The mist was heavy with dread, suffocating in its intensity. Fenric and his goons brandished their weapons, though fear tainted every movement they made.
A monster?
No—this wasn't just a beast. It was something far worse.
"Damn it!" Fenric spat, his voice trembling despite his attempt to sound commanding.
"Did we stumble into a forbidden part of the Mist Forest by accident? The elders didn't mention anything about… this."
His mind raced, torn between terror and frustration. How could he have been so reckless? He glanced at his two companions—first dojo students, barely worth the effort it took to lead them—and sneered inwardly.
Useless.
Even he, newly promoted to the second dojo, felt outmatched here. But arrogance burned bright within him, refusing to let fear take full hold. After all, he had mastered a sword technique that would shame even seasoned fighters. Surely, that counted for something.
The silhouette loomed closer, one deliberate step at a time. Its form shifted unnaturally, as if it existed between worlds, neither fully present nor absent.
Chills ran down their spines as the air grew colder still.
Then, without warning, the creature moved—not quickly, but with an inevitability that screamed doom.
"Run!"
Fenric shouted, panic overtaking his bravado.
They bolted from the cave, abandoning any pretense of bravery. Their screams echoed through the forest, unfitting for sect members who prided themselves on discipline and strength.
Outside, the mist thickened further, curling around them like grasping hands.
Was this the monster's doing?
Fenric cursed under his breath, both annoyed and terrified. They needed to report this to the elders immediately—but first, they needed to survive.
As they fled, Fenric couldn't resist looking back.
Each time, the silhouette was there, walking slowly, deliberately. It never sped up, yet it remained relentlessly close, as if mocking them. Every glance sent fresh waves of terror coursing through his veins.
Ahead, Fenric spotted other sect members gathered near a clearing.
Relief flickered briefly in his chest.
Backup—at last.
But before he could shout a warning, the silhouette caught up to the unsuspecting group. There was no fight, no struggle. One moment, the members stood there, bewildered expressions frozen on their faces; the next, they were simply… gone.
Erased.
Vanished into thin air.
"Dammit!"
Fenric swore again, skidding to a halt. His heart pounded wildly as he watched the space where the members had been moments ago. Whatever this thing was, it wasn't bound by normal rules.
Then, abruptly, the silhouette stopped moving altogether.
Fenric noticed it too late—it stood motionless, almost contemplative, before suddenly lunging forward with unnatural speed.
BANG!
A deafening crash reverberated through the forest, shaking the ground beneath their feet. Fenric staggered, clutching his ears as pain shot through his skull. That sound—it was unearthly, wrong in ways he couldn't comprehend.
When the ringing subsided slightly, Fenric saw two figures running ahead of them, silhouetted against the pale glow of the moonlight above a mountain slope.
Kale and Alden.
Of course.
That damned trash of the sect, the Empty Vessel himself, somehow always managing to stay one step ahead. Fenric gritted his teeth, hatred surging anew.
But then, an idea sparked in his mind—a cruel, desperate plan.
If he couldn't outrun the creature, maybe he could redirect its attention. Let someone else feel the weight of its pursuit.
With renewed purpose, Fenric adjusted his course, following closely behind Kale and Alden.
He didn't intend to warn them or offer help.
No, he wanted them to serve as bait—to distract the relentless pursuer long enough for him to escape.
Fenric pushed harder, his lungs burning as he sprinted after the pair.
Behind him, the silhouette resumed its methodical chase, ever-present, ever-watchful.
The forest seemed endless, the mist unrelenting.
Yet Fenric clung to one thought:
Let them face it instead.