Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Fire Lizard King

In the heart of the forest, a man shrouded in a layer of snow, shivering uncontrollably from the cold, dragged his right leg—already stiff with frostbite—as he trudged toward the depths of the valley.

Icicles hung from his nostrils, his teeth chattering ceaselessly, producing a harsh, clacking sound. Around his waist was tied a rope, at the end of which trailed two corpses, lashed together. Seen from above, his passage was marked by a long trail of footprints—he had been walking through the snow for an hour, and hallucinations had begun to flicker before his eyes.

He pulled out the last piece of snow wolf meat and tore into it, swallowing it raw. At last, his stomach felt a little less wretched. Raising a frozen hand, he pried off the ice-crusted blindfold from his eyes, only for the wind to snatch it away in an instant.

Beyond the gorge ahead lay the domain of the fire lizards—monstrous beasts whose lair was his destination. The man had a plan in mind.

“Big Brother, Second Brother, I won’t let your deaths be in vain. Wait a little longer, let me finish this last step, and I’ll join you soon!”

He spoke between ragged breaths; his severed left arm had lost all sensation to the cold, and his eyelids were growing heavier with every step. Each movement was a struggle, but he could not allow himself to collapse—not yet.

Drawing a knife, he gritted his teeth and stabbed it deep into his own shoulder. The blade sank in, his face contorted in agony, but he held on, teeth clenched. The searing pain jolted him awake, banishing sleep and exhaustion for a while, granting him clarity to press on, dragging his leaden legs through the snow.

All around him was a boundless, blinding white. The howling wind in his ears seemed to urge him to surrender and fall. In such a place, it was easy to break. Especially for someone who already knew he would not survive.

He did not know how long he walked, but the path began to narrow, and the ground ahead was bare of snow. In the distance rose a black mountain, not a single flake of snow on its summit.

A black road cut through the heart of the mountain, flanked by countless pale bones—whether animal or human, it was impossible to say—and piles of foul-smelling, deep green excrement.

The surface of the road radiated a low heat, not enough to burn, but the warmth increased little by little as he ventured deeper; the further he went, the higher the temperature grew.

He passed through a cave and emerged into a wide clearing, where the sight that greeted him left him stunned and rooted to the spot.

Beneath his feet began the rim of a vast pit. Within it, enormous white eggs were scattered everywhere; that same deep green dung littered the ground.

These were the eggs of the fire lizard monsters.

Each white shell was covered with crimson orbs the size of footballs. Two lizard eggs had already hatched, but the hatchlings were nowhere to be seen. As he watched, he felt the rope at his waist suddenly tighten.

Turning, he saw a young fire lizard gnawing at his rope, tugging insistently, while another was devouring the two frozen corpses.

Cursing at the creatures, the man seized his short blade and drove it into the neck of the lizard, then yanked upward, severing its head cleanly. The other, oblivious to the danger, still tugged at his rope and was dispatched just as swiftly.

He leapt down into the pit and, with his knife, methodically pierced each and every egg. In no time at all, every lizard egg in the pit was destroyed. With a satisfied laugh, he tossed aside the conical hat he had taken from the white-haired man, leaving it deliberately to one side.

Fire lizards were mutant beasts, their bodies black as coal, with flame-like markings running along their backs—hence their name. Their scales were impervious to blade or spear; the tip of their tails constantly flickered with fire, deterring any who dared approach.

They were so named not only for their appearance, but because, when faced with formidable foes, they could unleash a blast of fire from their mouths—either to escape or to strike a fatal blow when their enemy was off guard. Yet such an attack came at a terrible cost, severely damaging their internal organs and leaving them half-dead. Unless utterly desperate, they relied instead on their tails or claws.

...

Inside the treehouse.

“Trouble, another bowl, please!”

“Another bowl…”

“One more…”

It was as if the white-haired man's appetite, long suppressed, had burst free—he ate bowl after bowl without pause. At first, Bamu watched with a smile, but as the meal went on, his smile faded.

“This is the best meal I’ve ever had! It’s been so long since I’ve eaten this well. Thank you…”

Draining the last spoonful of soup, the man wiped his mouth and offered the brown bear a grateful smile. But Bamu lowered his head instead of looking pleased, his expression weighed down by worry.

It had been a long time since he’d felt warmth from anyone other than his parents. He feared it was all an illusion, that when the white-haired man recovered, he would kill him.

“Why don’t you hate me?”

“Why, after seeing what I look like, were you not afraid? Why didn’t you treat me like a monster and instead spoke to me?”

“Don’t you think a creature who can talk, who looks so much like a human, is strange and repulsive?”

As Bamu spoke, tears fell despite himself. He believed only he could understand his own words, so he didn’t look at the white-haired man’s face.

The white-haired man smiled serenely, folding his hands behind his head and gazing up at the roof. “Who said you’re repulsive? At least, I don’t think so. Since I’ve eaten your food, I suppose that makes us friends.”

“Fr…Friend?” Bamu was puzzled.

The white-haired man glanced at Bamu, extended his left arm, and made a fist. “In our world, a friend is the most important person besides family.”

Bamu seemed to understand this. He lowered his head, tears streaming down his cheeks as he bit his lip. When he looked up, his eyes were brimming with tears and snot ran down his face.

At last, he had his first friend—someone who did not hate or shun him for being different.

Imitating the white-haired man, Bamu clenched his paw into a fist and reached out. The white-haired man leaned forward, and their fists bumped together—a bond of friendship sealed.

Bamu wept in earnest, while the white-haired man grinned, glancing out the window. In that moment, he saw the forest ablaze, trees toppling in the flames.

Within the fire, a colossal figure was advancing toward the treehouse, its tail trailing fire and setting the trees alight as it passed, its eyes blazing with fury.

It was a giant king fire lizard!

Returning to its lair to find every egg destroyed and the two newborn hatchlings slain, it lifted its head and howled in grief.

On the ground, it found the white-haired man’s conical hat, mistaking him for the perpetrator—and now it had come for revenge.