CHAPTER 154: [153]

The van’s tires slammed into the ground on the other side with a jolt, the suspension screaming as if unable to bear both the weight and momentum. The vehicle bounced once, twice, before finally regaining stability. The impact rocked the cabin—medical kits flew from shelves, a toolbox clattered to the floor, and Ren was thrown forward, held back only by his seatbelt.

Still, he gripped the wheel tightly, eyes locked on the path ahead.

Smoke billowed from the rear tires, and several dashboard panels blinked yellow, warning of repulsor system overheating. But Ren paid them no mind.

In one smooth, instinctive motion, he jerked the steering wheel right, causing the van to swing in a tight half-circle on the gravel. The tires scraped the hard surface, sending up tiny sparks, and now the vehicle’s nose pointed straight at... Trek.

From the other side of the ravine, the champion had just emerged from the treeline, his body covered in wounds and dust, yet still standing firm like a steel pillar. His face twisted into a savage grin, fully confident that his prey couldn’t have gone far.

But that expression vanished in an instant the moment his eyes locked on the ravine.

Trek had no time to think. His speed was too great. But his instincts as a veteran fighter took over. He forced himself to stop, stomping both feet into the ground with brutal power.

BOOM!

The earth beneath him shattered. His legs sank halfway down into the soil, creating a web of cracks around a newly-formed crater. Debris and dust exploded outward. And right at the edge of the ravine, his body came to a halt... just inches from destruction.

Trek paused for a moment. His chest heaved. His eyes stared down into the yawning abyss below, then slowly turned to the far side.

There, Ren stared back from behind the van’s window, a crooked grin playing across his bloodied and bruised face. He raised one hand—not to wave... but to salute. A sharp, mocking gesture—personal and deliberate.

And before Trek could roar or lunge forward, Ren yanked the steering wheel left.

The van pulled away, slowly disappearing, leaving the bison’s silhouette behind in a trail of dust and fading night light.

Trek clenched his fists, his breath hissing like fire. Rage boiled over—not just from failing to catch his prey, but from being mocked—faced head-on, and still unable to stop a mere human.

"DAMN YOU!!" he roared, his voice shaking the trees.

The echo of his scream crossed the ravine, but the vehicle was already gone... swallowed by the darkness of the forest.

---

The van rolled slowly down a rocky path, heading toward the border. Morning sunlight filtered through the tall trees, casting golden patterns across the vehicle’s windows. The air, once heavy with tension, now felt calmer—though the faint metallic scent of last night’s wounds still lingered on Ren’s jacket, which hung on the front seat.

They were out of danger. The pursuit trail left behind. The city of Eks—with all its rot, cruel laws, and insane Champion—was slowly fading into the past.

Ren exhaled softly, glancing at the rearview mirror.

In the backseat, the Kitsune children sat wrapped in thin cloaks and emergency blankets. Their eyes remained the same—blank, wary, and silent. None of them had spoken since the evacuation. Their expressions barely changed, as if silence was the only language they knew.

Ren adjusted the steering slightly, keeping the van stable through a sharp bend. Then, to break the frozen silence, he shifted his attention to an easier target: the passenger seat, now full of claw marks and shredded upholstery.

His eyes locked onto Alfred—the massive tiger from the Penal plains, now casually scratching the leather seat with claws that weren’t exactly blunt.

Ren narrowed his eyes. "Hey... hey, how many times is this now? Do you seriously have to destroy that now?"

Alfred paused, then turned lazily, letting out a low grrau—like a grumpy tomcat who didn’t want to be bothered.

Ren raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, yeah... I know I nag. Thanks for the reminder, big cat."

Another low rumble, deeper this time, but still not threatening.

Ren smirked. "Oh, so that’s how it is? Pfft... Come on, I’m right. Out of all the wild beasts I’ve met... you’re the most fitting to be called—" he leaned slightly toward Alfred, voice mock dramatic, "—an oversized house cat."

Alfred froze.

Then, with a sudden grace surprising for someone his size, he pounced.

