The wilderness did not welcome them.
The moment David Wilson crossed the invisible boundary separating York City Star Base from the untamed land beyond, a chill crawled up his spine. It wasn't the cold of night nor the brush of wind against his skin—it was something deeper, heavier, as if the world itself had turned its gaze upon him.
Behind them, the faint glow of the base's barrier flickered like a dying star.
Ahead lay darkness.
Anna halted just beyond the gate, her spear resting lightly against the ground. She waited—three breaths, then five—listening. The gate slid shut behind them with a dull metallic thud, sealing away the last trace of safety.
David swallowed.
Outside the base, there were no guards.
No alarms.
No mercy.
Only survival.
"Stay close," Anna said quietly. "Closer than usual."
David nodded and adjusted his grip on his blade. The weapon was old—its edge uneven, the handle worn smooth by hands far stronger than his—but it was all he had. He held it like a lifeline, knuckles white, every nerve alert.
They moved northeast, toward Night Wolf Peak.
The forest here was ancient.
Trees towered overhead like silent giants, their thick canopies blocking the stars and plunging the forest floor into shadow. Roots coiled across the ground in tangled masses, forcing careful footing. Moss clung to bark like rotting flesh, and the scent of damp earth mixed with something metallic—blood, old and new.
David's breath came slow and shallow.
He had walked this far before, hunted Tier One beasts, survived close calls—but this place was different. The air itself felt wrong. The Heaven and Earth energy here didn't flow smoothly like it did near the base. It twisted, pooled, and thinned unpredictably, as though the land had been wounded long ago and never healed.
Even without cultivation, David could feel it pressing against his skin.
Alive.
Anna moved ahead of him, every step deliberate. Her posture was relaxed, but David knew better—she was coiled like a predator, ready to strike at the first sign of danger. Years of hunting had carved awareness into her bones.
She raised two fingers.
David froze instantly.
Not even his breathing dared to move.
Anna crouched slowly and brushed aside a layer of fallen leaves with the tip of her spear. Beneath it, the soil was disturbed—compressed, scraped, faintly cracked.
"Recent movement," she whispered. "Not wolves."
David leaned closer, careful not to shift his weight. "Then what?"
"Something rooted," she replied after a pause. "But mobile."
That sent a chill through him.
Rooted monsters were rare—and dangerous. Unlike beasts that roamed, these creatures controlled territory. And territory meant preparation.
They continued forward, slower now. Each step was tested before weight was applied. David mirrored his mother's movements exactly, placing his feet where she stepped, trusting her judgment over his own.
Time stretched.
Minutes passed like hours.
The forest was silent—but not peacefully so. No insects chirped. No birds stirred. Even the wind felt hesitant, brushing leaves only faintly, as if afraid to draw attention.
Then David felt it.
A light brush against his calf.
He stiffened.
At first, he told himself it was nothing—a loose branch, a vine swaying in the night breeze. Slowly, carefully, he glanced downward.
What he saw made his blood run cold.
A dark, bark-covered branch lay across his foot.
Except… it was moving.
The "branch" lifted slightly, coiling with smooth, deliberate intent. Thin cracks spread along its surface, revealing slick, black-green flesh beneath. Faint pulses traveled through it, like veins.
It was alive.
"Mom—!"
The warning barely left his mouth.
Anna reacted instantly.
Her spear cut through the air in a clean, lethal arc.
Slice.
The branch was severed cleanly, falling to the ground and thrashing violently. Thick sap sprayed across the leaves, hissing faintly as it hit the soil.
For half a second—
The forest held its breath.
Then it awakened.
A deep, grinding sound echoed through the trees, like wood tearing against stone. Branches snapped free from trunks with violent cracks. Roots burst from the ground, splitting soil and rock alike. Entire trees twisted, their bark stretching grotesquely as if something inside them was waking up.
David staggered back, heart hammering.
"What is that?" he breathed.
Anna's expression hardened.
"Snake Tree," she said grimly. "Tier Two. First Stage."
David's chest tightened painfully.
Tier Two.
Even a First Stage Tier Two monster was something entire hunting squads prepared for—never a pair of low-level survivors with exhausted bodies and limited weapons.
And they were already surrounded.
The ground trembled again.
From every direction, branches lifted, coiling like serpents. Roots slithered across the soil, encircling them slowly, deliberately.
The forest was no longer a forest.
It was a predator.
Anna stepped in front of David without hesitation.
"Listen carefully," she said, voice calm despite the danger. "You don't panic. You don't freeze. You follow my movements exactly. Understand?"
David swallowed and nodded.
"Yes."
She tightened her grip on the spear.
"This thing controls its territory," she continued. "We're inside its core range. Running blindly will get us killed."
A branch lashed toward them suddenly, stopping inches from Anna's face before retreating—testing.
David flinched.
"It's probing," Anna said. "Looking for weakness."
Her gaze sharpened. "Don't give it any."
Another branch struck, faster this time, slamming into the ground where David had stood a heartbeat earlier. The impact sent vibrations through his legs.
David's instincts screamed.
His blade rose instinctively, body shifting into the stance Anna had drilled into him countless times. Knees bent. Weight forward. Eyes moving constantly.
The Snake Tree attacked again.
This time, from three directions.
Anna moved.
Her spear spun, striking with ruthless efficiency. One branch shattered, inner fibers crushed. Another was deflected upward, its momentum redirected harmlessly into a nearby tree.
David followed.
He didn't think—he acted.
A thinner branch whipped toward his torso. He angled his blade, guiding the strike away rather than stopping it outright. The branch scraped past him, tearing fabric but missing flesh.
Pain flared—but he stayed standing.
Good.
The Snake Tree reacted instantly.
Roots burst upward.
One wrapped around Anna's ankle.
Another surged toward David's chest.
Time slowed.
David slashed downward, severing the thinner root, then lunged toward his mother without hesitation. The thicker root tightened, lifting Anna's leg off the ground.
"Mom!" he shouted.
She stabbed downward, but the root resisted, fibers thick and resilient.
Above her, a massive branch descended—aimed to crush her torso.
David didn't think.
He ran.
Ignoring the sharp pain tearing across his arms and back as branches struck him, he plunged his blade into the root binding her leg and screamed, pouring everything he had into the strike.
For a brief, impossible moment—
Warmth surged through him.
Not from outside.
From within.
The faint Heaven and Earth energy he had failed to hold during cultivation stirred violently, flowing unevenly through his meridians, responding to desperation rather than control.
The blade glowed faintly.
The root sizzled.
Cracks spread rapidly, and with a violent snap, it recoiled and shattered.
Anna landed hard but rolled instantly, regaining her footing.
She looked at David—not with shock, but recognition.
"You felt it," she said sharply.
David panted, heart racing. "I—I did."
Her eyes burned. "Good. Remember that feeling."
The Snake Tree roared silently, the ground shaking as its trunk split open further.
Deep within the roots—
A faint green glow pulsed.
Its core.
Anna pointed. "That's its heart. We end it now—or we don't leave this forest."
David tightened his grip on his blade.
Fear still churned inside him.
But beneath it—
Resolve.
They moved together.
Mother and son.
Against the forest itself.
And for the first time since stepping outside the base, David felt it clearly—
This fight was no longer just about survival.
It was the first step on his path forward.