"By the way, do you have valuable information of where we might currently be, like the world as a whole and the ecosystem? And how frequent does that suffocating deathly thing happen?"
Draki asked, trying so hard not to stare at Velmora's breathtaking figure. The way her breasts shook slightly each time she moved, the glimmer of water tracing down her skin, the soft curves that seemed sculpted by temptation itself—everything about her preached seduction. Draki forced his gaze away, biting his lip as he focused instead on a rock nearby. But the more he avoided looking, the more his mind painted the picture of her figure in sharper detail.
Velmora, on the other hand, remained utterly unbothered. She washed her hair, humming softly as if the air wasn't thick with tension. The sunlight reflected off her brown skin, turning droplets of water into tiny crystals that slid down her neck and over her collarbones. It wasn't until Draki's question fully settled in that she paused, her hand frozen mid-air.
She turned her head slightly, her expression turning doubtful. "Like seriously… where are you from?" she asked, suspicion dripping from her tone.
Draki's heart skipped. He hadn't thought his question through—it sounded too ignorant for someone who supposedly lived in this world. His throat went dry, and a bead of sweat rolled down his temple. He couldn't afford to lose Velmora's trust, not after everything he'd done to build it.
"About that…" he began, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. "I'm from a small town—isolated from the rest of the world. We didn't really have contact with the outside for years. Everything beyond our borders was forbidden, so I don't know much about the state of things."
Velmora tilted her head, still staring at him with narrowed eyes. "A small isolated town, huh? That would explain why you talk strange and ask questions like a kid lost in a forest."
Draki gave a nervous laugh, trying to act casual. "Yeah… something like that."
She studied him for a moment longer before returning to her bathing. "Well, wherever you came from, you chose a bad time to come out." Her tone turned heavy. "This world isn't what it used to be. Nature's gone wild, the skies are unstable, and the air…" She looked up, her gaze fixed on the dull sky above. "Sometimes, it feels like the world itself is trying to choke us out."
Draki frowned. "You mean that suffocating wave that hit us earlier?"
Velmora nodded slowly. "We call it the World's Breath. It happens once every few cycles—sometimes twice if the planet's mood is foul. It's like the air itself becomes alive… angry, hungry. You can't breathe it, can't escape it. Even the strongest creatures hide when it comes."
Her words sent a chill through Draki. "So, it's natural? Or something else?"
Velmora's gaze darkened. "Natural? Maybe once. But now… it's something corrupted. The old scholars said it started after the Sky Fracture—when the heavens split and the stars began bleeding light. Since then, the air carries something toxic, something that punishes life for simply existing too long."
Draki clenched his fists. The description sounded eerily similar to what his system had detected earlier—fluctuations in pressure, radiation, and an energy he couldn't identify. It wasn't random. It was alive.
"And the world?" he asked. "How bad is it now?"
Velmora sighed and began walking toward the riverbank, her wet hair cascading down her back. "The world is dying, Draki. Slowly, painfully. Forests turn to ash overnight. Oceans boil for no reason. Animals mutate, people vanish, and entire regions collapse into nothing. The balance's gone." She glanced back at him. "It's a curse, really. Everything that lives here is paying for something done long ago."
Curse. That word again. It struck something in Draki's mind, resonating with the strange power inside him—the one that came alive whenever he fought.
"What about cities or people? There must be survivors," he pressed.
"There are," Velmora said, sitting on a nearby stone and wringing out her hair. "Scattered settlements, underground enclaves, floating sanctuaries above the Breath's reach. But none of them are safe for long. The world shifts unpredictably. One day you wake up surrounded by green plains, the next it's all dust and bones."
Draki listened quietly, his eyes now drawn—against his will—to the movement of her hands and the soft curve of her back as she spoke. He wasn't sure if it was attraction or something deeper—a strange pull that connected him to her in ways he couldn't yet explain.
"Then how do you survive?" he asked.
Velmora smiled faintly, though there was no joy in it. "Adaptation. Curses. And luck."
"Curses?"
She looked at him, her expression unreadable. "You'll understand soon enough."
A shiver ran down Draki's spine. He didn't know why, but her tone carried the same weight as a warning.
Silence followed for a while. The only sounds were the rustling leaves and the soft trickle of the river. Draki sat beside her, glancing at the faint scar across her shoulder. It looked recent.
"Did you get that from the Breath?" he asked.
"No," she said quietly. "From something worse."
Her gaze drifted to the horizon, where the faint shimmer of a dying sun painted the sky in bruised gold and grey. "You'll see soon enough what this world really hides, Draki. The monsters here aren't all made of claws and teeth."
Draki felt her words more than he understood them. But before he could ask further, a sudden shift in the wind made him look up. The forest grew quiet. Too quiet.
Velmora stood, eyes narrowing. "No…"
"What is it?" Draki asked, standing too.
"The Breath. It's returning early."
His pulse spiked. "Already? But you said—"
"I said it shouldn't, but the world doesn't care what it should do anymore."
The air thickened around them, growing heavy and hot. The sky dimmed as a strange metallic haze rolled in. Draki's lungs began to burn just breathing it.
"Run!" Velmora shouted, grabbing his arm. "Head for the hollow ridge!"
They sprinted through the forest, the ground trembling beneath their feet. Behind them, the trees began to decay instantly, leaves turning to dust midair. The sky roared, and from above came that suffocating pulse—like the heartbeat of something ancient and cruel.
Draki could feel it crawling into his chest, pressing on his heart, trying to squeeze the life out of him. But something inside him snapped. His veins glowed faintly, golden threads tracing across his skin.
"Draki—your body!" Velmora gasped.
He didn't know what was happening either, but he felt it—his system reacting, his core fighting the Breath back. For a moment, the air around him cleared, and he could breathe again.
Velmora stared in shock, her lips slightly parted. "That's… impossible."
Draki exhaled shakily. "Maybe not for me."
Her eyes met his—filled with something between fear and awe. "Then maybe you're not from this world after all."
And as the Breath howled louder, swallowing the horizon, Draki realized she might be right.