The sky spun above him—vivid blue stretching in every direction, so far and wide that Neil almost felt swallowed by it. Wind howled past his ears, tugging at his hair and stinging his eyes. The pain in his shoulder burned, teeth marks raw and deep where the beast had bitten into him. Blood streamed down his arm, the hot sting of torn flesh competing with the icy numbness of altitude.
The beast was dead. He could feel the lifeless weight of it tangled around him, its great wings limp, its claws still locked into his side. They fell together, gravity taking its tithe without mercy.
Below them, the forest rushed closer.
The beast's bulk began to shift—heavier than him, more surface area to catch the wind. Slowly, it started to pull ahead in the fall. Neil felt the grip around him loosen. A final jerk of gravity, and the beast slipped free.
He watched, heart hammering, as the creature spiraled downward, tumbling toward the forest canopy. Leaves and branches whipped past as it crashed through the treetops, snapping limbs like twigs.
A second later, a dull, earth-shaking thud echoed up from below.
It was gone.
Now it was just Neil—alone in the sky, plummeting.
Panic clawed at his throat. The ground was racing up to meet him. He had seconds, maybe less. Even with his enhanced body, no one could survive a fall like this.
Unless he did something.
Anything.
Think, damn it.
His Core roared to life, instinct and desperation fueling it. He reached inward, trying to force the energy into his limbs—into his legs. His thoughts blurred. Blood loss, fear, air pressure, disorientation.
It wasn't enough.
He needed more.
He screamed, not out of fear—but fury.
Fury at the unfairness of it all.
Fury at how fragile life remained, even after all he had gained.
Fury at the distance between who he was and who he needed to become.
And something… shifted.
A flicker. Then a blaze.
His thoughts sharpened.
Everything slowed.
The roaring wind dulled. His breath, ragged and panicked just moments ago, became steady. Time itself seemed to stretch—every heartbeat, every motion suspended like drops of rain in the air. The fall that had felt like a blur now opened into a moment of eerie stillness.
Mind's Crucible.
His thoughts were no longer bound to the limitations of reflex. He could think in layers. Observe his body, his energy, the air currents, all in perfect clarity.
He was falling, but no longer helpless.
Two choices.
Take the impact and pray that his body could survive the devastation… or fight gravity itself.
He chose the second.
He called on his Core again—this time with more precision. Power surged into his legs, coiled like springs, and he twisted in the air until he was facing downward. The forest canopy rushed up at him.
He braced.
And then—jumped.
Or at least, that's what it felt like.
Core energy exploded from the soles of his boots, raw and uncontrolled. A burst of steam-like pressure blew out beneath him, screaming into the air. The force checked his fall, slowed it—not stopped, but slowed.
He gritted his teeth. The feedback was brutal. His bones ached, muscles screamed. He was falling slower now, but still too fast.
The treetops loomed. He let the burst end—and waited.
The ground was close enough now.
Once more, he released the energy. This time it came easier. He funneled it precisely through his legs. The recoil was smoother. The force jetted from the soles of his boots again, spraying out in controlled pulses.
And just like that—
He stopped.
Mid-air.
Suspended, hovering like a leaf on the wind.
What the hell.
He barely had time to marvel. His vision was swimming. His energy was almost gone. His limbs trembled from exertion. He released the stream gently, and his body dropped the final few meters.
He landed hard.
His knees buckled.
His legs gave out beneath him, and he collapsed onto the forest floor. Leaves and soil cushioned the impact, but it still jarred his spine.
He lay there, chest heaving. Sweat poured from his skin, blood from his wounds. He couldn't move. Not yet.
But he was alive.
Against all odds—alive.
---
He didn't know how much time passed before he heard footsteps—soft, quick, and approaching fast.
"Neil!"
Elara's voice rang out through the woods.
Branches snapped, leaves rustled, and moments later she skidded into view. Her armor was scratched, and there was a long gash along her arm. Behind her, a few other elves appeared, pale and shaken.
They stared at him. At the broken trees. At the massive corpse of the beast lying in the clearing.
And then at Neil.
He sat up slowly, grimacing as every muscle protested.
Elara knelt beside him, wide-eyed.
"You killed it," she whispered.
He nodded, his voice hoarse. "Just barely."
Her gaze shifted to the sky. "We saw… we saw you fall with it. Thought you were dead."
"Almost was," he said.
---
The aftermath was worse than the fight.
The clearing had turned into a graveyard. The beast's body had crushed several trees—and four elves.
Their remains were nearly unrecognizable.
Nine others had died during the flybys—cut down before they had a chance to run. Thirteen in total.
Neil stood, wobbling but upright. His shoulder still bled, and his Core was nearly drained. But he helped. He had to.
They buried the bodies that evening.
No markers, no stones. The elves didn't believe in disturbing the earth with monuments. They dug quietly, reverently—shallow graves under the roots of ancient trees. Each elf was laid to rest wrapped in the cloaks they had worn.
Neil helped carry the bodies. His arms shook under the weight. Not from exhaustion—but from sorrow.
He hadn't known them well.
But he had walked with them. Shared meals. Fought beside them.
Now they were gone.
That night, the elves gathered in a circle. No fires were lit. Instead, they stood in silence, eyes closed, hands clasped together in the grass.
They began to hum.
Low at first. Then higher, a harmonic resonance that rose and fell like wind through leaves. It wasn't a song. Not in the way Neil knew music. It was… a call.
A farewell.
A light began to rise from them. Faint at first—glowing threads of blue and green that danced through the air like fireflies.
It drifted toward the graves and then sank slowly into the earth.
A ritual.
A letting go.
Neil sat at the edge of the circle, watching.
He didn't know the words. Didn't know the meaning behind the gesture. But he felt it. The weight of it. The sorrow. The unity. The life lost, and the life left behind.
He clenched his fists.
He needed to grow stronger.
This world—Xylos—was getting more dangerous by the day.
Stronger beasts. Unseen threats.
And somewhere out there, others like him.
Some of them might not be so kind.
---
Dawn broke quietly.
A soft golden light filtered through the trees.
The elves began to rise, their movements subdued but steady. They packed up the camp without a word.
Neil stood beside the beast's corpse, staring at it.
It had almost killed him.
Almost.
But not anymore.
Not now.
He had reached a new stage. His Core was evolving. His mind sharper. Faster.
He could almost feel it—flight. Not just falling slower. But true control.
A wild grin flickered across his face.
There was so much more to learn.
So much further to go.
He turned and followed the elves.
They left the graves behind.
But carried the memory forward.