Chapter Text
Two days had passed since his arrival in Kirite, and Bakugou was already sick of the curious and wary glances the islanders were giving him. He had to reel in his temper every time but definitely got close to snapping at least twice toward a bunch of kids and one elderly man.
“Oi, stop following me around, you squirt!” he yelled after coming to a halt in the middle of the road, feeling a tiny body bumping against his legs. Bakugou turned to see a kid not older than seven sitting on the dusty dirt road. He tried to glare at him, hoping to scare him a little, but the boy’s eyes were wide with awe.
Bakugou quickly looked around himself to assess the situation before rolling his eyes and sighing, undoing one of his smaller braids and handing the kid the decorated marble that was at the end of it.
A woman then approached them, quickly reaching down to lift the boy up. She was talking fast, bowing at him, and making the kid bow too. Bakugou managed to understand enough to know that she meant to apologize-
“ ‘s fine. No harm done.”
Mother and son bowed once again before bolting off, leaving Bakugou finally able to resume his trek to the temple sitting atop a hill, overlooking the capital.
Annoying as it was, enough to make him wish they’d treat him with distrust and hostility instead, Bakugou couldn’t really blame them: he stuck out like a sore thumb with his wheat-colored hair, his pale skin, and his fur-covered robes. His sword and daggers probably also had a part.
From the moment he had hopped off the boat, Bakugou had noticed how utterly different the islanders were: they all had black hair, sun-tanned or warmer shades of skin and wore clothing much more suited for the warm climate of the island.
They spoke a version of the Common tongue unlike any dialect Bakugou had ever encountered before. Their speech was filled with archaic terms and foreign-sounding words. Weirdly enough, it vaguely reminded him of the content of ancient scrolls he had come across during one of his adventures.
It made communication a bit difficult at times, but not enough to hinder Bakugou from gathering information from the locals.
Apparently, the island used to be nothing short of a paradise: the islanders had never experienced famine, for both the soil and the things that grew from it had been blessed by the Goddess that had been born there and that used to inhabit the island. The forests were always full of game, and the crops never failed and yielded more than enough to satisfy every single islander’s need and leave some extra.
They were flourishing in peace, up until an accident that happened roughly three hundred years ago.
No one of the locals had been able to give Bakugou much insight since many details had been lost to memory after being passed down from generation to generation. The general consensus, however, was that the Goddess had to leave and put someone in her stead to ensure the safety of the island. When an evil force hit, the deity that was supposed to protect them cowardly left and abandoned Kirite, leaving the island, and all the islanders to be cursed.
Game started to become scarce, crops yielded less and less with each passing year. Yellow, sickly grass slowly started spreading across the fields, and nowadays there were even patches of ground where the soil was considered dead, unable to grow even a weed.
Bakugou had asked then if anyone had tried to break the curse, receiving pained smiles before learning of the ritual that took place every year, on the day of Summer Solstice. The only way to break the curse was to slay the monster that resided in a labyrinth under the temple on the hill, confined there to contain his bloodlust.
They couldn’t even try and escape their fate; despite the sea looking calm and clear for many lengths when looking at the horizon, they told him if any of their boats tried to leave, a thick fog would appear, rendering navigation impossible.
The man hailing from the barbarian tribes felt pity for these people.
××××
Summer Solstice came a few days after his meeting with the High Priest. An audience had gathered in front of the temple to send the unfortunate soul off, only this time it was no unfortunate soul but a renowned adventurer and hunter of monsters and beasts.
Looking around himself, while standing in front of the entrance of the labyrinth, Bakugou had seen some people hugging each other, shedding tears of relief. Others had a sparkle of hope in their eyes. The High Priest was in the middle of giving a speech, only to be interrupted by Bakugou who simply stood in front of the audience, with a confident grin and shouted “I’ll fucking destroy this monster in no time, witness me!” before stepping inside.
Bakugou wasn't scared; instead, he was already feeling and relishing in the thrill of the challenge awaiting him, and the cheer that would follow, once he became these people’s hero.
He would come out victorious, as always, and prove he was worthy of his destiny as the new Symbol of Victory.
Bakugou slammed the heavy door shut behind himself, making the hinges rattle and the heavy iron handle hit back on solid wood with a sharp thud.
He was fuming, strings of curses in his native tongue that he rarely used nowadays falling from his lips; he always found it easy to switch back to the familiar and intuitive sounds on occasions like this, when he had no better way to convey his displeasure but throaty noises and a harsh intonation. It was comforting, in a way, a piece of familiarity as he was miles away from his ancestral home.
