Ch 7.5

In the darkness, Ben lay sprawled on the cold stone floor, staring blankly at the ceiling. Two lizards were copulating up there—slow, rhythmic, mindless. It was the only entertainment the dungeon offered.

His mouth was still faintly stained with the bitter residue of bug juice—something he had not eaten willingly. Even now, the memory of that thick, gooey taste clung to the back of his throat, twisting his stomach. It had been five days since their capture.

Hunger had won eventually.

After nearly a week of starvation, Ben had caved and eaten the bowl shoved through the bars: half‑cooked meat and writhing silkworms. Kraven had looked genuinely disappointed that there hadn’t been a second bowl. At the time, the food had tasted… unreal. When hunger dulled his senses, the uncooked meat had seemed rich, almost sweet. The worms had writhed between his teeth, bursting as he bit down, their juices flooding his mouth like nectar. His body had accepted it greedily, shamelessly.

But once the hunger pangs faded, reality returned. Hard.

Ben had collapsed onto the floor, gagging, coughing, retching until his throat burned. What had tasted heavenly moments before now filled him with revulsion. He lay there now, unmoving, eyes hollow, staring at the ceiling in quiet regret.

“If I had my seeds…” he muttered weakly, voice empty.
“I’d have grown something decent. Juicy fruits, vegetables… anything.”

Across the cell, Kraven lay on his back, hands folded behind his head.
“And I’d have eaten your share,” the wolf said casually. “Would’ve been a win‑win.”

Ben didn’t even have the strength to glare. If he moved too much, the nausea would rise again—and with it, the hunger.

So man and wolf lay in silence, the distant murmur of the Pavilion drifting down from above. The faint scrape of claws drew Ben’s eyes back to the wall, where the two lizards still clung, locked in their slow, mindless rhythm.

Ben exhaled through his nose.

“…How long has it been?” he asked at last, impatience creeping into his voice. “When are we getting out of here?”

Kraven didn’t look away from the ceiling.

“Another week,” he said. “Maybe less. Now isn’t the right time.”

Ben frowned. “Why not now?”

Kraven’s gaze followed the lizards lazily.

“Because the moment we tear this place apart, that hag puts a bounty on our heads,” he said. “And more importantly—this Pavilion falls under BRAVE jurisdiction.”

That made Ben shift slightly.

“You don’t want those bastards hunting you,” Kraven added. “Once they start, they don’t stop.”

Ben clicked his tongue. “So waiting a week changes that?”

Kraven let out a short scoff. “No. They’ll still come.”

“Then what the hell are we waiting for?” Ben snapped, frustration breaking through.

Kraven finally blinked, though his eyes never left the ceiling.

“Relax,” he said. “If my hunch is right, we’ll get a clean opportunity. One that lets us walk out without angering the hag… and clears the debt at the same time.”

A faint smirk tugged at his lips.

“But for that—we wait.”

Ben’s expression hardened. “And if your hunch is wrong?”

Kraven shrugged, unconcerned.

“Then it might actually be better for the continent,” he said lightly. “Worse for us, though.”

Ben stared at him.

“That makes no sense,” he muttered, dragging a hand over his face. “By the time we sit here another week, Chloe—the one we were supposed to protect—is either dead… or broken.”

His jaw tightened.

“We’ve already failed.”

“This escort mission?” Kraven said, his tone flat as he shifted his gaze just slightly. “It’s trivial in the grand scheme of things.”

Ben turned toward him, frowning. “What in the world are you talking about?”

Kraven’s eyes narrowed.

“That girl is already doomed,” he said. “The Church doesn’t send its best here. They send priests and sisters who don’t matter—outcasts, failures. People they can afford to lose.”

Ben shot to his feet.

“So what?!” he snapped, anger flaring instantly. “That doesn’t change anything. Our job is still to get her to the destination in one piece.”

His fists clenched at his sides.

“And I am getting that damned adventurer license this time. I’m not failing again.”

He dropped back down, frustration boiling over.

“I can’t believe we already screwed up before the mission even started—because of you. If I knew it would be like this, I would’ve gone alone. This is your fault.”

Kraven rolled onto his side with a quiet sigh.

“All you care about is that stupid license,” he muttered. “Can’t you see the bigger picture?”

His lips curled into a faint, unsettling smile.

“I can smell it. A war is coming. Something big—something that’ll be written into history.”

His claws slid out, dragging lightly across the ground as he spoke.

“The only thing that excites me more than a good night is a battlefield drenched in blood,” he said, almost dreamlike. “And this… this feels like the beginning of something grand.”

His grin widened.

“The glory. The fame. The kind you don’t get from small-time jobs like this.”

He tilted his head slightly.

“Though,” he added, “it still wouldn’t compare to hunting down something like the Three Great Broodlords.”

Ben stared at him, confusion overtaking his anger.

He wasn’t well-versed in matters beyond the Isle. Politics, factions—none of it was his concern.

“…What are you even talking about?” he asked. “What war?”

Kraven shrugged lazily.

“Nothing concrete yet. Just a feeling.”

He glanced toward the distance.

“The Church has been moving fast lately. Missionaries spreading everywhere. Even weaker beastman tribes have started converting.”

