The monster's breath came in wet, guttural rasps as it leaned closer to Ryu's hiding spot. Each exhale carried the stench of rotting meat, making Ryu's eyes water. A claw the length of a butcher's knife scraped against the tree bark, sending wood shavings drifting down onto Ryu's trembling shoulders.
Then—a scream tore through the forest.
The soldier Ryu had thought dead was staggering through the undergrowth, his left arm hanging by threads of tendon. The monster's nostrils flared, its obsidian eyes dilating with predatory delight. With a snarl that shook the leaves, it abandoned Ryu's tree and gave chase, its talons gouging deep furrows in the bark as it launched itself forward.
Ryu didn't move for ten full minutes after the sounds of pursuit faded. When he finally collapsed to his knees, his muscles burned with the effort of staying still.
"That... that's the trial?" His whisper sounded foreign to his own ears. "How am I supposed to kill something that tears armored knights apart like paper?" His vision blurred—whether from sweat or tears, he couldn't tell.
A sharp slap to his own face shocked him back to awareness. "Focus!" The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth where his teeth had cut his cheek. "That thing could return any second."
---
Ryu's heart leaped when he spotted the caravan through the trees.
"Thank the gods," he breathed, his entire body flooding with relief. A caravan meant supplies—weapons, food, maybe even medicine. For the first time since entering this nightmare, hope fluttered in his chest.
But as he drew closer, that hope curdled into horror.
The scene before him looked like a slaughterhouse. Blood painted the violet grass in grotesque patterns, pooling around the bodies of what must have been a dozen soldiers. Their armor—once gleaming steel—was now nothing more than twisted metal, rent apart like parchment. One man's torso had been completely hollowed out, his ribcage splayed open like some macabre flower.
Ryu's stomach heaved, but he forced himself forward. These men are dead. I'm not. And if I want to stay that way, I need what they left behind.
The supply wagon lay on its side, its canvas roof slashed to ribbons. Ryu rummaged through the wreckage with trembling hands, his breath coming in short gasps.
"Yes!" His fingers closed around the hilt of a short sword—simple but well-balanced. A rapier with an intricate basket guard followed, its blade still sharp despite the carnage around it. He found a serviceable dagger too, its edge gleaming in the eerie twilight.
Clothing came next. Ryu stripped off his bloodstained rags and pulled on a dark blue linen shirt and sturdy brown trousers from a dead soldier's pack. The fabric smelled of sweat and smoke, but it was clean.
Then, beneath a pile of scattered supplies, he spotted a leather pouch. Inside was a map—four flags marked on its surface, three crossed out in what Ryu hoped was ink. The remaining destination wasn't far.
Shelter. Allies. Safety. The words repeated in his mind like a mantra as he secured the map in his new waist pouch alongside a half-empty waterskin and three strips of salted jerky.
---
Hours passed in a blur of violet foliage and whispered prayers.
The rift's eternal twilight played tricks on Ryu's eyes—every shifting shadow looked like claws, every rustling leaf like approaching footsteps. He distracted himself by recalling the monster classifications Sister Margaret had taught him during long nights in the church library:
- Ordinary : Baseline rift creatures, dangerous but predictable
- Unique : One-of-a-kind horrors with special abilities
- Magister : Intelligent enough to strategize
- Transcendent : Could level cities
- Mythical : Catastrophes that could wipe out nations
- Fabled : Only heard of in legends and fairytales
This thing has to be Unique, Ryu decided. No ordinary monster could—
A freezing raindrop struck his neck. Then another. Within seconds, the forest was engulfed in a downpour of needle-like ice shards. Ryu scrambled beneath a tree whose leaves formed a natural canopy, their bioluminescence intensifying as the storm raged.
Using his waterskin, he collected the strange ice melt. The water tasted metallic, but it soothed his parched throat. Between careful sips and bites of jerky, Ryu found himself mesmerized by the way the glowing leaves refracted light through the ice crystals. His eyelids grew heavy...
---
Ryu jolted awake, his rapier already half-drawn. The storm had passed, leaving the forest smelling of ozone and wet earth. He cursed himself for sleeping—until he noticed something impossible.
His wounds had healed.
The cuts on his knuckles from yesterday's training were gone. The bruises from the noble boys' beating had vanished. Even the ache in his muscles from hours of walking had disappeared.
The water. It had to be.
Heart pounding with newfound hope, Ryu checked the map. The final flag was closer than he'd thought—just beyond a ridge to the east. As he crested the hill, his breath caught.
Lights.
Golden, flickering lights in the distance. Not the eerie glow of rift flora, but the warm, welcoming light of torches or lanterns.
Civilization.
For the first time since entering this nightmare, Ryu allowed himself to believe he might survive.