Act 2. Despair is grayish
His first memories always started in the same place.
A vast plain dyed in gold. The wind blows over it.
As he made his way through the rippling grass, a strangely dark blue sky poured down overhead.
Barcas was overwhelmed with intense shudders as he aimlessly moved between the golden and blue borders.
At some point, he didn't even know where hr was going. Hr was just running frantically in the wind.
I was free.
I can go anywhere and do anything.
The beautiful world in front of him was whispering like that.
Barcas's heart was pounding.
The heat of blood flowing through the veins and the coolness of the dry air filling the lungs.
All those senses told him that he was alive.
He tasted the joy of life.
However, the glorious moment did not last long.
A thick gray wall encircled him from all sides.
A cramped space where you can't even sit down, let alone lie down. Locked in a closed room that was almost like a coffin, he scraped down the walls so that his nails were crushed.
That useless resistance was not long in coming.
Through the narrow gap in the wall, the fanatic's eyeballs look into him. The priest will never release him until all the evil that dwells in him is gone.
In deep despair, he killed all his senses.
The first thing hr tore off was the nociception.
Then he numbed his sense of taste and smell.
At some point, Barcas didn't feel hungry, and the desire to sleep disappeared.
He could no longer be called a living creature.
It was only when all the contents evaporated and only an empty shell remained that the door of the tomb opened.
Barcas looked up at the person standing with her back to the light, with empty eyes. Instead of cold eyeballs flashing with strange heat and a cold face that seemed to be cast out of steel, a slender face turned pale with shock came into view.
A woman with dark hair and light eyes stretched out her arm towards him. A slender finger touched his cracked cheek. However, hr could not feel anything but a faint pressure.
The hand, which might have been salvation, led him out of the tomb. The sun's rays poured into my pupils.
A strangely pale landscape entered his retina.
He soon noticed that everything in his eyes was grayish.
A faded world without color or odor.
It seems that the whole world will be reduced to ashes and crumble at any moment.
Do you know? It may be that it is you who has turned to ashes.
He slowly lifted his eyelids.
For a moment, he couldn't really recognize where he was.
After a few seconds, he saw the ceiling of the barracks with dark shadows.
He slowly raised his arms.
Barcas saw not the ugly hands of a child, but the hands of a man with bulging bones and tendons.
As he was trying to touch it as if to check something, he heard something like the cry of a beast from somewhere.
Barcas mechanically stood up. Almost at the same time, a soldier rushed into the barracks.
"Sir Sheerkan! The Direwolf has appeared!"
He immediately put his foot under the bed. He picked up the halberd he had left at his bedside, and as he went outside, the waiters clung to him and wrapped a lightweight cuirass around him.
He shook off the cluttered hands and quickly scanned the cluttered campsite.
The pale dawn faintly illuminated the orderly row of tents and the soldiers running frantically between them.
Soon, they were able to find a dark beast with a body length of almost eight cubettes (about 240 centimeters).
The monster seemed to have found him, too. The giant wolf, which was flattened, slammed the ground and jumped up with a ferocious roar.
He stretched his left foot half a step forward and held the Halberd diagonally. The heavy-axe blade at the end of the spear tilted up to the ground.
At the same time that a dark shadow filled his vision, he tightly gripped the spear and swung it wide in an oblique line.
The crescent-shaped blade pierced through the wolf's tough skin, cutting through the dense flesh and thick bones in one fell swoop.
Sticky blood gushed out like a fountain from the cut surface where the head had fallen off.
Barcas wiped off the liquid splashed on his cheeks with his sleeve and turned his head to the side to look around. He saw the sight of gray beasts scattering agility among the conifers lined up like a fence.
Noticing that they were retreating, Barcas lowered his gaze to the massive body hanging on the floor
'...It seems that this guy was an alpha.'
When wolves lose their leader, they quickly lose their system and become disintegrated.
He slammed the pointed tip of the spear into the floor and walked to the place where the tent had collapsed to check the damage.
He saw a furry, black beast lying between the broken pole and the mound of a faint cloth. As Barcas bent down to examine the carcass of the wolf with a piercing heart, he heard a light voice behind his back that gave him a sense of frivolity.
'From the first day you returned to your hometown, you have been holding a welcome ceremony quite loudly."
When Barcas turned his head, he saw a man wearing only a loose coat on his naked upper body. He was a warrior of the Barakhan clan. He slammed the axe spear he was holding into the floor and pointed to the forest with a nod.
"Do you want your men to track you?"
"We can't disperse our forces right now. First of all, repair the damage and strengthen vigilance."
"There is no harm. All it did was bite a horse."
The man kneaded the nape of his neck with one hand and responded dryly.
"One of the people who held the coming-of-age ceremony this year was slightly injured, but fortunately, there were no fatalities."
Barcas straightened upright.
Before he knew it, the bright sunlight was illuminating every corner of the messed-up campsite.
He looked around carefully to assess the exact damage, and then turned his eyes back to the company
"To organize the camp. The beasts that smell the blood move before they come in."
"I'll do it as a division."
As the man turned around at a leisurely pace, he also moved to the center of the camp.
The sight of soldiers struggling to calm the excited horses and the servants clearing the broken tents flashed through his pupils.
Barcas passed them and walked to the canteen next to the large barracks.
A ghostly pale shadow was reflected on the clear rainwater he had received the day before.
He looked down at it for a moment, then scooped up the water with his hand and washed the blood off his face. The lukewarm touch of the water caused a slight irritation on the skin.
He stole it roughly, put his hand to the tip of his nose, and smelled it.
The fishy smell of blood disappeared, and there was a faint fishy smell.
Barcas couldn't tell which smelled better.
The sense of smell was the first sensation he regained. However, he still couldn't connect the stimuli transmitted to his brain with emotions.
He was able to distinguish the type and Intensity of stimuli felt through his nose, but it did not lead to good or bad feelings. It is just a distinction between what makes others feel good and what does not.
And he learned that the smell of blood was especially unpleasant to men.
He casually took off his stained armor, threw it on the floor, and checked his shirt.
Fortunately, there were no blood stains. However, there may be other unpleasant odors that he does not recognize.
He turned to his barracks to change clothes.
At that time, he found a quarter dwarf stamping its feet in front of the tent located in the center of the camp.
Barcas went straight to him without delay.
"What's going on?"
It was a rough voice that even to his ears felt alien.
The woman also gave him a frightened look, as if surprised.
"Oh, I haven't seen the young lady since earlier..."
At that moment, tinnitus came from his ears.
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