I stood up after a few minutes.
The forest hadn't changed.
Neither had the hunger.
I bent down, lifted Nola easily, and settled her onto my shoulder. She adjusted herself instinctively, gripping my shirt to keep her balance.
"Alright," I said quietly.
"It is what it is. We're still hungry."
Nola nodded once.
As we walked, she hopped down briefly, picked up a few stones with her mouth, and vanished them one by one into her beast space. Efficient. Calm.
I watched and nodded.
"Good."
We didn't walk long before I saw them.
Two goblins.
They stood ahead on the path, thin bodies tense, eyes sharp. This time, I didn't feel the crawling discomfort from before.
No hesitation.
No disgust.
Just distance and calculation.
They saw me.
And charged.
I didn't hide.
I didn't retreat.
A stone appeared in my hand.
I tightened my grip.
"Grasp of the Mountain."
My fingers locked. My wrist steadied. My shoulder anchored.
My expression stayed flat.
The goblins closed the distance.
I threw.
The stone struck the first goblin square in the head. Bone cracked. It collapsed mid-step without a sound.
The second goblin didn't stop.
It lunged.
I stepped forward and kicked.
Hard.
My foot slammed into its stomach with enough force to lift it off the ground. It crashed onto its back, gasping, clawing at the dirt.
Both were alive.
Both were helpless.
Several stones appeared in my hand.
I gripped them tightly.
The goblins realized it at the same time.
They struggled to stand. To run.
I sighed.
Raised my arm.
Took aim.
And threw.
The stones flew with brutal accuracy.
One after the other.
Both goblins went still.
Silence returned.
I stood there, arm aching, fingers numb, breathing steady.
Too steady.
Nola shifted on my shoulder but didn't squeak.
I didn't look at the bodies.
I just kept walking.
The goblins' bodies began to dissolve.
Blue particles rose from the ground, drifting upward and vanishing into the air.
I let out a quiet sigh.
Then—
Whsh.
An arrow tore through the space where my head had been.
I twisted instinctively, the shaft passing so close I felt the air split beside my cheek.
My heart slammed.
An archer.
A ranger.
"…Great," I muttered. "Just what I need."
Another arrow came.
I saw it—not clearly, not cleanly—but enough. My body reacted before my thoughts caught up. I ducked, rolled, and came back up already moving.
Nola tensed on my shoulder.
She didn't panic.
She understood.
Before I could say anything, her voice brushed against my mind—light, steady.
"Tell me when you have food."
Then she vanished into the beast-taming space.
I nodded once.
Another arrow struck the ground behind me, burying itself deep into the dirt.
I ran.
Not blindly—forward, zigzagging between trees, using trunks and roots as cover. The forest blurred past me as I sprinted, lungs burning, legs screaming.
Arrows kept coming.
One clipped a tree to my left.
Another shattered bark inches from my shoulder.
Whoever it was knew how to shoot.
They weren't rushing.
They weren't wasting shots.
They were herding me.
Calm, I told myself.
Don't panic.
I changed direction suddenly, sliding behind a thick trunk just as an arrow slammed into it with a dull thud. Wood splintered.
Too close.
I pushed off and ran again, weaving deeper into the forest, forcing the shooter to reposition. My breathing grew harsher, vision narrowing slightly at the edges.
I can't keep this up.
Another arrow screamed past.
I ducked under a low branch, rolled, came up hard—and felt the ground slope downward.
Good.
I bolted.
Branches whipped at my face. Roots threatened to trip me. My stamina was bleeding fast, but I didn't slow.
Not yet.
Not until the arrows stopped.
Not until I found cover.
Not until—
I lived.
I finally slammed my back against a tree and stopped.
The trunk was thick—wide enough to hide my entire body. For once, the endless damn trees were actually useful.
So you're good for something after all, I thought mockingly.
Another arrow struck the bark with a dull thud.
Then another.
Then… nothing.
The arrows became slower. Sloppier. Less frequent.
