Footsteps pounded against the earth, each thud echoing in their chests like hammers striking iron.
Khanh and Vy dashed through the dense woods, breaths ragged and uneven, as though the abyss itself had opened behind them, stretching its gaping maw, ready to swallow them whole.
From the mist trailing at their backs came the shrieks of demons—low, guttural, yet sharp enough to stretch every nerve taut, each cry like a claw raking against their bones, threatening to snap the last threads of resolve.
Vy tilted her head slightly mid-run, her sharp eyes cutting sideways toward Khanh.
> "Hey… what are you, really?"
Khanh blinked, startled, lungs burning with every breath.
> "What do you mean… what am I?"
Vy didn't answer right away. Her eyes stayed fixed on the path ahead, voice lowering, carrying the weight of something unspoken, as though she were speaking only to herself.
> "Since my time with Master overseas, I've never seen anything like this… Just now, when I was fighting the horde, they suddenly stopped. Then—all at once—they turned and rushed toward you."
The wind screamed past their ears, whipping their hair and tearing at their clothes. Vy's heartbeat thundered in her chest, each pulse like a war drum.
> "They ignored me—even though my body is hollow, the perfect prey. They ignored me, and they went straight for you instead. It doesn't make sense."
Khanh staggered on a root, nearly falling, his breath coming in shallow bursts. He wanted to answer, but the words lodged in his throat, strangled by exhaustion. His silence hung in the night like dead weight.
Vy's eyes narrowed as she caught his expression. Shadows of disappointment crossed her gaze.
> "Your fighting ability is… pathetic. Earlier, when you lent me your vision with your energy, that was useful—but for someone at Tier 0, you're far too honest, far too weak."
Branches lashed against their faces. The damp scent of soil and rotting leaves invaded their lungs, heavy, suffocating. The deeper they fled, the heavier their steps sank, as if the forest itself resisted their escape, dragging them back into its dark maw.
Then, abruptly, Vy halted.
Through the thickets ahead, half-hidden under layers of moss and shadow, stood a small, forgotten structure.
> "There!" she shouted, voice sharp.
The shrine crouched beneath the silver moonlight like some old sentinel abandoned by time. Its roof tiles had long since fallen away, walls marred and cracked with decay. Yet the wooden door stood slightly ajar—silent, unmoving, as though waiting.
They crossed the threshold.
The air inside struck them at once. It was cold—but not the raw chill of the forest night. This was something different: clean, razor-sharp, like the first touch of clear water running across bare skin.
Khanh felt it surge through the stones beneath him, a current seeping upward, weaving into his veins. His spiritual energy—dry, almost extinguished—suddenly welled back, flowing stronger, brighter, clearer than before.
Vy noticed it too. Her grip on the three-section staff tightened instinctively. The weapon grew heavier in her hands, unnaturally dense. Across its battered surface, worn carvings came alive, glowing faintly in dark crimson—as if dried blood, long sealed, was stirring awake again.
In the left corner of the shrine stood a small altar. On it, amidst ashes of incense long burned away, lay simple offerings: plates of fruit, cakes, and bowls of clear water—yet untouched, fresh as if placed there only moments ago.
Vy and Khanh exchanged a silent glance. Without words, they stepped forward, bowed deeply before the wooden deity, and whispered a prayer for permission.
They ate in silence. Each bite seemed to wash away the lingering taste of blood, of smoke, of fear that still clung to their tongues and throats.
When the meal was finished, Vy leaned back against the rotting wall. Her eyelids drooped heavy with exhaustion.
> "I'll… rest for a bit. Keep watch, okay?"
She dragged herself into a dark corner, curling up with her three-section staff held tight, even in her sleep.
Outside, the forest wind moaned, carrying the endless rustle of leaves, threading with the silver spill of moonlight that crawled across the shrine floor.
Khanh sat alone in the center, facing the half-open door. His eyes fixed on the mist beyond, waiting, listening.
The night stretched on—longer, colder, without end in sight.