A Journey Unwanted-Chapter 409 - 398: Mundane
[Realm: Álfheimr]
[Location: The Great Forest]
Grimm watched as the lion struggled to rise, blood staining its maw.
It was not the first time he had watched something powerful attempt to stand after being broken—but the way the creature did it now was almost humiliating. The lion’s chest heaved unevenly, the rise and fall of its ribs visibly wrong, and every breath came with a wet rasp that dragged red along its teeth.
Grimm didn’t move despite that.
Though his expression was hidden, his posture told one all you needed to know. His form was not tense and his blade was held low, as if he had no use for it. He had lost interest.
There was something about that lack of tension that felt worse than cruelty. The lion could have understood anger. It could have understood hatred. It could have understood the frantic, feral thrill of a hunter.
But this?
This was a man standing over it like a lord looking down at mud. No, it was more than that. A God looking down on a gnat.
Grimm’s voice reached the lion’s ears once more.
"That which lacks interest does not have the right to live in my eyes," Grimm said, voice calm, like he was explaining a principle he had lived by for years. "If something cannot hold my attention, then it has already failed. And if it has failed... then it has no justification to continue breathing in the same world as me."
The lion’s ears twitched.
Not from the sound, but from the meaning. They flicked back sharply, as if recoiled by the statement, as if the words had had struck harder than any blow.
Grimm didn’t raise his voice.
"If you have no value as an individual, then it is obvious that life should elude you," His tone didn’t sharpen or swell. It simply remained the same, as if he was not trying to insult it but instead merely stating a fact. "So crawl on your stomach, and die. Do not stand. Do not pretend you’re still a warrior. Just accept what you are in this moment—an animal that has been measured, found lacking, and discarded."
The lion’s claws dug weakly into the ground, scraping for leverage. Its glare was unsteady—less defiant than it wanted to be.
Grimm’s sword remained low.
His shift in tone was much too abrupt and much too unnerving. He was so curious, almost innocent in it—yet this cold tone sent shivers down the lion’s spine. Its pupils tightened and its aura seemed to thicken as if responding to his own fear, the lion’s form shuddered as his glare persisted. The gold-and-red glow around its body pulsed to prove it was still alive.
Grimm watched it idly.
Then, as if the lion’s existence had already become an afterthought, Grimm spoke again—not to taunt or threaten it.
"I suspect there are more like you, with this unique ability." He said it with mild interest. "More creatures in this realm that may interest me, more aberrations that I may struggle to comprehend. And if there are... I will find them. Because perhaps one of them will be worth my time." He tilted his head slightly, the motion slow. "If not," Grimm added, voice flattening again, "then there are sure to be more interesting things in this realm. Something with a spine or purpose. Something that does not collapse the moment I decide I am finished with it."
The lion’s jaw trembled, not because it was weak. Because it was hearing, for the first time, what it meant to be evaluated by something that did not care whether it lived.
Above them, a small presence drifted in the air.
"Seriously," Puck’s voice drifted from above, sharp with irritation as the fairy hovered lower to Grimm’s side, "you have the attention span of a little kid. One second you’re curious, the next you’re bored, and the next you’re trying to get rid of something like you’re tossing away a broken toy." Her tone wasn’t fearful despite the carnage.
Grimm gave her a glance.
It was brief, but he saw the dry stare the fairy was giving him, the kind that wasn’t impressed or intimidated. A gaze that wasn’t in the mood for his theatrics.
His helmet hid his face, but the tilt of his head said enough: What?
"I give all the apt amount of time to interest me," Grimm retorted, and his voice carried the certainty of someone who didn’t believe he owed anyone patience. "You are the one who mistakes decisiveness for childishness. I don’t linger or entertain mediocrity. I merely examine what I need to examine, and when I have what I want... I move on." His voice didn’t rise to match her sarcasm. "How his power functions did intrigue me," Grimm admitted, and that admission came out strangely sincere, like he was a scholar confessing curiosity. "But the specimen itself? Not so much. There is a difference between a fascinating phenomenon and a disappointing vessel."
The lion’s eyes narrowed at the word specimen.
"Specimen?" Puck snorted lightly, the word coming out like it offended her. "Are you a scholar or something? Because you’re talking like one of those dusty idiots." She paused, eyes narrowing as she remembered something. "Oh right," she said, the annoyance twisting into realization. "You said you used to be one. So you’re not just a violent freak in armor, you’re a violent freak in armor who used to study." She hummed lightly, a thoughtful sound, almost to herself. "I’d thought for sure you’d show more interest in a Nil."
Grimm’s helmet angled slightly toward her.
"Nil? Is that what they’re called?" Grimm questioned, momentarily glancing back at the lion’s broken form. "And how does their power function?" Grimm asked, voice lowering slightly. "Explain it properly. Not in vague metaphors. If this creature has an ability that can slow me even slightly, I want to know what it is, where it comes from, and why it exists."
Grimm sounded genuinely engaged, though not by the lion’s suffering or by its struggle. But by the mechanics of what its power was.
Puck rolled her eyes, but there was a shift in her expression—like she was pleased he was asking the right question.
"Well," she began, tone shifting into something more instructional, "back when I was explaining magic, remember I mentioned a tree?" She lifted her hand, tracing an invisible shape in the air as she spoke. "Not a literal tree, obviously. A conceptual one, like a structure or a root system. A hierarchy of laws. That tree is what keeps magic from collapsing into nonsense. It keeps the realm from becoming a mess too."
Grimm didn’t answer verbally, but the silence about him implied that he did.
Puck continued, her tone becoming more serious as she chose her words.
"Well, a Nil’s ability—Null Schema—derives from a withered branch. A broken limb of that tree. A piece that fractured from the harmony of law." She let the words settle, then continued. "And when something fractures from the harmony of law, it doesn’t become weaker. It becomes very wrong. It becomes an exception that the realm cannot properly reject."
Puck exhaled softly.
"I wouldn’t even be able to explain the full scope," she admitted, and for once she sounded less smug and more serious. "Not completely and not because I don’t know anything. But a Null Schema isn’t something you explain in a neat little lesson. It’s not a spell or a technique. It’s basically a corruption in the foundation of our realms."
She glanced toward the lion again, her eyes briefly narrowing.
"A Null Schema is on average quite powerful," Puck said firmly. "More so than most powers in the realms. Because it doesn’t play by the same rules as the rest of us."
She let that sit, then added:
"But this lion in particular is on his third stage of evolution concerning his Null Schema," she continued, emphasizing each word as if she wanted Grimm to understand the severity. "He should be quite powerful."
Puck paused.
Then she said it, reluctantly.
"Perhaps you’re just too strong."
That was not a compliment.
Grimm didn’t react the way most people did when someone called them strong. There was no satisfaction in him or pride. 𝕗𝐫𝐞𝕖𝕨𝐞𝗯𝚗𝕠𝘃𝐞𝚕.𝐜𝗼𝚖
"You knew this much," Grimm questioned, "yet only chose now to inform me?"
The words were calm, but there was accusation in them.
Puck suddenly seemed sheepish, her small shoulders rose a fraction, and her eyes darted away for half a heartbeat.
"W-well," she started, and even that small stutter felt strange coming from her. She cleared her throat, trying to regain her sharpness, but the awkwardness lingered. "I was a bit curious, okay? Curious about how you’d interact with Null Schema. Curious whether it would actually do anything to you, or whether you’d just... walk through it or something." She gestured at him with a small frustrated movement of her hand. "Considering you’re... well you," Puck chuckled, it was light and forced.
"You are an idiot." Grimm decided that was the best response.