He stomped forward, heading towards the perennial fireplace that kept crackling, unbothered by the passing of time, and started undressing to get ready for the night. The leather strap that held his sword to his left side was unfastened and he threw it on the massive bed in the middle of the room, atop furs and linens. As always, the smaller daggers strapped to his thighs stayed right where they were; as a rule, Bakugou never slept naked . He could hold his own with his fists and his magic, but life had taught him to always keep a blade nearby.
Now in a wide cotton undershirt, made for someone with a much wider and bigger frame than his, he fell on top of plush, velvet cushions, and warm, fluffy furs. Having his body wrapped in a warm embrace did nothing to help curb his bad mood though.
It had escaped. Again.
Yet another fucking time that the damn beast had managed to get away from him.
On top of that, it had taken him almost a week to finally, finally track the monster down and run into it. A testament to his competence as a hunter to achieve such a feat in a labyrinth that seemed to change every so often. Running a hand through his dust-covered bangs, sighing, in a mere attempt to blow his irritation out as if it was stored in his lungs, Bakugou reached for the leather-bound parchment journal he had found and claimed for himself upon his arrival in this room he’d been calling his base of operations for a while now and opened it to the last ink-stained page, starting to reread over his latest notes.
It was a hunter’s basic knowledge: prey usually avoided places that felt a threat to them. Predators weren’t so kind. They chased the intruder out or, if they recognized them as a threat, faced it. So, why would this beast avoid him?
Why was that? Beasts weren’t smart . Nor had they eyes that could convey so many emotions…just like a person’s .
It had to be a trick from those cursed walls to make him lower his guard. After all, he was aware of the magic flowing through this labyrinth he got himself stuck into.
And stuck he was going to stay until he managed to find a way to kill the damned beast.
Frustrated, he slammed the journal closed with a growl, throwing it against the huge wooden bookcase that adorned one of the walls, causing some other books and trinkets to spill and fall, clattering on the floor, catching his attention.
Bakugou got up, already ticked off by the messy clutter that his fit of frustration had created.
The books were gathered back up to be put back in place. He had no idea which belonged where and, at first, he didn’t care, as long as they weren’t on the ground anymore. However, the force of habit won: he wondered if they had any organization whatsoever.
In the three weeks he had been stuck in the labyrinth, Bakugou had never bothered checking any of them. Why would he? It was supposed to be an easy job.
Get in.
Kill the monster.
Get out.
He surely hadn’t expected to run in so much resistance. Or avoidance.
Curiosity got the better of him and he opened up the last book, flipping it from front to back. The cover looked a bit old and there was quite some dust caked on the top; the spine, however, was very run down. A visible straight line going down for all its length.
Bakugou immediately thought of a finger, a big one, stroking the leather over and over.
He flipped it open, coursing through the yellowed pages, the faint scent of mold making his nose crinkle. It wasn’t written in the Common tongue and while some of the words vaguely reminded him of the language of the locals, he couldn’t understand it. Even if he had been able to, it looked like chicken scratch.
As he made to close it, something slipped from between the pages and fell on the ground and he crouched to retrieve it.
It was a braid, made with two sets of hair, one black, like the rest of the islanders', and the other red. Not any kind of red though. It was so vibrant, it reminded the Northerner of the autumn leaves of the trees of his homeland but even those couldn't hold a candle to how bright it was, almost aggressively so. Unlike the pages of the book, it held no specs of mold or signs of aging.
Even without using his magic to heighten his mystic sense, Bakugou had no doubt they belonged to no normal human. Being a Blessedborn, his very blood could detect when he came in contact with something divine in nature. The braiding work was a bit messy though and, for a single moment, he entertained the idea of unraveling and remaking it. He cast that idea aside though, as it felt wrong to touch something that very obviously had to hold sentimental value to someone. Curiously enough, it was somewhat similar to one of his tribe’s customs, one that was usually reserved for family and partners.
The braid was put back in the book and the latter on the bookshelf.
Bakugou focused on the rest of the trinkets, interest now genuinely piqued after that unexpected finding. As strange as it was for him to let himself forget about his targets for a little while, he decided it would do no harm. And, perhaps, he’d find more clues on the origin of those divine-infused strands.
