[PP-F01] The First Few Lessons for the Weak

[Bael 1]

Bael's boots crunched through the tall grass, still damp with morning dew. Each step left a faint shimmer of light as the system registered his movement. The air here was different, less the metallic tang of blood, more the sweetness of open fields. The memory of his last kill flickered through his vision, a soft ding echoing somewhere in his HUD before he dismissed it. The boars had scattered long ago, their squeals fading into the trees, leaving the field eerily quiet.

He slung his greataxe over his shoulder, its edge still humming faintly from the kill. His gaze drifted lazily across the horizon until movement caught his eye, a flash of green and the soft gleam of a player's name hovering in the air. There, seated upon a jutting rock like some woodland sovereign, was Arsine. The woman of green.

"Ah," Bael murmured under his breath, a grin forming at the edge of his lips. "The poison girl."

He didn't bother to conceal his approach. The heavy rhythm of his steps pressed into the earth, the sound of armor creaking and steel dragging against leather echoing faintly in the quiet morning. The kind of sound that turned a peaceful moment into tension before the storm.

"You know," Bael said as he stopped several paces behind her, voice carrying easily across the breeze, "Talking to yourself in an open field like this.." His eyes drifted toward the horizon, then back to her. "Someone might think you’re inviting company."

He paused, studying her posture, the way her fingers lingered around those clawed gauntlets. "Or maybe," he continued, his tone dropping lower, "You're testing fate."

The greataxe shifted off his shoulder, its head sinking into the soil with a dull thud. His eyes glinted faintly in the sunlight, black, deep, and unblinking, as they landed on the bag in her hand. "So," he drawled, the corner of his mouth twitching upward, "Are they just truffles?"

The question hung in the air, half jest, half accusation. Bael's voice carried amusement, but beneath it was a current of curiosity. Was she really just playing with food.. or something more lethal?

He chuckled quietly, the sound low and rough. "You really do find the strangest ways to keep yourself entertained, don't you, Arsine?"

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WC: 378