Eilor jolted awake, drenched in cold sweat. He clutched his chest tightly and tried to inhale as quietly as possible. He couldn't. The breath came in rough, painful gasps.
"Damn... this is hard," he thought, feeling his jaw clench with frustration.
His trembling fingers gripped at his clothes, desperate for something to hold on to. He managed a second breath—deeper this time. Not completely silent, but enough. Thomas watched him from a few steps away, worried, but said nothing. He simply held out a crude water pouch.
Eilor accepted it with a slight nod. He drank slowly, then wiped his face with his forearm. The purple liquid cooled his throat and cleared his mind. He felt better. Strangely better.
He raised the pouch above his head, almost ritualistically.
"Another day... Thanks for finding your way to us, purple water," he thought, and smiled. A small smile, but genuine. Somewhere between pride and resignation.
He stood. Around him, the group was finishing their preparations. Leaning against a wall were several dozen rolled-up hides.
"Are we really leaving that many behind?" he wondered, squinting.
He looked up. Vin was already watching him. The old man followed his gaze, then gave a slight nod toward the hides. Eilor nodded back. Vin returned the gesture.
They would be leaving those behind. And other things too.
Fungi that had outlived their usefulness. Worthless clothes. Remnants no one would claim.
Eilor bent down and grabbed a sack, tying it tightly to a belt made of scaly leather. Then he took off his boots and shook them upside down, just in case. Nothing. He put them back on.
He did the same with his shirt: stretched it out and checked inside. Then he asked Thomas to check his back.
"Anything?"
"Nothing," the boy said after carefully patting him down.
He repeated the process with his pants, checking his legs, back, and waistband. Once sure, he tightened the belt and put on a cloak-like coat that reached mid-thigh. It covered his back entirely and most of his front. The rest of the group had already done the same. As always, Eilor was the last to finish.
Finally, he took his assigned backpack—a heavy bag reinforced with bone and leather. He slung it over his back and walked toward the others.
Three glowing fungi waited. As he approached, the others turned in silence. Each took one: front, center, and rear. They formed their usual formation.
And started walking.
Half an hour later, the pace was slow but steady. No one spoke. Everyone was tired, but they forced themselves to keep moving. Sweat dripped from their temples. Underground heat was different: heavy, stale.
Vin raised his arm to signal a halt. The group stopped immediately. No one asked why.
With minimal gestures, those carrying fungi moved their coats aside and revealed two skin canteens tied to their belts. They grabbed the larger one. They took turns drinking. A drop fell on one of their faces. Purple.
Just five minutes passed. No more. But the effect was immediate. The water refreshed them. Still, no one moved. Vin hadn't lowered his arm.
When he turned his head, his expression made it clear there was no danger. He was just extending the break.
Everyone understood without a word.
One of the younger ones was about to relax his shoulders when, from the corner of his eye, he saw something.
A shadow.
He turned sharply, like a reflex.
That was a mistake.
Ban turned too fast.
The movement was instinctive, clumsy. His arms shot up, as if to shield himself or push something away. But the moment he did it, he realized his mistake.
He tried to stop the motion with sheer will, as if he could catch his own arms in mid-air. He managed to slow them—but not completely. Momentum won.
Then it flashed.
A burst of bluish light, tinged with sky-blue, erupted from his arms. It lasted less than a second.
But it was enough.
Blood sprayed in every direction. Thomas froze as some of it landed on his face. More splashed his chest, staining his clothes. Elena, his mother, was also hit—hers only on the fabric. Sol, walking beside them, got some too. No one understood what had just happened.
Even those who had their backs turned saw the flash. They spun around immediately.
Eilor saw the blood hit the three of them before he completed his turn. He sped up, locking eyes with Vin, who was already moving toward Ban.
Ban was on his knees, head down. His face twisted in pain. He hadn't screamed yet.
"He can't scream," Eilor thought, jaw clenched. "Not here. Not now."
But he couldn't run either. Something told him that if he did—if he rushed—it would be worse. He didn't know why. He just felt it.
Vin got there first. In one swift motion, he covered Ban's mouth, catching him just as the scream was about to break free. Eilor dropped to his knees, sliding into position. Tamara had also started moving. She was far, but her whole body trembled.
