know him. For once he wanted to play into their delusions, he felt Mireilles beating heart, his own sharing a similar rhythm.

The chief was lifting Evans who was noisily stirring awake. Agi could tell the chief was staying from necessity.

His hair stood on its ends and Agi could hear the familiar powerful rush of blood, the most obvious telling of The Gift.

He felt everything—the Chief’s anxiety, Evans’s wide-eyed horror, William nearly collapsing again. Most of all, he felt Mireille, her shaking hands clutching at his shirt, her heartbeat pressing against him like a plea. For once, it drowned out the noise of everything else.

“She’s too similar to them…” He finally loosened up and the reptilian features left his form. “Fine. This will be the last time.” He turned around and sat in the bed, closing his eyes.

Mireille finally let out a sigh of relief, addressing the chief she declared, “Please step out Father.” She lowered her head slightly.

The chief clenched his fists tightly, “How can I leave you in here with that monster.” His eyes still shook at his near death.

Mireille knew he couldn’t fight, even if he was capable.

Mireille smiled bitterly toward her father, “You promised.”

The chief turned toward the ground deep in thought, and with a final click of his tongue he motioned for the noisy boys to follow him out.

Hearing the door clasp shut Mirille turned toward Agi, he seemed like a wounded beast. “I can’t imagine you’ve gotten all you want from this place yet.” She sits on the bed crossing her legs.

Agi looked down at her, “That’s none of your concern.” He replied, his voice considerably more calm than before.

“It is now.” Her lips curled into an easy large grin, though it seemed slightly forced after Agis lashing out. He gave her a look of confusion and as he was opening his mouth she cut him off, “I made you my servant.” She leaned forward resting her head on her palm.

“…”

Agi didn’t know how to respond, what was she even talking about?

Mireille laughed loudly, kicking her feet and holding her stomach, “you’re heartbeats all over the place, if only I could see your expression i’m sure it’d be even better.”

“Is this a joke to you?” He growled. Her mood seemed to swing so fast, but he could tell from the beating of her own heart, it came from a place of anxiety rather than humor.

“No, I was serious, well kind of, you aren’t my servant but you’re stuck with me. Curious where we are?” She asks, seeming to have completely regained her composure.

He didn’t know but for some reason he didn’t want to ask. He was already caught up in her rhythm and he didn’t like it.

Her smile deepened at his reluctance and she said, “Our home.” He recoiled, the word was something he didn’t like to hear.

He recalled his brothers, young and childlike, that time he and Asketill were covered in the dried blood of Blood Temple loyalist,

“Agi… when can we go home…?” A distraught Ari tugged on Agis sleeve.

He didn’t reply, he couldn’t.

Asketill seemed frustrated with Agis’ silence , calling out to the youngest, “We have no home.”

“Before you go walking away,” she quickly called out bringing him back to reality, “I have the answers you want. But you’ll have to play along.”

He had a grim atmosphere, “like?” He wanted answers now.

“Like how we’re here. Where the children are, you know just the important stuff.” Agis eyes narrowed, he didn’t think she knew anything but it looks like she knew more than he thought.

“What’s stopping me from demanding answers now?”

“I wonder that as well.” She smiled. “Why did you come here, Agi?” In reality her heart was beating furiously, she didn’t know him very well but she was willing to bet from what she had seen.

He stayed silent, he didn’t like how she saw through him, “I’ll play along, but don’t expect me to wait patiently.” She was ecstatic quickly getting up. “Then sit down already, let’s get you patched up.”

He complied wincing as he sat, his entire body ached, and the remnant side effects of his poison was amplifying all his pain.

She tugged at his shirt and he gave her a blank stare in return, “what? Do you expect me to patch you up over your shirt?”

“It’s pointless.” He sighed, “Once you’ve inherited you are irritatingly resilient, you could hardly die if you wanted to.”

“You’re noisy,” she complained, pulling his shirt off, “Didn’t you already agree?”

Agis torso was almost like an artwork, as though someone dragged a brush against his skin he was covered in scars, his side was bleeding ever so slightly, clearly healing significantly over the past two hours.

