A Journey Unwanted-Chapter 410 - 399: Cowardness

[Realm: Álfheimr]

[Location: The Great Forest]

It had never known such humiliation before.

Done in by a single kick—then discarded as something "worthless." The lion had long since ceased to try and rise, its broken form staying collapsed in the torn earth as it merely glared at the two bantering—Grimm and Puck. It could not even bare its teeth properly without pain flashing through its jaw; its ribs were wrong, its breath ragged and its pride… shredded into nothingness.

He knew that the man was no human, yet his quick defeat caused no end to his agitation. The fact that the General had not even looked strained and did not entertain the possibility of effort made the lion's thoughts burn. With that, his golden aura pulsed stronger—crawling over his fur, trying to become a weapon.

But it was useless now.

For he could not move.

The aura could not mend what had been shattered. It could not stitch dignity back into a spine that had been forced to bow. It could not undo the way Grimm's voice had sounded when he called him boring—like the lion had been some low creature that failed to perform.

("Just who is this man… a scent I know, yet one I've never encountered.") The lion's sharp teeth grit together, the sound wet with blood. His claws dug into the ground, not to stand—he could not—but to anchor himself against that sickening feeling of helplessness. ("I would remember such power, though…") The thought trembled in him.

He would remember to fear such power.

Yet he never met Grimm.

The lion's eyes narrowed, searching through memory. Something about the man's presence felt too potent in his mind. Like a scar you don't remember earning. That scent was pleasant in the wrong way.

"Tsk, calling me an idiot again, huh!" Puck's voice exclaimed, and the sound of her irritation cut through his thoughts. She hovered closer to Grimm, looking at him annoyed, her small armored body angling forward. "You really just can't help yourself, can you? You know, for someone always acting like he's so uncaring, you sure do love taking cheap little jabs at me. Do you get some kind of satisfaction out of it?"

"Consider not acting like one and I shall refrain," Grimm said back, and there was no heat in it. "You were the one to call me childish, yet curiosity gripped you so tightly that it prevented you from informing me of potential danger. Now who is childish?"

The lion's eyes turned toward Grimm, not because the words were directed at him, but because the lion could not understand it.

This was not how warriors spoke after battle.

This was not how predators behaved after dominance.

Grimm's voice held no adrenaline, triumph or even urgency. Only that dismissal. Like the lion's entire existence was now nothing more than background noise to a conversation.

Puck groaned at the General's words, her annoyance spiking hard enough that even the lion could feel it. "It's totally different," Puck defended, and she sounded like someone trying not to admit she'd been caught. "And don't twist it around like that. That's not what I meant and you know it. But you do have the attention span of a little kid. You barely invest in anything. You just—" She threw her hands outward in frustration, as if she wanted to physically grab the concept of Grimm's personality and shake it. "You seem to just get interested for five seconds, poke at something and then the moment it stops entertaining you, you're ready to throw it away like it's trash. That's what I meant."

She jabbed a finger toward him, hovering closer.

"And besides, I knew you could handle the lion," Puck added, and the way she said it made it sound like she was trying to reclaim dignity by pretending she had never doubted him. "I knew it. I wasn't worried. And I didn't say anything because I wanted to see what would happen. Considering what you are."

That last part came out almost begrudgingly honest.

"Sounds as though you're making excuses," Grimm noted, easily dismissing her defense. "And you're doing it poorly. If you wanted to observe, you could have simply said that. Instead you withheld information and then became irritated when I called you what your actions suggested."

"Am not," Puck huffed, her cheeks puffing slightly in irritation as she folded her arms tighter, as if bracing herself against the way Grimm's words seemed to land. "And stop acting like you're so above it. You act like you're the only one allowed to be curious." She drifted slightly to the side, folding her arms, then glared at him harder. "You know I'm starting to dislike this arrangement of being treated like you lieutenant."

"Too bad," Grimm merely said, and the simplicity of the response was almost insulting on its own.

The fairy huffed again, and the sound was sharper this time, almost like a cute sounding snarl.

The lion's claws dug harder into the ground. The humiliation wasn't only his. Even Puck—this irritating creature—was being treated like she was disposable the moment she ceased to entertain.

"And here I was going to tell you something interesting about that lion," she said, folding her small armored arms more firmly now and glancing away like a child refusing to share a secret. But there was thought in it too. Puck was not stupid—she knew exactly how to hook Grimm's curiosity.

The lion's heart thudded.

Something interesting?

Something about him?

His golden aura dimmed and then flared in reflex, as if his body wanted to rise again just to deny them the satisfaction of speaking about him like he wasn't there.

"And what would be so interesting?" Grimm questioned.

But unlike before, his voice was not idly curious.

Puck's lips curled despite that.

"Don't pretend you don't care now," Puck said immediately, eyes narrowing as she looked back at him. "But of course you don't. You literally just said you lost interest. You literally called it worthless. You even told it it to crawl and die."

Puck tilted her head, expression turning smug.

"So why the sudden interest? Is it because I said I had something interesting? Is it because you can't stand not knowing something? Either way, I'm not telling~" Puck stuck out her tongue.

Grimm considered punting her.