The first time Bakugou had seen those trinkets, he was sincerely surprised. To see them in such a cursed place: carved figures and miniatures, pieces of cloth that once had vibrant colors, now dulled, woven ornaments, broken pieces of pottery, small objects made with vitreous enamel, something that was typical of these Southern lands. He started wondering what the purpose of those trinkets was. Had they been left there by the people who had been sent to the trial then?
Bakugou had crossed his arms and used a hand to hold his chin. He shook his head, tapping his cheek with his index. They had no apparent order to them nor an underlying function or theme. They were just that: random objects.
Bakugou’s finger stilled as he came upon an interesting realization: someone had to have put them there.
But who?
People that had learned of Bakugou’s name and spoke of his fame usually wrongly considered his achievements to be just the byproduct of his strength. Bakugou was, in fact, strong , but in many more ways than just physically. Even him, as prideful as he was, recognized that pure physical strength wasn’t everything. Outsmarting and outmaneuvering his foes was also crucial.
A man of many talents, Bakugou was also keen on details. He remembered those minor ones he had written off as odd upon encountering them first in the room; combined with his recent findings, it was now clear that the room had been, until recently, someone else’s hideout.
There was little chance that person would still be alive, but maybe they left something useful behind.
Driven by his curiosity, Bakugou kept investigating the bookcase. Who knew, he might find some clues on how to slay the beast.
As he was inspecting a wooden panel, something weird happened. A symbol carved into the panel, vaguely resembling a sun with two horns, appeared seemingly out of nowhere. It shone brightly, resonating with his palm, and gave off the same warm, tingling energy he had briefly felt before when he had touched the braid. The solid wooden panel jittered and then creaked, slowly revealing lines as it divided into smaller sections. Bakugou got in a fighting stance, not taking any chances in case he had triggered some trap…but to his surprise instead of some booby trap, a passageway opened in the wall.
Stone stairs led down a path that became narrower and narrower as it disappeared in unnatural darkness.
A seasoned adventurer wouldn’t take chances and step into the unknown without a proper plan, but this was the only lead Bakugou had found so far. He was tired of staying in the same room and wait for something to happen.
So, Bakugou decided to take a gamble and follow this newly-found lead.
It was no common coincidence that this passageway had been revealed right after finding an object that held divine nature.
After hastily putting his pants on, foregoing his top in favor of grabbing his sword and fastening it to his side, Bakugou made himself a torch by scrapping the cotton undershirt, which he then lit up from the ever-burning fireplace.
He didn’t know how long the passageway was going to be open, so he had to be quick.
He started his descent.
The torch’s light lit up enough for him to look around himself, but Bakugou noticed how the darkness seemed to swallow the light up. Even if he could now see around himself, it felt as if he was walking through something thicker than just air.
As he went down, the walls didn’t turn out to be as narrow as they first appeared. Instead, it looked mostly like an illusion. Inspecting them closer with a source of light revealed a strange warp to them as if some kind of magic had tried to forcefully morph them, only for the walls to resist .
Bakugou frowned. How could mere stone resist magic ?
The more he descended, the wider the passageway became until, on the last step, it turned into a wide hallway. The walls, previously blank, now sported colorful mosaics and mural paintings, depicting many scenes and symbols Bakugou was unfamiliar with, all besides one: the same sun with horns that had appeared on the bookcase. Even if the blond adventurer wasn’t familiar with the symbols themselves, there was a common theme amongst them and one in particular recurred often.
His grip on the torch grew tighter.
“What the fuck…,” he muttered, eyes darting from one mosaic to another.
What in the whole fucking world was something straight out of a damn temple doing inside a cursed labyrinth?
An odd feeling grew in Bakugou’s chest.
Although he had little care for deities as a whole, Bakugou still came from a Blessed bloodline: he, his mother, and her mother before her, all carried the favor of deities in their very blood. He was a bit of a special case though, having received two different blessings: one at birth, and one by his late mentor, a human who had received divine powers and turned into a deity after incredible feats.
Even if Bakugou held no divine power in himself, yet , he was still favored by the divine and respected its power.
Furthermore, he could wield magic, having been born with an affinity for it. He had studied enough to comprehend it to boost his power and competence. With this knowledge, something even the most inept user knew, Bakugou was confident that divine and magic did not mix.
The first one existed in the purest forms: it was always stable and in perfect balance. Mortal scholars associated it with the concept of Order.
Magic, on the other hand, no matter its kind, stemmed from Chaos.