I listened carefully, chest heaving, sweat running down my spine.
No more shots.
I frowned.
"That's not good…"
Leaves rustled ahead.
The goblin stepped into view.
He was smaller than the others, leaner, with a crude bow hanging uselessly at his side. In his hand was a jagged bone knife, stained dark and chipped from use.
His face was twisted in fury.
He wasn't hunting anymore.
He was angry.
The goblin began walking toward me—slowly, deliberately—each step crunching against the forest floor.
I let out a tired sigh.
"…Of course."
My arms trembled slightly as I lowered them. They were done. Past their limit. My fingers still tingled from strain, joints aching deep inside.
I could use Grasp of the Mountain one more time.
Only once.
If I tried again—
Forget it.
I swallowed.
One hit, I told myself.
I end this with one hit.
My heartbeat thundered in my ears. Anxiety crept in, cold and suffocating. My thoughts scattered, uncertainty flooding in despite my attempts to stay calm.
What if I miss?
What if he's faster?
What if—
A translucent panel flickered into existence at the edge of my vision.
Sanity: 5%
I froze for half a second.
It was rising.
Not because I wanted it to.
But because fear was pushing me toward efficiency again—toward erasing hesitation.
I clenched my jaw.
"…Don't," I muttered to myself.
The goblin snarled and broke into a run, knife raised.
I pushed off the tree.
Pain flared through my arms as I grabbed a stone from the ground and tightened my grip.
My fingers locked.
My wrist steadied.
Everything else fell away.
Just distance.
Timing.
One throw.
The goblin lunged.
I stepped forward instead of back.
And threw.
I missed.
Of course I did.
The stone slammed into the tree behind the goblin instead, exploding bark outward. The trunk cracked loudly, deep enough to leave a visible wound.
"…What a surprise," I thought mockingly.
For a split second, everything stopped.
The goblin froze.
It stared at the damaged tree—then at me.
Fear flashed across its face.
Anger followed immediately after.
The two emotions twisted together, making its grip on the bone knife tighten. Its breathing grew rough, uneven.
I noticed something strange.
The goblin wasn't looking at me like prey anymore.
It was looking at me like a monster.
My right hand trembled violently, fingers numb and aching. I lowered it slowly, flexing them with effort.
Then I laughed softly.
Not because it was funny.
Because the situation was absurd.
I raised my left hand.
"What?" I said, my voice light, mocking.
"Scared already?"
I opened my palm deliberately.
"I still have another hand."
The goblin stopped breathing.
Its eyes flickered—fear, calculation, hesitation—all crashing into each other at once. The knife wavered slightly.
It didn't know.
It didn't know that my arms were already at their limit.
It didn't know that I couldn't throw like that again.
All it saw was:
A human who shattered a tree with a missed throw
A calm expression
A second hand still raised
For the first time since I entered this forest—
I wasn't being hunted.
I was being judged.
And the goblin didn't like the answer it was coming to.
The goblin snapped.
Whatever fear I'd planted shattered instantly, replaced by raw rage.
It lunged.
Too fast.
My eyes widened.
"No—!"
I tried to dodge, tried to twist away—but my body didn't respond in time. My legs were heavy. My balance was off.
The bone knife punched into my stomach.
Cold.
Sharp.
Final.
The impact drove the air out of my lungs. Pain exploded outward, blinding and absolute. I staggered back, hands clutching at the wound as warmth spilled between my fingers.
My knees gave out.
As I fell, a thought surfaced—strangely calm.
Isn't this exactly what happened before?
When I was completely helpless?
The forest blurred.
I shut my eyes without meaning to.
I don't know how much time passed.
There was no pain.
No sound.
Then—
Pow.
Pow.
Pow.
Something soft tapped against my cheek.
Annoying.
Persistent.
I frowned and slowly opened my eyes.
White ceiling.
Familiar walls.
The hum of electricity.
"…What?"
I was lying on my sofa.
