A Journey Unwanted-Chapter 412 - 401: Nuisance

[Realm: Álfheimr]

[Location: Outskirts]

There were only stragglers left.

Most of the intelligent Deseruit Beasts were smart enough to either vanish into the forest’s hollows, or they were already dead—cleaved to pieces or simply broken beyond recognition. And lucky for them, Grimm wasn’t about to bother looking for the ones that had chosen to hide. He didn’t hunt for sport. Nor did he stalk for satisfaction.

The General assumed they were smart enough to know fear.

The rest were not as lucky.

The rest were not as smart.

Some had thrown themselves at him in blind animal rage, and Grimm had slaughtered the lot of them without a care. Puck couldn’t see his face behind that helmet, but if she had to guess, she’d wager he wore the dullest look imaginable—one of those expressions so empty it made his actions feel even more unnatural.

It made his brutality feel as though it had never been personal.

Grimm was a simple man and a complicated one, she gathered as much.

He was easily interested, then easily bored. The porcelain people themselves had held his interest for a short moment—just long enough to make her wonder if there was something more to him—then he’d even grown bored of them too. And then the Deseruit Beasts had come into the picture as his motivator.

And wouldn’t you know it—he lost interest in them as well.

Yet he was still so thorough in killing the Deseruit Beasts for the porcelain city. Grimm certainly did not strike her as the altruistic type, so she found herself curious as to why that was.

Though currently, she also found herself annoyed.

Grimm and Puck were outside the forest now, standing on the open dead plains. The air felt cleaner out here and in the distance, they could already see the enormous porcelain structures rising in the horizon, their white surfaces gleaming.

It was a simple matter exiting the forest, luckily. Puck was glad for that. A space filled with Deseruit Beast carcasses tended to smell, and she’d already had enough of blood and wet fur for one day.

Now it came down to the fairy’s annoyance.

"Are you seriously following us?" Puck questioned, turning sharply on the spot. Her pink eyes locked onto the large, trembling frame of the lion that had once acted as a lord, now standing a few paces away out in the open.

The lion flinched like her words physically struck it.

It stood there awkwardly—massive, golden-maned, form still clearly aching, blood still drying at its maw. But the way it held itself now wasn’t like a ruler.

It was like a stray.

"I—I can’t stay in the forest!" the Cowardly Lion exclaimed, voice cracking in a way that made it sound younger and almost pathetic compared to what it had been. "T-the other Deseruit Beasts will kill me! They will— they will tear me apart the moment they realize I’m... I’m not what I was!"

Puck’s brows pulled together, and her tone sharpened.

"So you thought it was best," she said slowly, "to follow the guy that was about to kill you five minutes ago?"

The lion hesitated.

Its ears twitched, and it looked like it wanted to lie—but it didn’t have the confidence to do that anymore either.

"Y-yes?" the lion answered, uncertain, as if even it didn’t believe the logic. "I mean— I don’t know what else to do. I can’t go back. I can’t stay. And you— you’re leaving. You’re the only ones who wouldn’t— who wouldn’t..."

It swallowed, throat bobbing.

"...f-finish me."

Puck stared at it for a moment.

Then she let out a slow breath through her nose, a sound caught between disbelief and irritation.

Grimm didn’t even slow his pace.

"Leave it," he merely said, already moving forward across the dead plains as if the conversation didn’t matter.

Puck floated after him, still glaring back at the lion.

"Are you sure?" she questioned, voice lowering as she drifted closer to Grimm’s side. "Because I’m just saying— it’s not exactly unheard of for desperate things to do desperate stuff. What if it follows us for a while, waits until our backs are turned, and then tries to bite your throat out or something?"

She pointed back at the lion.

"It’s literally a lion. That’s, like, its whole thing."

Grimm’s answer came without hesitation.

"It’s no threat," he stated. Then, after a beat he continued, in a voice far too calm for what he was saying. "If it misbehaves," Grimm said, "I’ll end it properly."

Puck snorted lightly.

