A Journey Unwanted-Chapter 407 - 396: The lion

[Realm: Álfheimr]

[Location: The Great Forest]

Grimm and the lion held each other in their gaze for a few seconds—just a few—yet the dead forest seemed to grow tense around them as though even the air knew what was about to occur.

The lion’s paws shifted in the cratered earth. The muscles in its shoulders bunched, thick and dense beneath its mane, and its tail flicked once. Grimm did not move. His sword remained pointed downward, tip hovering just above the frost-scarred ground. His posture was almost lazy, insulting, as if he were waiting for something other than a threat.

Puck drifted several paces behind and above him, watching with her chin propped on her armored knuckles. Her gaze bore down in interest.

Then just as suddenly, the lion’s body changed. It wasn’t mana. There was no kind of shimmer, no visible flow, and no scent of any kind of spellwork in the air.

Instead, a golden aura burst from the lion—immense and all-consuming. It wrapped around its form in a bright haze. The ground beneath its paws trembled in response to its presence. Like the space around it had suddenly decided to grow denser.

Grimm’s helmet tilted a fraction.

His voice came out muffled and faintly interested.

"Interesting," he said. "That isn’t magic."

The lion’s golden eyes narrowed.

The General’s free hand moved with a slow motion, sliding behind his back. His sword arm extended, blade leveling forward, point aimed cleanly at the lion’s towering form.

The lion’s gaze turned—briefly—toward the carnage around them. Toward the grotesquely flattened Deseruit Beasts, the ice columns embedded like giant spears, the bodies broken and twisted into the dead soil.

The golden aura thickened as if responding to the devastation.

Without hesitation, the lion barreled forward.

The instant its paws moved, the ground ruptured. A burst of force followed behind it like a shockwave, flattening everything, snapping dead branches, and sending a ring of debris outward. The lion’s massive form crossed the distance in a heartbeat, its aura tearing through the fog and ruined trees as if they were paper.

It was on Grimm instantly.

Its jaws opened, teeth like the sharpest of blades, saliva flying as it bit for his head. Grimm moved, his sabatons slid across the ground in a smooth pivot. His torso leaned away as his head dipped. The lion’s bite snapped shut on nothing but air—yet the sheer force of it caused a violent clap, like thunder compressed and launched violently. The air burst outward. Nearby ice structures shuddered. A dead tree behind Grimm exploded into splinters from the shock alone.

Grimm landed lightly on the other side of the lion’s head, almost graceful, blade still leveled.

The lion did not pause, its front paw whipped sideways, claws extended. A swipe meant to cut Grimm in half. The golden aura flared with the motion, and the claws carved through the air so violently the fog split apart in ribbons. The ground tore open where the claws passed, leaving three long gouges.

Grimm raised his sword, and the blade met the lion’s claws with a clean, ringing impact.

CLANG!

The force rolled off absurdly, rippling through Grimm’s arm and shoulder and into his stance—yet he did not slide or stagger. He merely adjusted his footing, heel grinding into the earth to absorb it.

The lion’s eyes widened for half a breath, then it struck again. A second claw swipe, lower, aimed at Grimm’s legs. He merely stepped over it.

A third swipe, diagonal, aimed to take his torso. Grimm leaned back, the claws passing so close they scraped sparks from his armor without actually catching.

A fourth strike—this one a feint—high, meant to draw Grimm’s blade up, he didn’t take the bait. The lion’s mouth snapped open again, biting sideways, trying to catch Grimm’s arm, his sword, anything.

Grimm twisted his wrist and let the lion bite at the flat of his blade instead.

The lion’s teeth clamped down, but the sword did not break. Its jaw muscles bulged as it tried to crush the weapon. Grimm’s sword trembled faintly under the pressure, the sound of grinding alloy and teeth filling the air.

Grimm’s voice remained maddeningly calm.

"You bite like the others," he observed. "But I suppose you do it better."

The lion growled, eyes burning.

Grimm pulled the blade free with a sharp twist.

The lion’s head snapped forward again, following immediately with a brutal headbutt meant to shatter his ribs. The General hopped backward, just enough.

The lion’s skull slammed into the ground where Grimm had been standing. The impact cratered the earth. A ring of dust and stone erupted outward, slamming into nearby trees and knocking them over like brittle toys.

The lion rose from the crater, mane whipping as it shook loose dirt. Its claws dug into the ground, and then it moved again.

Faster.

It circled Grimm, forcing him to pivot slowly to keep his blade aligned. The lion attacked from his blind side—lunging low, then leaping high in the same motion, jaws snapping down from above.

Grimm’s sword flashed upward, it was a perfect parry. The lion’s teeth clanged against the blade’s edge, sparks flying. The force of the impact blasted Grimm’s hair backward.

The lion landed, spun, and struck with its tail, whipping across the ground with enough force to shatter stone. Grimm stepped onto the tail as it passed, using it like a moving platform, then hopped off before the lion could yank it back.

