Revvyn lay flat on his back on the silver sand, his chest heaving in jagged, desperate gulps. Every breath felt like he was inhaling shards of glass, his lungs were still protesting against the lake water and the sickening, minty sedative the Nymphs had forced down his throat.
He couldn't move. He just stared up at the glowing, silver leaves of the canopy, waiting for his heart to stop hammering against his ribs.
The sound of the water lapping against the shore was the only thing breaking the silence. Gentle. Rhythmic. Completely at odds with the nightmare he'd just crawled out of. Revvyn focused on that sound, using it to anchor himself to reality. I'm alive. I'm on land. I'm not drowning.
He lifted his right hand, his arm trembling with the effort. Right below his knuckles, the bond mark was dull and cold. Usually, it was a sharp, geometric design that pulsed with a vibrant indigo light like a living tattoo that mirrored his heartbeat. Now, the lines were faded and ashen, looking more like a dying, gray bruise than a magical link.
Syll was completely tapped out, hiding deep inside the bond to survive the aftermath of that brutal, forced fusion. Revvyn felt the emptiness in his own chest, too. His mana was completely drained too. It was a strange sensation like part of his soul had been scooped out and was slowly leaking back in.
But as he lay there, a faint, tiny spark pulsed in his core.
[Mana Refilling: 1/50]
It was slow. Agonizingly slow. But it was the natural recovery of his system fighting to keep him functional. One point at a time. At this rate, he'd be at full mana in about an hour. If he lived that long.
Revvyn closed his eyes, and the image of the red-haired girl flashed in the dark behind his eyelids. He remembered the way she moved during the fight with the Goblins. He remembered the impossible, yoga-like flexibility of her stance as she drew her bow, the sharp, focused look in her eyes just before she let the arrow fly.
He remembered her screaming his name as the dark water swallowed him.
He'd just left her there.
"Damn it," Revvyn wheezed, rubbing his face with a trembling hand. I hope she made it out. I hope she didn't jump in after me. He let out a dry, bitter laugh that turned into a painful cough. He had fought beside her, bled beside her, and nearly died in front of her.
AndIneverevengothername.
What would he even call her if he saw her again? "Hey, you" didn't really cut it after almost dying together. Red? Girl? None of them felt right. He wasn't even sure they'll meet again.
He pushed the thought away. She was resourceful. She'd survived this long in the forest alone. If anyone could make it out of those springs, it was her. He had to believe that.
He couldn't afford to lie here and feel sorry for himself. He fumbled with the wet, mud-caked strap of his bag and dragged it to his chest. He dug inside, his fingers brushing past slime and lake-weed until he found the small leather pouch.
He pushed a tiny sliver of his recovering mana toward his right hand.
"Syll," he rasped.
With a weak, pathetic pop, the purple slime materialized on the damp sand next to his head. Syll was barely the size of a grapefruit, his usually glossy surface looking dull, watery, and shivering. The little black-dot eyes blinked up at Revvyn with an expression that could only be described as exhausted betrayal.
"I know, buddy. I know," Revvyn muttered. He pulled a handful of the glow-berries he'd gathered earlier out of the pouch. They were squished and wet, crushed by the pressure of the deep water, but right now, they looked like a feast. He placed a few directly in front of the trembling slime.
Syll slowly extended a translucent tendril, wrapping around the berries and pulling them into his core. As the berries dissolved, the slime gave a weak, satisfied thrum. The pale, watery color deepened back into a healthier shade of violet. The little eyes closed briefly, like a cat settling into a sunbeam.
"Get some sleep," Revvyn said softly. With a thought, he unsummoned his beast. Syll dissolved into a faint mist, retreating back into the bond to digest and rest. The mark on Revvyn's hand regained a tiny fraction of its normal indigo hue, but it stayed quiet. A faint pulse and a promise that Syll was still in there.
Revvyn shoved the rest of the berries into his own mouth. They tasted like bitter, it stung against his tongue, sending a sharp, jarring jolt through his nervous system. His muscles twitched. His vision sharpened for a moment before settling back into exhausted clarity.
[Mana Refilling: +10]
[Current Mana: 15/50]
The spark in his chest grew a little warmer. The cold numbness in his limbs began to recede, replaced by the heavy, throbbing ache of a body that had been pushed miles past its limits. His ribs ached. His calf burned where the Nymph had clawed him. His head pounded with a dull, persistent pressure.
He leaned his head back against the sand and gave himself exactly two minutes to just exist.
Why am I doing this again? The thought crept in, heavy and exhausting. Not for the first time, and probably not for the last.
He thought of his father, lying in that cramped, dusty room back home, his breaths shallow and wet. The man who had gripped his wrist with surprising strength and told him he believed. The man who had bet everything on his son restoring their family's legacy. He needed the cure. That was the whole point of this nightmare.
Then he thought of Lily. He pictured her standing in the sunlight, the way her pink hair caught the morning glow, the way she smiled when he actually managed to impress her. He remembered the hug after the trial and the soft, warm pressure of her boobs against his chest, the way she'd whispered "I'm so happy for you" like she meant it with her whole heart.
If he survived this, he was going straight back to her. He was going to hold her, feel her warmth, feel her boobs, and just remind himself that he was a living, breathing teenage guy and not just monster-bait. He was going to tell her... something. He didn't know what yet. But something.
He wanted to get into the Academy. He wanted a real life. He wanted to walk into a room and have people look at him like he mattered, not like he was the son of a dying farmer who couldn't pay his debts.
But the reality of his stats felt like a boot on his neck. He was only Level 5. He needed to hit Level 10 just to qualify for the absolute lowest tier—D-rank. Right now, a D-rank hunter would look at the things Revvyn had barely survived today and laugh. They'd done harder fights before breakfast.
