A Fragile Repose
Too human to be called a beast, too beastly to be called human. Of course, if someone from a region where such creatures existed were to see it, they would describe the bizarre, inexplicable entity the man was looking at in simple terms: "A giant, black-furred ape, like a gorilla."
It had a massive body with an exceptionally developed upper torso, and arms so long they seemed capable of brushing the ground even when it was hunched over. While some of these creatures used those very arms as legs to walk on all fours, others further in the distance stood tall on two feet, warily watching the man while clutching rocks larger than a human head in one hand.
They were creatures capable of moving on both two legs and four. To be sure, there were beasts that could stand on two legs. A meerkat scanning the horizon. A red panda trying to look threatening. Bears and rabbits occasionally stood upright, and even a trained dog could balance on its hind legs.
But there was a fundamental difference between those beasts and these creatures. Several of the ones approaching from a distance were walking on two feet with absolute ease, their strides smooth and natural. It was the decisive difference between merely standing on two legs and true bipedalism. Yet, at the same time, they also demonstrated a perfectly natural quadrupedal gait.
An uncanny existence caught between humans, who were strictly bipedal, and beasts, who were strictly quadrupedal. Looking at these strange "owners of the island," the man suddenly had a thought. Man and beast—two entirely different states of being merged into a single form. To some, they might look like ominous, grotesque demons, but the man saw them differently.
There was a name people easily bestowed upon things that defied their understanding.
“This is the place.”
An endless sea of flowers stretching to the horizon. Trees laden with an abundance of ripe fruit. A blue lake radiating a mystical glow. Watching them dwell in the midst of such beautiful, majestic nature, the realization came naturally.
—At the summit of the island lies the land of the gods.
“This is the place Grandfather discovered.”
The land of the gods. If so, then surely these mysterious beings living here should be called by one name: gods.
“I’ve finally made it.”
Clenching his fists, the man burned with greed for a treasure that might not even exist, hidden somewhere in this place.
—Ooooof.
—Ah, ah. Oh! Oh.
Meanwhile, the beasts mistaken for gods were debating what to do with this intruder who had trespassed into their territory. Should we eat him? What if we get sick? Should we just kill him and dump the body? He’s a creature we’ve never seen before—could he disrupt the ecosystem? How should we handle this?
After taking a brief rest, Chester walked through the forest, leaning half his weight on Monia. The baskets carried by the struggling pair were loaded with the meat and hide harvested from the butchered bear.
"Ugh..."
With every step, Chester winced as a sharp pain flared in his leg. Though he did his best to keep his weight off the injured limb by leaning heavily on Monia, avoiding its use entirely was impossible.
Had he been leaning on a robust man, it might have been fine, but Monia was still a woman, even if she had grown stronger since arriving on the Floating Island. It wasn't a matter of strength or stamina; it was purely a physical limitation. Monia was simply much smaller than Chester. There was a height difference of nearly a head and a half between them, and when factoring in shoulder width, muscle mass, and overall frame, the disparity was even more pronounced.
"Ngh."
Supporting Chester's weight was an immense ordeal for Monia as well. Chester's heavy frame, the weight of the bear meat in her basket, and the rugged, unforgiving forest path they had to navigate—even if she had grown somewhat accustomed to it—all took a toll. With every single step, her stamina drained rapidly. Had the weather been hot, Monia would have collapsed from exhaustion long ago.
Yet, by stopping to rest at regular intervals, the two of them steadily forged ahead. They kept up their slow, relentless pace until past midday. Only when the sun began its slow descent did the three of them finally arrive back at their shelter.
"Ahhh! We're finally here!"
Monia cried out as they reached the tree where their home was built. Even so, she gritted her teeth harder, terrified that letting her guard down now would cause her legs to give out. Even with her complete lack of medical knowledge, Monia knew well enough that they couldn't afford to place any more strain on Chester's alarmingly swollen leg. And so, she gritted her teeth and forced her protesting muscles to move, step by agonizing step, until they reached the base of the ladder.
Having reached the ladder, the exhausted pair collapsed to take another breath. Ant, who had been watching them, immediately lunged toward Chester, just as he had done during their previous rests.
"Hey, stop. I said, no."
Just as before, Ant was determined to lick Chester's wounds. And just as before, Chester repeatedly pushed him away.
