The forest air was an open wound. It didn't smell of earth or wet leaves, but of a heavy dampness that clung to the throat, of twisted mana, and the rusted echo of the creature they had just brought down. Every creak of a branch, every moving shadow, was an invisible punch. Hours had passed since they carried the remains, but the weight was still there, deeper than fear.
Tyron led the way, his rifle clutched against his shoulder, his eyes scanning the mists that crept between the trees. His jaw was tight, but every now and then he'd let out a snort, as if wanting to expel the thick forest air. Kaela followed closely, limping, leaning on her improvised staff. Her pale face was a mask of pain and alertness. Despite the wound, her eyes didn't blink, scanning the surroundings as if her sight could pierce the darkness.
Rynn brought up the rear, and she was the one who felt the change most acutely. Her gift with mana was like an antenna, and now it only picked up distortion. The forest was a knot of sick energy, and with every step, she felt the pressure against her skull, the sensation of being in a place that resisted its own existence. She looked back too often, searching for the pair of eyes they hadn't seen in their retreat, the persistent feeling of an icy gaze.
"You know?" Tyron murmured, barely raising his voice so as not to break the dense air. "I didn't think we'd get out of that. I mean... how many times have you felt the world come apart from the inside and you don't even get time to scream? Tell me we're not going to have to fight more weird creatures like that. My rifle barely has energy for another couple of shots, and I'm not in the mood for more surprises."
Rynn shook her head, not taking her eyes off the shadows. She frowned. "I don't know... This... this wasn't just a creature, Tyron. The mana... things... they feel rotten. I felt things were rotten from before. Like something messed up was pushing down from above, like super dense gravity."
Tyron scoffed, a dry, humorless sound. "Great. Just what we needed. 'The world is rotten'." He ran a hand through his hair, and his gaze fell on The Last. "Hey, shit... The Last, sorry about my sword. Yours didn't last at all before we even reached the village, but the one I lent you... I thought it would hold up a bit longer here in the forest. I didn't think that creature would wreck it so fast. Maybe the sages will send us on another hunt with dubious rewards. Maybe one of those elite soldiers will give me a new sword. Something that doesn't melt on first contact..."
The Last looked at him, his face tired. "Don't worry. We did what we could. It served its purpose before it shattered. Anyway, maybe in the kingdom they can give you a better one, or one of those runic ones the kingdom's soldiers use. To hold up against these beasts."
Tyron nodded, though the comment about his sword still stung. "Yeah, well. Hopefully. The castle sages must know something about this. I don't think we've been the only ones to see things like this. I'd still like to believe that some high-ranking adventurers have managed to survive these things."
Rynn nodded seriously. "Exactly. Most likely, they've seen it too. The kingdom's elite soldiers must be thinking of something."
Upon hearing "elite soldiers," The Last stopped.
It wasn't an intentional pause. His body simply froze mid-step. A chill, not from the environment, ran down his spine. His eyes fixed on the mist dancing between the twisted trunks, and suddenly, the world fell silent. The crunch of his companions' boots, Rynn's breathing, even the beat of his own heart... everything faded.
The Trance Vision
The real world blurred, leaving The Last in a void. There was no ground, only an expanse of nebulae and distant galaxies silently swirling. He floated in that immensity, feeling a pang of panic at not seeing his companions.
From the cosmic mist, three figures began to materialize.
The first was a child, the same one he had seen before the village sage's incident. No older than ten, with simple clothes and eyes too old for his face. He could see him more clearly and he looked strangely like him, a younger version of himself, but with a melancholy that shouldn't exist in a child's gaze. The child watched him in silence, a solitary tear sliding down his cheek.
Beside him, a man emerged, an imposing warrior. His armor was in tatters, broken in several places. Half of his skull was exposed bone, and one arm was missing, leaving a dark void. His eyes, though dull, radiated a fury and pain so profound that The Last felt a shiver. He was the living image of trauma, of sacrifice. His lips moved, but no sound was emitted.
The figures didn't speak, but The Last felt their voices in his mind, a chorus of echoes he didn't understand but found strangely familiar. They were whispers about what couldn't be avoided.
As he struggled to comprehend, a third figure rose in the distance, shrouded in shadows, taller than the others. Its form was barely discernible, an immense outline with a presence that distorted the void around it. It had no features, just a powerful and ancient silhouette. The Last felt an inexplicable attraction to that shadow, an urgency to understand who it was.
A voice, which didn't come from the forest but from his own mind, resonated in the void like distant thunder, powerful and with a touch of infinite sadness:
"Oblivion is an abyss, not a tomb. And what was forged before the light always finds a path back."
The child, who until then had only cried, raised a hand towards The Last, as if wanting to touch him. Just as his fingers almost brushed The Last's shoulder...
The Return to Reality
"The Last? Hey, are you okay?!" Rynn's voice broke the trance, harsh and real.
The Last blinked, the void dissolving into the damp forest. Rynn was by his side, hand outstretched, her face a mix of concern and confusion. Tyron and Kaela watched them from a few steps away, rifles ready.
"Did you... did you see those children?" The Last asked, his voice trembling, his mouth dry. "And... and that man... and that shadow..."
Rynn frowned, looking around, then at The Last. "Children? What children? And what man? There's no one here, The Last. We're in the middle of nowhere, in this damn forest. Did you get lost, or what?"
The Last shook his head, the images still vivid. The phrase echoed in his ears. His eyes fixed on nothingness, a brutal confusion seizing him. Those faces, those sensations... they were too real to be just a hallucination from stress.
"We need to move," Rynn said, her tone firmer, concern in her eyes. "This place isn't safe. We have to reach the kingdom's capital. We need to find shelter and talk to the council of sages. And to the Sage of Old Times, if we can."
The Last nodded in silence, his mind a whirlwind. There was something more. Something far beyond this forest and these beasts. And, somehow, he was at the center of it all.