Finally!
Aiden's eyes scanned his surroundings. He was met by towering trees, too tall and unnaturally so. Their trunks were so wide he doubted he could wrap his arms halfway around one.
Green dominated everything — the leaves, the grass, the moss. Even the light filtering through the canopy carried a greenish hue. Still, it was better than the dark hallways; at least some sunlight managed to slip through, touching the forest floor in scattered patches.
If not for the unsettling atmosphere clinging to the air like a second skin. For some reason, his senses were on edge, alert and searching for danger without fully understanding why.
Yet nothing moved. Just endless giant trees stretching out in every direction. Behind him, the portal had already dissipated, leaving no trace it had ever existed.
Well... it's not that bad. At least for now.
Then he took a step forward — and just at the end of his boot, an arrow slammed into the ground, vibrating from the force.
Damn it! Aiden froze instantly, not daring to move.
One wrong move and I'll be a pin-cushion. Whoever had shot at him had a good view and decent aim. If they had wanted him dead, they wouldn't have hit the ground.
Or at least... that's what Aiden hoped. There was always the possibility it was just some novice with horrible aim. Yet, deep down, he trusted his instinct.
He slowly raised his arms, palms open, signaling he wasn't a threat.
Should I say something? No... if they don't speak the same language, I risk making it worse. Better to let them approach first. It's not like I have a weapon — other than...
Po's soul.
The thought made his stomach twist slightly. It was still a strange, uncomfortable idea. Wielding someone else's soul like a tool.
Just approach already, goddamn it...
A rustle echoed from the left where the arrow had come from — somewhere deep inside the thick bushes. Footsteps followed. Multiple. At least four.
Aiden tensed, forcing himself to stay still, arms still raised. Then one figure emerged, slipping from the foliage with practiced ease. A woman, bow in hand, string drawn but pointing low, ready to lift and fire. Behind her came two more. One carried a spear, the other a short sword. Both moved cautiously and purposefully.
From the sharp features, slender builds, and pointed ears, there was no mistaking it. Elves.
They wore rough leather armor, battered and stained with mud and blood. Not the polished, pristine warriors Aiden might have once imagined — but survivors.
That confirms a lot...
Aiden's mind worked fast, piecing things together. The view from the crumbling structure had hinted at it. Now, standing face-to-face with battered elves, it was undeniable. This world was way different.
I wanna go home...
Home?
A voice broke his spiraling thoughts.
"Who are you?" The one with the spear stepped forward, his voice rough and visibly exhausted. He was older, but his stance was solid — trained. A veteran, then.
The others behind him looked younger, more unsure, but in the end, they were elves. And elves usually lived long lives, didn't they?
"Respond to me!" the veteran barked again, impatience leaking into his voice as he pointed the spear closer.
"I am... lost," Aiden said carefully, forcing calm into his tone. "I mean no harm."
I can't give a name yet. Not until I know more.
The elf narrowed his eyes, studying him sharply.
"Are you with the Watch?" he asked, the spearhead tilting closer.
The Watch? A faction? That's bad. From the way they looked — muddy, bloodstained, desperate — they weren't soldiers on patrol.
Maybe they're running from the Watch? That doesn't sound good.
Well... here's my shot.
"No," Aiden said simply. "I'm not."
Keep it short. No extra information.
"Look at him! He's clearly not from it," the woman with the shortsword snapped, stepping closer.
"We can't risk it!" the older man shot back, grip tightening on his spear.
They locked eyes, tension crackling between them. Something wasn't right.
They don't trust each other? No —They don't like each other.
"Then who are you?" A new voice cut through the standoff, calm but firm, coming from deeper within the bushes.
A woman emerged, her presence commanding without needing to say much. She wore the most armor of the four — still leather, worn and stained — but a green scarf was wrapped tightly around her neck.
Maybe a leader?
The woman with the shortsword turned toward her, desperation flashing across her face.
"How are the others?" she asked, ignoring Aiden completely.
"Fine," the armored woman replied, her voice tight, a sliver of fatigue slipping through. "But we need to move. Quickly."
Then, turning her gaze back to Aiden, she repeated:
"Yet again — who are you?"
Which name should I use? I could always borrow Po's name...No — too risky.
"Aiden," he said, the name leaving his mouth a little too stiffly and unsure.
Before the woman could respond, another figure burst through the brush. Younger, lighter on her feet, wrapped in a simple, mud-stained cape.
"Selina! What are you doing?!" the veteran barked, stepping forward to stop her. But Selina ignored him and moved straight to Aiden.
The woman with the green scarf — the apparent leader — frowned slightly, arms folding across her chest. She said nothing, her gaze sharp and calculating, watching both Selina and Aiden closely.
Selina stood before Aiden, bright-eyed and bubbling with excitement. "You're... Po? Ro? Which one?" she asked.
Damn it...
The leader shifted slightly, tapping two fingers against her side as if restraining herself from stepping in. She watched the exchange with thinly veiled impatience.
There goes a problem...I have two names now. I risk it .Just tell me Po had a good reputation.
If she doesn't even know which is which, maybe that's for the better. They looked alike, but there were differences .Po had longer hair, for one.
So maybe they didn't meet in person?