Chester knew that pack animals like wolves licked the wounds of their packmates to care for them. But no matter how well-intentioned, he had absolutely no desire to expose his raw, open flesh to a tongue that resided in a mouth that detested any form of cleaning.
"Down, boy. You need to lie down. Good boy."
Gently but firmly pressing Ant down to the ground, Chester stroked the pup's head to calm him. Still, he was grateful for the creature's concern.
Among highly intelligent beasts, some would seize the opportunity to challenge the alpha the moment they showed any sign of weakness. But Ant showed no such ambition; his only concern was Chester's well-being.
Is this also because we killed the bear?
Guided by raw instinct, Ant must have felt the terrifying presence of the bear more acutely than either of the humans. He had undoubtedly realized how monstrously powerful the bear was after seeing the torn carcasses of his fellow Ant-wolves. Yet Chester had slain that very beast single-handedly, without the aid of a pack. To Ant, Chester must have seemed like an unimaginably powerful leader. It wasn't just respect and admiration; a healthy dose of fear—the absolute knowledge that he must never rebel—had likely been engraved into the pup's instincts.
"Let's head up now."
After catching his breath, Chester pushed himself up with Monia's help and grabbed the rungs of the ladder. Using only his arms and his one good leg, he scaled the ladder with practiced ease and entered the treehouse.
Once Monia and Ant followed him inside, Chester collapsed onto his bed. Wiping away the cold sweat brought on by the brief exertion, he asked Monia for some water. Monia hurriedly opened the water channel, filled a container, and began washing away the dirt, dried blood, and grime coating Chester's body, just as he requested. Unlike the hasty first aid he had received earlier to stop the bleeding, they now needed to thoroughly cleanse the wounds and assess the damage.
"Hold the container as close to the wound as possible before pouring. We don't want the impact of the falling water to irritate it further."
"Understood."
Monia nodded, bringing the container right up to his skin and tilting it with extreme care.
"Ngh!"
The icy water hit the raw flesh, which had finally begun to settle after the initial first aid. Chester's body flinched violently. The sudden, involuntary movement sent a jolt of agony through every single one of his injuries, forcing him to grit his teeth.
"W-what should I do?"
"Just... keep going."
"...Alright."
Biting her lower lip, Monia continued to pour the water. She rinsed the wounds repeatedly, ensuring all the dirt was washed away. Once one wound was clean, she moved on to the next, and then the next.
The gash near his right eyelid. The tear near his armpit. The gouge on his flank where a chunk of flesh had been torn away. And the countless scrapes and lacerations from tumbling across the forest floor.
After meticulously cleaning each of the smaller injuries, Monia froze as she faced the largest one of all. The wound on his chest. Four long, jagged lacerations that nearly spanned the entire width of his chest. Remembering the sheer terror she had felt when she first saw him lying unconscious with these horrific gashes, Monia squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath. She brought forward a freshly filled container of water.
"I'm going to start."
Steading her hands, she carefully tilted the vessel.
"Nghhh...!"
The moment the water hit his chest, Chester clenched his jaw and tore handfuls of moss from his bed, channeling the agonizing pain into his grip.
Once his chest was finally clean, they were faced with the most daunting issue.
"W-what about your trousers?"
The problem was his leg. His trousers were tightly constricting his horribly swollen limb.
"...We have to cut them off."
He had left them on because the tight fabric acted like a makeshift compression wrap, numbing the pain enough for him to walk, but it had to be removed now.
"H-how do I get them off?"
"Just tear them."
"What?!"
"Don't look so shocked. Just cut them open."
Using the claw knife, Monia sliced through the fabric and peeled it away. Exposed from the waist down, Chester gritted his teeth as he looked at the wound on the side of his thigh.
"Oh, heavens..."
The skin had turned a bruised, sickly black. It was a far cry from anything resembling a normal state.
"H-how do we treat this?"
"The knife."
"Pardon?"
Staring at the horrific injury, Chester closed his eyes and took a deep, steadying breath. Having steeled his resolve, he held out his hand to Monia.
"Give me the knife."
"Why?"
"Just give it to me."
Snatching the claw knife from her grasp, Chester held the blade over the campfire, letting the flames sterilize the metal. After dipping the heated blade into the water container to cool it down, he took a sharp, deep breath.
Inhale.
"Aaaaargh!"
With a guttural roar,
Thrust!
He plunged the blade straight into his own thigh.
"..."
Watching Chester suddenly stab his own leg, Monia felt her mind go completely blank with shock.