Elion's eyes scanned the narrow crevice they were hiding in. Farha slept soundly beside him, her expression peaceful—almost innocent. A far cry from the killing machine she truly was.
The light was especially dim here, forcing him to rely on his other senses. His hearing was on high alert, every shift in the air or rustle in the dark setting him on edge. At the same time, his gaze lingered on the glowing symbols etched into his forearm. They shimmered faintly on his skin. No one else could see them—only his name, written on his index finger, was visible to others.
[Soul Integrity: 66%]
It has already gone down?!
Elion gritted his teeth.
I only used my ability once. Is it because Entropy is much more powerful here?
His eyes flicked to Farha, still sleeping, then back to his arm.
We'll need to kill something soon—or one of us won't make it.
After a few hours, the exhaustion began to overpower him. He was about to wake Farha, despite how much the idea of her watching his back while he slept unnerved him. But the weight behind his eyes and the ache in his limbs couldn't be ignored.
Before he could, though, a sound passed through the air, not something natural.
He tensed. Slowly, he shifted his weight and peered outside their hiding spot. The area beyond was swallowed in shadow, but the faint sound of footsteps lingered, just past the edge of the river's roar.
Elion reached out and shook Farha's shoulder, jolting her awake.
"Something found us," he whispered as low as possible.
She blinked the sleep from her eyes, nodded, and grabbed her pack. She helped Elion out of the narrow alcove, and they found themselves back near the riverbank. The water's rumble nearly masked the rhythmic beat of distant footsteps.
Elion activated his ability, pushing through the haze in his head. In the shadows, he found it: the same monstrous threads of energy as before—dark, pulsing, and vile. A familiar black gap in the threads near its clavicle confirmed it.
"It's the same Class III from earlier. It's trailing us," he murmured.
Farha didn't respond, but he could tell she was calculating something.
At its current pace, the thing wasn't faster than a walking human—but it didn't need to be. It had endurance, a lot more than them considering Elion could barely stand and was already dead tired.
The situation didn't look good, and the thing behind them clearly knew it, not rushing but stalking them from a distance until its prey was too weak to keep moving. That's when it'll strike, when both Elion and Farha were forced into a desperate last stand.
Clever bastard.
That level of cunning wasn't unusual for Class IIIs. That's what made them terrifying.
They walked on at a steady pace, Elion's mind fighting off the fog of fatigue as he searched for a way out.
Jump in the river? Let it carry us downstream?
No. That would be suicide.
They were lucky to have survived it once. He still bore the bruises and bloodied skin as proof.
He really couldn't find a way to save himself from this situation. At least… not one that didn't involve a ludicrous amount of luck.
Hiding wouldn't work either. The creature proved its ability to track them through those tentacle-like appendages—it would find them again.
Fighting was off the table. They were too weak. If things continued like this, they would die—either from exhaustion, or some other horror lurking in the dark.
The only way Elion figured that could give them—at least one of them—a chance at survival was if someone was left behind as bait.
Since he couldn't exactly walk on his own, he was basically dead weight—the perfect lure.
He looked at Farha.
Has she thought the same thing?
Surely she did, she isn't stupid, that much I can tell at least.
I don't know what she lives for. But you don't need a purpose to fear death.
He didn't know anything about her, really. She was unreadable—impossible to predict.
Gods, how did I end up in situations like this?
They passed by a stone column that looked far more deliberate—crafted—than anything else in the area. Elion's instincts screamed to stop and study it, but they had no time. More ruins appeared—heaps of shattered stone, broken pillars. Sparse remains of buildings.
Ruins? Here?!
The boat has been odd enough. But this…
There's not supposed to be civilization down here, and yet…
His eyes trailed over each crumbled structure as they walked. But the mental fog was growing. Sleep deprivation gnawed at his mind.
At some point, he dozed off. Farha shook him awake. Her expression was unreadable.
"Sorry… I'm just tired," he muttered, not sure what she was asking, or thinking.
She wasn't looking at him, though—her eyes were focused behind them.
He followed her gaze, piercing the shadows with unknown intent. At first, he saw nothing. He wanted to activate his ability, but decided against it since his mind was already in a fragile state. More importantly, he didn't need to.
Elion's breath caught. It was the Class III. Closer than he'd realized. Too close.
It crawled low, its body twitching and misshapen. It almost looked like some grotesque dog sniffing a trail. A line of crusted, vile blood traced from its wound down its torso. Tentacles scraped across the ground, probing like antennae.
How is it so close? I kept an eye out for it… and the noises they were…
He had trouble finishing his own thoughts.
I can't continue on like this.
Elion looked at Farha who seemed to be hesitating, biting her lower lip.
His heart pounded, his fate hanging on her decision. She could probably feel it too seeing how close they were.
He let out a shaky breath.
Huh… thinking about it, I've been traveling with a beautiful woman this whole time… leaning on her like some kind of tragic damsel.
Guess it isn't as bad as it could've been.
What the hell am I thinking?! I'm about to die, likely under said pretty woman's decision and I'm fantasizing like an idiot. Gods, sleep deprivation is terrifying.
Farha finally moved, seemingly reaching a decision. Elion braced for the worst, ready to run on his own, as pitiful as that might look, to at least 'die fighting' instead of just accepting his fate.
Much to his surprise, the mute girl shoved her pack into her pocket dimension, then crouched and gestured for Elion to climb on.
He blinked, stunned—but accepted the offer.
She lifted him onto her back and ran.
The sudden motion startled the creature—it snarled and barreled forward, slowed only slightly by its wounds.
She's really saving me?! Gods, she is.
They raced through the darkness, Farha running at an astonishing speed, especially while carrying someone. But Elion knew the truth: this wouldn't last. She couldn't run forever. And their hunter… probably could.
It was just delaying the inevitable.
The air began to shift. They were somewhat gaining ground, passing what looked like ruined buildings now—dark brown stone, strange inscriptions on the walls. Under different circumstances, Elion would have been captivated.
Every ounce of his dwindling attention was fixed on the Class III following them with the clear intent to make the two Unlocked its meal.
Farha began to falter. Her stride grew uneven. She stumbled once but kept going. The beast's footsteps echoed behind them, motivation enough for her to keep moving. If only motivation and unshakable will were enough to live.
As they turned where the river was starting to flow right, both of them saw light in the distance. Something different than the dim bioluminescence that lined the walls. It was a fire, someone had made a fire.
Flames flickered ahead, smoke rising through the shattered ribs of what looked like a ruined temple.
Elion didn't hesitate. He used his ability, despite the strain on his mind. Near the fire sat a humanoid silhouette made of chromatic threads—but its core was dark, exuding a familiar sinister energy.
"Wait! The owner of this fire, it's not human!" Elion called out, raising his voice above the chaos.
Farha didn't stop, running in the direction of the flame, fueled by pure adrenaline.
Shit. She's not listening.
I guess we're meeting whatever horror made that fire. Can it really be worse than what's already following us?