Under the pale glow of the moon, a lone figure raced through the forest — his long white hair trailing behind like strands of silver silk.
His skin was ghostly pale, his crimson eyes burning through the darkness. Blood dripped from his torn sleeve as his right arm slowly regenerated, bones cracking and flesh knitting itself together with eerie precision.
"Huff… huff… are they still following me?" he muttered under his breath, his voice sharp yet calm — like a predator forced into retreat.
The forest stretched endlessly before him, silent except for the rhythmic rustle of leaves underfoot. When he finally stopped, his gaze fell upon an old, half-collapsed hut hidden beneath the ancient trees.
Though his body was battered, his expression remained composed — cold, detached, almost regal.
He extended his hand, crimson mist swirling from his fingertips. The red essence rippled outward, spreading through the forest like a blood-scented tide. Within moments, he could feel the pulse of life within a thousand meters… and then — nothing.
For a fleeting instant, the world itself seemed to shatter. His body trembled as though invisible chains had wrapped around his veins. The forest went deathly silent, and an oppressive stillness settled over everything.
What was that? he thought, eyes narrowing. The air felt heavier, denser — as if space itself had folded inwards.
A bead of sweat rolled down his temple as he stepped toward the hut. Inside, dust floated in the moonlight, and in the center of the decaying room rested a black cube, suspended a few inches above the ground.
It pulsed faintly — dark, metallic, and alive — white light leaking through the cracks like the heartbeat of a star.
He could barely stay conscious. His vision blurred as he reached toward it, the air around the cube distorting with each pulse.
Just as his fingers brushed the artifact, a whisper echoed — not in the air, but in his mind.
"Found you."
His crimson eyes widened — and then everything went dark.