Isaac stood at the edge of Dudael Forest. The sun was still rising behind him. In front of him, the trees swayed gently in the wind.
He had been here before. He knew what lived beyond the outer trees. But this time, he was going alone.
He wasn't being chased. He wasn't looking for a fight. He was chasing something else now.
He adjusted the straps on his pack. It wasn't heavy. Just supplies, some dried meat, water, and rope. On his back was his trusted axe. At both sides, his Twin Reaper Sickles hanging at his hips.
Hopper rested quietly on his right shoulder, twitching his antennae.
The voice had grown stronger.
Not constant. Not clear. But stronger.
It whispered when his body broke, during near-death moments or when Abyssal Overdrive was active.
And when it spoke, the corruption in his veins stirred.
Why don't you just ask who the voice is?
He had asked himself that question before.
But it never answered. Not directly.
