A man was dead. Killed—murdered. But that wasn't unheard of, especially in the dungeon. But it wasn't a monster, at least, one that belonged to the labyrinth of thrill and adventure. A different kind of monster had done the deed. This was personal. The death was slow, agonizing, and brutal as if to satiate a gnawing hunger of sadism that had been long since starved and ignored. Many names began to spring up as suspicions arose and paranoia increased. Until a certain alias was uttered, and all doubt ceased.

Gale.

The name hadn't been mentioned in quite some time. Some thought she was dead. Others thought she was just a name, a title for an urban legend or cautionary tale not dissimilar to the boogieman parents would tell their misbehaving children. But seeing the fresh stab wounds; and the brutal yet surgically precise slashes was eerily far too reminiscent of Gale's modus operandi to be dismissed as coincidental.

Their reputation indeed proceeded them.

And just like that, suspicions and allegations became truth and gospel. Parties formed soon after, witch-hunters. Some wanted justice; for others, the promise of coin was enough. But amongst the paranoid and prejudiced was a boy. A boy who refused to believe that his friend who had saved him and others without the need for recognition would be so willing to commit cold-blooded murder. And so, the rabbit chased the elf for the sake of her innocence.

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Bell stared blankly at the darkened passageway. He had found her before anyone else had. This was mainly thanks to Marie, who acted as a scout for him. He offered her help amidst all the prosecution against her name, and she spitefully rebuked it. When did she become so hateful? Bell looked back at the dwarven man lying helpless on the ground. He was bloody, his tendons and ligaments slashed like ribbons. She… had done this.

Bell pulled out a potion to try and heal the dwarf, but the vial slipped from his grasp as he pulled it out from his pouch. He looked at his hand, confused. A lump formed in his throat as he looked. He was shaking.

Images of the butchered body in Rivira flashed in his mind. A swelling pit in his stomach began to form as he remembered the look in the dead man's eyes. They were petrified in a stare that reflected utter horror. They stared into his soul, unwavering and unending—until a sheet was respectfully pulled over the body.

Doubt began to plague Bell's mind as he hoisted the dwarf's arm over his shoulders. She wasn't innocent, but who was he to speak of such things?

He thought of the dream, the death, and the carnage. Where it was once blurred and hazed by a fog of delirium had become crystal clear. The ash, the bodies, the wailing cries. It felt like a gaping wound that seared itself into his mind, his memories. He still didn't know what it meant, nor did he understand why he thought of it. But something within him held him responsible. And in that unexplainable sense, he understood Ryu and knew that she was tainted; but innocent.

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"Please! You gotta save me!"

Bell looked at the beast-man sprawled onto the floor, helpless and injured. He was the one from before—the one that Bell and Bor's party had run into in their pursuit of Gale Wind.

When they found him, he had been viciously mangled. His right arm was completely severed, but the flow of blood had been barely staunched by the healing properties of a potion. As was his left ear. There were splatters of dried blood over his cheek, and the gaping wound left by the absence of his ear soaked blood onto his hair. His eyes held a crazed look in them—darting around frantically in search of his pursuer.

Bors recognized the name as he approached him, saying that his name was 'Jura Halmar.' When pressed about his injuries, he vehemently professed that it was Gale who was hunting him, that he was their target. It was no wonder as to why. He was a part of the Rudra Familia, which was part of Evilus. In other words, he was a wanted man, a criminal, and a terrorist. Though he claimed that he had been straight and narrow since Evilus had been snuffed out by Gale.

Well, almost snuffed out.

The party debated what to do with the beast-man. He was already a criminal. If Gale were to kill him, she would just be killing another piece of scum. But then again, they would lose not only prominent bait for Gale but also the bounty placed on Jura.

Weighing the options, Bors told the others that their stumbling onto Jura changed nothing. Gale was the objective, and Jura just so happened to be a nice bonus on the side. Bell winced at that. He didn't like how they spoke and treated others' lives as commodities to be exchanged for coin. He knew that that was why the parties were formed in the first place. But he joined out of necessity and obligation, not for the pursuit of the promise of decadent pleasure.

He took a step back, distancing himself from the party and their greed. But as he stepped, his heel hit something. He turned to see a peculiar gem. Curious, he bent down and picked it up, careful not to cut himself on the bits of jagged and chipped rock that encased it. It was a dulled bronze-colored jewel. He recognized this stone. Blazerock. It was a drop item that was most notable for its highly combustible properties. What was it doing here…?

"It's her! It's Gale Wind!"

Just then Ryu appeared again, running at full speed toward the party, her sights deadset on Jura.

"Wipe the floor with her, boys!" Bors called out.

Immediately, the adventurers sprung into action, bearing all manner of weaponry against their target. But she was far too strong and far too swift for them.

"JURA!" she screamed out, her words oozing with murderous spite.

Mercilessly, she slashed away the obstacles impeding her vengeance. Even Bors was neutralized in a single slash. All who remained standing was Bell.

"Wait! Please just wait!" he pleaded.

All she uttered in response was "You're in my way," before leaping over him.

"Sh—shit! Go after her, Rabbit's Foot!"

Bell didn't argue with Bors and immediately turned to sprint after Ryu.

She's innocent… she's innocent—! I have to save her before it's too late!

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"She's gonna kill me for sure!"

The sound of footsteps echoed throughout the cavern. They were slow and weighed, creating a sense of dread with every step. With every step, the air became more and more drenched with the scent of thick blood. It had a hint of sweetness and left the taste of copper in the mouth. Bell turned to see Ryu trudging slowly toward Jura. Chills ran down his spine as he looked at the expression on her face. Pure bloodthirsty hatred. It was unwavering, uncompromising. The look itself could kill. It was the look that one would cast upon something they deemed as less than a person, nothing more than filth—lesser daresay. To Ryu, Jura wasn't a man but a target on a long list of names she had crossed out over the years. And now, she came to complete that list.

She stopped and stared callously at Bell.

"Why are you always getting involved?"

Why? Because you are valued, you are a friend. No. Yes. That's right and yet not right. That's a reason but not the reason. Why did he wish so desperately to save her…?

"Go somewhere else. You're in the way," she bluntly commanded. "I can't slay a fiend with you standing there."

Even in her wrath, she still wished to protect the boy's innocence.

"The only real mistake I ever made was making absolutely sure that you were dead, Jura."

The beast-man whimpered at her words. Her tone was dulled, but her words were as sharp as knives.

"My arrogance got the better of me, I assumed I had killed you and it fills me with so much regret that I will never let it down."

She began walking again, wooden sword in hand, ready to strike down the fiend.

"I should have completely snuffed out your life when I had the chance."

"Wait, Ryu-san…" Bell uttered.

But before he could say anymore, Ryu pointed the tip of her sword toward him.

"I won't hesitate to cut you down if you try and stop me," she coldly declared.

Bell's eyes widened as he felt his breathing seize for a moment. This was murder. This was vengeance. But as he continued to stare, something within his soul began to stir. He recognized the look she had, the fierce mask she wore. It was scorn. He knew that look all. He once had worn it all too well himself.

She's innocent… she's innocent…

"He's innocent—!" a voice called out from beyond the veil of his mind. It was the same voice that called out to him from that time at the Hostess.