The marsh was quiet now, too quiet. The kind of stillness that made every breath sound loud, every splash of water against mud feel like a signal flare. Ethan's heartbeat was still pounding in his ears, his body caught between the adrenaline high of the fight and the unease of its abrupt end.
Sarah finally broke the silence.
"What… was that?" Her bow was still in her hand, arrow nocked, eyes scanning the mist as though the creatures might come back at any moment.
Cole spat mud out of his mouth and wiped a sleeve across his face. "I'll tell you what it was—someone playing with their food."
Mira, still pale from the battle, shook her head. "No. That wasn't random. Those creatures stopped the moment that person touched the water. They were… linked. Like the figure was in control."
Ethan exhaled slowly, letting the weight of her words sink in. "We've seen the Dark act strangely before. The breeder. The attacks happening in patterns. But this? This wasn't just coordination—it was command."
Lucas planted his sword tip in the mud and leaned on it, catching his breath. "Which means one of two things: either that figure is part of them… or they've found a way to control them."
No one liked either option.
The fog was starting to shift, thinning slightly as a breeze rolled through the marsh. But it didn't bring comfort—if anything, the sudden ability to see further just revealed more endless, identical stretches of water and reeds. No paths. No landmarks. Just a labyrinth.
Ethan looked back in the direction they'd come from, but even that was uncertain now. "Can anyone tell which way is out?"
Sarah's ears twitched again, straining. "Maybe. But it'll take longer if we avoid channels deep enough for those things to hide in."
Cole muttered, "Better slow than dead."
They started moving, keeping tighter formation than before. Ethan stayed near the center, not out of fear, but so he could keep an eye on everyone. He'd learned quickly in this world that being alive wasn't just about surviving fights—it was about surviving after them, too.
The silence gave his mind too much room to wander.
That figure had known exactly where to take them, exactly how long to keep them moving before springing the trap. It was the kind of calculated patience predators didn't usually have—not unless they were human. And that ripple through the water… Ethan could still feel it in his bones, like an echo under his skin.
His system pinged softly in his head.
[Observation: Unknown Entity]
Threat Level: Indeterminate
Advice: Avoid direct confrontation until further data is acquired.
Ethan frowned. "That's your advice? Avoid it? We just had the chance to—"
Host survival probability in direct confrontation: 12%.
"…Fair."
By the time they reached a stretch of firmer ground, the fog had lifted enough for them to see the treeline in the far distance—dry land. It felt like a promise of safety, though Ethan doubted it would last.
They stopped to catch their breath.
Lucas was the first to speak. "We can't report this to Norhollow the way it happened. If the mayor's already hiding information about the breeder, he's not going to want to hear about some mysterious figure controlling Dark."
"Then what?" Sarah asked sharply. "Pretend it didn't happen? Just go back to chasing random attacks while this thing roams the marsh?"
Mira's eyes narrowed, her voice lower. "We don't tell the mayor. We tell someone who will actually act on it."
Cole looked skeptical. "Like who?"
"That's the problem," Mira admitted. "I don't know yet."
Ethan stayed quiet. It wasn't that he didn't have an opinion—he had plenty—but the truth was, he was still putting pieces together. Whoever that figure was, they weren't random. And if they could control the Dark… they were connected to the reason Ethan was here.
And that meant this wasn't just about surviving. It was about finding them again.
When they finally reached the edge of the marsh, the air felt lighter, though the smell of rot clung stubbornly to their clothes. The sun was starting to dip, staining the sky a dull orange. If they pushed hard, they could make it to a small hunter's outpost Ethan had seen marked on one of the guild's maps. They agreed to head there.
The path out of the marsh was narrow, the water on either side black and still. Every now and then, Ethan caught the faint ripple of something beneath the surface, and his hand tightened on his sword.
Cole, walking just ahead, muttered, "Next time, we set the trap."
Sarah gave him a dry look. "Assuming there is a next time."
"There will be," Ethan said, his tone certain enough to make them all glance his way. "Whoever that was—they didn't kill us because they didn't want to. That means they'll be back."
"And when they are?" Lucas asked.
Ethan's gaze stayed on the path ahead. "We'll be ready."
They reached the outpost just before dark—a squat wooden cabin raised on stilts, its walls weathered from years of rain and wind. The hunter who lived there eyed them warily but didn't ask questions when Ethan handed over a few silver coins for the use of the spare loft.
That night, they gathered around the single table, a weak fire crackling in the corner stove. The air was thick with unspoken questions.
Finally, Mira broke the silence. "If the Dark can be commanded… that changes everything. It means there's an intelligence behind the attacks. A strategy."
"It also means," Lucas added grimly, "that someone's making them more dangerous on purpose."
Cole cracked his knuckles. "Then we find them, and we stop them."
Ethan leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. "We will. But not by charging in blind. We need to learn what they want first. If they're after something specific… we can cut them off before they get it."
"And if what they want is the whole damn world?" Sarah asked.
Ethan didn't answer right away. He thought of the ripple in the water, the stillness in those creatures' bodies when the figure had moved. Of the way they had looked at him—not just as another target, but as if they knew exactly who he was.
"Then," he said finally, "we make sure they choke on it."
By the time the fire burned low, they had a plan—at least the beginnings of one. They'd return to Norhollow, pretend the trip into the marsh had been uneventful, and quietly gather what information they could. About the Dark. About the marsh. And about anyone in the region who matched the figure's description.
It wasn't much.
But it was enough to take the first step.
And for Ethan, that was all that mattered.