It was preposterous to even think about it…
To try and corrupt a temple with magic and partially succeed at it was something unthinkable and theoretically impossible…and yet Bakugou had found possible evidence.
There was something extremely fishy going on…and Bakugou would go to the bottom of it and uncover the truth.
As he kept pondering this blasphemous hypothesis, Bakugou arrived at a crossroads. Engraved in a circle of polished stone, the divine symbol occupied the middle of the intersection.
Bakugou looked around, trying to figure out which of the three pathways he should follow. He could always turn around and go back, but he had already come so far, and he hadn’t even been walking for long. Keeping the path he had come from at his back, he stepped in the middle of the circle.
Unexpectedly, it lit up with ethereal light, of the same color as the symbol on the bookcase, and as if on cue, a flash of the same color shot to Bakugou’s left, briefly lighting up the darkness before it engulfed the passageway once more. Squinting his eyes as he tried to peer through the dark, Bakugou noticed something appearing in the distance, a small dot emanating a feeble light.
There.
He knew where to go next.
With hurried steps, he ventured in the new corridor. The further he walked in, the bigger the dot became, until it got big enough to discern its shape, which turned out to be the horned sun.
Vague sounds and smells of nature also got stronger as Bakugou got closer to the symbol. Weirdly enough, they reminded him of the farm of his tribe’s main settlement.
Finally, after walking roughly the same distance it took him to get from the bedroom to the crossroad, the hallway came to an end. This time there wasn’t an ascending staircase, but a wooden door. Upon first inspection, the type of wood was different from the one that had been used to build the bookcase.
Leaning against the door, Bakugou put his ear against it and briefly closed his eyes to focus on his hearing. From the other side came the muted sounds of flowing water and creaking wood. Bakugou’s eyebrows furrowed upon hearing a very distant cockcrow.
Taking a step back, he stared down at the door for a while before cautiously opening it enough to peer inside and scout the area. Having found no instant threat, he finally pushed the door open and stepped inside what was the interior of a mill.
Many barrels and boxes were piled up against the walls, as were filled and heavy-looking sacks. Bakugou cut one open to see what it contained and was surprised to find ground wheat inside. He cut another sack open, and this time he found another kind of grain inside.
It was an amazing finding, but it certainly didn’t help much to shine some light on the clear mystery that was surrounding this cursed labyrinth.
The sudden sound of a door closing made Bakugou suddenly check the entryway, but found nothing but a solid wall.
“Fuck! No, NO!!” he yelled as he angrily banged on it.
The door had disappeared, and so had his only way to go back to his base of operations. Glaring as if to curse the symbol that was pulsing, slowly losing its shine, Bakugou punched the wall once more to vent his anger. His hands itched with the need to use his magic, to explode something , but somehow managed to hold himself back. Destroying the place would do him no good.
Exploding temper slowly dwindling to a sizzle, Bakugou decided to focus on the matter at hand: figuring out where he was and how to get back to his base.
The huge wooden gears turning and the sound of water made him realize that he had to be near a water stream, and water had to come from somewhere. Bakugou tried to go around the gear and peek from the hole in the wall made for the horizontal shaft to pass, but he couldn’t see much. Then, he spotted another door in the distance and knew that to investigate further, he had to go through it.
He had appointed the bedroom as his base after deeming it to be akin to some sort of safe room. After getting inside for the very first time, a few hours after he had gotten in the labyrinth, Bakugou had clearly heard the heavy steps of the minotaur’s hooves outside and the door had rattled violently. He had jumped up from the bed, on which he had just sat down to take a breather after scouting the room and readied his sword. Nothing came. The door didn’t open. Instead, the rattling immediately ceased, followed by a deep bellow and the sound of hooves soon growing distant. In the following days, he would still catch the stomping of hooves from time to time but there was never a repeat of the beast trying to break in.
Bakugou wasn’t even sure if the mill could be considered a safe space, and he had no idea what awaited him outside. His hand found the hilt of his trusty sword, wary of the monster that could, for all he knew, appear right in front of his eyes. Even though by now he had his rightful doubts; the minotaur was, after all, avoiding him, Bakugou thought it would be better not to lower his defenses.
After taking a slow, deep breath to ready himself, Bakugou slowly opened the door that led outside.
A gentle warm breeze hit his face as the door was cracked open. Bakugou couldn’t believe his eyes as he pushed the door fully open. ‘ It was clearly night when I left the other room ’, he thought to himself, in complete astonishment as he took in the reds and oranges of a sunset. He was so surprised that he didn’t even check for the beast, instead stepping outside of the mill, into what looked like an honest to god farm , complete with fences marking the border. Had he managed to get outside?
