Morning mist fell like curtains hanging low between the tree trunks. The air felt cool, almost cold, and every breath left a thin vapor that immediately blended into the surrounding dampness.
Dio slowly stood from the place where he had sat throughout the night. His back was stiff. His neck still held the tension left from the previous night—
a night when something circled the spot where he sheltered without ever showing its shape.
He took a deep breath.
"This… might be the second day," he thought. He wasn't completely sure, but his body remembered two cycles of darkness coming and going. The twenty-four-day protection meant he still had time. "Still long. But it must be used well."
The ground in front of him showed faint marks.
Three short scratches and one long line like a tail being dragged.
Last night he only saw vague shadows on the earth.
This morning, the shape was clearer.
Dio crouched.
He leaned his face closer to the mark. The soil was still slightly soft. Not yet dry.
"Came after I fell asleep…" he muttered in his mind. "Or… when I wasn't aware."
He didn't touch it.
He didn't want to leave an unnecessary scent or sign.
When he stood again, the forest atmosphere changed.
Birds that should have been heard when the sun began to rise were silent.
No chirps.
No wing flaps.
Even insects seemed to choose silence.
The forest today wasn't just calm.
The forest today… was holding something back.
Dio tightened the shield on his arm and began walking.
His steps were slow, measured.
He watched the large roots jutting out, the fallen leaves, and the tree lines that seemed tighter than the day before.
He did not hurry.
The city was likely still very far—at least ten days of walking without rest. In this condition, impossible.
He had only one direction:
East.
The direction of the sun.
And the hope that the city truly existed there.
---
The sound of water drew his attention after some time walking.
Deep, like a current striking a large stone.
Not the small river he saw the day before.
Dio slowed his pace.
Every sound around him became sharper.
Every movement of leaves felt more distinct.
The ground turned damp.
The air colder.
The spaces between trees began to open.
Then he saw it.
A large river. Nearly fifteen meters wide, its water moved slowly but heavily, like a current hiding depth. Its surface reflected the dim light through the mist, making the water look like dull metal.
Dio didn't approach immediately.
He observed first.
The soil at the riverbank was sunken. Heavy impressions pressed into the earth—not clear enough to identify, but too large to be human.
"A gathering spot for creatures…" he thought. "Water is always a meeting point."
He shifted his position, making sure he didn't offer a clear silhouette to anything across the river.
Then he saw something in the bushes on the opposite bank.
A low shadow.
A brief movement.
Caught between two tree trunks.
Dio straightened slightly.
His sword still sheathed.
He didn't want to draw attention.
The shadow stopped.
No sound.
No growl.
No wind.
Then slowly, the shadow moved back. The leaves shifted lightly again. No follow-up noise.
The creature didn't cross the river.
Or maybe couldn't.
Dio shifted his focus.
If the other side wasn't safe, he had to follow the river on this side.
He chose upstream—northeast.
Closer to the city… at least by his guess.
---
But the path along the river wasn't kind.
Slippery ground.
Wet roots.
Thick bushes blocking view.
Dio occasionally grabbed branches to keep his balance. The shield on his arm felt like extra weight, but he didn't dare drop it.
The forest never gave second warnings.
A silence too long made him stop.
Something.
Not from the river.
From inside the forest, slightly to his right.
A short sound.
Not an animal step.
Not a growl.
More like… a weak, stifled cough.
Dio froze.
He listened longer.
The cough came again—soft, as if from a chest lacking strength.
A human?
Or something mimicking one?
He moved carefully.
No exaggerated turning.
No unnecessary sound.
When he peeked from behind a large tree, he saw it.
Lying between two large rocks, beneath an arching root, was a figure wrapped in tattered cloth.
Small-bodied, perhaps thinned by blood loss or exhaustion.
The fabric was wet in places, torn in others by something sharp.
Dio held his breath.
He did not approach immediately.
A dying figure could mean two things:
A victim.
Or bait.
He scanned the surroundings.
No new tracks.
No foul smell.
No large movement.
Only that body.
And its shallow breathing.
Dio finally decided to move closer.
He shifted his steps in a low pattern so the ground wouldn't break under his weight.
When he was three meters away, he saw its chest rising and falling slowly.
Its cloak stained with dark brown—dried blood.
Dio raised his sword slightly, ready.
Just as he took one more step—
The figure opened its eyes.
Those pale gray eyes stared at Dio without blinking, full of exhaustion too deep to hide.
Its lips moved.
A cracked voice escaped its throat.
"Water…"
Dio didn't move for several seconds.
His eyes stayed on the figure.
The river roared behind him.
The forest stayed silent.
And the world seemed to wait for one small decision from him.
For the first time since he arrived in this world…
Someone asked something of him.
And there was no turning back.