Chapter 50: Half a Fruit
Nathan stopped with Liaraen against his chest at the chamber’s entrance.
The leader was fifteen meters away. Standing in the center. With the divine fruit in one of its claws. Its black eyes fixed on Nathan.
Nathan looked around.
The chamber was rectangular. High-ceilinged. With two additional passages leading off to the sides. One east. One west. The ceiling had hanging formations Nathan recognized as ancient stalactites. The floor was regular, carved, not natural.
Behind him, in the passage he’d come through, the nine remaining creatures arrived and stopped in a row. Blocking the retreat.
Nathan processed all of that in about one second.
Then, with Liaraen in his arms, with the poison climbing through his chest, with two hundred mana and a primary skill that cost two hundred per use, he did the only thing his brain was capable of in response to such an absolutely absurd situation.
He spoke.
"Honestly," Nathan said, in a specifically conversational tone. "This is very well planned."
The leader tilted its head.
"Honestly," Nathan continued. "It’s probably the most elaborate trap I’m ever going to fall into in my entire life. And considering I’ve only been in Greywall for five days, that list has several competitors."
The leader didn’t respond.
"The vault with the agile ones waiting from above was a nice touch." Nathan took a step toward the leader. "Learning the language from previous adventurers—elegant. The coordination of the betrayal during the exchange—almost professional level. And this final chamber, specifically chosen to have multiple exits that are useless because you’ve blocked all of them. Impressive."
The leader moved the claw holding the fruit. Very slightly.
"Honestly," Nathan said again. "If corrupted humanoid moles had official guild certifications, you’d be high-ranked. Just my personal opinion."
Silence.
And then, after exactly three seconds of silence, Liaraen spoke against Nathan’s chest, her voice weak but perfectly audible:
"Nathan."
"Yes?"
"You’re trying to die while insulting a mole with a fruit."
"I’m trying to buy time while my mana regenerates."
"Insulting a mole with a fruit."
"The insult is a secondary method. The primary objective is time."
"I don’t think he’s processing it that way."
"Probably not. But my professional pride doesn’t allow me to remain silent in a situation that objectively deserves commentary."
"Nathan."
"Yes, Sprout?"
"We’re both going to die."
"Not yet."
"Soon."
"Not yet."
Liaraen fell silent.
Nathan kept advancing toward the leader. One step. Two. Keeping enough distance not to provoke an immediate attack but close enough to react when the leader decided on the next move.
The leader finally spoke.
"You talk a lot, Hunter."
"It’s a cultural trait. My region of birth produces verbal people."
"You talk a lot for someone who’s poisoned."
"Verbality is not regulated by poison. The systems are different."
"You’re going to die with your mouth open."
"That would be consistent with who I am."
The leader changed its smile.
It grew wider.
The irregular teeth gleamed in the light from the distant tree still filtering from the previous cavern.
"Good," the leader said. "Then watch this."
And it raised the fruit to its mouth.
---
Nathan saw it.
His brain processed the movement in slow motion. The leader’s hand rising. The irregular teeth opening. The fruit reaching snout height.
And then the bite.
The leader bit the fruit.
Exactly in half.
The teeth cut through the illuminated pulp. A silver liquid welled where the bite passed. The inner half stayed in the leader’s mouth. The outer half remained in its claw.
The leader chewed.
Nathan watched in silence.
And for the first time in the entire conversation, the cynical part of his brain fell silent.
Because the leader didn’t just bite the fruit. It savored it. With deliberate slowness. Its black eyes closed for half a second in a specific expression of pleasure. And after swallowing, it exhaled a deep breath that sounded, specifically, like someone who had just received something they’d been waiting for for centuries.
Nathan felt Liaraen tense against his chest.
The leader opened its eyes.
Looked at him.
And with the claw holding the remaining half of the fruit, it raised it to snout height. Observed it for a moment. As if evaluating its worth. As if deciding what to do with it.
Then it swung its arm back.
And threw it.
With force.
The half fruit flew across the chamber, over the leader’s head, toward the eastern passage. Nathan watched it spin in the air with the specific reflection of silver light. Traced the arc. Calculated where it would land.
Approximately thirty meters into the eastern passage.
Bouncing twice off the floor before stopping.
The leader looked at him.
And smiled again.
"Go get it, Hunter," the leader said. "If you can."
---
Nathan didn’t think.
His body acted before his mind.
He turned toward the eastern passage. Adjusted Liaraen against his chest. And ran.
He ran with poison in his body. Ran with partially numb legs. Ran with nearly empty mana. Ran with the person he cared about held against his chest, breathing slower and slower, her hands closed on the fabric of his jacket.
He ran.
The leader didn’t move.
The nine remaining creatures didn’t follow.
Yet.