No, that couldn’t be. This had to be another special room inside the labyrinth. Unlike the bedroom though, this was truly immense. Looking over the fence, seemingly endless tilled farmlands spread in the distance, leading the eye to gentle hills in the distance hiding the setting sun. Such a sight would’ve surely boggled any simple-minded individual for a lifetime. The moment Bakugou took a second step forward however, an eye trained on the horizon, he immediately unmasked the illusion: everything past the fence was staying at the same distance, the space stretching continuously in the far distance.
‘ Shit, I let my guard down. Again. ’ Bakugou scolded himself, finally sobering up from the initial surprise, gripping the pommel [of his sword] hard. Cautiously, throwing his sharp gaze around to quickly memorize the ‘farm’s’ layout, Bakugou started exploring. Hiding behind and hopping from corner to corner, he checked all the buildings that were inside.
The moment he caught a whiff of a very distinctive smell he got on the verge of a meltdown. ‘ This shit is getting even more ridiculous! What the fuck is this?!’
Not only there were several plots with a variety of ripe crops and an extensive fruit orchard, but also the mill he got out from, a wood-fired oven, a water well and, to complete the look, a chicken coop, a stable, and a pigsty.
Bakugou wanted to curse out his frustrations, but that would’ve made his efforts to be stealthy in vain so he resisted the urge.
Seeing a fat, ripe tomato in the distance, so heavy and delicious looking, reminded him that he hadn’t eaten anything since his meager breakfast. Every few mornings he’d wake up to several bundles laying on the other side of the bedroom’s heavy door: baskets filled to the brim with fruits, grains, eggs, various cuts of fresh-looking meat, and sometimes even fresh milk. Though wary of them at first, Bakugou wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Several questions arose, as it was custom. Who brought them? Why were they left there? Where did that produce come from? However, he’d be damned if he let the beast have them. So, without fail, every morning he’d quickly open the door and pull the baskets inside.
Looking now at the farm, he could at least confidently answer one of those many questions: they had to come from here.
Furthermore, those baskets had proven to be useful for tracking the beast. Around the time the bundles appeared, the beast would also be, without fail, nearby, probably attracted by the smell of food. It never seemed to get any smarter, no matter how many times Bakugou managed to run into it.
At this point, he had just theories for the rest: either the labyrinth supplied the current unfortunate soul trapped within with food or, and now he had even more evidence backing this one up, someone was providing them. It was a bit of a leap, but Bakugou was starting to grow ever more confident that it could be the same person that had been using the bedroom before him and had collected the trinkets.
“This is getting way more weird and intricate than I first thought… what an utter pain in the ass!” he hissed under his breath, clicking his tongue in distaste.
Hungry as he was, and with no idea how to get back to the bedroom, Bakugou decided to risk it and go for the crops. He’d been inside for what was probably half an hour and he hadn’t caught sight of the cowardly monster. It was going to be fine.
First of all, Bakugou got to the water well and dipped the bucket inside, gathering some fresh water that he drank with gusto upon noticing how it tasted like clean spring water. Some was also used to wash away some of the grime that had accumulated during the day.
Feeling much better now that he had refreshed himself, Bakugou finally headed for that taunting saucy tomato.
The moment he bit into it, he groaned in delight. Just how damn juicy and tasty could a tomato be? It made little sense, but as he munched into it, rounding a patch of cabbages to head to the other patch of crops that was next to it, the words of the islanders came back to his mind. This island was once blessed by the Deity of harvest and agriculture. If this place was linked to her shrine in some way, it actually did start making some sense.
There were way more crops than anticipated, and even a few patches of freshly tilled fertile soil. At least these seemed to have somewhat of an order. Roots, berries , leafy greens, pulses, grains and wheat—
Bakugou came to an abrupt stop, the half-eaten tomato falling on the grassy ground after his teeth barely grazed the red pulp, the hand holding it quickly falling to retrieve one of his daggers.
The minotaur’s wide, black-furred back, covered by a long, red mane had just appeared in his sight. Bakugou held his breath when he noticed the twitch of its long bovine ears, ready to react and throw the dagger, already aiming for the monster’s eyes. The beast, however, didn’t turn to look behind itself, instead resuming whatever it was doing. It seemed like it was busy with something, kneeling under a fruit tree, hoofed legs comfortably tucked at his sides.
