The stench of the corrupted elk lingered in the clearing long after its final scream. Black ichor seeped into the roots, curling tendrils of smoke that stung the nose. Even the wind seemed to hesitate before touching the carcass.
"Don't let it touch your skin," the masked leader barked, her voice sharp enough to cut through exhaustion. "And for the love of whatever you follow, don't let it whisper to you."
Lior froze mid-step. "Whisper?"
One of the hunters was already hacking away the antlers with a bone-edged saw. "They talk if you're unlucky," he said. "Promise you things. Show you places you shouldn't go."
"That's ridiculous," Ayla muttered. But her hand never left the hilt of her sword.
The groups moved in uneasy coordination, stripping useful parts from the beast. The hunters worked with ritual precision, placing each piece into sealed jars painted with warding runes. Lior's group lingered on the edge, unsure whether to help or keep their distance.
He was still crouched near a broken antler when his vision flickered—
> [SYSTEM NOTICE: Lesser Corruption Analyzed.]
Fragment Extracted: -2 Sanity / +1 Arcane Adaptation.
The numbers blinked in his mind like a heartbeat. The penalty burned—his thoughts felt heavier, stickier—but the adaptation left a faint, electric hum under his skin. His hands trembled, and he wasn't sure if it was fear or power.
When he glanced up, the hunter leader was staring at him. Through the bone mask, her gaze felt scalpel-sharp. She turned away before he could speak, barking more orders to her people.
---
By the time the elk's corpse was reduced to ash under a ring of glowing stones, night had settled like a shroud. The forest here didn't just grow dark—it seemed to absorb light, swallowing even the bright orange of the fire they built between the groups.
Ayla insisted they make camp in the same clearing, if only for safety in numbers. The hunters agreed, though Lior could feel the invisible wall between them. They sat on opposite sides of the flames, like rival tribes forced into a fragile truce.
The hunters removed their masks to eat—most of them, anyway. The leader kept hers on, sipping broth in silence. Lior caught fleeting glances of scars and sharp eyes among her people, but they never met his gaze for long.
Kaelen, meanwhile, was hunched over his sketchbook, drawing quick diagrams of the corrupted beast they'd fought. His pencil scratched softly in the tense quiet. "The corruption pattern on its ribs," he murmured, half to himself, "wasn't random. It spiraled inward. Like… it was feeding something inside."
"Inside what?" Ayla asked, frowning.
"Not what," Kaelen said, eyes still on his page. "Who."
The words hung over the fire like smoke.
---
Lior forced his attention to his own meal—thin stew and travel bread—but the taste was gone. He kept catching flickers of movement beyond the firelight. Trees swayed too much for the still air.
A hunter across the fire caught his look and smirked. "You're jumpy. First time this deep?"
Lior shrugged. "We weren't exactly here for sightseeing."
The smirk faded. "Then maybe you should have stayed out. Things in this forest don't just kill—they follow you back."
Ayla bristled. "Is that a threat?"
"No," the hunter said, glancing at their leader. "It's a warning."
The leader finally spoke, her voice low but cutting through every other sound. "Tomorrow, paths will split. What hunts these woods will smell blood and chase the weaker. Choose where you stand before the trees choose for you."
---
The fire popped. No one moved for a while. Then the hunters began their quiet rituals—marking their forearms with ash, muttering under their breath in a tongue Kaelen didn't recognize.
On their side of the fire, Kaelen leaned close to Lior. "She's hiding something. The way she moved against that elk—too fast for someone unblessed by a system. But there's no interface shimmer on her. Either she's masking it, or…"
"Or what?"
"Or it's not a system like ours."
Lior's mind flashed to the system notice earlier—the hum in his veins, the way she'd stared. His knuckles tightened around his bowl.
> [SYSTEM PROMPT: Trait Interaction Detected.]
Warning: Presence of Unknown User Profile. Risk Assessment: Moderate-to-Severe.]
His breath caught. If the system thought she was a danger, it meant she could either kill him—or change him.
---
Later, when most had settled into restless sleep, Lior stayed by the fire, pretending to feed it more wood. Across the clearing, the leader sat alone, mask catching the firelight.
"You don't sleep much," she said without looking at him.
Lior gave a half-smile. "Neither do you."
A beat of silence. Then she said, "Your friend—the one with the book. Keep him close. The forest likes to take the clever ones first."
Before he could ask what she meant, she stood and walked into the darkness beyond the camp's edge. No sound followed her.
He stared after her for a long time before lying down beside the others. Sleep came, but not peacefully.
In his dreams, the corrupted elk's voice whispered from somewhere far away: Not who… but what…