My apartment.
For a second, my mind refused to accept it.
Then I felt warmth on my chest.
Nola.
She was sitting right on top of me, tiny paws pressing against my face as she squeaked urgently, clearly trying to wake me up.
"You're… here?" I whispered.
She squeaked louder, tail wagging furiously.
I sat up abruptly.
No wound.
No blood.
No forest.
The television was off. The cake box was still on the table. The knife lay exactly where it had fallen.
Then I noticed them.
Two people sat calmly on my sofa.
Both wore dark suits.
One man.
One woman.
They weren't armed. They weren't tense.
They were waiting.
The woman looked to be in her thirties, her posture relaxed, eyes sharp but not hostile. She met my gaze and smiled faintly.
"Welcome back," she said.
My stomach tightened.
She spoke my name clearly.
"Mr. Arin."
The room felt smaller.
The silence heavier.
Nola pressed closer against me.
And suddenly, I understood something terrifying.
The tower hadn't ended.
I had just been pulled out.
The coffee was bitter.
I welcomed it.
The warmth in my hands felt real in a way the forest never had. I took another slow sip, letting the taste linger, grounding myself in something ordinary.
Across from me, the two agents sat patiently.
They didn't rush me.
They didn't pressure me.
That, somehow, made it worse.
After a few minutes, both of them nodded again, almost imperceptibly, as if confirming something only they could see.
The man spoke first.
"Sir," he said politely,
"if you don't mind… could you tell us your current sanity level?"
I paused.
Then nodded.
The translucent panel appeared in front of me, clear and familiar. As always, only I could see it.
I looked.
Then closed it.
"…Ten percent," I said.
For a moment, neither of them reacted.
Then they smiled.
Not wide.
Not relieved.
Satisfied.
They clapped their hands lightly, the sound soft but cheerful.
"Good, good," the man said, nodding.
"Not bad at all."
The woman joined in, her expression pleased.
"You're the tenth member whose sanity could be controlled."
The word member made my fingers tighten around the coffee cup.
I opened my mouth.
Questions crowded my throat.
Who are you?
What is the tower?
Why did I die?
Why am I here?
Why is she here?
Before a single one escaped, the woman raised her palm.
"Now, now," she said gently.
"I know. I know. You have many questions."
She leaned back slightly, crossing her legs with practiced ease.
"But first," she continued,
"we need to calm you down."
The man nodded in agreement.
"And return your sanity level," he added smoothly,
"back to zero percent."
Zero.
Normal.
The word should have felt comforting.
Instead, it felt like someone reaching for the back of my head.
I glanced down.
Nola was still sitting on my chest, watching them silently. Her body was tense, but she didn't move. She didn't growl. She didn't resist.
She was waiting for me.
"…Okay," I said quietly.
I didn't argue.
I didn't ask.
I leaned back into the sofa, exhaustion settling into my bones all at once. My limbs felt heavy, like I'd been running for days without rest.
Nola curled closer, her warmth steady against my chest.
The woman stood.
"Just rest," she said calmly.
"We'll take care of the adjustment."
My eyelids grew heavy.
Too heavy.
The last thing I felt was Nola's soft weight rising and falling with my breathing.
Then—
Nothing.
When I woke up, the apartment was empty.
No agents.
No coffee cups.
No voices.
Only silence.
I sat up slowly and summoned the panel.
Name: Arin
Age: 25
Bonded Beast: Bear (Cub)
Sanity:0%
???
???
I stared at the number.
Zero.
Normal.
I should've felt relieved.
Instead, something felt… missing.
Not memories.
Not fear.
Something quieter.
Something I couldn't name.
Nola looked up at me.
For a brief moment, I felt the urge to ask her something important.
Then the thought slipped away.
"…Guess I needed the rest," I muttered.
She squeaked softly, unconvinced.
Outside, the city continued as if nothing had happened.
Fireworks echoed in the distance.
And somewhere far beyond this room—
The tower waited.