It hadn’t noticed Bakugou, which struck the blond adventurer as odd: he had figured out its senses had to be somewhat heightened for it to be able to avoid him as well as it had been doing.
It didn’t matter to Bakugou now, though. This was the perfect chance. Whoever made the first move had the upper hand. That was the straightforward way he’d used in most of his adventures, and he’d always come out on top. Victorious. This time, even if he had been tricked, would be no different.
With the bovine monster being upwind, Bakugou still had the element of surprise, but there was no time to waste. The plan was simple: throw a dagger in the middle of his back; it would be hard to reach his spine, with how thick and muscular it was, but Bakugou had a trick up his sleeve. The minotaur would surely look behind itself then, a habit Bakugou had picked up on the few times they had run into each other: that’s when he’d throw his other dagger, aiming for one of its eyes.
If he was successful in crippling the monster, following suit by charging at it with his sword would be just as reckless, but the scale would tip further toward his side.
Conjuring magic in his hand, Bakugou threw the dagger with as much strength as he had, releasing an explosion exactly when it left his hand. The dagger propelled forward at incredible speed, hitting the beast in its lower back. It crumpled like it was made of butter after barely planting itself in its thick hide, then quickly fell, with a muted thud on the ground. Bakugou snapped his gaze up when the minotaur bellowed in pain, one of its beastly hands instinctively jerking to try and cover the spot that had been just hit.
Despite not being enough to penetrate his hide deep enough to cause damage, the pain it had caused was providing Bakugou with the perfect distraction.
Just as predicted, the beast snapped its horned head to look behind, and Bakugou quickly drew and threw the second dagger, aiming at its face.
This time, however, the blade broke immediately after making contact with the minotaur’s face, making the adventurer growl out curses.
Bakugou had to expect simple silver-edge daggers wouldn’t be enough, despite them being made out of one of the most effective materials against monsters. Bakugou gritted his teeth together and grasped his sword’s handle, once more conjuring his magic in his palm to launch himself forward, grinning.
It wasn’t over yet. His sword was made of enchanted divinlum, the rarest metal there was, said to be only extracted and forged by deities. It had struck down countless other mythical beasts. It would do its job one time more.
What happened next, however, made the young yet seasoned adventurer’s certainty crumble.
Time felt like it had slowed down.
Mere centimeters away, as he raised his sword to strike down, his eyes and the beast’s met.
He saw recognition in those eyes, not pure fury and instinct like he had been expecting due to experience. No, Bakugou saw a swirling pit of human emotions.
For a brief moment, he questioned why the monster wasn’t doing anything to protect itself.
Instead, the minotaur closed its eyes and offered his neck. It threw Bakugou off, but that wasn’t the end of it, as the sword was already in full swing with no time to stop it from slicing down the beast-
“What…the fuck—” Bakugou uttered, eyes wide in horror as he watched the blade shatter into a million shards, reduced to nothing but prismatic stardust. His sword, which had been entrusted to him by the previous Symbol of Peace the same day Bakugou had received a divination appointing him as a potential heir to the deity that had blessed his birth, to help him on his quest, had just shattered. Half of one of the most important relics to ever exist had just burst into the equivalent of fairy dust.
He couldn’t help but stare at the shimmering fragments, some falling to the ground while others clung to the beast’s dark fur. Nothing was making any sense anymore. And as infuriating as it was to be so open and defenseless, Bakugou was so stunned and utterly lost that he couldn’t move even a muscle.
He tried to use logic and convince himself that he had to move; that it had to be a trick, and the minotaur was going to take advantage of his confusion soon and he’d be dead before the wind changed. Yet, a minute passed and the minotaur just stood there, eyes still closed, side of its neck still open, showing submission, and completely still.
Now that he was so close to the beast, standing almost at the same height with it still kneeling, the blond Blessed could actually take a look at what the beast had been doing before it got interrupted. He did so instinctually, hoping to find something that would confirm that the beast didn’t possess human-like intellect.
What Bakugou saw, though, only further reinforced the opposite, and also ended up adding a piece to the puzzle of mysteries.
A basket sat on the ground, in front of the minotaur, half filled with vegetables and roots. The same kind that would, without fail, appear each morning on the other side of that heavy wooden door.
“It was fucking you—”
The Beast. It had been the Beast all along.