"You just had an unpleasant thought, didn't you?" Puck questioned, jabbing a small finger his way, her tone accusatory.

"I did consider punting you," Grimm stated, and the fact he said it so honestly made it worse. "But then I would be without a guide. And unfortunately, you are the only one currently available who seems to know what they are talking about. To a degree."

Puck stared at him.

Not even annoyed at first—just genuinely stunned by the bluntness.

"You know," Puck said at last, voice dry, "most people would just… keep such thoughts to themselves. And they would have the basic survival instinct to not tell a fairy they're thinking about kicking her across a forest."

"I have no need to hide my thoughts," Grimm replied. His helmet tilted slightly, as if he truly didn't understand why she expected otherwise. "Concealment is for those who fear consequences. I do not."

"Yeah, because being open is sooo good," Puck mocked, shaking her tiny head as she drifted sideways in the air, arms folding with offense. "Sooo mature. So noble. So admirable."

She narrowed her eyes at him, then deliberately dragged the next words out.

"Sooo~… feeling like apologizing so I can tell you what's really interesting about this lion? Or are you going to keep acting like a spoiled kid?"

"No."

"No?" Puck's brows furrowed so hard it looked like her entire face scrunched. "That's it? Not even a 'maybe,' not even a 'later,' not even a 'please stop hovering in my face before I swat you'?"

"It is worthless," Grimm said instead, and his free gauntleted hand rose toward the lion's downed form.

The lion's body twitched. .

Puck's eyes widened.

"Hold on—you're just gonna kill it?" Puck questioned, her voice pitching higher despite herself. She drifted in front of Grimm's hand like she could physically block him. "Without hearing what I have to say? You're not even going to wait a second?."

"There's nothing more of value with a broken beast," Grimm stated coldly. "I have no interest in that which breaks easily without showing its worth. A flashy display and anger is hardly worth investing over."

He paused.

"Though this is personal."

Puck blinked, her irritation momentarily knocked off balance by that last sentence.

"Huh?" Puck stated, confused. "How's it personal? You literally just met him. You didn't even know it existed until it jumped at you. What—are you offended on principle or something?"

"He wasted my precious time," Grimm stated.

The way he said it wasn't dramatic.

Puck sighed, it was a long and heavy one, but she didn't look surprised—nor did she look irked at Grimm's brutality the way most would've been. If anything, she looked resigned.

"Worthless, huh?" Puck said, tone shifting. Her eyes turned toward the lion, then back to Grimm, and she spoke. "I guess the fact that one of the most powerful magic users in this era's mana is lingering on him isn't interesting, huh?"

Grimm's hand stopped.

His helmeted head turned slightly toward Puck.

Puck's mouth curved into a smug grin.

"Interested now?" She questioned, voice sweet. "Or are you still going to pretend you don't care about anything that doesn't immediately interest you?"

"Hm," Grimm murmured, and the sound carried approval—like she'd finally said something worth hearing. "Do tell."

He lowered his free hand, not all the way, but enough to show he'd paused the execution and to show she'd won this round.

"I was hoping you'd apologize for being mean," Puck said, pouting theatrically, though her eyes stayed sharp. "But oh well. I'll take what I can get." She shrugged her small shoulders, then drifted closer to the collapsed lion. Her gaze narrowed as she studied it properly now—the tension in its frame, the way its aura was blinding even while its body was broken. "Seems there's a potent spell on this lion," Puck continued, more serious now. "Not just residue, it's something that's been sitting in its system for a while. I'd gather it's on the Chorda tier just based on the potency."

"The advanced level tier?" Grimm questioned immediately. "A mage you know is responsible?"

"Well I don't know them personally," Puck stated, shaking her head. "But I do recognize the mana. That part I'm sure about. It's not vague and it's not something that could belong to 'anyone.' It's very distinct."

Grimm's grip on his sword shifted slightly.

"What does this spell do?" Grimm pressed, and his tone made it clear this wasn't idle curiosity anymore.

"Hm," Puck hummed, tilting her head as if she were weighing how much to say. "I'd have to extract it to know—"

"You can't!" The lion suddenly exclaimed.

The sound was desperate. It wasn't a roar and it certainly wasn't prideful.

It was fear.

Puck flinched so hard she actually jerked backward in the air, her small body jolting like she'd been slapped. For a moment she looked startled.

"Y-you can not!" The lion repeated, and its voice trembled with fear. It coughed, blood spilling from its maw in clots. Its golden eyes were wide and frantic, locked onto Puck like she was a weapon hovering over its heart. "Don't… don't touch it—!"

"Geez," Puck murmured, recovering, though her voice was quieter now. "That scared me."

She stared at the lion's desperate gaze, and for a moment her expression softened—not with pity, exactly. More like she recognized the kind of fear that made someone forget their pride.

Grimm didn't soften.

"Do it," Grimm stated.

Puck hesitated just long for a moment.

She glanced at Grimm, then at the lion. Its body trembled harder, claws digging into the dirt like it could anchor itself against what was coming.

Then Puck sighed.

She shrugged.

"Alright," Puck said, and there was an edge of excitement in her voice again—curiosity winning over anything else. "I'm curious myself."