The sun had long since disappeared behind the horizon, leaving the Forest of Death bathed in a haunting, twilight glow. The trees whispered to each other in the wind, and the ground seemed to breathe beneath the feet of those who dared to tread upon it. Hours had passed since the competitors entered, and already, the air smelled faintly of blood, burnt wood, and ash.
Nizara crouched silently atop a tree branch, his cloak blending perfectly into the shadows. His eyes scanned the forest floor below, his breathing calm, measured. His sword rested on his back, humming faintly with electricity—restless, like the storm caged within him.
Down below, two squads clashed near a ravine. Sparks flew as metal met metal, and screams echoed through the trees. Nizara didn't interfere. Not yet. He simply watched, memorizing their patterns, their weaknesses, their fear.
He whispered to himself, "Too loud. Too sloppy. They'll kill each other before the second stage." He leapt silently from the tree and vanished deeper into the woods.
Somewhere else in the forest, Squad Z — Zalthor, Zyra, Lucien, and Elowyn — moved cautiously through a fog-choked path.
Zyra whispered, "It's eerily quiet…"
Lucien adjusted his daggers. "Too quiet."
Elowyn placed a glowing ward rune on a tree trunk. "We should rest for a bit and set up defensive traps."
Zalthor remained silent, looking into the distance, the image of Nizara still in his mind. He remembered their conversation earlier and muttered under his breath, "Stubborn fool…"
Zyra noticed. "Still thinking about him?"
"I just have a bad feeling," Zalthor replied. "This tournament… it's not just about testing strength. They're watching him. Waiting for something."
Back near the riverbank of the forest, Nizara found the remains of a squad — three out of four competitors dead, burned and torn apart, their faces frozen in horror. A strange black mist hovered around their corpses.
Nizara narrowed his eyes. "Curses."
Suddenly, he heard movement behind him. He turned swiftly—sword already drawn—but stopped when he saw a single girl standing there. She was young, barely a teenager, dressed in ragged armor, trembling as she held a spear with both hands.
"D-Don't come any closer!" she cried.
Nizara didn't lower his blade. "Where's your squad?"
She didn't answer. She just shook her head, tears brimming in her eyes.
"They're dead."
He studied her, then slowly sheathed his weapon.
"You'll die if you stay here. Go east, follow the river. There's a warded area one of the squads built. You might find safety there."
The girl looked at him in shock, confused by the mercy. "A-Aren't you going to kill me?"
Nizara walked past her without answering, muttering only, "You're not worth killing."
At the same time, back at the command tower, Elara sat alone in her personal chamber, arms crossed, eyes locked on one particular feed. The camera had been recently repaired, and it finally picked up Nizara's location again — just briefly — before he disappeared once more.
She muttered, "There's no way he's B-rank… he moves like a Commander."
A voice spoke from behind her. "Is that your official assessment?"
High Commander Seraphina had entered the room, a sly smirk playing on her lips as she leaned against the wall, arms folded beneath her chest.
"You're watching him too closely, Elara," she teased. "Falling for the mysterious bad boy?"
Elara shot her a glare, but her tone remained calm. "Don't be ridiculous. I just find him… dangerous."
Seraphina chuckled. "Dangerous? Or intriguing?"
Night fell hard over the forest.
Nizara made his way to the heart of the woods, where an eerie, unnatural glow pulsed between the twisted roots of an ancient tree. A shrine of sorts. Old. Forgotten. Covered in cursed runes.
He felt drawn to it.
As he stepped closer, his chest suddenly burned with pain—the same stabbing sensation he felt before fainting days ago. He fell to one knee, gritting his teeth.
And then he heard it.
The voice again.
Dark. Velvet. Echoing from deep within him.
"You're closer than you think… to the truth."
Nizara gasped, struggling to stay conscious.
"Who are you?" he hissed. "Why are you inside me?"
The voice chuckled, a chilling sound.
"You wanted power, didn't you? You accepted my gift. And now… you must carry the consequences."
Nizara clenched his fists as lightning sparked from his body.
"I didn't ask for any of this."
"Didn't you?"
Suddenly, the shrine burst into dark flame, and a monstrous creature rose from the corrupted roots — a towering beast, half bone, half shadow.
It roared, shaking the entire forest.
Nizara stood up, his sword drawn, eyes narrowing.
"No cameras now. Good…"
He dashed forward, blade crackling with fury.
*To Be Continued*