A faint breeze trickled over me.
I was unconscious, but it felt like I was dreaming—dreaming about being a mimic, about the battles I'd fought, about the alpha wolf and the endless hunting and the killing that never seemed to stop. The threat that still hung over me, too: the Riftscour, the humans… and something unseen that I couldn't name.
Then my body started to wake.
Slowly, like I was surfacing from a coma.
I felt disoriented, caught between worlds, unsure what was real and what wasn't. I stayed still. My eyes wouldn't open. It felt like I was living out an entire life inside that dream, and when I finally woke up, I'd be back in my bedroom—back in the world I understood.
Then something tugged on me.
Hard. Strong.
It wasn't sharp or violent—just firm, like a blunt thorn pressing and testing. It felt familiar.
What is that…?
The thought drifted through me as my mind tried to catch up. My eyes cracked open a fraction and sunlight hit me like a blade. Too bright. The glare was brutal, strong enough that it nearly blinded me.
Then something blocked the sun.
A shape hovered over me—blurred, indistinct, familiar but impossible to place with my mind still half-asleep. My senses lagged behind what my eyes were seeing. Dazed. Confused.
Then I saw them.
Eyes.
Close.
Hovering over me.
And something brushed against my body, stabbing at me like thorns testing flesh.
I woke fully in an instant. My body reacted before my mind did. I shot upright—unsteady—and darted away on instinct, trying to find space, shade, anything. I slipped beneath a half withered tree and pressed myself into the shadow, forcing my breathing to slow.
Only then did my vision begin to sharpen.
Two small shapes stood in the light. I blinked once, then twice, and every blink pulled the world into clearer focus. One of the creatures tilted its head, confused by my sudden retreat, and I blinked again.
Is that…?
A faint groan reached me and my vision finally cleared enough for recognition to slam into place.
Bramblehart.
I stepped out of the shade and saw them clearly—two young ones—standing there staring at me like they'd been waiting. Then they rushed forward. I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding and patted their heads, and they leaned into it like they'd missed the contact.
Then they turned and ran a few paces, stopped, and looked back.
I think they want me to follow them.
I tried to move, but pain still dragged at my body and mind. I wobbled forward, forcing my limbs to cooperate, and as I did, I saw it.
The dungeon—or what was left of it.
The ruined collapse. The dead mouth of earth where it had been, sealed like it had never existed at all. The ground around it was still withered. Trees stood stripped of leaves. Life had been sucked out of this place so thoroughly it felt wrong.
But… it was changing.
The withered plants remained, but the air felt different, like nature was pushing back—like it was winning. The soil beneath me felt slightly alive again. The trees swayed gently in the breeze, as if they could finally breathe.
A small smile slipped onto my face.
I inhaled deeply and fresh air filled my lungs. When I exhaled, something in me loosened—like the hardship had finally paid its price, and now I was allowed to feel the reward.
I followed the young Brambleharts. My body didn't want to move quickly; it felt weak and sluggish, but the faint blue glow from my flesh—still pulsing—steadied me. The mana crystal's warmth gave me enough strength to keep going.
As we moved, I noticed monsters watching.
I'd learned the difference: the look a monster gives prey, the look it gives something it fears. This wasn't either.
This was… gratitude.
I saw Orricks—some of the same ones who had come later to collect the body, the one that had been killed when another Orrick was driven into that red-eyed frenzy. They looked at me now with something close to thanks.
To my right, the Nyssrae I had fought stood healed. It bowed its head ever so slightly in a silent acknowledgment.
As I continued, the warmth in the air grew—not heat, but presence. Monsters I didn't even recognize watched me from the shadows, but I could see it in their eyes: the same quiet understanding. They knew the dungeon would have slowly killed them. They could never defeat it.
I'm glad they can live… without losing themselves just to survive.
The two young Brambleharts led me on. By the time they finally slowed, the sun had shifted far across the sky. We pushed through thick foliage until the trees opened up, and a wall of thorns stood ahead—dense and layered like a living barricade.
Is this their home?
