The air thickened with silence. Even the wind hissing through the canopy seemed to hold its breath, giving way to the tension between the two men. Aidan Cross, with a sharp pain from his side spreading like a smoldering fire, fought to stay conscious and alert. The strange man stood there, his tall, thin frame casting a long shadow on the mossy ground, his sharp, hawk-like eyes never leaving Aidan for a second. His question still hung in the air, as heavy as a stone.
"I... I don't know," Aidan finally managed to say, his voice hoarse and weak. He felt the foolishness of the answer, but it was the only truth he had. "I only remember my name. Aidan Cross. Other than that... there's nothing."
The surprise in the strange man's eyes seemed to soften, replaced by a complex glimmer—a mixture of pity, skepticism, and a hint of understanding. He nodded slightly, as if he had heard this story before.
"Another Awakened," he muttered, his deep, hoarse voice carrying the weariness of a man who had seen too much. "Another soul thrown into this hellscape without a single word of guidance."
He took a step forward, and Aidan instinctively flinched, his hands digging into the earth. The man stopped immediately, holding up his empty hands to show he meant no harm.
"Don't be tense, kid. If I wanted to harm you, you'd have been dead before you even saw me," he said, his tone not boastful, but merely stating an obvious fact. "I am Kaelen Vance. And I am more curious than hostile."
Kaelen Vance's gaze left Aidan and shifted to the giant corpse of the Grave Scuttler. He walked closer, nudging its rock-hard carapace with the toe of his boot.
"This is what makes me curious," Kaelen said, his voice full of admiration. "Grave Scuttlers are not easy to deal with. Their armor is nearly impenetrable, and the venom from their acid glands can corrode even metal. And yet you, a greenhorn Awakened, managed to take it down with just a rock." He bent down, examining the fatal wound just below the joint of the head and torso. "And you even knew its only weak spot. Luck?"
Aidan didn't answer. He didn't know what to say. It wasn't luck. It was a sudden knowledge, a strange instinct that had guided his hand. But how could he explain something he didn't understand himself? He just remained silent, his breath still coming in ragged gasps from pain and exhaustion.
Kaelen stood up straight, pulling a broad, gleaming dagger from his belt. He didn't look at Aidan, but began to work on the monster's corpse with incredible proficiency. His blade slipped between the gaps in the carapace with precision, prying off one plate at a time.
"The smell of blood will soon attract other things," Kaelen said while his hands worked nimbly. "Things far worse than your recent prey. We can't stay here long. But leaving this bounty behind would be a foolish waste."
Aidan watched, both amazed and slightly repulsed. Kaelen handled the corpse not with savagery, but with the efficiency of a skilled butcher. He separated the largest plates, flipping them to reveal the softer underside. Then, he carefully cut out and removed a small, dark green sac—the very thing that had spewed the hot liquid earlier.
"Acid gland," Kaelen explained, as if teaching a student. "Useful for crafting traps or temporary weapons. Its leg tendons are tough enough for a bowstring. And this carapace," he tapped a plate, making a dry clack sound, "can be used to reinforce clothing or make a makeshift shield. In this world, kid, nothing is trash, only people who don't know how to use it."
Every one of Kaelen's actions exuded experience and a deep understanding of this harsh environment. He was the embodiment of survival, a complete contrast to Aidan's naivety and uncertainty. Aidan realized that without this man, he probably would have died from his wound, or worse, become a meal for another predator drawn by the smell of blood.
After collecting the most valuable parts and wrapping them in a large hide, Kaelen turned to Aidan. "Can you stand? How's your wound?"
Aidan tried to push himself up, but a sharp pain in his side made him grimace and sit back down heavily. "I... I think my ribs are broken."
Kaelen sighed, a sigh not of annoyance, but of acceptance. "Just as I thought. Alright, lean on my shoulder. My shelter isn't far from here. But we have to go now."
Aidan hesitated for a moment. Placing his trust in a stranger in a world where even the trees seemed hostile was a huge gamble. But what was his other option? To die here alone? Finally, he nodded.
With Kaelen's help, Aidan struggled to his feet, draping an arm over the older man's shoulder. The weight of the spoils and of Aidan himself seemed to have no effect on Kaelen. He moved through the forest with an incredible sureness, his eyes constantly scanning, reading signs that Aidan could never recognize. They passed by twisted tree trunks, avoided strange, bubbling pools of mud, and ducked under thorny vines. Kaelen seemed a part of the forest, while Aidan was just a clumsy intruder.
