While the confines of the tree found themselves drenched in troubles of its own with Beatrice, the unlikely grouping of the two Outlanders and former Argonaut continued to race through the raging forest that trembled beneath the might of the warring fighters.

Even the malicious creatures that inhabited the evergreen didn't dare come from their domains out of the primal instinct to live.

Coming to a screeching halt, Strife dug the heels of his boots into the soil as his sharp, precise eyes turned to the west.

"What is it?"

As Donatien asked this, he found his answer as he sensed the two, distinct mana signatures off in the distance west of their position.

"Judging by the fact we can so blatantly sense them...they're novices, likely executioners."

"Yeah."

Without any words, Strife suddenly relinquished his hold of the vermillion-haired girl to Donatien, who blinked a few times, holding the girl as if she were a dog that just got passed off to him.

"Take her; I'll confront those two--judging by their movements, they're headed for where we are. I'd like to prevent them from interfering with whoever is battling Avdima."

"...Right."

Even Donatien found himself shocked at the judgment of Strife, who quickly parted as he sprinted through the forest in pursuit of the two unknowns.

He could sense their movements? Not even I could see something like that, Donatien thought.

"Listen, Charlotte."

"Mm?"

The girl looked up at the man with a puzzled, blank look--still being held like a puppy before being set down onto the ground. Though they were allies, it was rare that they ever interacted--that much was a common connection most had with Donatien, the man who usually stayed within the boundaries of his own room.

"That battlefield--it is not a forgiving place."

"...?"

"What I mean to say is--the level of the two men fighting there, Avdima, Fai--I doubt you will find yourself of much use there. Frankly. I believe you will only get in the way."

Donatien stood himself up, averting his gaze as his harsh words fell upon the young girl's ears. Contesting the words from the man recognized as the mind of the Outlanders, alongside Beatrice, was something she knew she had no place to do, but still--she felt she had to.

"Then what do you want me to do…?"

"Wait right here. When everything is over, I'll come get--"

"I'm not a kid!"

It was something just as simple as suggesting he'd retrieve her like a grade-school child that made the meek girl shout out. Though it wasn't that that slight implication alone set her off, but the building, bubbling feeling of uselessness and belittlement reaching its boiling point.

"...I'm an Outlander, too! I was summoned here for a reason! I--"

"That's right! You were summoned here because Beatrice is a heartless, inhuman witch who is indifferent to which tools she takes and breaks! Is that it?! Is that the guidance you'd like to follow?!"

"I...I…"

The yells from Donatien were no different from that of a reprimansive teacher or a scolding, angered parent. It wasn't the authority he held by his strength or status as a core Outlander that made his words as sharp as knives to her, but simply as an adult she respected and idolized.

"You're a child, Charlotte. I will not have you fall in this world for that woman's goals; I am damned enough as it is you even had to confront an Argonaut."

"...I can handle myself!"

Persisting despite the tears that welled up, Charlotte yelled out in protest as she kept her hands close to her chest.

"Hm?"

"I won--I won my own way! Strife is on our side now because of what I did! I'm not just a kid, or a healer--I can fight too! In my own way!"

Charlotte's words were coiled in the tears she held back; she knew well that showing such fragility to the pragmatic Outlander would diminish her chances of him listening to her own words. Falling to silence for a few moments, Donatien raised his hands to the bridge of his nose as Charlotte watched with confusion, it seemed as if the man was attempting once again to push up his non-existent glasses.

"Eis."

Whispering the name of the element, Donatien gathered a frost in front of his face before it stretched itself and solidified, forming makeshift glasses formed of clear ice that he adjusted with a slight, satisfied smile.

"Fine then."

"...Really?!"

"I can't deny that what you accomplished with that elf is a victory--no, a resolution far more valuable than the simple destruction of another. I have my doubts about him still, but if he pulls through--we've gained an invaluable ally."

"Seriously...how are we still alive, Manfred?"

"Ask me that after we leave this place and I'll gladly answer that! Still...we have to support Avdima. That is, if we want any chance at becoming Argonauts--this is our chance!"

Running alongside one another, the two dear comrades moved through the forest with bodies clad in sweat, fear, and adrenaline. Even as low-hanging branches smacked against his feet, their bristly form colliding with his skin, he could hardly feel the sensation as he ran and ran alongside Manfred.

"Look out---!"

Suddenly, he was pulled aside by his friend as they fell behind a tree; no questions left his lips as he witnessed the reasoning for such an abrupt action being taken by his own vision. An arrow moving at a blurred speed flew through the air, the wind hissing at such precise, sharp speeds.

"An arrow…? Don't tell me…"

Standing himself up, Leon brushed the leaves and dirt from his uniform before unveiling himself from his hidden position, spreading his arms out and waving as his eyes confirmed it for him.

The unmistakable, sable and crimson cloak belonged to the elven Argonaut, who slowly approached him from roughly ten meters away.

"Hey, Golden-Eye! I'm so glad to see you--how is it going--"

Leon's relief diminished into a harrowing realization as he watched the elven man draw the string of his bow back, being on the receiving end of a sight most daunting. It was something any who aspired to be an Argonaut knew well--the infamous accuracy of Golden-Eye, the bow-wielding Argonaut.

"That was a warning shot just a moment ago. You know very well that I won't miss my next arrow."

"What…?"

"I'm paying forward the kindness shown to me; I know you two aren't bad people--you're just kids. Leave here and never show your faces to the Outlanders again."

As Strife spoke calmly, Leon was still left puzzled--the blonde-haired, lively comrade of his stepped out from his position behind the tree with a tinge of redness to his pale complexion.

"You betrayed us--?!"

"Manfred?!"

"I knew we couldn't trust a no-name, elvish bastard like yourself…! The first chance you get to run, you take it, huh?! Well, we aren't cowards! We're going to be Argonauts!"

If it wasn't boundless optimism, then it was flaming anger from Manfred, who believed just as fervently as Leon in the prestige of the Argonauts.

"Right, Leon?!"

"...Yeah!"

Nodding his head in affirmation of his comrade's resolve, Leon looked forward now with a confidence that could only exist when standing beside a man he considered his own brother.

Still, Strife looked less than impressed as his eyes squinted, further drawing the string of his bow back as sweat poured down both of the executioner's foreheads.

"I do have a name; it's Strife. The Argonauts are the ones who stripped me of it. It wasn't just that--my family, my homeland, my childhood--all taken away from me so that I could be a weapon for them."