A Journey Unwanted-Chapter 408 - 397: Does curiosity kill the lion?

[Realm: Álfheimr]

[Location: The Great Forest]

"Why are you not answering?" Grimm asked again, and it sounded almost sincere. He stared at the lion’s still-tense form, blade held loosely at his side, as though they were pausing mid-conversation rather than mid-kill. "You understand speech and you understand intent. So use that mind of yours. I’m quite curious about that ability of yours, and I’d prefer you satisfy that curiosity before I’m forced to take you apart piece by piece."

The lion’s lips peeled back. A low growl rolled out, thick enough to vibrate the dead branches around them. Its golden eyes narrowed further, its gaze murderous.

Grimm’s helmet tilted slightly, like he was listening for a more articulate response.

"And," Grimm continued, voice calm, "it seems it’s affecting me to an increasing degree. My movements feel sluggish. Like my body is being forced to move through something denser than air. I would like to understand what you are doing to me."

The lion only growled again, louder.

Inside its mind, agitation rose.

("This man...") the lion thought, claws digging into the earth. ("My Null Schema should already be weakening him. It should be gnawing at his movements, eroding his precision and even stripping away his skill. He should be slowing more. He should be failing more.")

The golden aura around it flared brighter.

("Yet he still fends me off.")

That truth was unbearable.

Worse than the pain, worse than the humiliation, worse than the destruction of its forest—

Was the way Grimm asked questions. In the middle of a battle to the death. With that infuriating, almost innocent curiosity, like he had already decided the outcome and was simply collecting information along the way.

Grimm waited for a heartbeat, then another. His voice remained steady, but bored now, as if the lion’s refusal was wasting his time.

"Come on," Grimm said idly. "Answer."

The lion snapped.

It shot forward without warning, barreling toward Grimm with such force that the ground tore beneath its paws. Dirt and ice exploded behind it. Its aura surged, a golden blur as it aimed straight for Grimm’s center mass—intent on crushing him, biting him, ending the conversation by force.

But then the lion blinked. Because Grimm was no longer in front of him. The General had disappeared as if he had never been there in the first place. The lion’s momentum carried it forward, jaws snapping at empty air, claws carving trenches into nothing.

Its eyes widened, confusion alight across its expression for a fraction of a second.

"You have intelligence," Grimm’s muffled voice resounded from behind the lion, close enough that it felt his presence. His tone was mildly disappointed. "I would like for you to use it."

The lion whirled—

And felt something seize its tail, a violent grip. The lion’s body tensed, instinct screaming, and it winced—yet it couldn’t even fully register the sensation before the world shifted.

Its paws left the ground.

For the first time in its life, the lord of this section of the forest was lifted like prey. The lion blinked in disbelief, scrambling midair, limbs flailing as its heavy body swung. The golden aura flared violently, trying to reassert control or trying to anchor itself.

But Grimm’s grip did not budge. He merely adjusted his stance as though the lion weighed no more than a pebble. Then, with a careless motion, he tossed the massive creature aside.

The lion flew.

It collided with one of the ice structures with a brutal sound—hard enough to shatter it on impact. Thick shards of ice sprayed outward in violent bursts, embedding into the ground and slicing through dead branches.

The lion hit the earth and skidded, leaving a gouge behind it.

Grimm stood where he had thrown it from, sword held low again.

"You’ll never beat me like that," Grimm said, shifting his blade in his grasp with a roll of his wrist. His tone wasn’t even mocking. That made it worse. "You have power, that field that interferes with my movement. But you are wasting it by fighting like a beast."

The lion’s claws dug into broken ice as it pushed itself up. Its head shook once, sending shards flying from its mane. Its golden eyes pierced Grimm with a hatred so dense it almost felt physical.

Grimm’s helmet tilted again.

"And," Grimm continued, as though the fight had not resumed yet, "I do not know how your power functions. But if it’s simply weakening me, then that suggests an obvious solution." He lifted his sword slightly. His voice remained conversational. "I simply have to become stronger," Grimm said. Then, as if genuinely curious, he added, "No?"

Grimm’s question hung there.

The lion did not answer, it only stared.

And inside its mind, thoughts churned.

("So fast...") the lion thought, breathing heavier now, chest rising and falling. ("But Mantle of Resolve should be in effect.) The lion’s thoughts sharpened, furious. ("He should be weakening the more I—")

The thought cut off as the lion bared its teeth, it’s aura only flared brighter. Its paws planted wider and its body lowered.

Then, with a sudden violent inhale, it unleashed another roar.

"FEAR REND!"

The roar was mighty—so mighty it carried force. A pressure that shook the remaining ice structures. It rattled the dead branches and rolled through the forest in a wave. And with that wave, specks of red began to mix with the lion’s golden aura. The aura intensified all the more, thickening and becoming sharper at the edges—as if the air around the lion had become serrated.

Grimm, however, only watched.

