Chapter 4. The Red of Scorching Sun

Sharp, predatory eyes. Red fur blazing reflecting the burning sun. And a snarling sneer, as if mocking.

Zen stared at the red sclera and black irises of the beast. It was a wolf, or was it a dog? As big as a horse, and probably twice as heavy. He tried hard to hold into the collapsed roof, as the groaning sound beneath it sent knives stabbing through his soul.

They stared at each other, a beast and a guide. With blazing arrogance and cold fury.

Askan's instinct as an esper was to slay this beast first, but the sound of a weak groan from beneath the rubble tied his hand. If he let go, with the weight of the beast, the collapsing ceiling would definitely crush the twins. But if they did nothing...

And then, the beast moved. In a swift and ferocious movement that didn't give the esper any room for assembling his weapon, the beast swung its front leg to the guide.

Damnit! Askan cursed inwardly. Of course it would—beast would always attack the weaker one.

He couldn't even shout a warning to the guide, just watched in dread as the claw came to swat at Zen.

But it never did.

Askan thought he would either see the guide getting thrown from the impact or getting clawed into a bloody mess.

Instead, Askan watched with widened eyes as Zen caught the beast's claw with his bare hand. And it wasn't just a sudden spurt of strength driven by recklessness. There was a surge of magic power along Zen's arm that was used to grab on the beast's claw.

Both Askan and the beast were shocked. But the shock wasn't as big as when Zen strengthened the grip he had on the beast's leg and pumped magic power into his hand.

"Duck," he said to Askan, and the Esper lowered his head just as the beast got thrown above his head into the other opening on the collapsed wall. He could hear crashing sounds from the outside as the beast tumbled and rolled to the ground.

"What—"

"If I held the beast, can you get my brothers out?" Zen asked before Askan could even voice anything.

Obviously, Askan wanted to say that it was impossible for a guide to restrain a normal beast, much less a commander-rank beast from a medium-class dungeon. But then, he just saw the guide throw the beast with one hand like an esper.

So he couldn't tell the guide it was impossible. "Yes," he said, and the guide immediately bolted to the direction of the growling sound that was all fury instead of mockery now.

The beast was astonished. He hadn't felt any trace of magic power from the masked human before, unlike the other human. But suddenly, the beast felt a surge of power from the masked human, flowing from the human's neck to his arm that was used to throw it outside.

And now, before it could move back to the high place, the strange human already jumped and landed a kick on its side. The magic power now swirling on the human's legs instead of his arms, and the human stood before the beast, as if determined to prevent it from going up.

The strange human, Zen, looked at the beast with cold blue eyes, like a deep ocean. He could see the confusion inside the beast's eyes, as the magic power he used to enhance his legs diminished.

The beast, as well as Askan Bellum, must've been confused. After all, Zen, which was supposed to be a guide, utilized a magic power like an esper.

It was something that Zen had been hiding for his entire life. He had even managed to hide it from Umbra.

His unique trait.

It wasn't the way his guiding was comfortable and carried a calming scent like how Sierra thought—that was his hard work on training his guiding technique.

His unique trait was way more formidable—and more dangerous. It was the ability to turn the corrosion he absorbed into magical energy akin to the one used by an esper.

The reason why Zen could endlessly absorb esper's corrosion all this time was because he could instantly purify it into raw energy. The more corrosion he absorbed, the more powerful he became.

But it wasn't like Zen could turn into a superior, invincible being. He still had the same limitation as other guides—his vessel. It was just that Zen had two vessels; one that was used to store the corrosion and one that was used to store the transformed energy. He could keep on emptying his corrosion vessel by sending the purified miasma to the energy vessel. But once both was full, he couldn't do more.

And at the end of the day, he still wasn't an esper. He had no skills or special abilities like espers. All he could do was channeled the raw energy to amplify his physical condition.

But that was enough.

The beast snarled again as it felt piercing pain from its side. A broken ribs, probably.

After all, it was the accumulated energy from three-star esper—twice—and then several others. Zen's saved energy right now was probably equivalent to bottom-tier four-star esper.

But it wasn't just a matter of energy. Zen had been training his body, learning how to fight, how to handle weapons, all to survive and protected himself. Ironically, he did it to protect himself from espers—especially those that saw guide as an object for their own benefits and pleasure.

This was his first time using his ability to fight a miasmic beast.

But it didn't matter. Whether it was those bastard espers or this snarling beast. They were all the same, trampling on the things he hold dear.

Ah.

Zen smiled bitterly as he braced the beast's maw that came into him. He had always denied it, but it seemed like after all, he cared about his brothers more than he thought.

The fear as he ran through the bloody road, the dread as he found the collapsed building, the anxiety as he found his brothers trapped beneath the rubble, and the anger as the beast crushed the collapsing roof even further.

He channeled all those feelings into the stigma on his nape, drawing the energy as it glowed bright under his collar, and unleashed it at the beast; pressing the maw in a deadly grip and crushing it.

The beast couldn't even make a howl with its crushed jaw, and it trashed about as the arrogance turned into instinctive fear.

But Zen gripped the beast's limb, and again threw it to the ground. Again and again and again. Until the limbs made a creaking sound, and the beast was jolting, releasing more and more miasma as a defense mechanism.

Zen, however, had been used to the exposure of miasma. It was something that he couldn't help but get used to, as a red-zone dweller and a frequent member of dungeon strike squad. His mask, his clothes, his constitution—all made for enduring the onslaught of the toxic environment.