Mireille padded across the room grabbing some poorly woven wraps before spreading a paste over his wound. He winced half considering that she was trying to get back at him for lashing out at her by spreading that useless paste.

He looked down at her fidgeting with the wraps, feeling her cold fingers graze against his wounded skin. He had a small realization: He had never experienced this before.

He had bandaged others countless times, but he had never been bandaged himself.

He felt a small stirring in his heart, “What kind of deal did you possibly make with that father of yours to get him to let you live with me?”

She hummed to herself in thought, continuing her shoddy patchwork, “Even a stubborn old horse is bound to rest one day.” She seemed proud of her analogy.

Agi didn’t exactly understand but he didn’t particularly care much either. “I’m lost…” He finally said after a long silence, only Mireilles hums permeating through the room.

She didn’t respond only continuing her task, “You asked me why I came here, I don’t know. Maybe I wanted to see where things began to change. When I started to survive instead of live.” He didn’t know why he was talking, he wanted to stop, to forcefully shut his mouth, but for some reason he couldn’t.

She finished tying the wrap on, it looked terrible. But Agi didn’t care how it looked, it’d be gone in less than a day anyway. “Do you regret it? Coming to this place.”

He pondered in silence, did he regret it? No… It was too early to say. He had spent only around two days in the village, but he reminded himself the week he spent outside of it, wandering The End.

He didn’t regret that, he felt vividly the harsh conditions he had once survived. But it didn’t change anything, he looked down at Mireille. She was dangerous.

To him she was the most dangerous kind of thing, she easily swept him into her rhythm, making him unable to guess her motives, or perhaps it was some deeper part of himself that forefully made him ignore those little things he noticed.

Perhaps he wanted to believe she was genuine, and that was why she was so dangerous. Agi did not have hope toward people. Others had fear toward him.

Thats how it always was, thats how it should have always been, the chief who knew his past was the perfect embodiment of this. Even the small glimmer of his childhood and some rumors were enough to make the chief feel he was completely hopeless, and a terrifying danger.

What made her different? He wondered. He stared at her deeply, as if trying to take a peak into her mind.

In his mind her face overlapped with another, they looked completely different yet for some reason he couldn’t push it out of his mind like he always had, “Your eyes are beautiful,” her voice was soft and motherly, “Just like mine, don’t you agree?” She joked ruffling his hair.

How many times had he been told his eyes were creepy, inhuman, or disgusting, before he would become frustrated, finding ways to lash out, but after that he didn’t care–he had his mothers eyes.

His expression softened ever so slightly, “They aren’t even remotely the same, and yet… Why do I react so similarly?”

He didn’t know how true that was. Maybe he just didn’t want them to be similar. Now it didn’t matter, he needed answers, the mysteries of this village were an excuse from the beginning anyway.

For Agi who lived ferociously he fought, and fought, but for the Agi who knew nothing he only wanted answers.

He didn’t respond to her question instead asking one of his own, “Why are you trying to get closer to me?” His tone wasn’t bitter, nor did it have Agis familiar edge. It was just neautral, like the tone of a curious child discoverering something for the first time.

Mireille thought he was just like that. She put on a slight smile, though anyone could tell it was forced, her small hands slower drifted down to her lap, “You just…” she hesitated, her finger rapped on her dress.

“You seem a bit similar to me, I just thought.” After she said this Agi stared at her for a while, not necessarily lost in thought, more like trying to find the similarities, like it’s some sort of puzzle.

He scrutinized every inch of her features, “We aren’t alike.” He decided inwardly, shaking his head slightly.

Mireille noticed his dismissal but didn’t dwell on it. “I forbid you from working for at least a week.” It really seemed like she believed she was in charge. How shameless can someone be?

Agi ignored her, standing up and shaking his shoulder slightly, every inch of his body was in pain, not from his wounds, but a byproduct of his ability.

Mireille could feel the subtle shift of his expression with a precision that even Agi couldn’t match, “I wouldn’t have expected such a legendary hunter to have such a low pain tolerance.” She made fun of him without holding back.

“It’s not from my wounds.” He replied putting back on his shirt.

“Huh? Then where?” She was confused, where else would he be in pain if not from his wounds, “Is the bandage too tight?” She frowned.