He landed behind the lion.

Its head snapped around instantly as its claws struck again, a rapid sequence now—left, right, left—each swipe tearing the air and ripping trenches in the ground.

Grimm parried the first with his blade.

Dodged the second with a lean.

Deflected the third with a small wrist motion.

The lion roared and surged forward, trying to overwhelm him with speed. But just as suddenly, Grimm’s stance changed. Not visibly or dramatically, just a fraction slower. His foot dragged slightly when he pivoted, his parry came a hair later than before. The lion noticed and pressed harder.

A claw strike slammed down like a falling hammer, Grimm blocked it, but the force drove his sabatons deeper into the earth. A second strike came immediately—aimed at Grimm’s shoulder. The General raised his blade to parry, but the movement felt heavier. His arm responded like it was wading through thick water.

The blade still met the claw and held.

Puck’s brows furrowed above.

"...Huh."

The lion’s aura flared.

Grimm’s helmet tilted slightly, as if he were listening not to the lion, but to his own body.

The lion lunged, jaws wide.

Grimm dodged, but the movement was slower. The lion’s teeth grazed his armor—just barely—leaving a deep, screeching scrape across the plating. He slid away, sword still leveled, and for the first time, his voice carried a small edge of curiosity rather than boredom.

"...So that’s it."

The lion snapped its jaws and struck again, claws hammering down.

Grimm parried, but the parry felt heavier.

The lion’s claws struck again, a flurry. Grimm blocked, dodged, parried—still clean, but now each movement seemed to demand more from him. The lion roared in triumph and barreled forward, trying to crush Grimm under the force.

Grimm leapt aside again, but landed with a heavier thud. The lion’s golden aura surged higher.

Grimm’s sword rose again, point steady.

He spoke, almost conversationally, as though they were not in the middle of a battle.

"What is that power?" he asked. "That golden aura."

The lion answered with a roar, furious, refusing to dignify the question.

Grimm’s helmet tilted.

"...No?" he said mildly. "You won’t tell me."

The lion lunged again, claws slashing.

Grimm parried once, then twice and then three times.

Each parry rang out loudly.

The lion’s strikes were strangely not random. It sought to force his blade up, then bit low. It forced Grimm to dodge left, then struck right. It pressed him toward the ice pillars still embedded in the ground, trying to trap him against the frozen structures.

Grimm, of course, noticed and adjusted. He stepped sideways at the last moment, letting the lion’s claw strike slam into an ice pillar instead. The pillar shattered violently, ice exploded outward in a storm of shards. The shards tore through the lion’s own aura and bounced away harmlessly, but the explosion of debris filled the air, obscuring vision for a breath.

The lion tried to use that breath. 𝕗𝐫𝚎𝗲𝘄𝐞𝕓𝐧𝕠𝘃𝕖𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝚖

It lunged through the ice mist, jaws snapping for Grimm’s throat. His blade moved too fast. A single clean slash, not aimed at the lion’s body but at its face. The lion recoiled instinctively, pulling its head back just enough to avoid losing an eye. The sword’s edge sliced through the golden aura, leaving a shimmering scar in the air where it passed.

The lion landed and snarled.

Grimm stood with his sword extended, free hand still behind his back—yet his body still felt wrong. Sluggish and almost heavy, like something was pressing down on him.

Grimm’s voice was thoughtful.

"This sensation..." he murmured. "My movements are being weighed down more and more."

The lion prowled in a tight circle, aura pulsing with its eyes fixed on him.

Grimm’s blade tracked it.

"...A field," Grimm continued. "Or a presence that weakens opposition."

The lion roared again and struck. Grimm parried, but the parry came late enough that the claws scraped along the sword’s edge and sent a jolt up Grimm’s arm.

He spoke again, his voice almost innocent in its curiosity.

"Is this similar to Draconic Resonance?" Grimm asked. "A form of power exerted through existence rather than spellcraft?"

The lion’s answer was another roar as its golden aura flared violently as if offended by his casual tone.

Puck drifted slightly higher, eyes narrowed.

"Heh," she chuckled under her breath, "Is he seriously asking questions while they’re fighting?"

The lion attacked again.

Another fast flurry—claw, claw, bite, claw—each strike faster than the last, each one carrying enough force to carve through the environment.

Grimm kept up as he dodged the first swipe with a lean. Parried the second with a sharp ring. Slid under the bite, blade angled upward. Deflected the third claw strike with a twist of his wrist. Then, in the middle of the lion’s relentless assault, Grimm spoke again—almost politely.

"I would prefer an answer," he said. "It would make this more engaging."

The lion roared, eyes blazing, and struck harder.

Grimm’s sabatons slid half an inch in the dirt, but he stopped himself.

His sword remained steady.

"Do answer, for you have my curiosity."