Thomas was still frozen. Elena moved slightly to stand in front of him, as if afraid he might do what Ban had done. Sol took a step forward but didn't come any closer.
Tamara reached Ban and knelt. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him in tightly. She was still trembling.
"It's okay now," she whispered, though Ban couldn't hear her. Or maybe he could.
Eilor quickly examined Ban's hands. They were raised, still not understanding what had happened. His wrists trembled. Tears ran down his cheeks.
Wasting no time, Eilor unfastened his pouch of fungi and then his belt. He used the first as a makeshift tourniquet for Ban's right hand. The second he tied tightly around the left forearm.
He dropped his backpack—a massive hand-stitched hide bag—and yanked it open. From inside, he pulled a roll of white hide, prepared as a bandage, and began wrapping Ban's right hand.
The scene was brutal. The fingers were... ruined. Not cut, but torn. Two of the three joints in each of the four fingers were gone, leaving raw, bleeding flesh. Eilor gritted his teeth as he pressed the bandage down.
But the left hand was worse.
It wasn't bleeding.
It was melting.
It was falling apart as if something inside was cooking it from within.
Eilor removed his coat without hesitation. He looked for the canteens he'd seen earlier. There. He grabbed the smaller one and opened it. Without pause, he poured the water over Ban's left hand.
The boy whimpered. A muffled sound, held back by Vin's hand. But he didn't scream. He squeezed his eyes shut. Tamara held him tighter.
The water sizzled on contact with the flesh.
Eilor poured a bit, paused, then poured more. The deep red began to stabilize. After a few infernal seconds, the glow under the skin faded.
He closed the small canteen and took the larger one. He dampened another bandage, this time more carefully. He wrapped Ban's left hand with firm, controlled pressure.
Ban was barely conscious.
"Shit," Eilor muttered, wiping sweat from his brow with his forearm.
Tamara didn't stop hugging him. She hadn't looked at the wounds. She didn't want to. She just felt every tremor, every groan. The more he suffered, the tighter she held him.
"How is he?" she finally asked, voice shaky.
Eilor didn't answer right away. He looked at Vin, who was still holding Ban—now just a hand on his shoulder. The old man had seen everything. He needed no explanation.
"The right... should be fine if the bleeding stops," Eilor said without looking at her.
Vin cut in.
"Necrosis."
Eilor nodded slowly.
"The left hand won't make it. Not with bandages, not with water. It's too far gone. If we want to stop the infection from spreading... we'll have to cut it off. Before he fully wakes up."
Vin said nothing else. He stood slowly and began searching through his things.
Eilor watched him for a moment. Then looked down at Ban's hands, now wrapped, now still.
Tamara kept holding him. Thomas hadn't moved.
No one said a word. Only the sound of droplets hitting the floor remained.
Not water.
Vin returned with a knife. Not an ordinary one.
A short, heavy blade, made to go in with a single thrust.
It looked like a mix of gray bone and thick hide for the hilt.
Eilor took it. He knelt beside Ban again. He wasn't shaking. Vin was preparing a piece of leather for the boy to bite down on in case he woke up too early.
"There's no other way," Eilor muttered, emotionless.
And raised the knife.
---
"The pain is real, and so is the fear"
---
A dry sound, like the crack of bone, tore through the silence.
—Crack!—
Ban arched in pain. He regained consciousness instantly, but couldn't scream. A thick piece of leather filled his mouth, and Vin was holding both his jaw and head in place. All he could do was grit his teeth, as if that alone could stop the wave of pain tearing through him.
His whole body trembled. He thrashed, struggled—but couldn't break free.
Elena, her eyes red, turned Thomas away. She was trying to keep her son from seeing any of it. She also tried to cover his ears, though she knew the sound would still get through. Thomas remained absent, as if the trauma had hollowed out his gaze.
Eilor, meanwhile, cursed silently. The cut hadn't been clean. Ban's hand was still attached, grotesquely hanging by tendons and splinters of bone.
He tried to make a second cut, but Ban wouldn't stop moving. It was impossible. He turned to Sol with desperation in his eyes. He was about to yell at her… but stopped. He couldn't make a sound.
Instead, he gestured—fast, urgent signs.
Sol remained frozen, paralyzed. She didn't react.