They were letting him reach it. As part of the game. So that the full cruelty could materialize at the end: the Hunter reaching the fruit, the Hunter taking the fruit, the Hunter being intercepted before he could use it, the Hunter dying with hope in his hand.
Nathan understood it as he ran.
*I’m not running toward the fruit. I’m running toward the final execution.*
*But I’m also running toward the only chance I have to save her.*
*Both are the same thing.*
*Good.*
He reached the eastern passage.
Ran down it.
Twenty meters. Twenty-five. Thirty.
The fruit was on the floor. Round. Silver. Half. With the cut side exposed, emitting a faint glow.
Nathan crouched.
With Liaraen still in one arm, with his right arm free for milliseconds, he grabbed the fruit.
He held it.
Straightened up.
And the moment he straightened, he heard the footsteps.
Behind him.
Running.
The nine creatures were already coming down the passage. The leader at the front. All moving with the specific speed Nathan had learned to fear.
*I don’t have time to carry the fruit to Liaraen.*
*And using it here won’t work. It needs to be administered orally, according to healing property logic. I need to process it. Prepare it.*
*I need to be in a safe place.*
*Like Marren.*
Nathan reached into his jacket’s inner pocket.
The return stone was there. Small. Cold. Round.
*I need Liaraen to be in Marren.*
*With the fruit.*
*Now.*
He pulled out the stone.
Pressed it against the skin of Liaraen’s neck, specifically over her pulse.
He also placed the half fruit in her right hand.
She grabbed it by reflex, with the strength of someone nearly unconscious, but enough to hold.
Nathan looked into Liaraen’s eyes.
Pale green. Half-closed. Focused on him with the last reserve of consciousness.
"Sprout," Nathan said.
"No," Liaraen said. And her voice, even with the poison, had the specific strength of someone who had just understood exactly what Nathan was about to do. "No."
"Yes."
"Nathan. No."
"Yes, Sprout."
"Come with me."
"It only works once. With contact. I’m going to release you when I activate it."
"No."
"Yes."
"Nathan."
"Marren," Nathan said, loud and clear.
And pressed the stone.
---
The return stone activated.
Nathan felt the specific flow the stone produced. An energy that coiled around Liaraen’s body. That held her briefly. That lifted her a fraction of a centimeter off the ground. That enveloped her in a silver light Nathan recognized as the same light the fruit emitted.
And then.
Then Liaraen was no longer in his arms.
The weight disappeared.
The green eyes disappeared.
The hands closed on his jacket’s fabric disappeared.
And in Nathan’s right hand, now open, only the broken pieces of the stone remained—shattered after use.
Nathan stood still for a moment.
Unable to fully process what he’d just done.
Unable to process that Liaraen was no longer there.
That she was in Marren. With the fruit. With a chance to survive.
And that he was alone.
In a deep passage of a pre-Pantheon dungeon.
With nine creatures running toward him.
With poison in his body.
With two hundred mana.
And with the specifically complete feeling of having fulfilled exactly what he needed to fulfill.
*It’s okay, Sprout.*
*It’s okay.*
*You’re safe.*
He closed his hand over the broken stone pieces.
Tucked them into his jacket’s inner pocket with the specific clumsiness the poison had imposed on his fingers.
Straightened up as much as his poisoned legs would allow.
Turned to face the nine creatures that were already ten meters away.
And smiled.
Not a dramatic or defiant smile.
A tired smile. Small. Almost amused.
"Well," Nathan said, specifically out loud and to no one in particular. "She’s safe. You already lost."
The leader arrived first.
Stopped three meters from Nathan.
Looked around. Looked at the passage. Looked at Nathan’s empty hand. Looked at the stone pieces Nathan had just put away.
It understood.
The creature’s face, until then contained in an expression of calculated cruelty, changed for the first time to something closer to surprise.
And then to rage.
"You transported her," the leader said.
"I transported her."
"Where."
"Somewhere you can’t reach."
"How."
"With a stone you don’t know about and no longer exists. Single use."
The leader looked at him for a full moment.
And then, with a voice specifically different from its previous mockery—much more contained and much more lethal:
"Then you’re going to die here, Hunter. And she’s going to live without you. And you’ll have died for nothing because you won’t have been able to take her home."
Nathan thought about it.
And smiled again.
"I’m going to die here," he replied. "But not for nothing. Because she’s alive. And she’s going to make it home, even if I don’t take her there. And that’s a story that doesn’t include your victory."
The leader looked at him.
Then raised its claw.
"Kill him," it said, its voice guttural.
The nine creatures charged.
Nathan, with two hundred mana, with poison in his body, with his legs barely responding, extended both hands forward.
*Soul Pulse.*
*Soul Pulse.*
Two dark waves shot out.
The creatures didn’t even stagger.
And one of them—the first to reach him—hit him with its full body, slamming him against the stone floor.