Bakugou wouldn’t have believed it, had it not just been proven right in front of his eyes.
The minotaur opened its incredibly human, red eyes , and looked up at him, with what couldn’t be described as anything but guilt and sadness. Bakugou felt as nauseous as his fury started to bubble.
One of the minotaur’s eyes was decorated with a vertical scar splitting his eyelid; Bakugou had noticed it the first time he had seen it. To him, then, it was nothing but confirmation that the monster could be harmed. So killing him was possible after all.
Yet, nothing had worked. Not silver-edge , nor magic, nor divinlum.
“ What are you?...no— who the fuck are you?”
There wasn’t anything that made sense anymore. Bakugou was left with nothing but more questions and the unequivocal, urgent suspicion that he had been deceived.
××××
The minotaur didn’t respond at first, staring back at him with his incredibly expressive red eyes. For a split second, another face, blurry and transparent like a ghost or an afterimage appeared, overlapping with the bovine’s. It was the face of a very attractive man, with a rather strong nose, higher cheekbones, and sculpted jaw, but who still carried some fat in his cheeks. When Bakugou blinked, it disappeared like the mirage it was…but it had been enough to make something pull a string inside of him.
Bakugou wanted to take another look, to see if the same mirage would happen again, but the beast was now looking at the ground, refusing to meet his eyes.
As massive as he was up close, he was subtly trying to make himself look smaller.
A long minute of silence passed, then another.
Unfortunately for him, Bakugou had no more patience to spare and to reel his temper in.
“I know you can understand me, you fuckwad!—” his palms started crackling “—answer me!”
The minotaur actually flinched , but stubbornly shook his head.
Bakugou growled in frustration and let an explosion loose to the side, in an attempt to calm himself. He was trembling with tension and anger.
Forgetting for a moment about the beast in front of him, Bakugou stared at an indefinite point beside the creature’s red hair ( where had he seen it before? ), spacing out just the time it took his brain to have several pieces fall into place.
“That damned High Priest. He knew . He lied to me. ”
At the mention of the High Priest, the minotaur’s ears twitched and perked up, finally lifting his gaze and hesitantly meeting Bakugou’s eyes. He was nervous, that much Bakugou could tell.
He opened his muzzle as if he wanted to speak, but only a low moo came out, before he clasped it shut, shaking his head again and sliding back, leaving grass trails under his knees. He reached behind himself, grabbing what he had been working on before being interrupted by Bakugou, a basket full of fruit, eggs, and vegetables; the same exact kind of bundle Bakugou had seen appear in front of the bedroom’s door.
Bakugou’s eyebrows twitched.
It had been him, the minotaur. But then, if he was so friendly, where was the bloodhungry beast?
“Oi- wait, where the fuck do you think you’re going?!!”
While he had been absorbed in his thoughts, the minotaur had gotten up to his hooves and bolted away.
Hissing a string of curses, Bakugou let go of the hilt of his broken sword and dashed after him. The fucker was incredibly fast for his size and managed to put some distance between them; still, even if he knew this place better than Bakugou, the barbarian still managed to keep up…until he crossed the farm’s gate, turning into a blurred image and then disappearing.
Bakugou couldn’t let him go, especially not after discovering that he was capable of communication and was probably his only source of information inside this cursed labyrinth.
After crossing the gate, Bakugou found himself in one of the labyrinth’s hallways. The minotaur was nowhere to be seen, probably having escaped and hidden somewhere deeper.
“Dammit!” Bakugou yelled as he punched one of the walls in angry frustration. He wanted to keep chasing after the minotaur and force answers out of his muzzle, but the rational part of his brain managed to suppress the urge.
He had no idea where he was, and how to get back to the bedroom. Following after the beast meant taking a huge risk; he could get up getting lost, with no weapons, food, or water. Behind him was a door made of straws and hay that opened again, and to Bakugou’s great relief, on the farm.
Swallowing the bitterness of having to give up pursuing the minotaur, Bakugou decided that between an unknown fate and a safe place, for the time being, it would be better to just stay at the farm.
“If the fucker has been using this place to get food then he’ll have to come back if he doesn’t want to starve,” Bakugou reasoned, muttering to himself as he stomped his way back to where their encounter had taken place.
In their place, there now was the hilt of his broken sword and what remained of the broken blade. For some reason, the dust had settled and aggregated back into translucent shards and chunks of divinlum. His blade was broken, true, and it was surely infuriating, but at least he could gather those back in the hope of being able to restore it back one day.
