Far from the others, beneath the twisted shadow of a gnarled trunk, I skidded to a halt. My chest heaved like a bellows, breath clawing for air. Panic surged up from somewhere deep, sudden and suffocating, closing a fist around my throat.
I forced words out, low and broken, clinging to them like lifelines.
"I need to get stronger. I need to control my emotions. I need to protect people."
The mantra beat in my head with every breath, a rhythm to hold back the storm. But it couldn't drown the rising tide inside me. Fear kept pushing higher, searing my lungs, pressing against my skin as if even my clothes were conspiring to strangle me.
If I can protect someone in these woods… just one person.
That thought burned brighter than the fear. I'll prove I'm not just a destroyer. I'll be someone's shield…. I'll earn someone's trust. I'll be accepted in society. I'll see my parents again.
But the fear didn't release me. It coiled tighter, a rope set ablaze around my ribs.
Maybe… maybe these vows weren't strength at all. Maybe I was only saying them because I was terrified. Because deep down I knew the truth: if things spiraled here, if this forest pushed me past the edge, then it would stir Vanik'shur from his slumber. And it wouldn't just be students who suffered.
Then the screams began.
From the winding paths where students had kept running blindly, cries tore through the forest: Shrieks of pain, ragged pleas for help. The sound didn't just echo, it clung, burrowing into the bark, into the marrow of my bones. Each cry snapped like a branch underfoot, brittle and final.
My blood turned to ice as my eyes darted. What's going on?
The mention of ghosts was a clue, and those who didn't catch it remained running.
And in that instant, a cruel truth revealed itself: those who had stopped… survived.
We didn't need further proof. Survival demanded action, and hesitation was already a death sentence. Together, we turned, carving our own direction into the woods, not one gifted by that voice, not one fed to us like bait. A path we could trust, however uncertain.
That's when the voice vanished.
No taunts, no orders, no warnings. Only silence remained.
But it wasn't the silence of peace, it was alive, coiled like a predator in tall grass: Dangerous and patient. Waiting for the next moment to strike.
---
The three girls exchanged uneasy glances, the weight of unspoken dread pressing between them. Finally, Liana straightened her shoulders, her weapon angled at her side. Her voice cut through the heavy quiet, steady yet razor-sharp.
"We shouldn't run anymore," she said. "We walk. We think."
Aria flicked her wrist, the glow of her watch reflecting in her silver eyes. Her tone was blunt, practical, as though clinging to facts would hold the fear at bay.
"We left the academy at ten sharp. Today is the fourteenth. All we need to do is track the shifts. By the fifteenth, we should have reached the center of the woods. But no more following voices, not anymore."
Their words carried farther than they realized. Students nearby; panting, trembling, weapons still raised, lifted their heads, listening. A ripple passed through the crowd. Those who still clung to speed began to falter, doubt piercing their desperation.
The truth settled in like a blade drawn across the earth: obedience to that voice was a death sentence. From now on, survival would hinge on something far crueler.
Not faith, not commands, only instinct. And instinct would decide who lived.
They moved forward slowly, each step deliberate, as if the ground itself might betray them. The silence grew heavier, pressing down like a weight on their shoulders. Even the air itself felt wrong, and thicker, curling close around us, clinging like a damp shroud.
That's when the forest began to change.
Branches overhead groaned, bending in unnatural arcs, twisting as though unseen hands dragged their limbs into new shapes. Leaves trembled though no wind stirred them. A faint vibration, more felt than heard, rippled through the stillness, a low hum that slithered into our ears, threading itself beneath our thoughts.
The trees were moving, not swaying but shifting. The paths we thought we knew blurred, warped, closing and reopening like a maze alive, rearranging itself to trap us.
Mira's voice cracked in a whisper, her grip tightening on her twin blades until her knuckles blanched.
"Do you hear that?"
Liana raised her weapon, every muscle in her stance razor-sharp, eyes scanning the shadows. Her voice came quiet and certain, cutting through the hum.
"It's them."
A pause. The kind that made the skin crawl.
"They're watching."
She meant the demons, but were they really here in the first place?
---
A sudden, cold breeze swept across my face, yet the trees didn't move. Their branches held rigid, unnatural, as if frozen mid-breath.
I dropped to the ground, ripping my shirt off in one sharp motion. The fabric clung like a noose, heavy, suffocating. Was it the cloth strangling me or was it just my fear closing in, skin tightening against itself? My chest rose and fell in shallow bursts as I forced the rhythm slower, steadier, and measured.
Heat crawled across my skin, every muscle burning, but the seal on my back stayed quiet. It was too quiet. I could have sworn I thought it was gone.
I couldn't even name the reason for my fear. I only knew it was there, rooted in the marrow, growing sharper with every step.
The footsteps of the others began to slow. One by one, the frantic pounding eased, collapsing into uneasy silence. Heavy breaths cracked the still air like glass.