Eilor clenched his eyes shut. There was no time.
He pointed with two fingers. A bluish spark shot from his hand.
—Zzzzt!—
The jolt struck Sol directly. She jolted, shaken. The pain was brief, but real. Instinctively, she looked up.
Eilor pointed the knife at Ban's legs.
And Vin, beside him, gave her a glare that said one thing only: Hurry!
Sol finally reacted. She rushed over, dropped to her knees on top of Ban's legs, and held them down—one with each arm. She pressed all her weight onto him.
On the other side, Tamara had shifted. She was no longer hugging Ban but gripping his right arm tightly with both hands.
Eilor didn't wait another second. He pinned Ban's left arm with his knee, pressing it to the floor.
He raised the knife.
For a moment, only ragged breathing could be heard.
Then came the second cut.
—Crack!—
The knife sliced through bone and flesh. A sound both wet and dry at once. The hand was severed from the arm.
Eilor let out a harsh exhale, as if he'd been holding his breath the whole time. He pulled his leg back and moved away slightly.
The others also let go of Ban… all except Vin, who still held his head tightly. His expression hadn't changed: closed face, cold eyes. He clearly wasn't letting go until the risk was gone.
Ban gasped for air, but didn't resist anymore. His body trembled faintly. Eventually, his eyelids grew too heavy. He fell unconscious again.
The knife no longer trembled in Eilor's hand. It just hung there, bloodied and pointing at the floor.
Vin remained motionless. His left arm still pinned Ban's head to the stone, while the right held his jaw shut. Not out of violence, but necessity: if Ban screamed—even unconsciously—if he woke during the final spasms, they could attract something far worse than pain.
Tamara was the first to fully pull away. Her hands still shook as she wiped her palms on her pants, almost shamefully. Then she knelt beside one of the backpacks. She wasn't looking for anything—just needed space.
Sol moved away slowly, her eyes locked on Ban's legs. There was blood. A lot of it. She felt its warmth between her knees. Once she realized it, she began frantically rubbing her gloves against the floor, as if that could erase what had just happened.
Eilor stepped back. Then again. Finally, he sat down, letting his full weight drop to the ground. He pulled off his gloves and tossed them aside. His breathing was heavy, his eyes fixed on the spot where Ban's arm had been just seconds ago.
No one said a word.
Not a single word.
The silence was as thick as the blood soaking the stone.
Time passed without meaning. Ban remained unconscious. His breathing was weak, but steady. Every so often, a spasm ran down his back—a body still in shock.
Vin slowly stood up. He walked toward the rear hallway and took position, standing guard with his back to the group. There was no need for discussion—everyone knew what to do. They had to cover all sides. Even so, Vin's shoulders stayed tense, like he expected something to appear at any moment.
Elena, with a cloth in hand, was cleaning Thomas's face. The boy remained mute, as if he couldn't hear a thing. But his eyes... his eyes were no longer entirely lost. There was something there. Not calm—but presence.
Eilor noticed the change. He turned to his son. He wanted to go to him. He wanted to hug him. But just as he stood up, something shifted.
He felt a chill down his spine.
Not fear. Not exactly.
A presence.
He hadn't heard it approach. No footsteps, no rustle of fabric. He just knew someone was there.
He turned around.
And saw him.
Norlick.
He stood frozen. Just returned from the front. His eyes locked on Ban. Then they scanned the room—blood, soaked clothes, exhausted faces.
Eilor let out a sigh of relief.
"Thank god..." he muttered, mostly to himself.
Norlick raised an eyebrow.
"What happened?"
Eilor wasted no time explaining. He told him everything since Norlick had gone ahead. Why Ban was injured, why they were in this state, why they were late.
Norlick didn't interrupt. Didn't ask questions. He just listened.
When Eilor finished, silence returned... until Norlick spoke.
"I'm not going ahead anymore. And I hope none of you have to again."
Eilor squinted slightly. It wasn't reproach he saw in Norlick—it was pain. Contained, looking for an exit.
"I understand the rule," he continued. "Scouting a few meters during rest, making sure nothing's ahead or behind... It made sense. Back then. But being up front this time, with nothing but silence behind me…"
He paused, took a deep breath.