"One step at a time," Revvyn muttered, forcing his eyes open. "Get the flower first. Go home. Figure out the rest of the crap later."
He pushed himself up, using his rusted cutlass as a crutch. His legs wobbled like jelly, but they held. The sand gave way under his boots, soft and unstable, but he found his balance.
He stepped away from the shore and into the Moonlit Forest.
It was unlike anything he'd ever seen. There was no rot here, no oppressive green canopy. The trees were tall and bone-white, their bark smooth and cool to the touch. The ground was covered in a thick carpet of silver moss that crunched softly under his heavy boots, releasing tiny puffs of glowing spores with each step.
Everything glowed. The air itself seemed thick with floating spores of blue and silver light, drifting like lazy fireflies around his shoulders. They settled on his skin with a faint, cool tingle, then drifted away. It was beautiful, tranquil, and terrifyingly quiet.
Revvyn walked for what felt like miles, his boots dragging, his eyes scanning the silver trunks. He was looking for the glowing petals, the specific bloom the old woman had described. Midnight Flower. Black petals fading to violet. Glowing faintly. Grows near water, guarded by serpents.
The silence pressed in on him. No birds. No insects. Just the soft crunch of his own footsteps and the occasional drift of glowing spores. It felt wrong, somehow. A forest this alive should have sounds. The fact that it didn't meant something was listening.
He passed a cluster of mushrooms the size of dinner plates, their caps glowing a soft bioluminescent blue. He passed a stream that ran with what looked like liquid starlight, glittering and cold. He didn't drink from it. He'd learned that lesson.
[Mana Refilling: 18/50]
Slowly. So slowly. But coming back.
He pushed through a thicket of weeping willow branches that felt like cold silk against his face. The fronds parted, and the forest suddenly opened up, the wild trees giving way to something structured.
Revvyn froze.
It was a garden. A massive, curated space hidden deep in the silver woods, so perfectly maintained it looked like it had been carved out of a dream. Statues of weeping women lined a path made of polished moonstone, their stone faces frozen in expressions of eternal sorrow. Each one held a carved flower in its hands, offering it to the empty air.
In the center of the garden was a massive fountain that ran with liquid silver instead of water. It cascaded down three tiers, each one catching the moonlight and throwing it back in brilliant, shimmering reflections. The sound was soft, musical, completely unlike the choking water of the Springs.
And around the fountain, flowers the size of shields bloomed in shades of violet and chrome, their petals vibrating with a low, magical hum. They swayed gently, despite the lack of wind, as if dancing to a song only they could hear.
Revvyn's breath caught.
There it is.
In the middle of the violet blooms, right at the base of the fountain, was a small flower bush that didn't match the others. Its petals were black at the edges, fading to deep violet in the center, and it glowed with a soft, pulsing light that seemed to call to him.
The Midnight Flower.
Hope flared in his chest, warm and fierce. This is it. This is what I came for.
Then, he saw it.
Wrapped tightly around the base of the fountain was a body as thick as a centuries-old tree trunk. Its scales were deep, bottomless emerald, shimmering with a metallic sheen in the moonlight. They overlapped like ancient armor, each one the size of a dinner plate. The creature's massive coils were stacked in layers around the silver fountain, encircling it completely.
The Serpent Guardian.
It was motionless. Its head, crowned with jagged, crystalline horns that caught the light and scattered it into rainbows, was tucked into its coils like a sleeping cat. Each breath it took was slow, deep, and completely silent—the only sign of life the faint rise and fall of its massive body.
Revvyn stood at the edge of the moonstone path, his knuckles white as he gripped his cutlass. His mana was barely a quarter full. His beast was resting. His body was a wreck. One wrong move and he'd be serpent food.
He looked at the flower. So close. Just on the other side of that coiled nightmare.
"Okay," he whispered to himself, his voice barely a breath. "No drama. Just get the flowers and leave. Easy."
He studied the serpent's position. Its head was tucked away from the flower, facing the opposite direction. If he was quiet. If he was careful. If every god in every world decided to smile on him for once.
He lowered his center of gravity, trying to remember the stealth basics his borrowed memories had given him. Move slow. Breathe slow. Don't look directly at it—predators could feel eyes on them.
He stepped onto the moonstone path.
The stone was cold through his boots, perfectly smooth, utterly silent. No creaks. No shifting. Good.
He moved one step. Then another. His eyes stayed fixed on the flower, on that glowing promise of salvation. Three steps. Four. The serpent didn't stir.
Five steps. Six. He was halfway there. The flower was close enough to see individual petals, each one pulsing with that soft, inviting light.
Seven steps. Eight. His hand reached out, fingers stretching toward the stem.
The air changed.
Revvyn felt it before he heard it, the pressure shifted, a sudden weight in the atmosphere that made his skin prickle. The glowing spores around him stopped drifting. They hung frozen in the air, like time paused.
Then the sound came. A whisper, low and ancient, that seemed to come from everywhere at once.
"Little thief."
Revvyn's blood turned to ice.
The massive head shifted. Slow and Deliberate. Those jagged crystalline horns caught the light as it rose from its coils, unfurling like a nightmare given form. It turned, and two glowing, vertical slits of blinding white light snapped open on its forehead.
They didn't look like eyes. They looked like twin suns, ancient and hungry, focused directly on him with an intelligence that made his soul want to crawl out of his body.
Revvyn's hand froze inches from the flower. His mind screamed at him to move, to grab it, to run—but his body was locked in place, pinned by that gaze.
The serpent's mouth opened slightly, revealing rows of teeth that gleamed like polished glass. A forked tongue, silver and shimmering, flicked out to taste the air.
Revvyn finally found his voice.
"Fuck," he whispered.