He got to work, going back to the mill first to find an empty sack he could use to put the pieces in. With that done, Bakugou then made camp near the mill, digging down a small hole that would contain a small hearth and taking some of the hay from the stable to make himself a bed.
The animals had all been fed and cared for, so he decided to leave them be and instead went looking for stuff he could use to cook himself a meal.
“Tch. Should’ve brought my journal with me…I need to sort out this mess and make it make sense.”
The heavy wooden door opened with its usual heavy creaks.
Kirishima had to duck to fit his horns under the doorframe. His hooves clapped on the wooden floor of the room as he took a quick look around.
Even if for a brief moment, relief washed over him: most of the stuff inside had been left untouched. The adventurer hadn’t broken anything or made a mess of the room. His backpack sat next to the door, with a torn red cape hanging next to it. A spare change of clothes was at the foot of the bed.
Tears welled up in the minotaur’s eyes at the sight of the bed. He moved the clothes next to the backpack, careful not to ruin them, and then proceeded to climb into the bed, bundling himself up with the furs that covered it.
Kirishima had missed his bedroom, what used to be his safe haven. All had he expected, but for the newest appointed hero , nothing more than a glorified sacrifice to find it though. In the endless, countless days he had spent trapped inside the labyrinth, no one had ever found this particular room.
Only one other human had ever been there, and it was Kirishima who had brought them.
Painful memories came back to mind.
With a sad whine, Kirishima buried his muzzle in the soft pillows, willing the memories to go away. The pillows, along with the furs, now carried a different and distinct scent. It reminded Kirishima of a burning hearth and a kind of sweet he used to enjoy a lot as a child, a sort of pudding made with milk and caramelized sugar.
It also had this faint undertone, something no simple human would be able to pick up: the scent of a blessing.
That adventurer’s scent was strangely calming and comforting to Kirishima, even though thinking of him, or any other human for that matter, was the last thing he wanted.
Every single year he silently prayed that no one new would show up, that he wouldn’t be forced to continue this cruel, seemingly endless cycle. He wasn’t even sure how many years had passed, having stopped keeping count for a few decades at some point.
Long, lonely years.
Kirishima wondered how a foreigner, a Blessedborn to boot, had managed to end up trapped in the labyrinth. It was surely all part of Mak í a’ s plot and, frankly, none of his business.
He had given up trying to get to know the poor souls that were unlucky enough to fall into the sorcerer’s web of lies and deception. Many years of experience had taught him that it wasn’t his beastly appearance that made them steer clear of running into him but rather his infamous reputation as the labyrinth’s bloody monster.
The brave, the delusional, and the desperate fought desperately to survive ‘till the end. The realists killed themselves, taking control for one last time instead of waiting for unspeakable, unknown horrors. Kirishima couldn’t fault their way of thinking.
No matter what, sooner or later, everyone ended up quaking in fear in front of him. Either he wanted it or not.
Getting to know and grow attached only hurt more when their time came to an end.
Slowly, the minotaur turned around, rearranging himself on the cozy mattress until he was curled into a ball, holding a pillow close to his furry chest, searching for any inkling of comfort.
Try as he might, he couldn’t keep the adventurer away from his thoughts. He was probably going to be fine: the farm was the best place for a human to stay, with plenty of water, food, and even company, although there were only animals there.
What really kept Kirishima’s brain wandering back to the adventurer, however, was replaying the briefest interaction he had with him; he kept mulling over it.
There was no denying that the adventurer had both surprised him and caught his attention: Kirishima thought he’d give up trying to kill him at some point, but he had kept relentlessly pursuing him; he had managed to sneak up on him, somehow rendering himself undetectable while moving from his room to the farm. And then there was his fierce and intense temper…
For the first time in forever, Kirishima’s resolve to uphold his vow to avoid any kind of direct contact with the sacrifices wavered.
When the man had demanded answers, making it clear that he had caught on much faster than his predecessors about what was going on, Kirishima had actually entertained the idea to tell him but ended up backpedaling.
Even if he were to share his knowledge, what good would it bring?
He’d given up trying long ago. There was nothing that could be done. Many had tried, and all of them had failed, himself included.
If their paths were to cross again, maybe he’ll amuse the adventurer and give him what he wanted; a favor for a man sentenced to death, nothing more; because feeling hope was dangerous, and Kirishima was too much of a coward.
He closed his eyes and let sleep take his thoughts away.
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