"Oh?" he said. And the way he said it, still intrigued was somehow worse than fear. Grimm’s voice held genuine interest once more. "What are you doing now?" He asked.

The lion’s roar ceased.

It glared at Grimm’s armored form, chest heaving, aura pulsing gold and red.

("He possesses no fear to amplify.") The lion realized, and the realization made its stomach churn. ("No hesitation either.") The lion’s eyes narrowed further. ("But it matters not.") the lion thought, hatred burning brighter. ("If he will not fear me naturally... then I shall force him to.")

Its claws dug into the ground.

Its gaze stayed locked on him, then it struck. Its massive forepaw slammed into the ruined ground with a heavy impact—and for a fraction of a second, nothing happened.

Then the earth screamed.

A violent surge of power rippled out from under the lion’s paw, and the ground ahead of it split open. From that rupture, translucent red spikes erupted in a sudden, accelerating wave—dozens, then hundreds—spears of condensed force that looked like glass dipped in blood.

They raced forward like a stampede, carving through the forest in a widening path. Each spike erupted brutally, ripping roots from the soil, shredding brittle trees, and pulverizing stone and ice alike. The remains of Grimm’s earlier ice pillars were struck and shattered again, exploding into shards as the red wave tore through them without slowing.

The sound was horrific.

A constant grinding and tearing, Grimm was still standing in the wave’s path. For a single moment, he watched the spikes coming for him.

Then his body vanished.

A burst—like the world had decided he was no longer there.

The red spikes tore through where he had been standing a fraction of a second earlier, shredding the ground into a cratered trench. The wave kept going, widening and racing forward into the deeper forest, continuing to destroy everything in its path even after it had already missed its target.

Trees snapped like bones and the earth split open in long, bleeding-looking fissures.

Grimm reappeared to the side, sabatons planted on a slab of ice and dirt, sword hanging loosely downward.

The lion’s head snapped toward him instantly. Its aura flared and then it charged.

The speed was absurd.

For something so massive, it moved like a cannonball fired at point-blank range. The ground broke under its paws with each step, and the air behind it burst into violent turbulence. Its mane whipped back wildly with the intense movement.

It reached Grimm almost instantly.

Its left claw swept out in a wide, killing motion—fast enough that it should have taken Grimm’s head clean off his shoulders.

Grimm parried it one-handed.

His sword met the claw with a clean clang—and the impact sent a rolling shock through the area. The sound was sharp enough to make nearby shards of ice vibrate. The force pushed outward in a visible wave, flattening dead grass and scattering loose dust.

But Grimm’s stance didn’t break, his sabatons didn’t even slide. The lion’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second, disbelief flashing again.

Then it swiped again, Grimm parried again. The lion snapped its jaws toward Grimm’s throat. Grimm turned his head slightly, and the bite caught nothing but air. The lion tried to follow with another claw. Grimm pivoted, the motion was almost lazy, and as he pivoted, he stepped in close.

The lion’s pupils narrowed, registering danger a fraction too late. Grimm’s free hand slid behind his back again, the movement almost insulting in its casualness.

Then his leg moved in a brutal kick. His sabaton drove into the lion’s abdomen with a brutal sound. And for a split second, the lion’s body froze, its mouth opened. No roar came out yet, just a strangled, disbelieving exhale.

Then the force landed fully.

A shockwave exploded outward from the point of impact, blasting dust and shattered ice away in a wide ring. The lion’s ribs snapped—not one or two, but a chain of them—audible even over the chaos, a series of cracks that would make anyone wince.

The lion roared in pain. A raw sound that shook the air, the kind of roar that came from something that had never been hurt like that before. Its massive body lifted off the ground, launched upward. The lion’s paws flailed for purchase, claws scraping empty air. Its golden-and-red aura flickered violently as if to mirror him.

It rose, weightless for an impossible moment, then gravity reclaimed it.

The lion plummeted.

It crashed into the ground hard enough to crater it, sending a fresh burst of debris outward. The impact threw up a cloud of dust and frost so thick it briefly obscured its form.

Grimm didn’t chase, he simply stood there, sword still held down, watching the dust settle. His helmet remained fixed on the lion as it struggled in the crater, trying to rise, body trembling and its breath ragged.

The lion’s aura pulsed again, stubbornly refusing to die down.

Grimm spoke at last, his voice was flat.

"...I’ve lost interest." The lion’s head jerked up, eyes blazing, saliva mixed with blood stringing from its jaws. Grimm’s sword lifted slightly, just a minor adjustment. "You’re boring," Grimm said calmly. "All that power, but when it comes down to it, you swing wildly and you merely rely on brute force."

The lion snarled, trying to force its body upright despite the broken ribs, its breath hitching in pain.

Grimm’s helmet tilted.

"And worst of all," Grimm continued, voice almost disappointed, "you still refuse to answer a simple question." He took one step forward. "So I’ll stop asking."