"I don't want that again. Today it was Ban. But if it had been you... with your wife and son waiting... not knowing anything…"
Eilor didn't reply.
Not a word.
The logic was solid. Worse—it was true.
He bowed his head.
"You're right. We won't use that rule anymore."
The group had changed. They were no longer an expedition. They were survivors. And only three real fighters remained. That rule—meant for larger teams—no longer made sense. Now, with every step, they were gambling with their lives. There were no replacements. No margin for error.
And deep down, they all knew it.
Eilor looked at Norlick. Then at Tamara, still kneeling in silence. At Sol, her hands still bloody. At Elena, trying to reclaim her son. And further away, at Vin, back turned, eyes locked on the dark tunnel.
Nothing was like before.
And it never would be again.
Then, a sudden movement shattered the silence.
Tamara had jerked back beside Ban's body.
Everyone turned to her.
Ban... was awake.
He opened his eyes.
Not suddenly, but slowly, like each eyelid weighed a ton. He breathed with difficulty. He was pale, drenched in sweat. His body barely trembled, and still he forced himself to speak. Forced his throat to make words.
"Use... your hoods."
No one understood right away.
"Cover... your side vision," he added, voice barely a whisper.
Eilor froze. That phrase... it wasn't normal. It was a warning.
"No way," he whispered.
The silence shattered—not with sound, but with what now hung in the air: the atmosphere had changed.
Ban, lying on the ground, whispered through cracked lips:
"The Occluder... is here."
That word.
That thing.
The reaction was instant.
Eilor took a step back. His temples pounded. Vin, still guarding the back, turned slightly. His eyes narrowed.
"Shit," Eilor muttered. "Of all creatures... the Occluder?"
He turned quickly to Vin.
"Old man… from the ones we know… how bad is it?"
Vin didn't answer with words. Instead, he opened his coat with trembling hands and pulled out the book. The flesh-bound one.
It was thick, uneven, bound in the hide of something not quite human. Tufts of dried hair stuck out from the spine, marking sections.
Vin opened it carefully. The pages—wet, fibrous—felt alive. They clung to his fingers as he flipped through. One even snapped as he forced it apart.
He went straight to the blue section.
He searched frantically. Turned past pages tattooed with rune-like symbols. Crude drawings. Torn fragments. Until he found it.
A full page of notes, sketches, warnings. And at the top margin, in dry black ink:
Occluder.
Vin looked up.
"What did you see?" he asked calmly.
Ban swallowed. His face was gaunt, but his eyes held something new: pure terror.
"I saw it from the corner of my right eye."
He took a deep breath.
"A shape... humanoid, but deformed. It was... behind the group. Or maybe... among us. I don't know."
The words fell like stones into the silence.
For a moment, no one moved.
No one breathed.
Because they all understood: if Ban had seen that, it wasn't a hallucination. No one loses a hand over a misperception.
That thing had been there.
Maybe... still was.
And if it was the Occluder... seeing it from the corner of your eye was enough to summon it. To make it real. To make it act.
One by one, they began to move. No one turned their heads. No one looked to the side.
They slowly raised their arms.
Gently, as if the slightest sudden movement could trigger something worse.
They pulled up the hoods of their coats and covered their heads completely. Sealing their peripheral vision. Staring only straight ahead. Nowhere else.
No one spoke.
No one dared break the new balance.
From the ground, Ban watched them.
He saw them act in fear. Saw how each of them responded to horror with fake calm—driven more by instinct than reason.
And then… he smiled.
A small, broken smile. Almost sad.
Eilor noticed the gesture and stepped closer. He knelt beside him, speaking in a low voice.
"What is it? Are you alright?"
Ban didn't look at him. He didn't turn. He kept his eyes straight ahead.
"Yes. I'm fine."
Eilor felt a blow to the chest. That smile, that voice… weren't true.
He knew it.
But he had no words to say anything better.
His face tensed. His lips moved slightly, as if to speak… but nothing came out.
Then he stood up, silently, and walked away.
As he approached Vin—still absorbed in the book's notes—he couldn't help a final glance back at Ban.
And Ban… didn't look at him. Didn't search for his face. He just lay there, with that empty smile that held no comfort anymore.
Only a question, barely a whisper in his mind:
"Ban?... will I have to… you too?"