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"That damned fat-ass."
Krika ran into the pitch-black darkness. Despite his tired and injured body, he kept running.
'I can’t believe I got help from Bilker.’
It was a strange feeling to be helped by someone he had looked down on. It was like a wolf being saved by a rabbit.
‘Telling me to run?’
Krika stared out at the snowy landscape. He used the stars to find his direction. He hesitated as he looked eastward, the way back to the encampment.
"It's not because I'm afraid of death. It's because you saved me, so I'll follow your advice."
Krika did not head toward the encampment. He slowly lifted his head and began walking southward.
"…I too am going to the empire."
Krika was born and raised in the north. He had never thought about a life different than in the north. He lived and would die as a warrior according to Ulgaro's will.
The path of warriors was a shackle for the men of the north. For the first time, Krika felt that he was released from it. Northern warriors kept their eyes on each other and scorned those who weren't brave. But now, Krika was alone, with no one to scorn him for not living the warrior's l...
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