The young ones slipped through an opening and I followed. Two Brambleharts stood guard at the entrance—older, wary, but not hostile. Fearful, maybe, still recovering from weeks of helplessness.
We entered the center of their home, and there, at the center, lay the Bramblehart—the one I'd fought with, the one cursed with the withering poison.
Around him stood six others, their antlers buried firmly into the ground. Green light flowed through them, all of it pouring into the poisoned Bramblehart like a desperate lifeline. One of them wavered as I approached; its legs buckled, its antlers slipped free, and it collapsed, passing out from sheer exhaustion.
Other Brambleharts moved in immediately. They nudged it with antlers and shoulders, lifting and guiding its limp body away from the center—slow, careful, making space for it to rest.
I looked at the Bramblehart in the center.
They're doing everything they can to save you.
Something warm tightened in my chest. In this cruel world, this was something I never expected to see.
An old Bramblehart approached me. Its antlers were thinner, worn by time. Parts of the nature on its hide had begun to wither—not from poison, but from age. It stared at me with piercing intensity, then its gaze flicked to the faint blue light in my body.
It didn't speak, but its posture changed.
It stepped aside.
I approached the poisoned Bramblehart. It looked asleep—or so I thought—because as I neared, one eye opened, lazy and tired. The kind of eye that looked like it had spent too long fighting just to keep breathing.
It couldn't move.
The old Bramblehart moved behind me, lowered its head, and slid its antlers beneath the poisoned one's body. With effort, it rolled him slightly. The green light continued to pour into him, and beneath his torso, an opening became visible.
A slit.
An opening I hadn't seen before.
Inside it was brighter than the green light feeding into it—a vivid, flickering green, like a flame struggling to stay alive.
The old Bramblehart turned to me and pointed at the opening with its antlers.
I knelt and carefully moved my hands to the slit. The Bramblehart groaned and I hesitated, but the old one nudged me gently with its antlers.
I swallowed, then pulled the slit wider. The Bramblehart groaned again, but I didn't stop. I peeked inside and saw a small circular object floating within—so small I only knew it was there because of the light surrounding it.
Is that an orb?
It's a monster's core.
The System answered.
I chuckled quietly. Thank you. It's been a long time since you said anything.
Yes. Because you went to the dungeon core anyway when I told you not to.
That's true, but I didn't die.
You were lucky. Don't fool yourself.
Luck is part of life.
I could almost feel the System scoff.
My attention returned to the Bramblehart. I reached for the mana crystal fused to my back. It had begun combining with my body—thin blue veins visible beneath my flesh. When I tried to pull it free, it resisted, like it belonged there, like it wanted to stay.
I pulled harder. My flesh stretched, then tore slightly with a wet sting, but the blue crystal didn't budge.
I let out a soft sigh. "I need your help," I whispered.
The older Bramblehart stared, confused. It couldn't understand my words.
"Please," I said softly. "Let me save his life."
The mana crystal reacted.
The blue veins tightened first—holding.
Then they slowly retracted, and the crystal loosened like it had finally made a choice.
I smiled faintly. "Thank you."
This time, I pulled it out with ease. As I brought it toward the Bramblehart's opening, its blue glow strengthened—brighter, warmer. I held the slit open with one hand and guided the crystal closer—
But it slipped from my grasp.
It hung in the air for a heartbeat, spinning slowly, light pulsing like a living thing. Then it snapped forward and speared into him, vanishing inside like it had chosen its home.
The opening sealed instantly.
A powerful blue light detonated outward.
Not a flare—an eruption.
The entire grove drowned in blue, shadows erased, every leaf and branch outlined in harsh, radiant lines. The Brambleharts recoiled and turned their faces away, antlers tilting to shield their eyes as the blast poured over them. I stumbled back, blinking hard, vision flooded and useless as the light hammered through my skull.
For a moment it felt like the world itself had been overwritten—washed clean in pure blue fire.
Then the surge began to settle.
As the light faded, I looked back toward the center.
It was rising.