Ignoring the constant spurts of black smoke, Zen drove his remaining energy on his fist and rained punch after furious punch into the whimpering beast's head, until it caved and his fist was stained in black blood.

It was only then that he stopped, devoid of magical energy. And it was then that Askan came down, staring wordlessly at Zen with the guide's twin brothers in his arms and back.

Stepping back from the dead beast, Zen wiped the black blood on his clothes and walked toward the Esper with an empty look. There was a hardness there that made Askan keep his silence, although there was so much he wanted to ask. But it was clear from that eyes that Zen wouldn't answer any of it.

And then there were the curt words too, "Don't ask," the guide said. It was probably rude to say such things to someone who had been generously helping him. But Zen truly had no time, energy, or willingness to be interrogated. Staring into Askan's own silent gaze, he added. "Please,"

When Askan said nothing back, Zen took Aiden from the Esper's back into his own. The boy groaned as he moved into Zen, and muttered deliriously. "...Ze...in..."

"Don't talk, we'll get a healer soon," the muffled voice talked almost in a scolding tone, just how Zen usually talked to his brothers. It was curt and sounded harsh, but also so familiar, that the boy instantly exhaled in relief as he slumped weakly on his older brother's back.

"Can you help me with him?" Zen turned to Askan, but the man had already carefully cradled the other boy in his arms, clearly meaning to do so without Zen needing to ask.

So he just muttered a thank you, and they started to head toward the barricade. Now that the boss and the commander had been taken down, the rest of the minions were easier to be hunted.

Zen had wanted to run. He truly did, but he couldn't. Not because he had no energy left, but because Aiden would groan with the slightest jolt. So they could only try to walk as fast as they could.

"Mister Esper—"

"Askan," the Esper cut him. "My name is Askan,"

Zen glanced at him for a bit, and then at Hayden in his arms. "Zein," he muttered with a softer voice. It was almost felt foreign in his tongue, too used to the name written on his fake license card—although there was almost no difference between them.

"Can you go first? I think..." he couldn't even manage to force the words out.

He could see it, how weak his youngest brother was. The boy had been unconscious even before they came. Zen tried hard not to look at it—at the crushed, limp legs. At the ragged, uneven breathing. At the pale complexion and the darkened lips.

"Can you go first?" he could only repeat his request.

"What about you? If there's a beast—"

"They should mostly already be wiped out by now," Zen tightened his hold on his brother, and stared at Askan. "I'll...we'll be fine. There should be a clean-up crew making rounds anyway,"

Askan frowned and stared at Zen for a while. He could see the sweat on the guide's face, his exhaustion. But the biggest thing he could see there was worry, so he sighed. "Alright, I'll try to be swift. If I meet an esper, I'll send them your way."

Zen nodded. Anything. Just get going. His eyes shout his thought loudly. Just please...please make it...

He didn't stop moving even as he watched Askan move swiftly forward. His mind conjured up the shortest route he could take, all the while his heart beating loudly like a drum.

Perhaps it was beating too hard, that his brother slowly stirred. The boy lifted his head for a bit, and leaned on Zen's shoulder.

"...brother..."

A weak sound, almost like a whisper, even though the source was basically right below Zen's ear.

"I told you not to talk, preserve your energy," Zen told his brother off with a clenched jaw. His hands that hold his brother were tightening. He stared hard at the road, trying to find the path that offered them shadow, hiding his brother from the scorching sun.

So he couldn't see the way his brother smiled on his shoulder.

"Zein...I'm glad...you come..."

"What are you even saying now? Of course I'll come for you," Zen furrowed his brow. He wanted his brother to stop talking. Every time the boy did, there was a tremble against his back—a strained lung. "I told you to stop talking!"

But Zen forgot that his twin brothers were stubborn kids who would fight the residents who talked back about Zen back home.

So, obviously, Aiden ignored his older brother's command. "Yeah...we know you'll...come,"

"Just stop—"

"Zein..." for some reason, his brother's voice was getting clearer and firmer. And Zen hated that. "Thank you,"

"What the fuck do you need to thank me for?" Zen grumbled, even as his heart was getting pummeled.

There was a chuckling sound, so soft it came more as a wheeze. "Just...for everything that you've done,"

"I've done nothing for you to be thankful for,"

This time, the chuckling sound came clearer, and so was the rumbling against Zen's back.

"Zein," it was no more than a whisper, but Zen could hear it like thunder—gut-wrenching and painful. "You have to...live your life..."

"What the fuck are you talking about now?"

Please stop talking.

Please just stop talking.

Zen bit his lips, feet hastening as much as possible. And yet the stubborn younger brother continued nonetheless.

"Promise me...promise us..."

"Just stop talking..."

"Zein..."

Why was it that his legs felt like leads now? He thought he had walked as swiftly as he could, but the southern barricade seemed to be so far away.

"I got it. So just stop talking, yeah?" Zen couldn't even muster enough willpower to keep his voice from shaking. It was a request. It was the softest way he ever talked to his brother—to anyone, really.

"Yeah, okay..." finally, his brother said softly, laying his head on Zen's shoulder.

Following the path littered with blood and corpses, Zen hastened his steps, and then he just started to run.

There was no protest or groan. There was no rumbling sound. All the way until he arrived at the fence, where he stopped.

Askan was there, with the other twin in his arms. He looked at Zen, but said nothing, wordlessly watching the guide cross the barricade.

And Zen just kept walking, under the scorching sun of the red-zone, which make everything feel like they were on fire.

The heat was blasting into him and his black clothes.

And yet the warmth was slowly fading from his back.