His paws landed square on Ren’s chest, knocking him back into the seat with an explosion of laughter.

"W-WOAH! H-Hey!" Ren burst out laughing, trying to fend off the "big cat" now licking his face with a rough tongue that felt more like sandpaper. "Okay! Okay! I take it back!"

Bella—sitting calmly beside her cubs—raised one brow in resigned exasperation. A Penal tigress who had once mauled monsters the size of elephants now could only sigh at her mate acting like a mischievous kitten.

Their three tiger cubs couldn’t hold it in anymore. They giggled softly, covering their mouths with tiny paws. One of them even rolled to the side, laughing as their tail thumped against the van’s carpet.

Ren, still partially pinned by Alfred, glanced toward the backseat—and what he saw slowly softened his laughter.

The Kitsune children... were now looking at him.

Not with fear. Not with those empty stares he’d gotten used to. But with curiosity. Their eyes widened just a little, ears twitching gently, and one of them peeked out from behind a fold of their blanket.

Ren adjusted himself, nudging Alfred off with some effort, then gave a small smile and spoke toward the back.

"Oh, you’re awake?" he said lightly, with quiet care. "Thought you were asleep."

They shook their heads slowly, almost in unison, like three leaves stirred by the same breeze.

Ren rubbed his chin for a moment, then exhaled.

"Haaaa... so, want to talk?" he asked, without pressure. Just an open invitation.

The three exchanged glances. A long silence settled inside the van. Even Alfred and his cubs went still, sensing that something more important was unfolding.

Finally, one of them—the eldest, with two small tails trailing behind her worn cloak—raised her head a little higher. Her voice was barely audible, just a whisper floating between the engine’s hum.

"...Why?"

Ren frowned softly, leaning in. "Why what?"

She looked straight at him now. Those golden eyes that once seemed dead now shimmered, faintly, with a storm of emotions.

"Why... did you help us?"

Ren went quiet. It was a simple question, but it carried weight. That short sentence from a small voice bore the full weight of a lifetime unspoken—the suffering that had shaped them. In this world, children like them were never taught to believe that safety was real. They were raised in darkness, surrounded by hate, marked from birth by sins they never committed.

He leaned back in his seat, eyes briefly drifting to the road stretching out before them. The van’s engine filled the quiet, like the heartbeat of hope still moving forward.

And finally, he answered—not from a script or a plan, but from the most honest place in himself.

"Because you don’t belong to anyone," he said softly but firmly. "And because... no child should ever grow up that afraid."

The eldest Kitsune looked down. But she no longer hid her face. Beside her, the smallest one scooted closer and held her arm. It was a simple gesture—but a deep one. As if, for the first time, they could feel just a little more safe.

Ren turned slightly in his seat, glancing at them over his shoulder and through the rearview mirror. Then he continued—his words deeper now, almost like a confession.

"And I believe... every child born into this world is not a mistake. Maybe some of you have asked yourselves: ’Why was I even born?’"

Those small hands gripped each other more tightly. Ren could see it.

"Sorry if that sounds too blunt," he added, his voice growing softer, "but it’s the most honest example I can give. That’s why I move. I choose to do something. Even if it’s just a small step—offering a hand to pull you out of that dark place."

One of them opened their mouth, hesitating. "But... we’re not human... we..."

"Kitsune? Beastmen?" Ren cut in, his tone light but sharp. "You think that matters to me?"

He looked straight ahead again, his jaw tightening for a second.

"The only inheritance that truly means anything in this life isn’t blood, or wealth, or... sins from the past. The most real thing is knowledge—what we learn, what we teach."

He took a deep breath.

"That’s what shapes us. What we choose to do, and to pass on... that’s what turns a child into something in the future. Not their race. Not the shape of their body. And definitely not some ancient myth weighing them down since birth."

Silence filled the cabin after that.

But it wasn’t an awkward or fearful silence.

It was a warm silence. The kind that comes when someone finally hears something they’ve always needed... but never knew how to ask for.