"I'm Po," Aiden said carefully, "but that's only a nickname."
Who names someone Po? I'm not even sure myself if it was a name or just a nickname.
But there goes the bluff.
"I knew it!" Selina lit up, smiling wide with relief.
"Selina… who is he?" the chief finally cut in, her voice cool and carrying a warning edge.
Selina flinched slightly but nodded, stepping back.
Her tone wasn't sharp — just careful and professional. Aiden could tell she was treading lightly.
"One of the scouts!" Selina said eagerly, stepping a little closer to Aiden. "I talked with him! Don't tell me you've forgotten already. We talked about it!"
The leader's expression shifted, lips pressing into a thin line. "Yes... we did..." she said slowly, clearly trying to remember.
Scouts...They were on a job when I met them. Well... that's bad. I don't know anything about that job.
Selina turned toward Aiden again, eyes curious.
"So, tell me — how was it?"
Inside the prison? Are we talking about that? Please let it be that...
Fine. Just a little bluffing.
"Pretty horrible," Aiden said steadily.
"Horrible? So it's a bad place for a camp then..."
Selina muttered, frowning and turning away, deep in thought.
Good. Let it stay that way. If I made it sound too survivable, they might want to go back.
"And what about your brother? He was the one who sent the letters, right? Or was it you? You don't really seem like the letter-writing type."
Letters...Okay, I'm starting to piece this together. Po — or Ro — must've been the one talking about the job through letters. At least, I hope so...
"Ro... is dead," Aiden said, lowering his voice.
He wasn't sure what kind of expression to make. Regret? Sadness? Anger?
Selina froze, the air growing heavier. Then she gently patted Aiden's shoulder.
"I'm really sorry for your loss," she said softly. "If I had known —"
Aiden cut her off, shaking his head. "It's not your fault."
Selina nodded, her hand falling back to her side. She wasn't close with Ro, but she cared enough to say something.
"Selina... can we trust him?" The leader behind her spoke, her impatience sharp.
"Yes... I guess," Selina said, sounding unsure. "I mean, they were clearly trying to help us... but still, better if you tie him up."
Better than dead, I guess.
Aiden quietly offered his hands.
The older man approached, rope in hand.
As he tied Aiden's wrists with practiced movements, Aiden's thoughts drifted. He had implied Ro was dead, but honestly, there was no real confirmation. If Ro was alive... at least he wouldn't have fought that damned golem.
The leader — still watching him closely — spoke again.
"We're moving to a temporary shelter. You'd better behave."
I wonder why. Maybe they don't want me spilling information?
Aiden shifted slightly as the ropes tightened. He looked up.
"Can I ask for a name, at least?"
For now, he only knew Selina.
The woman examined him. Her blonde hair fell messily across her face as she sighed.
"Lyanna," she said finally."Call me Lya. But you'd better forget it after you're free, Aiden."
At least someone acts human, Aiden thought — right before Lyanna tugged the rope and forced him forward.
The group slipped back into the thick bushes.
"For someone claiming peace, you sure think hard," Lyanna muttered.
That's fair... I did take a long pause.
"Well, being nearly shot at and interrogated tends to slow your brain," Aiden replied dryly.
"Fair enough," she said, sounding almost amused.
They pushed through the brush. The forest thinned, revealing a rough camp.
A campfire smoldered weakly in the center. Around it, piles of leaves formed makeshift beds.
But what caught Aiden's attention were the injured. Scattered like broken dolls — some groaning softly, others deathly still.
Bandages and crude splints wrapped them.
They're really struggling.
The air smelled faintly of blood and damp rot. This wasn't a camp meant to last — it was survival.
"Sit somewhere. We'll talk later," Lyanna said, giving the rope a final tug.
Aiden lowered himself carefully. Lyanna moved toward the wounded, duty overtaking exhaustion.
The older man slumped against a log, drinking silently. Selina knelt beside the injured, tightening a tourniquet. The woman who had guarded Aiden remained nearby, arms crossed and eyes locked on him.
Among the wounded, a man stitched his own shoulder.
Aiden glanced back at the unnamed guard.
"What's your name?" he asked casually.
Cold silence.
Well, that's a bad sign...
He leaned back against a tree, exhaustion pressing down.
I'm not even sure of my own goals now.
I need a way home. But this all feels one-sided. My only lead is those damn Coins.
I can buy core memories with them...But Coins come from souls.
So what now? I Become a mass murderer?
The thought sat heavy.
Maybe I could sign up for some kind of war effort?
As his mind raced, the sun dipped lower. The camp fell into darkness. No torches were lit.
Makes sense if they're being hunted.
Aiden tucked his knees up. And then —
'Thump!'
An arrow embedded in the center of camp.
Damn it...
Aiden's heart kicked hard.
Are we being attacked?
Elves reacted immediately. Torches flared. Weapons gleamed.
Shapes moved in the dark.
Nine men emerged, armed and armored. Silver chestplates. No helmets.
At the front stood the leader — lighter armor, small shield, silver fang charm catching torchlight.
There he is. The big bad.
Elves wasted no time. Arrows nocked. Spears raised.
The air itself tightened. A storm seconds from breaking.
This is gonna end badly... really badly.