The footprints led to a small clearing where the gray trees formed a natural circle. In the center knelt a woman, maybe in her thirties, clutching her right arm. Blood, shockingly red against the monochrome world, dripped between her fingers.
Kai paused at the tree line, letting his new vision analyze. Her outline glowed pale blue with streaks of vibrant yellow—pain, fear, but no aggression. The wound on her arm pulsed crimson, a threat indicator. Infection risk? Or something worse?
She hadn't noticed him. Her attention was fixed on her arm, and she was whispering to herself.
"...just a cut, just a deep cut, need to bind it, where's my shirt—"
Kai's predation instinct provided data: *Vulnerable. Distracted. Blood scent will attract predators within approximately 8-12 minutes based on current atmospheric dispersion. Her survival probability without intervention: 23%.*
Numbers. It gave him numbers for everything.
He stepped into the clearing. The woman jerked her head up, scrambling backward.
"Don't—don't come closer!" Her eyes were wide, pupils dilated.
Kai stopped. "You're bleeding. It will attract things."
"I know that!" Her voice trembled. "Just... just go away. Please."
He looked at her more closely. Her clothes were practical—hiking boots, cargo pants, a sturdy jacket. Prepared, but not for this. A small backpack lay nearby, torn open.
Analysis: Survivalist background. Theoretical knowledge, limited practical experience. Current stress level: Critical.
"Your bag," he said. "Was there medical supplies?"
She followed his gaze. "Taken. While I was... while I was changing." Her face twisted. "The others. They took it and ran."
Ah. So the alliances were forming already, and they involved theft.
"Let me see the wound," Kai said, taking a step forward.
"No! I don't know you! You could be—" She broke off, her eyes fixing on something behind him.
Kai didn't turn. His instinct showed him nothing at his back—no heat signatures, no threat outlines. She was lying. Or hallucinating.
"Look at me," he said, his voice deliberately flat. "There's nothing there."
She blinked, confusion breaking through the fear. "But I saw... shadows moving..."
Observation: Possible system-induced hallucinations in stressed individuals. Or the grove itself is psychotropic.
Kai approached slowly, hands visible. When he was close enough, he saw the wound clearly. It wasn't a simple cut. The flesh was parted cleanly, almost surgically, but around the edges, tiny black filaments seemed to be growing into her skin, like roots.
"Did a plant do this?" he asked.
"I... I brushed against a tree. It looked normal, but when I touched it..." She shuddered. "It was like it cut me. Deliberately."
Kai's eyes went to the nearest tree. His predation vision activated, and he saw what he'd missed before. The bark wasn't just gray—it was patterned with microscopic crystalline structures, sharp-edged. And the black leaves, when he focused, had serrated edges finer than any razor.
The Silent Grove wasn't passive scenery. It was armed.
"Don't touch the trees," he said. "Or the plants. Assume everything wants to hurt you."
"Helpful advice now," she said through gritted teeth.
Kai ripped a strip from the bottom of his own shirt—a plain gray cotton that felt laughably inadequate. "This will have to do. Pressure first."
As he reached for her arm, something changed in his vision. The black filaments in her wound began to glow with a sickly green light. Data streamed:
Foreign biological agent detected. Classification: Arboreal Parasite - Type Gamma.
Effect: Gradual neural integration. Host becomes sensory extension of parent organism.
Time to integration: Approximately 42 minutes.
Treatment options: Amputation, cauterization, or application of specific chemical compounds not available in current environment.
The woman was becoming part of the grove.
Kai hesitated. The information had come not from the system, but from his Broken ability. It felt different—less like received data, more like something he'd always known but forgotten.
"What?" she asked, reading his expression. "What is it?"
He considered lying. It would be easier. But the numbers in his vision gave him another piece of data: If informed, her cooperation probability increases by 60%. Deception detected probability: 89% based on current stress indicators.
"You're infected," he said flatly. "The cut introduced a parasite. It's connecting you to the trees. You have about forty minutes before you can't be separated."
Her face went ashen. "That's... no. That's not possible."
"Look at the edges." He pointed to the black filaments. "They're growing. Into you."
She stared, and he saw the moment she accepted it—the fight went out of her shoulders. "So I'm dead."
"Not necessarily." Kai finished tying the makeshift bandage, applying pressure. "The system called this a tutorial. There must be a solution. A test."
"A test?" She laughed, a broken sound. "To see if we can survive magical tree parasites?"
"To see how we react," Kai corrected. "To see what we become when faced with the impossible."
He helped her stand. She was unsteady, leaning on him. Her weight felt insignificant in his calculations—another variable to manage.
"What's your name?" she asked.
"Kai."
"Lena." She took a shaky breath. "Why are you helping me? You chose solitude, didn't you? I saw the option."
