"Johan, how the fuck did you do that?" Fatty stared at the grey wolf and saw one of its eyes had a bloody hole in it.
Hearing this question, Luna, Andre, and Clifford's ears perked up. Genuinely curious about how Caleb could do such a thing. After all, in their opinion, Johan has been with them for a long time now. They were all the same age. How was he so different? A genius? Only recently had he shown such an astonishing performance. Johan's change was so drastic they couldn't believe it for a while.
'Did some peerless genius possess him?' Luna's eyes narrowed and thought jokingly.
If Caleb knew what Luna was thinking. He would only roll his eyes. She was right, after all. He just happened to possess the poor kid's body. However, she was wrong about him being a peerless genius. He was also just an unfortunate victim chosen by the damned time slime. Still, he wasn't hypocritical enough to say that he didn't want it. He was thankful for being alive.
A sigh escaped his lips as he thought of this.
"I'm a genius."
His answer made the four dumbfounded. But they didn't refute, since it was quite the most reasonable explanation. Some people are just born genius...
"You're not a genius." Fatty shook his head. Then he snorted. "You're a damned evildoer!"
Just like that, they arrived at the foot of the mountain. Weirdly, once they stepped foot in the area, the rest of the mutated beasts stopped attacking them and retreated. As if something on the mountain makes them reluctant to do so, just like always. The hunting party members didn't know the reason, but they were glad that the bastards stopped attacking. This is also the reason why they decided to cross the area even with the numbers of the beast.
If the beasts continued, it would be only a matter of time before one of them died. Under Fushigiro's lead, they climb through the mountain. There are humongous, gigantic trees everywhere and a variety of plants.
"Well, we won't go deeper. I don't know what's ahead since we only reached this far. We need as much as rest first with the injuries we sustained." Fushigiro stopped in his tracks. Then he took a knife and scratched a nearby tree with an X-mark.
She had flawless white skin that glowed even in the dim light, though her skin had a bit of dirt, and her body beneath the blue shirt, which was rather crude, was perfectly proportioned.
Her blue eyes sparkled with a hint of mystery, like the deep sea, and her silver hair cascaded down her back like a waterfall of moonlight.
'She's really quite pleasing to the eye.'
Her soft, pinkish lips formed a gentle smile, and a small nose sat gracefully above them. Her complexion was healthy and radiant, a stark contrast to his. She seemed to be someone who would effortlessly draw everyone's attention. Although she has some dirt here and there. She's in a better state than everyone else.
In comparison, Fatty had short, dusty black hair that looked grimy. Deep wrinkles etched lines across his face, and his brown eyes seemed smeared with exhaustion. His big belly protruded from beneath his rumpled, stained black shirt. A disheveled straw hat sat atop his head, and his overall appearance appeared bedraggled and shabby.
'Still, Clifford, this guy, he looks like a homeless kid.' Caleb thought speechlessly and shifted his gaze to Clifford.
Clifford looks at someone who recently emerged from a grimy underground lair. His short, tousled, and dusty blonde hair clung to his sweaty forehead, creating a disheveled and unkempt appearance.
His once vibrant blue pupils were now dull and smudged, carrying a hint of weariness. His chubby face bore the marks of exhaustion, with wrinkles carving paths like muddy trails on a mountainside, leading down to a valley-like double chin.
His pale complexion seemed tarnished, lacking the healthy glow of vitality. Though not as portly as "fatty," his form was still grubby, with a slightly protruding belly testing the limits of his sleeveless, stained shirt.
The shirt, once a bright hue, was now a grubby canvas, muddled and sooty. A pair of maong pants clung to his legs, showing signs of wear and tear, adding to the overall disheveled appearance.
On his feet were leather shoes caked with layers of dust and grime, betraying the miles he had traversed. A worn rubber band dangled from his wrist as a smudged reminder of the toil endured.
Caleb looked at himself and felt relieved. At least he still looks presentable, with only some holes in the back of his shirt.