"This forest... what is it?" Aidan asked quietly, trying to forget the pain.
"The old ones called it the Whispering Labyrinth," Kaelen replied, his eyes still fixed on the path ahead. "A fitting name. The wind here always carries strange sounds, enough to drive an unwary man mad. And the terrain is always changing unpredictably."
Finally, they reached a sheer cliff face, covered in moss and vines. Aidan couldn't see any path. But Kaelen walked straight towards a small waterfall, its white water flowing from above into a clear pool below. He stepped right through the curtain of water without hesitation. Aidan, after a moment of surprise, limped after him.
Behind the waterfall was a narrow opening leading into a small cave. Unlike the damp cave where Aidan had awoken, this place was dry and showed signs of human habitation. A small, extinguished fire pit lay in the center, next to a makeshift bed of dry leaves and animal hides. A few items were arranged neatly along the cave wall: some coils of rope, an unfinished bow, and leather pouches containing unknown items. The place exuded a sense of safety, a small oasis in a sea of danger.
Kaelen gently helped Aidan sit down on the makeshift bed. "Stay here."
He went to a corner of the cave, rummaged through a bag, and took out a wooden bowl and a few types of dried leaves with a pungent smell. He crushed them, mixed them with a little water, and returned to Aidan's side.
"Shirt off. I need to see the wound."
Aidan complied. Beneath the torn shirt, a massive purple bruise had formed on his side, swollen and discolored. Kaelen clicked his tongue. "Not broken, but badly bruised. You're lucky."
He carefully applied the herbal mixture to the bruise. The initial cool sensation quickly turned into a burning heat, but the pain also seemed to subside a little.
"Now then," Kaelen sat down opposite Aidan, his sharp eyes looking directly at him. "Let's get things clear. You say you're an Awakened. That means you appeared here out of thin air, no memories, nothing. I've seen a few cases like that. Most of them die on the first day."
He paused, letting his words sink in. "The ones who survive... they always have something special. A Spark, an innate talent. An ability that helps them get through the most desperate hours. So, Aidan Cross, what is your Spark? And don't tell me it was luck again. I don't believe in luck."
The direct question flustered Aidan. He recalled the strange sensation when facing the monster, the feeling of connecting with the shadows, and the sudden understanding of its weakness.
"I'm not sure," he answered honestly. "At that moment... I just felt... I knew where to strike. Like a voice, no, not a voice, but a feeling, was guiding me. And I felt the air around me change, as if... the forest was listening."
Kaelen narrowed his eyes, his expression thoughtful. "A form of empathy or transcendent combat intuition? Strange. Most Sparks I know are more straightforward. Some can create fire, others are unnaturally agile. Yours... is much more vague."
He stood up and paced around the cave. "Listen, Aidan Cross. You're a blank slate, but you've proven you have an extraordinary ability to survive. I'm a veteran survivor, but I'm getting old, and traveling alone in this Whispering Labyrinth is getting more dangerous by the day."
He stopped and looked at Aidan. "I have a proposal. I'll teach you how to live in this place: how to hunt, how to recognize danger, how to use what you find. I'll share my knowledge. In return, you'll be my eyes and my hands. You'll help me on hunts, keep watch, and do the heavy lifting. A pact for survival. What do you say?"
The offer hung between them. It was a life raft, but it could also be a trap. Kaelen Vance knew too much, and his eyes held secrets Aidan could never read. Trusting him was a risk. But refusing him, in his current state, was almost a death sentence.
Aidan looked into Kaelen's eyes, trying to find a sign of deception, of malice. But all he saw was the hardness of a man who had been worn down to the bone by this world, and a cold pragmatism. In this world, perhaps that pragmatism was more trustworthy than pure kindness.
"I... I agree," Aidan said, his voice still weak but now holding a note of determination.
Kaelen nodded in satisfaction. "Good. Then rest, Awakened. Because tomorrow, your lessons begin. And the first lesson will be this: in the Whispering Labyrinth, twilight is not the end of the day, but the beginning of the real hunt."
As Kaelen spoke his last sentence, from outside the cave, behind the curtain of water, a distant, mournful, and hungry roar echoed back, making the air in the cave seem to drop a few degrees. Aidan Cross's new life had only just begun.