Kai considered. The truthful answer was complicated. Part of it was the numbers—her survival probability increased with his intervention, and a living ally, even temporarily, offered strategic advantages. Part of it was curiosity—he wanted to observe the parasite's progression. And part of it was something else, something the "empathic dampening" hadn't completely erased: a residual sense that leaving her would be... inefficient. Not wrong, but inefficient.
"Information," he said finally. "You've experienced something I haven't. That has value."
"Practical." She gave him a sideways look. "You're not like the others. Even before... this. I can tell."
Before he could respond, a scream echoed through the grove. Distant, cut off abruptly.
The population counter in his vision ticked down:
Population: 997/1,003
Six dead in under an hour. Or "corrected."
"Come on," Kai said, adjusting his grip on her. "We need to move. The scream will draw attention."
"Where to?"
He consulted his instinct. It highlighted a path—not with visible markers, but with a subtle shifting of probability gradients. One direction felt slightly safer, with lower threat readings.
"That way."
As they moved, Lena spoke through her pain. "The others who took my bag... they had already changed. Not like this parasite. Their eyes... they were getting reflective. Like animals. One of them sniffed the air before he found me."
"Enhanced senses," Kai muttered. "An early correction for some. Survival adaptation."
"You keep saying that word. Correction."
"It's what the system calls it." He guided her around a patch of glowing mushrooms that his vision flagged as Toxic Spore Cluster - Lethal if inhaled.
"My husband," Lena said suddenly. "He was with me when it happened. The sky breaking. One moment he was holding my hand, the next..." She shook her head. "He was just gone. Not here. Not anywhere I can see."
Kai remembered his own last moment—the quiet of his apartment, the overdue bills on his table, the sense of life narrowing to a point of suffocating routine. Then the silent crack.
"Maybe that's better," he said without thinking.
Lena stared at him. "How can you say that?"
"He's not here. Not in this." Kai gestured to the grove, to her infected arm, to the counter ticking down in their vision. "Maybe disappearing completely is the only real mercy this place offers."
They walked in silence after that, the only sounds their footsteps and Lena's pained breathing. Kai monitored the parasite's progression. The green glow was spreading up her arm in fractal patterns, visible only to his enhanced sight.
Integration: 18%
Time remaining: 36 minutes
Then, his instinct flared. A warning—something ahead, waiting.
He stopped, pulling Lena behind a thick tree trunk. She started to speak, but he covered her mouth gently, pointing.
Ahead, in a small clearing, stood a creature.
It was humanoid, mostly. Two legs, two arms, a torso. But its skin was bark-like, mottled gray and brown. Where its face should have been, there was only a smooth surface with three vertical slits—for breathing, perhaps, or sensing. In its hand, it held a sharpened branch that gleamed with the same crystalline structure as the trees.
Analysis: Grove Sentinel - Corrected Human
Former population member. Full arboreal integration complete.
Threat level: Medium-High. Primary function: Patrol and assimilate.
Weakness: Fire (theoretical), Disruption of neural connection to grove network.
A corrected human. This was what Lena would become.
Kai's mind raced with calculations. Engagement risk versus avoidance. The sentinel blocked their most efficient path. Going around would add significant time, and Lena's integration timer continued its merciless countdown.
Then he noticed something else. Around the sentinel's neck hung a small pouch. And from that pouch leaked a faint, familiar scent—antiseptic, alcohol.
Medical supplies.
The sentinel had Lena's stolen bag, or part of it.
Kai looked at Lena, at her infected arm, then back at the creature. The numbers shifted in his vision, probabilities cascading.
If we engage: Survival probability 41%. If successful: Medical supplies acquisition probability 78%. If avoided: Lena's survival probability drops to 7% due to time loss.
The cold calculus of the grove.
He leaned close to Lena's ear, his voice barely audible. "That thing has medical supplies. Possibly antibiotics or something that can treat your infection."
Her eyes widened. "You can't be serious."
"We need them. You have thirty-four minutes."
"It'll kill us!"
"Maybe." Kai's gaze was fixed on the sentinel. "But you're dead anyway without those supplies. This increases your odds."
"And yours?" she whispered.
He almost smiled. It felt strange on his face. "I'm calculating that now."
The sentinel began to move, its steps eerily silent despite its humanoid form. It was turning away, beginning a patrol route that would take it out of the clearing.
Kai made his decision. The numbers had spoken.
"Stay here," he said. "If I fail, try to circle around. Head toward higher ground—my instinct says threats are less dense uphill."
"Kai—"
But he was already moving, slipping from tree to tree with a silence that surprised even him. His Broken ability was guiding him—showing him where to step to avoid snapping twigs, how to move to minimize his visual profile.
He was ten feet from the sentinel when it froze.
All three facial slits turned toward him.
It knew.