Fire crackled—burning hotter against the whooshing wind. It soothed Ymir's frantic mind. His bruised soul.
Distractions grew distant, thoughts cleared-yet the murmurs lingered, haunting him since the moment he stepped into this cursed place.
His eyes mirrored firelight—orange, wild, alive. Golden motes drifted upward, like dying stars.
Warmth brushed against exposed skin as his cracked, drawn-out breath came like a visible cloud.
Shoulders hunched, he leaned over, absorbing as much heat as he could. His small stature—a product of years of neglect and abuse—was like a blessing in disguise.
If not for his short height, fitting inside this one-by-one-meter hole would have been a pipe dream, expanding it proved difficult as thicker and sturdier roots were in the way.
Ruminating over his current situation, his gaze fell on his mended leg—blemished and burned but still functional.
It dawned on him that while he slept, His injuries healed somehow. He thought back to his fight against the gremlin. The same thing had happened-signs the earliest scuffle faded into scars
He remembered a certain detail that he had overlooked. Checking the back of his hand, he found just what he expected.
[You have slain a dormant fiend: Fell Rat]
Maybe every time he killed, his injuries healed? Maybe that was the labyrinth's own way to balance things out. You survive, you heal, and keep advancing. That way, if you had a decent background and prepared properly for the covenant trial, The likelihood of emerging triumphant felt a touch stronger.
"So basically..." He paused. "Ah, damn it. Maybe the trial just isn't as relentless as I imagined. Maybe I'm just that unlucky..." he muttered, eyes dropping, shoulders slumping deeper.
From what he could tell, everything he had on him had teleported to this... dimension? Along with him.
"I bet those rich, pompous fools showed up with weapons, armor, and all sorts of basic necessities. Meanwhile, like a stray mutt, I wander the labyrinth with nothing."
Ymir let out a tired sigh, turned his head to the side facing the veil of snow, muttering in a resentful tone, "Who knew there'd come a day I'd miss spicy grilled rats."
Living in an asteroid settlement felt no different than life in planetary slums. Insects and rodents infested unclean places no matter where you were.
Some places just made better breeding grounds. On asteroids where intelligent and unintelligent life were discarded, rats—like some insects—were an overly available source of food.
Ymir had, in fact, survived on insects, sometimes going as far as devouring rotten rat corpses when desperation struck.
His gray eyes scanned the thick snow beyond the entrance. He was surprised the strong wind hadn't killed the fire. Maybe because the vines were an excellent source of fuel.
Out of the corner of his eye, a snow-covered shape caught his attention. He squinted through the broken glass, wondering about the oddly familiar outline.
Recognition struck. It slipped his mind that he already had meat—fresh meat. A large mouse-like creature, the one he'd killed.
He cursed his constant habit of missing the obvious. A fresh meal had been right there—dangerous as it was.
Rubbing his eyes, Ymir muttered caustically, "Tch. I can't believe I nearly missed such a opportunity. What the hell is wrong with me..."
His expression hardened. "Accidents like this keep happening. There's no way it's a coincidence."
Irritated, he carved into the rodent's bulging hind leg, separating tough, leathery skin from its muscle. Hands bloody and frame shivering, he returned to his hidden hole.
He tossed more weathered vines into the flames, reigniting the fire. The meat sizzled, releasing an enticing hiss.
White smoke filled the cramped space, making him cough, but the aroma kept his eyes locked on the food. His stomach growled. Saliva pooled. For all he cared, this monster meat could be poison—he'd still eat it. Anything to silence the emptiness in his gut.
Time crawled. Ymir tapped his fingers on his crossed legs, barely holding himself back from biting into the raw muscle.
At last, the meat cooked through—balmy, rich, and unexpectedly tender. Compared to synthetic paste and expired cans, it was divine.
The storm outside blocked the scent, otherwise, he might've attracted something hungrier than himself.
The longest ten minutes of his life passed. He cut the meat in half, set a portion aside, and devoured the other. Warm juices flooded his mouth. Despite being hunted by the thing hours ago, Ymir now chewed it slowly, relishing every bite.
He had never tasted anything so fulfilling.
Using some safer vines, he crafted a small pouch, tucked the extra portion inside, and secured it in his pocket.
He also fashioned crude vine armor—a bramble vest wrapped around his torso and limbs. Something was better than nothing, and the thorns might even serve as a deterrent.
The barrage of snow outside eased, its intensity subsiding. The wind that had howled moments ago faded into a chilly breeze carrying soft snowflakes.
Ymir, blissfully savoring his meal, froze with a piece of meat raised halfway to his mouth. His eyes shifted to the quieting storm. He took a bite, then quickly crawled to the entrance to check the conditions.
He welcomed the calm, but understood: it was time to move on.
Sticking his head outside, he saw nothing but white. The cobblestones were obscured, the path buried. He tilted his head upward, a flicker of curiosity in his eyes.
"So those fluffy shapes drifting up there... they're clouds, right? If that's true..." He looked down and raised an eyebrow. "Rain? No... maybe snow?"
It was the first time Ymir had ever witnessing a storm firsthand, or clouds gliding above so he was unsure. He'd read about them—seen pictures. But nothing compared to the real deal.
He sighed, restless. Returning inside, he smothered the fire. The last thing he needed was to burn down the labyrinth and turn it into a flaming death trap.
His unplanned rest had come to an end.
Time to move again—following the same uncertain current that had ruled his every step so far.