The primitive forest stretched endlessly beneath the dim red sunlight. Towering ferns and ancient trees rose toward the sky like pillars of some forgotten world, their roots twisting over cracked stones and layers of moss. The air was thick with the scent of wet soil, old resin, and the distant cries of colossal creatures that roamed across the vast green expanse.
Heim moved forward silently, his steps light despite the heavy terrain. His gaze scanned the surroundings with sharp, predatory calm. Each leaf that moved, each distant tremor of the ground, every rustle of wind was analyzed instantly.
Behind him, Flora followed closely, her slender figure half hidden by the oversized leaves. She held a vine rod in her hand, though she rarely had to use it—because everything that appeared before them was effortlessly dealt with by Heim.
They had been traveling together for days, moving through regions filled with hybrid monsters—creatures that seemed to be born from chaos itself.
An eight-headed serpent whose bodies shimmered like molten steel had lunged from a swamp. Its heads hissed and snapped with deafening fury, fangs dripping with a luminous green poison. Heim had raised his arm, his muscles tensing briefly before he summoned Logbuster.
A moment later, all eight heads were falling to the ground. The serpent's body collapsed, convulsing, before it dissolved into black mist that sank into the mud. Heim had looked down at his hand, which was still faintly steaming with energy, and muttered:"Too fragile. The creatures here are strong, but not enough."
Flora, trembling slightly, had looked at the dissolving carcass and whispered: "You call that fragile…?"
He hadn't answered. He had only smiled faintly—a small, confident curl of his lips that made her heart beat strangely faster.
Days later, they had met even stranger beings: a centaur with four muscular arms wielding tree-sized clubs, a spider-like beast that camouflaged itself as a boulder, and flocks of dragonflies larger than horses. None had survived for long.
Heim's power wasn't just physical. He seemed to move with a sense of rhythm, his every motion perfectly measured, as though he was a part of the world's pulse. He didn't fight with rage, but with precision—the cold mastery of someone who had fought in countless wars before this world even existed.
Flora often watched him in silence. She knew she couldn't match his strength, but what she admired wasn't his might—it was the way he carried himself. Calm, unshakable, untamed.
One afternoon, after a long march through a valley of petrified trees, they reached a place that felt… different. The air here was still, heavy with a faint hum of energy that tingled against their skin. The trees around them had stopped growing, their roots curling away from something buried beneath the ground.
Heim stopped. "Do you feel that?"
Flora nodded slowly. "It's like… the air is alive."
They pushed forward. The forest ended abruptly, revealing a clearing dominated by a vast ruin—ancient stone pillars half-buried in the earth, cracked monoliths covered in moss, and fragments of metal that shimmered faintly with runic symbols.
It was unlike anything Flora had ever seen.
But Heim's eyes widened slightly, his expression darkening with recognition.
He stepped forward, brushing his fingers along the weathered stone. The carvings—though faded—were unmistakable. Spirals of overlapping circles, the same geometric runes he had once studied in the great archives of his old world.
"This… can't be," he murmured.
Flora approached, her soft voice curious. "You've seen something like this before?"
"Yes." His tone was low, thoughtful. "In my old world, there were ruins like these. But they were far older than any recorded civilization. The scholars called them 'Echo Structures'—relics left by a species that vanished, they are believed to have created Power Spheres."
Flora blinked, astonished. "And you think this…?"
He nodded. "It's almost identical. The material, the layout, even the inscriptions. Whoever built this world—or whatever rules it—took inspiration from those same ancient beings."
Flora looked around, her hands brushing over a fragment of broken wall where faint blue light still pulsed beneath the stone. "Then this world isn't as primitive as it looks…"
"No," Heim replied, kneeling to examine a buried mechanism, gears of crystal and metal intertwined in strange harmony. "It's not primitive. It's forgotten. Something powerful created all this… and something even more powerful destroyed it."
The silence stretched. The forest around them seemed to hold its breath.
Then, Heim straightened, looking toward the heart of the ruin where a circular stone platform stood surrounded by collapsed pillars. He could feel a faint vibration—like a heartbeat—echoing from beneath it.
He turned to Flora. "Let's go. I think we'll find a lot of information inside this relic."
Flora hesitated. The idea of entering that ancient, half-buried structure filled her with both excitement and fear. She looked up at him—his tall, unwavering figure illuminated by the dim red light filtering through the trees.
For a moment, she wanted to say something—something about how strange it felt, following someone like him into a world so hostile, yet feeling safe all the same. But the words caught in her throat.
Finally, she nodded softly, her cheeks slightly flushed. "Hmm."
Heim smiled faintly, then began walking toward the entrance. The shadows of the ruins swallowed them both.
Somewhere deep within, the ancient mechanism stirred—whirring faintly, as though it had waited centuries for someone to return.
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In another world.
The canyon that had once hosted their final battle now lay silent. The light storms had faded, the sky above flickering with lines of distorted data, like cracks in glass.
At the base of the canyon, Alstar and Alexandrite stood side by side, both breathing heavily, their equipments scorched and weapons flickering between solid form and glitching transparency. Around them, the remains of the defeated monsters and players were dissolving into pillars of light.
They had fought together for 7 days and the challenge was finally complete.
Alexandrite wiped a streak of blood from her cheek and smiled faintly, though exhaustion dimmed her usually bright eyes. "That was… the last, right?"
Alstar nodded, his hand tightening around Brightsparrow's hilt before letting the bow dissolve into particles. "Yeah. The system just confirmed it."
Before them, a rift opened—an exit portal glowing with silver-blue light. The completion notification hovered midair:
[Main Quest Complete: Survive In 7 Days]Reward: Increase Body Status.
The wind howled softly, scattering bits of broken code like ashes.
Alexandrite took a step toward the portal but paused, glancing back at him. "We'll really go back to the real world now?"
Alstar nodded again, though there was a trace of something in his eyes—regret, perhaps, or hesitation. "That's what it says. We've been stuck here long enough. It's time."
She smiled, though her voice trembled slightly. "Then… see you outside."
He looked at her—this girl who had once been a stranger, now someone he couldn't easily define. Her courage, her stubbornness, her curiosity—they had made this strange, digital world feel almost real.
"Let's meet at the city library," he said suddenly.
Her eyes widened a little, caught off guard by the simplicity of his words.
"Okay!" she replied softly, smiling.
Then, as the portal's light intensified, the data around them began to break apart.
Their bodies dissolved slowly into countless shimmering particles, scattering into the wind—two figures fading from a collapsing digital world, their promise echoing faintly among the fading sounds of data streams.