"You’re acting like it’s a pet," the fairy murmured, drifting just a little higher, glancing at the shaking form of the lion that cautiously followed them at a distance.

The lion heard her.

It flinched again.

Puck’s eyes narrowed, and she leaned toward Grimm as if she were trying to pry the thought out of his helmet.

"There any reason," she asked, "you’re letting it follow us? Like, a real reason and not some vague one."

"It doesn’t matter," Grimm merely said. "I do not seek to invest time in something," he said, "as in, I do not want to go through the effort of killing it when it is no longer a threat."

Puck blinked.

She stared at him like she wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or more annoyed.

"...That is the most backwards thing you’ve said all day," she muttered.

Grimm didn’t respond.

Puck looked back at the lion again.

The creature was still following and still trembling. But also still keeping its distance like a beaten animal that didn’t trust its own survival.

And Puck—despite herself—couldn’t stop thinking the same thing:

Grimm wasn’t sparing it because he cared, he was sparing it because it wasn’t worth his time to kill.

That seemed even more somber than mercy.

"I really want to know what goes through that head of yours," Puck murmured, she drifted at Grimm’s side, matching his pace without meaning to, pink eyes turning up toward his helmet. "Because you do the most confusing things. You’ll be ruthless one second, weirdly... almost careful the next, and I can already tell I’m going to spend a long time watching you do things that make absolutely no sense."

Grimm didn’t turn his head, nor did he slow down. He simply kept moving forward, the porcelain structures far ahead growing closer.

"I am a simple man," he merely said, like it was the only honest thing he could offer. His voice was muffled behind the helm, yet it carried clearly. "Not nearly as complex as you insist on imagining. I seek that which sparks my interest... and that is all."

Puck made a small sound that was a half scoff and a sigh, as if she wanted to accept that answer but couldn’t.

"See, that right there?" she noted, tilting her small head, drifting a little higher so she could stare down at him as if that would help her read him. "That sounds like you’re simplifying yourself just for the sake of it. You might as well be shaving off pieces of your own thoughts because it’s easier to say you’re ’simple’ than to admit you’re complicated."

"It’s the truth," Grimm said, tone unbothered on the surface. "Though I am guided by my interest, I would not say my reasoning are convoluted. I do not sit and twist myself into knots over the ’why’ of things. I do not romanticize my own motives. I see something unknown. I want to understand it. I pursue it. When it is understood... I move on."

Puck blinked.

"Oh?" she pressed, immediately taking the opening, because it was rare that Grimm was openly talking like this without shutting her down. She drifted closer, her voice lowering just slightly. "Then what is it? If you’re really so simple, then tell me. What is it that’s driving you right now?"

Grimm was silent for a few steps.

The wind moved across the plains, tugging at the ends of his wild red hair where it escaped the helmet. The world felt empty around them, despite how dense it was.

Then he answered, and the words came without drama.

"Merely curiosity in the unknown," Grimm stated, as if he were describing the most mundane thing, as if it were an ordinary hunger and not something that had an influence in perhaps shaping his entire life. "One that shall be satiated, and then I shall resume my dull existence."

Puck’s expression shifted, just a small tightening around the eyes, in disbelief that someone could say something like that so plainly.

"...That’s not sad for you?" Puck questioned, her voice almost careful. She sounded like she was genuinely trying to understand. "Merely going back to the way things were? After all this? After you’ve seen things you clearly didn’t expect to see? After you’ve fought things you didn’t even know existed? You’re just fine with returning to being bored?"

Grimm didn’t hesitate.

"It’s a cycle I’m used to," he said offhandedly. "I’ve lived that cycle long enough to stop expecting it to change. Interest, pursuit and then understanding. Then the long quiet. Then nothing." He paused, and when he continued, his tone didn’t turn dramatic—if anything, it became flatter, like he was stating a fact he’d accepted a long time ago. "There’s nothing I really want anyway," Grimm said. "No grand desire. No dream I’m chasing. No future I’m building. So this is fine."

Puck hovered in silence beside him for a moment.

The porcelain city grew a little larger on the horizon.

("That is... pretty sad.")