His tone grew quieter.

“There are rumors… that the Church has already issued a secret order. Something big. Something ugly.”

Ben listened, his expression tightening.

Kraven continued.

“That girl? She’s just a cog. Small, disposable.”

He tapped a claw against the ground.

“What interests me is the diplomat—the Bishop they sent here. Someone important enough to speak directly with the Warlords.”

His eyes sharpened.

“And for the Warlords to set aside their differences and call a united council… that hasn’t happened in twenty years.”

Ben’s confusion deepened.

“Then why is he here?” he asked. “What is the Church planning?”

Kraven closed his eyes briefly, as if bored of the question.

“That,” he said, “I don’t know.”

A faint smirk returned to his lips.
“But I can tell you one thing.”

Kraven’s eyes opened again.

“Nothing good is going to come out of this.”

Ben frowned, leaning forward slightly. “So that’s another one of your hunches?”

He let out a breath, then shook his head.

“Even if you’re right, that’s more reason for us to act now. We should break out and escort Chloe somewhere safe.”

Kraven snorted.

“Oh, she’s safe here,” he said dismissively. “Sure, a few penises might scare her at first, but she’ll get used to it. The Pavilion will keep her around as long as she behaves.”

Ben’s expression twisted in disgust.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he snapped. “Protecting her means protecting her from that too. I’m not going to let someone like her get dragged into that kind of life.”

Kraven rolled his eyes.

“Don’t start parroting that church nonsense,” he said. “Only those repressed priests and their little followers care about things like that.”

He stretched lazily.

“We beastmen live how we want. We take what we want. Those limp-dick priests don’t even know what they’re missing.”

Ben looked away, jaw tight, clearly unconvinced.

After a moment, his brows furrowed again as another thought surfaced.

“I still don’t get it,” he muttered. “Why would the Church send diplomats here in the first place?”

He glanced back at Kraven.

“Aren’t two of the Heavenly Virtues elves? If they wanted to negotiate, couldn’t they just go through the elven kingdoms? Why come all the way here?”

Kraven tilted his head slightly.

“You’re not wrong,” he admitted. “There are… tensions between the Elven Virtues and the elven tribes. It’s complicated.”

He waved a hand dismissively.

“But that’s not the strange part.”

His expression sharpened.

“What I don’t get is why a so-called diplomat would walk straight into hostile territory… and leave his guards behind.”

Ben blinked.

“Wait—what? The Church guards are here?” he asked. “I heard about the diplomat arriving in town, but I didn’t know anything about guards staying back.”

Kraven nodded.

“Calling them guards is generous,” he said. “They’re mercenaries. A guild hired by the Church to escort the Bishop.”

He let out a quiet scoff.

“The strange thing is, the Bishop already left for Despora. But his ‘guards’?”

A faint smirk returned.

“They’re still here. Holed up in the Pavilion’s private cabins, drinking, wasting time… freeloading.”

Ben went quiet.

“I see…” he murmured.

Kraven stretched his arms behind his head, staring up at the ceiling.

“I actually came here to hunt that mercenary leader,” he said. “Strong mage. Worth the trouble.” He paused, clicking his tongue as a faint grimace crossed his face. “…Then I got distracted.”

His lips curled faintly.

“By the girls.”

He let out a quiet scoff.

“Almost forgot about the mission. The escort too. Tranquil Pavilion’s dangerous in more ways than one.”

Ben stared at him, unimpressed.

“You’re unbelievable.”

Kraven tilted his head slightly, as if considering something.

“Maybe the Church wanted me here,” he mused. “Maybe they knew I’d end up in this place.”

He frowned for a second—then shook his head.

“No… that’s giving them too much credit.”

Ben let out a long, tired breath.

“Stop flattering yourself,” he said. “And get to the point.”

Kraven yawned, clearly bored.

“I told you—these are just hunches. But one thing I’m certain of…” His eyes sharpened slightly. “Nothing good is going to come out of that War Council.”

Then, just as quickly, his usual grin returned.

“But hey—I live for conflict and pleasure. So as far as I’m concerned, things are going great.”

Ben pressed his fingers to his temple.

“Why now…” he muttered. “I was so close to getting my license.”

Kraven snorted.

“You’re still hung up on that?” he said. “That stupid license isn’t even worth the effort.”

Ben shot him an angry look.

“You don’t get it,” he snapped. “If I fail again, my master will kill me. I’m not joking.”

Kraven barely reacted.

Instead, he glanced upward and suddenly chuckled.

“Oh—look at that,” he said, nodding lazily. “Even the lizards up there are still going at it. Guess everything in this place has insane stamina.”

Ben’s eye twitched.

“I’m talking about something important here,” he snapped. “Can you pay attention for once?”

Before Kraven could respond, a loud creak echoed through the space.

The main gate opened.

Two figures stepped inside, both clad in floral kimonos. One walked with open irritation, her sharp eyes already narrowed in annoyance. The other moved beside her like a shadow—quiet, expressionless, her gaze distant and unreadable.

Between them, they carried a tray with two bowls.

Gina and Fina.

“Tch. Wake up, you lazy heads,” Gina barked, her voice cutting through the room. “Feeding time.”