Stray

“Tell me about it later.” Ann patted the knight commander on the shoulder.
“What are you two doing, fighting?”

“But win or lose—” Nemo tensed in place, as if he was about to dash away any second from the mere rustle of leaves in the wind*.

*(风吹草动) Metaphor referring to extremely small changes. 

“I guess it’s fine.” The knight commander pinched his eyebrows.

“Let’s stay away from here.” Nemo pointed to a relatively flat wasteland with an expression like he was about to die a heroic death.
“Ollie, why don’t you… you attack first?”

“No, you should go first.”

“But, you use a sword—”

“Ah, the one who loses will have to talk to Dylan next time.” Ann was dragging the knight commander far away before suddenly turning her head and added, “go on then, boys.”

“Hey!” Jesse shouted in a voice full of grievance as he pulled on the fuller goat.

In the next moment, cold air collided with the dark shadow.
A huge blast of wind hit the pair.
The surrounding sparse turf was lifted in an instant, and the ground cracked like a spider’s web and collapsed more than half a meter.
Ann reacted quickly this time and activated a protective barrier.

“…I knew you didn’t like me that much!” The dark shadow firmly entangled the front of the sword as Nemo shouted out in a deep voice.

“This is a matter of principle.” Oliver’s voice was equally as deep.
“You moved first, Nemo.
It’s suppose to be ten thousand steps back… Aren’t we close friends?” The Rest in Peace slashed horizontally causing the shadow to split apart from its blade.
“How could you treat your friend like this?”

“…It’s a matter of principle.” Nemo coughed a few times and couldn’t help laughing. 

The two took a few steps back, and at the same time burst out laughing, but their offensive did not diminish.
For some reason, Nemo felt that the atmosphere felt a bit familiar.
Although he didn’t have experience any major battles, his body instinctively reacted most appropriately, as if he had long been accustomed to it.

The ice spikes arched from the ground, followed by a wind slice from Oliver’s sword.
Nemo kicked his shadow and jumped into the air, landing on top of a broken icicle to avoid the sword’s force that left shallow cuts on his cheeks that healed instantly.
At the same time, the dark shadows reached out towards Oliver’s shadow and countless hands grasped Oliver’s legs tightly.
The latter stabbed the sword into the ground at random creating a pothole.

Nemo pounced.

“You really don’t want to talk to Dylan that much?” Nemo’s raised his hands causing countless curly black vines to entangle Oliver.
“Ollie, you should have met a worser guest than him—”

“Aren’t you good at taking care of children? Could he be more annoying than a three-year-old kid—” This time, Nemo was not met with ice spike but a semicircular ice shield.
The shadow vines bombarded the smooth ice surface and slid in all directions.

Nemo exhaled and stepped on the ground again, only to slip under his feet and lose his balance.
Oliver somehow had covered the ground with ice, and now they were melting.

Seizing his chance, Oliver swooped in and hooked the fallen body in the opposite direction.
He held Nemo’s waist with his left hand and casually pointed the sword’s tip at Nemo’s neck with his right.
“I win, sorry.”

“…I hate you,” Nemo said weakly as he reached out his finger to push the blade away.

“Wishing you happiness,” Oliver said affectionately.

“I don’t understand why some drag others down with them when they fall in love.” Jesse held his cheek with one hand while scratching the neck of the gray parrot with his other.
“Ah, I just want to talk to them.
That looked more like flirting than a battle.”

Feeling a bit despondent, he made a pergola with his hands and looked at the sun.

“…Forget it, we will become friends in the end anyway,” the blond young man murmured as the corners of his mouth tugged upwards.

The author has something to say：

Jesse: …Don’t beg me when you can!

It’s too miserable when the gray parrot isn’t the most miserable.
At present, his status may be a little lower than it… The twisted melon is not sweet, Mr.
Dylan.