In the Forest of the Null
The fog in the Forest of the Black Eclipse Null had grown thicker. No sunlight pierced the gnarled canopy above. The air was cold — not from season, but from something older. Something watching.
It had been two weeks since Yuzuki had dragged his shattered body into the forest.
The villagers of Tsuyuhana were dead. His parents, gone. His uncle, his betrayer, still breathing somewhere out there. The noble's laughter still echoed in his skull. His skin bore the scars of the blade. His soul, the scar of betrayal.
But the forest — the Null — had taken him in.
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He had expected to die under those dark trees.
Instead, he was reborn.
His wounds closed unnaturally fast. Hunger clawed at his stomach for days, but something in the soil... in the air itself, fed him. Not food. Something else. Something darker.
The forest whispered things in languages he didn't know, yet somehow understood.
He had taken shelter in the hollow of a dead tree that never decayed. Each night, the air pulsed with unnatural life. And each night, he dreamed not of memories — but of death.
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He had killed.
The first time it was a rogue wolf. But it wasn't just a kill — when he placed his hand over its body, something shifted. Flowed.
The life essence of the creature poured into him like smoke into a broken vessel. And with it, something more.
Strength. Reflexes. Instincts that weren't his.
The skill had a name — it rang out in his mind, as if announced by the forest itself:
> Merciless
Feed upon the fallen. Grow stronger with each soul consumed. Memories, instincts, skills — all are yours. The stronger the foe, the greater the feast.
Yuzuki didn't smile. He didn't cry. His face was empty, like a mask carved from bone.
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The Forest Changed
Each time he killed, the trees bent slightly toward him. Roots shifted. New paths opened. The forest responded to him as if he were becoming... its heart.
The third night, he found the ruins.
A forgotten temple, choked in vines and blackened by time. Symbols covered its stones — spirals, thorns, and bleeding suns. No one had worshipped here in centuries. No one dared.
At its center was a throne of bark and bone, pulsing like it was breathing. And behind it, etched into the stone, was a warning:
> "Let none sit upon the Hollow Throne lest they wear the sins of the forest."
He sat without hesitation.
And the throne accepted him.
Roots coiled up around his limbs, not to restrain — but to crown. A pulse like a second heartbeat echoed in his chest. His hair turned a shade whiter that night, so pale it glowed under the moonless sky. His eyes burned crimson, not with fire — but void.
He was no longer just a boy.
He was something becoming.
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End of Chapter 3
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🜃 Interlude: Whispered Rumors
Location: Duskwood Guildhall, City of Lesrath
> "You hear the new one?"
"What now? Another dead team?"
"Worse. They say a whole party disappeared near the edge of the Null. Left nothing behind. Not even tracks."
"That forest's cursed. Always was."
"No. Not cursed."
"Claimed."
To be continued...