The inn had long grown silent. The night breeze whispered through the cracked window, carrying the faint scent of damp earth and city smoke. V was sprawled across the bed, motionless except for the steady rise and fall of his chest.
Caelum sat cross-legged by the window, eyes reflecting the faint moonlight. His hands were resting loosely on his knees, but his mind wasn't at peace. He was too aware of the vampire's presence, of the soft rhythm of his breathing — too calm, too deliberate.
He spoke under his breath.
"Guide, what are the chances I can kill him now?"
There was a short, static-like silence.
"…."
"Answer me."
"Negative one hundred," the guide finally said flatly.
Caelum exhaled through his nose. "Oh. So he's that strong."
His gaze drifted to V again, who looked far too harmless lying there.
This guy always makes me feel on edge… why?
He shifted his focus inward, trying to pull in forest mana — only to find… nothing. His brow furrowed. The air was dry. The faint hum of energy he'd always felt within the forest was gone, replaced by a hollow stillness that pressed against his lungs.
So this is what a city feels like, he thought, distaste curling in his chest. No mana, no whisper of life. Just noise hiding in silence.
He looked around the room — the bed, the table, the faint light of the moon spilling through the window — and frowned. The bed looked soft, but sleeping on it felt wrong. He stared out at the branches swaying in the distance, debating.
And then a low, lazy voice broke through the stillness.
"Don't you think of running."
His head snapped toward the bed. V hadn't moved. His breathing was still steady, his eyes closed — but the words had been clear as daylight.
"I'm not," Caelum muttered, biting back his instinct to glare.
Silence followed, broken only by the wind brushing past the roof. He waited, but V didn't move again.
Caelum rubbed his temples. "Creepy bastard."
Still, the forest's habit clung to him like a second skin. His body needed to cultivate before sleeping. It was the only thing that calmed the storm of energy under his ribs. So, if not through the forest — then perhaps, through the moon.
He stepped closer to the window and let the moonlight wash over his face. It was cold but steady, soft enough to trace the faint veins under his skin. He closed his eyes, reaching for it — and then winced.
A sharp pain pulsed through his forehead and spine. He hissed softly, pressing his palm against his head.
"It's been there for a while," he murmured. "But now… it's worse."
If he were in the forest, the plants would've told him what was wrong. But here, surrounded by lifeless stone and air, he had no such luxury. He looked around — no mirror. So, he turned to the glass window.
The reflection that looked back at him made his breath hitch. A faint green pattern shimmered on his forehead — thin as a vine, glowing faintly in the dark. It spread outward like roots beneath translucent skin, pulsing with slow rhythm.
"When did this… get here?"
He lifted a hand to touch it, but before his fingers reached his skin, the guide's calm voice interrupted.
"Don't use your hand. Touch it with your consciousness — like when you look into your core."
Caelum hesitated. Then he did as told.
And the world fell away.
A sudden force yanked him — his body jerked, breath stolen from his lungs — and before he could even gasp, everything went black.
Then, light. Green, rippling light.
He stood — or floated — in a vast expanse of emerald haze. Roots sprawled beneath his feet, moving like serpents, glowing with a living pulse. Above him hung a massive tree, its trunk suspended in the air, dripping leaves of liquid light.
"Where… am I?" His voice trembled — not with fear, but with a strange, breathless wonder.
His guide didn't respond immediately. Then, a whisper came — faint, like wind threading through leaves.
"Welcome to the forest realm, Last heir."