Chapitre 3: Chapter 2: An Uneasy Mercy
The clearing was silent again, broken only by the faint drip of blood from slain beasts. The slime lingered where it had been left, trembling faintly, its gelatinous form shifting in uneven waves.
Sora—if such a name still belonged to him—did not move. He didn't trust the peace.
The Hero's footsteps faded into the forest, each one measured, calm, unhurried. It was the stride of someone who knew nothing in these woods could challenge them.
And yet, they had spared the slime.
Sora's thoughts churned. He was weak, vulnerable, the kind of creature adventurers killed for practice. Why had they walked away? Curiosity? Pity? Or something else he couldn't name?
His core pulsed unevenly. That choice unsettled him more than the blade ever could.
Farther along the path, the Hero moved through the undergrowth with steady grace. Their sword was clean, their expression unreadable, but their mind was not still.
That slime…
It had fought. Not well, not with skill, but with will. It hesitated before striking, as if it thought. Monsters did not hesitate.
The Hero's grip tightened on the hilt of their sword. Their duty was clear: slay what threatened humanity. And yet… they had stayed their hand.
"Strange," the Hero murmured under their breath. "Very strange."
The forest swallowed their words.
Back in the clearing, Sora finally shifted, dragging himself toward the shadow of the trees. His form wobbled, his movements clumsy, but he did not stop. One truth echoed inside him:
The Hero had chosen to let him live.
And that meant their paths would cross again.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone