By the fifth day, the clicking had stopped.
But the silence was worse.
No more rustling. No fake voices. No scraping bark.
Just a perfect, unnatural hush.
As if the woods were holding their breath.
~~~
[Day 5 – Morning]
[Star Stream Core: 78%]
[Physical State: Mild Exhaustion]
[Mental Status: High Focus / Edge State]
~~~
The terrain changed as Calen moved further south—twisted hills, gnarled roots, and fog. Lots of fog.
Thick as smoke. It clung to his boots, filled his lungs. His HUD struggled to compensate.
[Visual Feed: Partially Obstructed]
[Surrounding Light Absorption: Unnatural]
[Warning: Fog contains trace magical interference]
He adjusted the Æther Gauntlet, flipped a switch. The cannon module hissed with latent pressure.
Just in case.
~~~
By midday, the road became a path, the path became a trail, and then the trail disappeared entirely into pale mist.
"Echo," he said quietly, "how far to the nearest outpost?"
[Calculating... Unknown — Trail mapping data corrupted]
"Well, that's comforting."
He kept walking.
~~~
Hours passed.
Then something moved.
A flicker in the mist. A silhouette. Tall—too tall. Wrong shape. Not quite human. Limbs that shouldn't bend that way. A jittering shudder, like an insect forced into a human skin.
[Target: Unknown]
[Behavior: Observational]
[Suggested Action: Disengage]
He froze.
The shape cocked its head.
Its eyes glowed faint blue—like twin dying stars.
Then it spoke.
In his own voice.
"This one... learns."
The voice shifted mid-sentence. Became garbled. Glitching. Like a machine trying to mimic a recording but failing to grasp emotion.
The creature twitched.
Took a step forward.
Click.
Click.
SCCCRITCH.
Its leg bent sideways.
Calen fired.
A burst of compressed force from the cannon—a blue flash that ripped through the fog.
When the smoke cleared, the thing was gone.
No blood. No corpse.
Only a whisper.
"...Almost got me... little doll."
His spine went cold.
~~~
That night, he found an overhang—barely enough shelter—and dug himself into the earth.
The fog didn't lift.
He slept in ten-minute bursts.
No dreams. Just whispers.
~~~
[Day 6 – Early Morning]
[Star Stream Core: 75%]
[System Note: Prolonged exposure to corrupted mana fog may lead to hallucinations. Recommend withdrawal.]
Calen crouched by a tree, chewing stale dried fruit and watching the trees.
There was something carved into the bark.
Not by him.
Not natural.
Something in a twisted language. Scratched with bone or claw.
A crude face.
His face.
[Echo: "Okay, I vote we sprint."]
~~~
He didn't sprint.
But he moved faster. Focused. Calculated. Weapon ready.
Whatever stalked him wasn't hunting for food.
It was studying. Toying with him.
Learning him.
Imitating.
And now... it knew his face.