The Bramblehart lifted slightly off the ground and his painful groans faded into silence. The withered patches moved—not like dead skin, but like something alive clinging on. The poison stretched in thin black veins across his hide, tightening as if it could bind the blue light in place. It pulsed and resisted, crawling back over the healed bark like it was trying to smother it again.
But the blue light kept pushing.
Blue energy surged beneath the surface in steady waves, burning through the black growth and forcing it outward. The poison writhed, stretching to hold its ground, then split as cracks raced through it. It tore away in ragged strips, recoiling as fresh bark-like hide rose underneath—alive, reclaiming itself inch by inch.
The black mass hit the ground with a wet slap—
and moved.
It pulled itself together like a living stain, thinning into tendrils that crawled through the grass, trying to run. I knelt without thinking, staring at it—confused, sickened.
The mana crystal pulsed again, and a clean wave of blue rolled outward. The tendrils spasmed, trying to stretch away, then locked rigid. They whitened at the edges, cracked, and crumbled into ash.
Nothing left to cling to.
The wave didn't stop with the poison. It rolled through the grove—through the Brambleharts' home—like a deep pulse traveling through roots and stone. The Brambleharts staggered as it passed, hooves shifting, antlers dipping as they fought to keep their balance under the pressure.
I stayed kneeling, still watching the last of the black ash crumble where it had tried to escape.
The blue light faded completely.
And the Bramblehart in the center dropped gently back down and landed on his feet, standing for the first time since the poison had taken him.
The Brambleharts screamed—not in fear, but in joy.
The two young ones rushed to him instantly, pressing into him, almost knocking him over as they embraced. The others crowded around, checking him, sniffing him, touching him with antlers like they couldn't believe he was real. Then another roar erupted from the group—pure celebration.
I watched it unfold, and something in my chest loosened. For the first time in a long time, the outcome wasn't death. The collapse, the dungeon, the way it had nearly killed me—it had actually meant something.
I turned to leave with a smile on my face and took a step, then another, when a blunt thorn slid into view in front of my face—close enough to feel its presence—blocking my path without striking.
I stopped and turned slowly.
The Brambleharts parted as the healed Bramblehart stepped forward. He approached me slowly, eyes locked with mine, then knelt. His antlers stabbed into the ground with force.
What is he doing?
Then his front legs bent too.
A bow.
I took a step back, startled, and the rest of the Brambleharts hesitated. They looked at one another in brief, silent glances, then followed. One by one, Brambleharts knelt, antlers into the earth.
The old one hesitated longer than the others. Its antlers dipped a fraction, then stopped as if pride physically held it upright. A low breath rolled out of it—reluctant, heavy—before it finally bent its front legs and bowed as well.
I stared, stunned, then stepped forward and knelt beside the healed Bramblehart. I placed my hands on his antlers and gently lifted them, and he rose with my guidance.
"Friends do not bow to one another," I said quietly.
He stared at me like he understood, then turned to his kin and released a massive roar. One by one the others stood, and the grove filled with sound—antlers scraping up from earth, bodies rising, a chorus of grateful, triumphant roars.
The two young ones rushed to me and brushed against my sides. I patted their heads, then looked to the healed Bramblehart, and we nodded to each other.
No words.
Just understanding.
Time passed into night. The Bramblehart home became a place of joy: young ones chasing each other within the thorn walls, elders tapping antlers together in celebration.
They look so happy.
I glanced inward and muttered, half-amused. Try to convince me now that going to the core was the wrong idea.
The System sighed.
Fine. I admit you were right.
The silence afterward felt almost strange.
This is a beautiful sight.
I laughed softly. And here I thought you were never wrong.
Don't get used to it.
I continued to chuckle to myself as I moved away from the gathering, letting the noise fade behind me, then settled into a corner of the thorn wall and slumped against it as my body finally gave in. I inhaled slowly, exhaled, and closed my eyes.
I needed rest.
But as I rested, something inside me stirred.
Something was wrong.
A faint white light began to leak from my body.
And then the pain surged again—far worse than before.