As the question lingered in my mind, I maneuvered the creature in a circular path, keeping its attention locked on me while Sylvia broke off from the formation to prepare her next attack.
But the creature, as if regaining a flicker of intelligence, abruptly shifted course and lunged after Sylvia instead.
Swoosh.
In mere seconds, it nearly closed the distance. A long, slender arm—like a sickle made of shadow—swung down with terrifying speed.
Sylvia recognized the threat instantly. One hit, and she'd die. She didn't need a second to understand that. But she had already maxed out the limit on how many Laws she could apply simultaneously.
And yet—
"Law Rewrite: The Enforcer can no longer strike intangible existences of choice. Instead, the Enforcer can phase through attacks meant to kill through direct contact," Sylvia declared.
The ground beneath her trembled violently as the creature's spectral arm cleaved through her body—harmlessly. She stood unscathed, while the world itself seemed to shudder at the invocation of the new rule.
As if it understood Sylvia's command, the creature abruptly shifted course—its attention veering away from her entirely. Then, without hesitation, it bolted into the woods, vanishing from our senses.
"W-What...?" Sylvia gasped, stunned by the sudden change. "Ray!"
"I know!" I shouted, already sprinting after it.
It was heading in the direction we'd come from...
Reinhardt. Grunthar.
It was after them.
The creature wasn't faster than me—but its reach, that unnatural range of attack, kept me from overtaking it. Every time I tried to gain ground, the sheer length of its limbs forced me to dodge or fall back.
I had to warn them.
But how?
"One," Ryuk counted calmly, just as I stepped back—narrowly avoiding the swipe of a hidden strike.
A chill ran through me.
If I'd been even a second slower… I would've died.
I need to understand how its power works...
"Wait... it didn't leave a mark on the trees this time," I muttered, glancing around at the untouched bark surrounding us. "That means…"
A sudden realization struck me.
In a burst of motion, I gathered mana in my legs and lunged toward the creature, Wally in saber form clenched tightly in my grip. I aimed to pierce through it—
—but just as I suspected, I passed clean through.
I landed on the other side, unscathed and exhilarated.
"I figured it out!" I shouted, eyes wide with excitement as I sprinted ahead—toward Reinhardt and Grunthar—never once glancing back at the creature now hot on my heels.
It was intangible while defending... but partially tangible—only in the parts it used to strike—when attacking.
But just when I thought I had everything figured out—when I was finally ready to form a plan—its presence vanished completely.
I skidded to a stop and glanced back. Sylvia had caught up, breathing hard, her eyes scanning the woods.
"You lost it?" she asked, clearly surprised that something had managed to slip past me.
"I don't know... it was right behind me a second ago. I passed through it, and then—nothing." I turned in place, searching the shadows.
"This is bad," Sylvia muttered. "Its real strength lies in stealth. It's trying to gain the upper hand through unpredictability."
"Yeah. We need to regroup. We can't trap it anymore—not like this. We need a new plan," I replied, and we took off running toward the spot where we'd last seen Grunthar.
Reinhardt looked mildly surprised when he saw us return—especially without the oppressive pressure that had accompanied 'it.'
"It's dead?" he asked, standing near Grunthar, who now lay on the forest floor, his eyes showing some signs of recovery.
"No," Sylvia answered. "We lost it. It vanished like it was never here."
"Maybe it's stalling," I said. "Waiting for your spell to wear off. Without it, we can't even get close to that thing... That's the real problem."
"What? My laws—" Sylvia started to protest.
"I know," I cut in gently. "They burn through mana like wildfire, right?"
"Oh... yeah." Sylvia exhaled, catching my drift. "That's a very big issue."
With a snap of her fingers and a breathless sigh, the Laws unraveled—like threads pulled from the seams of reality.
And just like that, we were all at full power again. But even with our senses sharpened, we still couldn't feel it—no trace of the presence remained.
"I'm out of mana. It'll take time to regenerate," Sylvia announced.
Because our Mana Paths were different, we couldn't share mana. That left only two options: rely on natural recovery, or depend on mana generator implants—if you had one.
"Grunthar tried to summon a Great Ghost without first calling a swarm of lesser spirits?" I said, examining the sigils carved into the nearby trees. "Looks like he's learned a few tricks at the School of Sorcery."
"You rethinking that offer from Charles?" Ryuk asked me.
Never. I replied silently.
And that's when it hit us again—that suffocating presence, surging toward us at terrifying speed. But this time, I wasn't bound by Sylvia's Laws. I could respond.
The wind brushing against my skin froze, mid-motion.
Everything slowed… then stopped.
The world around me turned into a painting. Still. Breathless.
I moved.
One step at a time, I walked toward the presence. But the closer I got, the more my strength began to falter. My legs grew heavy. My breathing shallow. My vision wavered, like the world was trembling just beyond reach.
And then... the question I had buried in the back of my mind clawed its way forward.
-Why didn't I attack it?
I knew this could be another misfortune—from the cursed object. But my Mana Path wouldn't let me ignore it. It dragged my mind back to that single unanswered thought, like a hook in my chest.
I wanted to push it aside.
But I couldn't.
The need to understand was stronger than my will to survive.
And I knew—behind that answer...
Was pain.
Agony.
The scars of the one who once held that cursed object.
What happened to them?
What kind of despair could twist a person so far beyond recognition?
What desire was strong enough to turn them into this?
"The Wisdom Path is a path of comprehension, discovery, and understanding..." I whispered to myself, my voice barely audible. "And right now... it's seeking answers."
A pause.
"But to be honest... it'd be a pity not to know."
Step by step, I approached the creature. Its body shimmered, spectral and ghostlike, a pale wraith stitched together by resentment and sorrow. As I neared, I raised my right hand—not to strike, not to exorcise, but to connect—and gently placed my palm against its ethereal form.
I didn't pass through it.
Instead, a wave of cold surged through me, bone-deep. It wasn't just temperature—it was emotion. A creeping frost that climbed my spine and wrapped itself around my lungs, heavy with weightless despair.
In that moment, I felt it.
Its self-hatred.
The fury it caged within.
The greed—the hunger—for the cursed object.
The pain. The isolation. The longing to belong.
It was all there, tangled into a consciousness barely holding itself together.
And beneath all of that…
A desperate desire.
To be understood. To exist without burden.
"I don't understand you," I murmured, my voice shaking. "Maybe I never will... but I don't hate you for what you are, or what you've become. Who am I to deny someone's existence?"
My vision blurred.
And there it was.
A child.
No face. No form. Just a presence, softly glowing, eyes brimming with yearning. He looked at me—not with malice, not even with sorrow—but with a silent plea. A need to embrace the one thing he had craved for what seemed like an eternity.
"I don't blame you for wanting the life you never had," I whispered. "In the end... I was the same."
The cursed object had bound him, sustained him—yet denied him the only thing he truly sought.
An ending.
A release.
Death.
"I forgive you."
And with that, I curled my fingers around the rabbit's foot necklace, still dangling from its incorporeal form… and pulled it free.