Karl moved east first, toward the marker closest to the Sanctuary. The forest floor was soft under his boots, moss muffling his steps as he pushed through a curtain of vines. A faint glow caught his eye, pulsing like fireflies against a half-buried stone.
He crouched, breath catching as he spotted a cluster of plants—broad leaves veined with luminescent threads, their tips shimmering faintly in the dim light.
A spiritual herb.
His Herbal Resonance stirred, whispering:
[Spirit Leaf: Restorative herb. Can be brewed into vitality tonic.]
The leaves felt cool and smooth under his fingers, a subtle energy tingling against his skin, like static from a live wire. This could keep me going—heal wounds, restore energy.
His lips curved into a grin, but he resisted the urge to pluck them immediately. He had no tools to preserve them yet. Wasting such a find would be reckless. With the tip of his spear, he carved a deep notch into a nearby tree, marking the spot, the scent of fresh sap sharp in the air. I'll come back later when I have use of it.
Karl pressed north, the forest growing quieter as he neared the second marker—a dip in the terrain flagged with a faint energy signature.
The air grew still, the usual chorus of insects and birds fading into an uneasy hush. Breath of Spring tingled, sensing something heavy, ancient, in the ground ahead.
The crater came into view, a shallow bowl carved into the earth, its edges tangled with gnarled roots and scattered stones.
From afar, it seemed unremarkable. Up close, it was a graveyard of potential.
Pale shapes gleamed in the fading light. Karl slid down the loose slope, gravel crunching under his boots, spear held ready. His eyes locked on a curved rib, thicker than his forearm, half-buried in moss and soil.
Nearby, a massive leg bone jutted upward, weathered but unyielding. Not wolf. Not human. Something bigger. He tapped the rib with his spear's butt, expecting a hollow clatter. Instead, it rang dense and solid, like petrified wood.
Sturdy as hell. A grin spread across his face. This is better than branches.
He gripped the leg bone, planted his foot for leverage, and pulled. The earth resisted, roots snapping as he wrenched it free with a spray of dirt. The bone was heavy, nearly throwing him off balance, its weight promising durability. Spear tips, clubs, maybe even armor.
His mind raced with possibilities—sharpened shards for traps, curved ribs for structural supports. He slung the bone across his back with a vine, its weight grounding him as he scanned the crater for more.
Ribs, vertebrae, and smaller shards lay strewn across the crater floor—a hidden hoard, waiting for proper tools and more hands to unearth it.
Climbing out, the crater's bones cast long shadows in the dusk, relics of a fallen giant. To Karl, they weren't a warning—they were a promise of strength, raw and unclaimed.
The western marker beckoned last, its promise of resources tinged with anomaly's uncertainty. Karl pushed through dense vines, their leaves brushing his shoulders, releasing a faint, sweet scent that grew stronger with every step.
The air shifted, carrying a honeyed warmth that clawed at his hunger. Ahead, gnarled trees leaned together, their branches sagging under clusters of amber fruit, each glowing faintly, like embers trapped in golden skins. The ground was littered with fallen ones, their syrupy flesh split open, glistening in the dim light.
Karl plucked one. Its warmth was heavy in his palm, the skin yielding under his thumb with a burst of melon-honey fragrance.
Sunfire Fruit.
His Herbal Resonance hummed:
[Sunfire Fruit: Edible. Restores strength. Excess consumption may induce Heat Fever.]
He nodded at the warning. Powerful, but there's always a catch. The Wilderness never gives without taking. Still, the grove was a treasure—enough to sustain him for weeks, maybe feed future allies.
He pocketed four, their warmth pressing against his side, and notched a nearby trunk to mark the spot. I'll need baskets, maybe a way to dry these for storage.
A flutter broke the silence overhead. Karl's spear snapped up, heart lurching—expecting amber eyes in the dusk. But only dusk-birds burst skyward, their iridescent wings flashing as they scattered with sharp cries. He exhaled, lowering the spear.
They weren't pushed out. His talent confirmed it—their vitalities were light, non-aggressive, fluttering like harmless sparks.
A realization hit him: these birds weren't expelled by the barrier. Maybe because they can't threaten me, or they're simply too harmless.
Not all were so lucky.
Further along the scar, larger prints marred the ground—wolf tracks, fresh and frantic, circling before veering sharply outward.
The wolf… it was inside too?
The thought sent a chill down his spine. His pulse quickened as he crouched to examine the prints. The acrid scent was stronger here, mingled with blood, sharp and coppery in the cooling air. A tuft of matted fur clung to a root, singed at the tips as if scorched by the barrier's energy.
Pushed hard. Maybe injured.
Karl's fingers brushed the fur, the faint warmth lingering like a warning. That's why it's circling—angry, waiting for payback. The tracks told the story: confusion, pain, retreat.
The barrier hadn't killed it, but it had marked it, forcing it beyond the new edge. Other prints scattered the trench—smaller beasts, perhaps rabbits or boars, their trails chaotic, some ending in scuffs where they'd been flung back.
The anomaly wasn't destruction but displacement—a forceful shove that reordered the land. Harmless life lingered; threats were expelled.
Karl stood, spear gripped tighter, the forest's hum now laced with distant growls.
The barrier bought me space, but it made enemies.
The wolf's vitality echoed faintly in his senses, circling just beyond reach. It won't forget.
He turned back toward the Sanctuary, the glowing windows a beacon in the gathering dark.
The timer ticked:
[3 days, 17 hours, 45 minutes].
Karl retraced his steps, the sky now a deep jade, the air biting through his jacket. The weight of the bone across his back, the fruits in his pockets, and the memory of the Spirit Leaf anchored him against the rising fear.
His domain wasn't empty—it was rich with potential. Spirit Leaf for healing, bones for weapons, Sunfire Fruit for strength. Each find was a step toward survival, toward turning his fragile empire into something unyielding.
The Sanctuary loomed ahead, its glowing windows casting soft light across the clearing. The barrier shimmered, a silent vow of protection.
The vine ladder uncoiled, welcoming him, and he climbed into the Sanctuary's embrace. The control panel pulsed faintly, the map updating with his marks: Spirit Leaf patch, bone crater, Sunfire grove.
Karl checked the hatchling's nest. The little creature stirred, scaled body curling tighter, a soft whimper slipping from its throat. Its vitality felt steady under Breath of Spring, but hunger gnawed at it.
He reached into the clay jar where the wriggling worms squirmed. Pinching one between his fingers, Karl brought it close. The hatchling's eyes snapped open, gleaming faintly in the Sanctuary's light, and it gave a sharp, eager chirp.
"Easy now," Karl murmured, lowering the worm.
The hatchling snapped it up, swallowing it whole. Another followed, then another, until its cries softened to contented chirps. Finally, it curled back into its nest, belly full, eyes fluttering shut. Safe. For now.
Only after that did Karl eat his own share of roasted meat, chewing slowly, exhaustion pressing heavier with each bite.
The Sanctuary was quiet, the air rich with the scent of herbs and roasted meat, a fragile peace against the vast dangers outside.
He lay back on his mat, eyes heavy. Beyond the Sanctuary's walls, the Summoning Gate hummed in the night, its emerald glow steady, patient—waiting for the first crystal, waiting to open the path to his first ally.
With that thought lingering, Karl drifted into sleep