They walked.
And walked.
And walked some more.
At first, the forest was thick, buzzing with insects and the stink of death clinging to their boots, but the farther they went, the quieter it got. No more rustling in the bushes. No more snapping twigs. Not even the distant croaks of the goblins they'd been hoping to find. Just the crunch of boots and the steady rhythm of tired breathing.
By the time they reached the cliff, the sun had dipped low enough to stain everything in a dull orange haze. Wind whipped against their faces, carrying the scent of iron and salt. Down below, far beneath the jagged edge, a river snaked between rocks—dark and restless, its surface flashing silver each time the light caught it.
Z-34 was the first to break the silence.
Of course, he was.
"Fuck this!" He kicked a loose rock off the edge, watching it plummet until it vanished into the current. "We've been walking for hours and nothing! Not a damn thing!"
The rock's splash echoed faintly.
