Yaoris and his comrades were afflicted with some kind of magic. He didn't know whether to call it magic or what the hell kind of curse it was. But when he woke up, he didn't know why he woke up. All around him, his comrades were dead.

He felt like he was going crazy, with anger and helplessness. Yes, your power crushed his confidence and pride. His mind flashed with the images of the hunters who had fled before, they were not worthy of the title of brave hunters but thank goodness… They could tell their wives and children that their comrades, including him, had all been buried in the first stage. … Yaoris knelt on the ground, facing you, arrogant and defiant. You threw him a piece of meat, well… you placed it carefully on the plate though.

You didn’t kill him. You paced back and forth when you saw that he wasn’t eating, you frowned.

“Kill me,” Yaoris commanded. He grabbed the sword beside him, attacking you wildly. Leaving wounds on your body but you were indifferent. “Why didn’t you kill me? Why?!” He screamed. Watching your wounds heal surprisingly quickly

“Oh, no raw meat?” You look at the torches that have gone out in the pool of blood of his comrades. It seems you tried to find a fire but failed. “You’ll lose strength, young man,”

And you snap your fingers. His whole body is burning as if he were hanging on a pyre. He writhes on the ground, his limbs tighten and his back is bent. You sit down next to him, your cold hands on his cheeks, rubbing his ears and head. He swears, even though he wants to avoid it, at this moment your touch feels so good that he wants to cry. You crush his spirit bit by bit.

You then lift his head and place it on your lap. You tap your finger on his forehead and whisper. “Your comrades, they’re in pain, so they die early to lessen the pain. The nettles in my place are very poisonous. It will burn you to death. I’ll help you get rid of the nettle poison. I won't kill you. I saved you…”

“No need!” He snapped. He tried to struggle, his face filled with hatred.