Transmigrating to the BeastWorld,I Picked Up an Adorable BeastHusband!-Chapter 31: Now our brother is dead(1)

Numa regarded him carefully, hands folded over his knees. "Very well." he said evenly. "If that is so, then tell me plainly, why have you come here?"

Deimos frowned slightly, his hand tightening behind him.

"There’s blood in the stream.."

-_-

....

"What do you mean there’s blood in the stream?"

Deimos shook his head, then lowered it.

Hiding a grin.

"I went to take a bath. Upon getting to the stream, I found a body inside it and the water had gone red.."

The heavy silence that followed Deimos’s words was thick enough to choke on.

Numa’s face paled, his fingers trembling where they gripped his walking cane.

"A body?" Numa whispered, the word sounding like a curse.

The peace of the hut shattered as a frantic commotion erupted outside.

Shouts of alarm and the heavy, rhythmic thud of running feet echoed against the stone walls.

Without a word, Ayres pushed past Deimos, his massive shoulder nearly knocking the smaller man aside, and surged out into the cool mountain air.

Numa and Runa followed, their faces set in grim masks.

At the center of the clearing, a group of warriors emerged from the shadows of the trail, their breathing ragged.

They carried a makeshift litter of woven branches, and upon it lay a figure that made the gathered crowd gasp in horror.

Numa’s breath hitched. He closed his eyes tightly for a second, biting back the sudden, sharp sting of tears.

"Ah." he breathed, a sound of pure, concentrated grief. "What a painful loss."

"Elder." one of the warriors gasped, his chest heaving. "We found Jaren lifeless by the stream. How could this even happen? He’s one of our strongest... he was just there, and then..."

Numa held his cane so tightly his knuckles turned white.

Death was a constant shadow in the mountains, a predator that never slept, but seeing Jaren a vibrant, young, and full of life reduced to a cold weight was a blow that struck deep into the tribe’s heart.

A piercing, ragged cry ripped through the air.

Puka pushed through the crowd, her hair disheveled and eyes wide with a frantic, soul-deep denial.

Several men tried to catch her arms, to hold her back from the sight, but she fought them off with a strength born of desperation. She collapsed beside the body, her knees hitting the hard earth with a sickening thud.

"Jaren?" she sobbed, her hands hovering over his cold chest, afraid to touch him yet unable to pull away. "Why? How did this happen?"

She looked up at the sky as if demanding an answer from the gods.

"You told me you were just going to get water! You promised! How can you just die? Please, don’t leave me... there are so many males in this world, but there is only one of you!"

Her weeping turned into bitter, hollow wails that echoed off the mountain peaks.

It had happened in the blink of an eye. One moment he had been smiling at her, promising a future, and the next, the light had vanished from his eyes.

Numa stepped forward, his heart heavy. He placed a weathered hand on Puka’s shaking shoulder. "Wipe your tears, child." he said, his voice cracking. "Jaren was a strong man. He died a warrior’s death, even if we do not yet understand the hand that dealt it."

The grief in the air was suddenly sliced through by a cold, sharp blade of rage.

Ayres spun around, his eyes locking onto Deimos, who stood at the edge of the clearing with an unreadable expression.

"This is all your damn fault!" Ayres roared, his voice like a landslide. He pointed a trembling finger at Deimos, his muscles bulging with the urge to kill.

"See, Uncle? This is what happens when you let a black type into your territory! They come to steal, to kill, and to destroy everything you built!"

Ayres took a predatory step toward Deimos, his shadow looming over the black-scaled man. "He was at the stream. He admitted it! And now our brother is dead. What more proof do you need?"

Deimos didn’t flinch. He stood perfectly still, the dark glint in his eyes flickering like a dying ember.

Behind him, in the shadows, his hand remained tucked away, hiding the faint, satisfied curve of a grin that no one else could see.

The air in the clearing turned jagged.

Following Ayres’s lead, the other men began to stir, their grief curdling into a dangerous, unified hunger for a scapegoat.

"He’s right!" one of the males spat, his hand moving to the hilt of his bone-knife.

"The streams have been pure for generations. A black type arrives, and suddenly the water runs red with Jaren’s blood? This is no coincidence."

"It’s a curse." another hissed, his pupils slitting into thin needles. "He brought death along with him."

Deimos stood amidst the swirling accusations like a dark monolith in a storm. His expression remained a mask of cool, detached innocence.

"I have already told you." he said, his voice smooth as polished obsidian. "I merely went for a wash. I found the body already cold. If I wanted him dead, would I be foolish enough to come here and tell you where to find him?"

"Cunning! That’s exactly what your kind does!" Ayres roared, his massive chest heaving.

The escalating roar of the crowd died instantly as a low, deep vibration cut through the noise, a voice that carried the weight of the mountain itself.

"What’s all the commotion about?"

Weijie stepped into the light of the torches. He still held Ningning close, but the moment his gaze shifted to the center of the circle, his entire posture changed.

His eyes darkened to the color of a stormy sea as they locked onto Deimos. He recognized those piercing blue eyes anywhere.

These were the same eyes he saw in his cave.

He thought it was merely a passing stranger who was lost.

But the gaze was too long and intense to be a stranger.

[Ding! Ding!]