“No, I’ve been tied by 17 silk at the same time, how could a little bandage be painful?” He turned down, looking at her, but she was only tilting her head in confusion, she obviously didn’t know what silk was, “Forget it.” He wanted to sigh. Why did he even start boasting? It’s not like him.

“I want to know that story.” She grabbed his wrist stopping him from walking off.

He didn’t force his wrist back only lingering for a bit, “Another time.” He replied, his hands subtly curling.

“Then at least tell my where you’re in pain.” Mireille “stared” at him, and he felt she was problematic.

But he decided that he didn’t want to lie anymore, when he entered this village. “It’s my inheritance.”

She immediately perked up, Inheritors rarely talk about their inheritance and when they do they never go into depth about it.

It seemed like a sensitive topic for all of them.

The tip of Agis finger slowly seemed to produce a small orange droplet, glimmering and beautiful. Mireille however saw something else entirely, like a small bead of thrashing storm. It had turbulent winds and high waves.

“What is that?” She asked slightly taken aback, Agi slotted her strange reaction into the back of his mind.

“It’s poison,” he replied, watching her reaction.

She tilted her head, clearly doubtful. “It doesn’t look like poison.”

“Because it’s from me,” he muttered, as if that explained everything.

She held his gaze, frowning. “So you hurt all the time?”

He shrugged, trying to pull back the sleeve she’d gripped. “Does it matter?”

The bead evaporated into the air seemingly disappearing from the world as Agi began to speak again, “I can consume all poison and survive, it doesn’t matter it’s potency or it’s effects, they have no effect on me.”

“Then why are y—“

Agi cut her off saying, “it’s a doubled edged blade.” He sat back down continuing, “I’m immune to deadly poison, weak poison, and everything in between, but I instead receive a temporary boost to my strength. The way the boost is applied varies from poison to poison, as does the repercussions.”

She seemed to know what he would say next, her frown deepening even as he spoke, “the repercussion being extremely heightened sensitivity. Every touch is painful, and even a small prick would feel like being stabbed.”

She leaned to him grabbing onto him to ensure he can’t run off, “What happened that you would need to sue a thing like that? Why didn’t you just stay in the village…” she was getting more agitated as she spoke, “Was it my fault?”

She was annoyingly perceptive, Agi thought. She hit the nail on the head, while it wasn’t because of her entirely she was the main contributor to his impromptu exploration.

“It’s not your fault.” He lied, “I lived here when I was younger, I just wanted to find something familiar.”

For a long time there was silence. Mireille finally stood up and spun around, pointing at the feared hunter, “For now rest. Remember, no work for a week!” She declared leaving the room.

Agi could hear her footsteps retreating through the house, disappearing into a separate room of the house.

Inwardly he recounted his experiences since he woke up, too chaotic. It’s not a good sign. He’s losing control of his surroundings, and to Agi this is a death sentence.

“Do I have to keep promises? Everyone is a liar so what’s one more.” Agi seriously considered leaving the village. His instinct was yelling at him that what he wanted was here, but his rational mind had only made him feel anxious.

Agis instinct had only been fooled a single time. And since then he would begin to put less stock into it.

His own mind was strong enough to determine his survival, but it’s not as though he abandoned his instinct. He in fact still relied on it, but only as a supplementary tool.

He didn’t have any true reason to believe what he wants is here, but for some reason he can’t leave. Every time he tries to stand the sharp pain shoots through his body and he recalls his promise to not work. “I’ll stay for a week, just until I can get some answers out of her…”

With his mind set he left to see the wood cutter auntie.

“Are you going out?” Mireille peaked her head out of her room.

Agi turned and nodded, not feeling the need to explain himself to her.

She frowned, “You’re still injured.”

“I’m not a child.” He replied curtly stepping outside. Did she think he was incapable of taking care of himself? He had lived twenty five years without her, fighting every day, on the edge of death countless times.

He would play along with her, but he wouldn’t let her control his life.

Agi is not a man that can sit still.

The village was just as it was before he left. The villagers however seemed to behave slightly different, the women would avoid him and the men would greet him with a laugh, telling him to share his story over drinks another time.

