"Finally, we're out of that damned forest!" Tony exclaimed, wiping the sweat from his brow.
Hikiri snorted, casting a mocking glance. "The way you talk, you'd think we were stuck in there for a month."
"Both of you, keep moving instead of yapping!" Simone snapped, her sharp tone cutting through their banter.
She unfolded a tattered map, her eyes tracing the worn lines. "According to this, we're between London and Brighton. If we'd been able to run, we could've reached the city in a week. But with our injuries, I'd say three weeks at least."
Tony shrugged. "Well, that's not too bad. You didn't say two months, at least."
Simone didn't even glance at him, pressing forward with determined steps.
"I hope we'll take breaks," Lucien rasped, his voice strained. "Need I remind you, I'm down to one lung."
Tony flashed a wry grin. "Don't worry, it's a miracle you're still kicking. Question is, how long you gonna last like that?"
"Ha ha, hilarious," Lucien replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Your jokes really warm my heart."
The group passed through several ruined villages. Some looked freshly ravaged, with embers still smoldering, while others were little more than ancient husks, eroded by time.
Three days later, as they trudged across a vast field of tall grass, voices echoed in the distance, shattering the oppressive silence.
"Get down!" Simone hissed urgently, her whisper sharp to avoid alerting the strangers.
Figures burst into view, men and women sprinting across the field, their faces twisted in panic. They ran without stopping, as if their lives depended on it.
"Why are they running like that?" Asti whispered, eyes wide.
Simone started to rise. "I'm going to ask them."
Hikiri yanked her back down, pinning her to the ground. "What the hell are you doing?"
"Let go!" Simone growled, furious.
"I'm saving your life, idiot! Look at their clothes—they all have the same symbol, the Chang clan's. And you want to just stroll up and chat?" Hikiri shot back, her gaze hard.
She turned to the group, her voice low but firm. "Listen up. Be wary of everyone we meet. Before approaching strangers, observe. Analyze. Got it?"
"Alright, alright," Lucien muttered. "But the real question is: what are they running from?"
Tony closed his eyes, focusing to sense the ether. Normally calm, almost stagnant, it now churned with unnatural agitation, like a storm-tossed sea. He tried to peer into the distance to pinpoint the source of the disturbance.
Suddenly, a wave of raw terror crashed over him. His heart raced, his legs trembled. He wanted to scream, to cry, but his body was frozen. An crushing pressure bore down on him, and horrifying visions flooded his mind: torn flesh, living shadows, things so grotesque he wanted to dig a hole and hide forever.
Severing his connection to the ether, Tony collapsed, vomiting violently. Tears streamed down his face, yet a sick, deranged smile twisted his lips.
The others stared, horrified by the sight.
Tony raised his head, his gaze haunted. "Listen to me," he said, his voice shaking but commanding. "Dig into the dirt, cover yourselves in mud, and play dead. Don't ask why—just do it. Or you'll die."
Without hesitation, he smeared himself with dirt and mud, freezing in place like a statue. The others hesitated, but the raw fear on Tony's face—that mix of terror and unsettling grin—convinced them. Memories of cannibals flashed through their minds, but it was the visceral panic in his expression that spurred them to act.
Soon, the group lay still, caked in mud, eyes wide open, watching. The last members of the Chang clan thundered past, their desperate cries piercing the air. Then, to the group's horror, the final ten were torn apart. Their bodies seemed to explode from within, shredded in an instant, yet no creature or weapon was visible. Blood sprayed into the air, falling like scarlet rain, while their bones piled up on the grass.
In Tony's mind, chaos reigned. He fought to banish the thought of that thing, but it clung to him like a leech. A growing obsession gnawed at him: I want to see it.
In a desperate act, he drove his black sword into his thigh. The searing pain snapped him out of the trance. I wasn't asleep, he thought, gasping. But it was like something was taking over my mind. That thing…
Nothing remained of the Chang clan but glistening bones. Tony could still feel the disturbance in the ether, closer, more intense. The others felt it too, the pressure so palpable they had to summon every ounce of strength to keep from breaking.
A violent, unnatural wind roared through the field for two agonizing minutes, as if some unseen force had torn through at impossible speed.
When the pressure finally lifted, Tony and Hikiri rose cautiously, hearts pounding.
"That wind… it wasn't natural," Hikiri murmured, eyes narrowed. "Something incredibly fast passed through. The wind was just the aftermath of its speed."
Tony said nothing, staring at the sky, his expression a mix of dread and fascination. "And here I thought the real terrors were in other galaxies," he said, his voice low. "This thing… I'm certain of one thing: if I'd seen even a glimpse of its body, it would've taken control of my mind. I'd have ended up like them." He nodded toward the scattered bones.