And the forest responded, it stilled: Not a bird chirped, not a breeze blew, not even the rustle of leaves echoed. The woods seemed to hold its breath with us, as though listening.
The sound of movement shifted from running wild and desperate to a shuffle. Careful and cautious.
They walked like prey, trying not to be heard. And in that silence, it was impossible not to feel it: something else was listening too.
But that's when the forest shifted completely.
The branches above groaned and curled, bending into shapes no wood should ever take. They twisted at impossible angles, creaking like bones forced out of joints.
Beneath my feet, the ground lurched. Roots surged upward, thick and gnarled, coiling like serpents across the path. One after another, they slithered into place, silent but deliberate, until the way forward was sealed shut.
I spun; left, right, even cranking upward, but saw the same truth repeat itself. Branches interlocked, roots knotted, shadows deepened. Everywhere I looked, the forest was folding inward, building its own walls. Not barriers but cages. The air itself seemed to pulse with the effort, as if the woods were alive and intent on holding us.
The instinct to break down clawed at me, urging a scream, a collapse, anything to release the crushing pressure. But I refused; this wasn't the time to wail or panic.
I yanked my shirt back over my shoulders, fabric clinging to sweat, and forced my legs to straighten. Whatever this was, however wrong it felt, I couldn't stay frozen in place.
If the forest wanted me caged, I'd move anyway. Step by step, I'd figure it out.
But before I could lift my foot from the ground, a sudden voice sliced through the haze.
"Hey. Good morning."
My head snapped upward toward the sound, breath locking in my chest. The world seemed to tilt.
You have hot to be kidding me!
There, perched casually on a thick branch, one arm draped across his knee as if this was nothing more than a lazy morning was a demon. But everything about him screamed predator, the stillness, the poise, the hunger in his eyes.
The same one who had torn my heart from my chest the day before.
And his hand, the hand I had crushed into ruin was whole again, it had grown back. Fingers flexed with easy confidence, like proof that nothing I had done mattered.
My blood ran cold, my breath hitched as I forced the word out.
"You…?"
He smirked, leaning forward just enough for the light to catch the cruel curve of his mouth. His voice was low, playful, and mocking, each syllable stretched like he wanted to savor my reaction.
"Hey, look at you. There I was, sitting around—bored out of my mind—in the middle of the woods. Nobody was coming my way."
His grin split wider, and sharp as a blade, eyes glinting with sick amusement.
"Then I realized… all the fun was over here. So, I came."
My eyes widened in horror. The memory of his hand plunging into my chest, the tearing agony of my heart when he ripped it away, came back in a rush. It wasn't just a memory, it was a wound reopening, raw and merciless. For the second time, I understood what true fear felt like.
Am I… scared again?!
My throat tightened, words scraping out broken.
"Wha-What are you doing here? In these woods?" My voice cracked, no matter how hard I tried to steady it.
He chuckled low, soft, and too casual for the weight of what hung between us.
"Oh, me? You shouldn't look so scared."
His gaze sharpened as it pinned me in place, gleaming with a cruel, unblinking amusement.
"Look at your eyes wide and trembling. And yet…"
He tilted his head, the grin stretching wider, almost unnatural, like a mask of hunger slipping into place.
"…you're supposed to be the strongest person in these woods right now. Why not release your demon, and let's have some fun?"
The words hit harder than the smirk. Release… my demon?
I didn't understand what he meant. And deep down, I wasn't sure I wanted to.
His eyes narrowed, a memory flickering behind them.
Yesterday… When he sat there, trembling under my presence, I thought he was nothing more than prey. But then he crushed my hand, ripped it off and for a moment, it was me who felt fear. I wonder if Master is really right about him.
The demon's lips curved faintly, mocking, as his gaze swept over me now.
And yet here he is again, wide-eyed, shaking. Just like before.
"Chill out." His smile lingered, sharp and amused.
I swallowed the tightness in my throat, forcing the tremor out of my voice.
"What are you doing in the woods?" I asked again, trying to steady the words as if saying them calmly might steady me too.
He tilted his head, cheek leaning lazily against his hand as though this were nothing more than a passing conversation beneath the sun. His posture made the whole thing worse. He wasn't just dangerous, he was comfortable here, as if this forest belonged to him.
"You see…" His tone stretched, calm and patient, yet every syllable dripped with amusement. "…every three years, these exams are held. The demons you meet here? Most of them are weaklings. They surrendered after encountering Exo-hunters."
He paused, watching the shift in my face, savoring it.
"They're dragged here, placed into this little trial of yours, specifically so you students can bleed against them."
His eyes glinted, sharp and cruel. The smirk curved back into place.
"So all I had to do… was surrender to an Exo-hunter. And here I am."
The casualness of it burned deeper than the words themselves. He'd treated 'surrender' something that should have been 'defeat' as nothing more than a shortcut.