It was a strange situation, one he couldn’t really understand, did everyone in this place already know he got injured?

His feet fell a bit heavier than usual, his practiced gate slightly off as he slowly adjusted.

The air of the village was always fresh, it smelled like rain and tasted sweet. It was completely unlike the thick smell of iron just past the strange barrier protecting this area.

He couldn’t help but get lost in thought, the bustling sounds fading into the background.

He began to reprimand himself inwardly, “I should have been prepared… it’s not like me. I’m not someone who can afford to be caught off guard.” His inner monologue faded as the scent of wood encased his senses. The bustle of the village being replaced with the laughter of men and the loud chopping of wood.

“Auntie.” Agi addressed the woman. His head hung a little lower than usual, “I won’t be working here anymore.”

She turns to him and sighs, how could she not notice something so obvious? “I can’t put an injured man to work in good faith regardless.”

He inwardly was a little bitter, was she acting ignorant on purpose? “No, I won’t be working here. Ever.” He emphasized.

“You said you’d come back.” She reprimanded, her forehead wrinkling.

“And I am here.” He responded curtly. He felt like Mireille might’ve been influencing him a little.

A vein seemed to protrude on her face, “Well, I never pinned you for a smart ass.”

“The rain falls as it will.” Agi replied with a common phrase of the Revalia region.

She didn’t seem familiar with the phrase but could understand it’s meaning. She turns away and just waves him off while walking, “Get on then, if you want work don’t come to me.” She stomped off, not giving him a lecture or turning back.

Agi could only outwardly sigh, his eyes watched her fleeting figure, “It doesn’t matter, I don’t make promises to keep them.” He left without turning back, he moved slowly through the village, and occasionally he would chat with one or a few of the villagers.

Over the next few hours he could feel his wound healing, his steps once more became practiced as he moved with a rhythm.

The words of the chief grated on his mind as he walked through the village, “…Exalted Beast. It really fits you.” he felt a little bit of dissatisfaction.

Without really thinking he began to mindlessly wander thought the village.

His hands would be busy, carrying wood, pushing carts, carrying goods.

His mind however was lost, deep in the depths of that fragile thing known as the mind.

His mind was all over the place, recalling useless things,“For that, I love you.”

Liar. He scolded that feminine echoing voice in his head.

Has it been a long day? No, he had longer, it just felt a bit longer than usual, was he getting complacent?

Agi closed his eyes, and for a moment, he was back there, feeling the rain seep through his clothes, clutching his master’s bloodied shirt. The words echoed through him as if spoken only yesterday:

His head was pressed tightly against the broad chest of a man with strange antlers protruding from his head.

“Agi…” The man coughed blood, looking at the boy desperately clinging to his shirt, stained with his tears.

“To live the life of one who protects others is to choose who you save,” his master had whispered. “Don’t live as a guardian, Agi. Choose to save yourself.”

“Aghh!” The boy’s cries came out in pained screams. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t say what he wanted.

Even as he felt the slow fading of his heartbeat, Agi clutched desperately.

In the present Agi slowly opened his eyes, he was laying in a bed. A novel feeling for Agi.

When was the last time he slept in his own house? It would’ve been around back then. Back when his master, his greatest and only teacher, had lost his life.

He lightly touched his face, it would seem this Agi had no more tears left to give.

He pulled his hand back, the scars of countless battles lining them.

Visions of blood and corpses cross over his hazy reality. Sometimes, Agi wished he would fall asleep and never wake up back.

He laid his hand down staring at the ceiling, “Is it because I’m alone? Is that why I can’t get control over my own thoughts?” He felt like someone was mocking him.

“Now that I think about it… it was the same back then, in the beastman village.” He reminisced slightly. “Back then, after I regained my emotions, what day would go by where I didn’t think about my brothers? About Pekko… about all the mistakes.”

It’s the environment. He concluded, he didn’t make any more decisions, he didn’t decide to stay longer, or change his mind about anything. All he did was close his eyes and try to drift off once more.

But it wasn’t so easy for a man to change. He eventually stood up, soon finding himself outside.

The feather on his wrist shook lightly, brilliantly bursting into a cacophony of colors.

And for a long time, he swung his spear.