IATAOTHKG | CHAPTER 37

~CHAPTER 37~

“Ugh, it’s getting harder to breathe.”

Gamri took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling.

“You’re right.”

Lob frowned as well.

All three of them could feel the air growing heavier as they walked westward.

Every breath came with an odd pressure, as though something was weighing on their lungs, and a chill crept down their spines.

Even the night sky was a dull gray.
There were only heavy clouds—no moon, no stars.

Kalif’s steps suddenly slowed.
The paved path had come to an abrupt end.

“The road cuts off unnaturally.”

Lob and Gamri moved to his sides.

The cobbled path had disappeared halfway through, revealing a stretch of pale dirt.

Lob tilted his head and glanced at Kalif.

“What do you think happened here?”

“Not sure.”

Kalif fell silent for a moment, thinking.

Hiskarn wasn’t a city under his jurisdiction, and the western continent of Sahal wasn’t a usual operating ground for the Ocean Agency.
Still, if something of significant scale had happened, he should have known about it.

“Has there been any report of an incident?”

Lob voiced the same thought Kalif was having.

“No.”

“Hmm. Just three years ago, it wasn’t like this…”

Kalif carefully studied the point where the path had vanished.

“Not a single footprint. It’s completely clean.”

There were no traces of people, monsters, or magical beasts.
It was as if no living being had ever set foot here.

“Could it have been lightning?”

“No.”

Lob firmly shook his head at Gamri’s guess.

“If lightning struck, we’d see shattered or scorched stones, or burn marks on the ground or trees.”

Silence fell over them.

“This feels very ominous.”

He looked at Kalif as he spoke.

“Either way, we still need to check the place where the Gate used to be, don’t we?”

Gamri asked the same question.

He was right.
Even if the path had ended, turning back now would make their journey to Hiskarn meaningless.

Kalif took a map from the inner pocket of his coat and unfolded it.

“Eleven and a half miles from Hiskarn’s capital, and three yards from where the Grand Theater once stood.”

He compared the map markings to the distances they had covered so far.

“From here, we still need to go about one more mile in a straight line to reach the Gate’s old location.”

Whooooosh—
A strange, eerie wind howled around them.

“Well, then let’s get going!”

Gamri raised her voice.

“We’ve got to go anyway, so what’s the point in wasting time?”

“Hold on. There might be a curse—”

He didn’t get to finish.
A shadowy figure was approaching from afar.

“What’s that?”

Gamri gripped her axe tighter and stepped forward.
Kalif and Lob also fixed their sharp gazes on the figure drawing near.

“Huh…?”

Lob’s mouth fell open.

“It’s… a child?”

A small boy, staggering toward them, wearing ragged clothes.

“You’re kidding.”

Gamri’s tension eased, and she let her axe drop to the ground.

“Poor thing.”

Softhearted Lob clicked his tongue.

The boy couldn’t have been older than ten, and his condition was pitiful.
His worn, torn clothes were so filthy and faded that their original color was unrecognizable.
He was barefoot, his thin feet covered in cuts and caked with dry mud.
His hair was tangled and unkempt, and his sunken eyes were glazed over with hunger.

Clink, clank.

As he drew closer, they heard an odd rattling noise.

“What’s that sound?”

Gamri tilted her head.

They soon saw it—a rusty tin can hanging from a string around his neck.
The sound must have come from whatever was inside.

The boy stopped, looking up at them with desperate, tear-filled eyes.

“I’m so hungry.”

He spoke in a trembling, tearful voice, clutching the tin can.

“Could you spare me a little… anything at all?”

“Oh dear.”

Lob frowned in sympathy.

“Where are your parents, child?”

The boy reached out both hands toward Lob.
They were so thin they looked mummified, trembling weakly.

“Please… spare something…”

Lob groaned softly and started rummaging through his pockets, ready to hand over every coin he had.

But then—

“Wait.”

Kalif stretched out his arm, stopping him.

“Huh? Why…?”

Lob blinked in confusion, his green eyes wide with innocence.

He was a skilled offensive mage, sharp and perceptive in danger—but there was one flaw.

“Your compassion is your weakness.”

Whenever his pity was stirred, his judgment faltered.

Kalif’s eyes gleamed coldly as he drew his sword.
He glared at the frail child.

“S-sir, why…?”

The boy stammered, looking terrified.
He was painfully thin, pitiful, with tears welling up in his eyes.
But Kalif could sense it—the air around the boy wasn’t right.

If Lob relied on quick magical judgment, Kalif’s instincts were more primal, animalistic.
And his instincts told him this wasn’t the hunger of a starving boy.

“What’s going on?”

Gamri, faster with her axe than her words, asked impatiently.

In that moment, Kalif swung his sword.

The boy screamed as the blade sliced through the string around his neck.

Clang!

The tin can fell to the ground.
When its contents spilled out, Lob pressed a hand to his forehead.

“Oh no…”

Inside the can were not coins—
but human bone fragments, teeth, and fingernails.

Gamri gagged, sticking out her tongue in disgust.

“So that’s what he meant by ‘spare something.’”

Lob muttered.

“You’re too soft.”

Kalif scolded briefly, and Lob scratched his head awkwardly.

The boy, staring blankly at the scattered bones and teeth, slowly lifted his head.
His eyes gleamed unnaturally, and a twisted smile spread across his face.

“I said… spare me something…”

His voice trembled grotesquely as his small body began to contort, growing at an impossible speed.

His mouth split open from ear to ear, revealing a long, rotting tongue that flicked like a serpent’s.
Saliva dripped from his torn lips, hissing on the ground and leaving black burn marks.

“Hungry.”

“Damn it.”

Gamri cursed under her breath, spotting movement in the distance.
Dozens of humanoid monsters were charging toward them—each one looking like a starving person.

“How about we just open a portal and bail? There’s only three of us.”

Gamri joked, though her voice was tense.

“We can’t return empty-handed. Let’s settle it with rock-paper-scissors—loser stays and fights.”

Kalif answered without a trace of humor.

“But I always lose at that!”

Lob grumbled as he focused his energy.
A pale green light wrapped around the three of them.

Without another word, they gripped their weapons and shouted in unison as the horde of monsters rushed in.

* * *

At the same time, at Wedon Central Hospital.

“Ugh…”

Mayna groaned softly as she opened her eyes.

“You’re awake, Counselor?”

Magia, sitting beside the bed, gently brushed her cheek.

Her body felt heavy and weak.
As she glanced around, she realized she was in a hospital room.
Faint dawn light filled the space, and beyond the window stretched a gray sky thick with clouds.

The air was damp, as if rain was about to fall, and the smell of disinfectant stung her nose.

Seeing that Mayna still seemed dazed, Magia spoke softly.

“This is Wedon Central Hospital.”

“…”

“You collapsed. Do you remember anything?”

Collapsed…?

She couldn’t remember what had happened before she got there.
As confusion clouded her mind, the door suddenly burst open.