Everything hurt.
Maybe I just let that thing eat me next time I see it, not that I can stop it anyway…
It felt as if my very spirit was leaving me, heavy chains dragging it into the depths of the world.
My legs buckled as I trudged forward, my breath hoarse, catching on every step. Worst of all, my shoulder throbbed—raw and swollen—maroon mud clinging to it like an off-putting shoulder pad, barely stemming the bleeding.
Guess there's not a hospital just lying around here somewhere…
Dried sludge crusted across my chest, cracking with every movement. I wasn't even sure which wounds were still open. It was torture.
I must've looked absolutely abominable, like an ancient sovereign being of the marshlands. If someone saw me like this they'd probably run. Hell, I'd probably run too if I saw myself.
Like usual I've kept flickering, and it's definitely taken its toll.
I didn't know how many times I'd snapped mid-step or mid-breath, landing somewhere new only to collapse again, twitching like a dying animal. Each time, my body gave out a little more. And still, it happened. A foot down, a blink—and I was four paces ahead. Or behind. Or sideways.
The world wants me to die, there's no other explanation. No, maybe it's some form of divine karma…
Luckily, my pain receptors were firing, ringing in my head like a fire alarm. At least it was shutting off all of my thoughts, hard to think when you're in crippling pain.
The air felt cooler here. Less wet. The marsh had given way to patches of dry mud and knotted roots. I wasn't sure how long I'd been walking since I clawed my way out of that last mudhole. Hours, maybe. Or minutes. Time didn't hold shape anymore—it slipped away like water through my fingers.
The forest was thinning. Slowly becoming sparse. The canopy above left gaps that bled pale light through the fog and foliage—dim but steady. Even the fog felt thinner here, like it had grown tired of following me.
I mean, there's less plants for that bastard to use on me, might even have to get his dirty mits bloody this time.
Every patch of stillness felt like a trap. Every crooked tree looked like it might rear up and strike me again. But the vines lay still. The forest… thinned. That was the only word I had for it.
I collapsed against a sloping trunk and slid to the ground.
My shoulder screamed as I hit the earth. My body trembled. I was freezing, but sweat slicked my back and clung to the inside of my thighs. My clothes were soaked in blood, sweat, mud—and probably some tears.
Just… a quick nap. Yeah! Nothing bad can happen, I deserve a rest…
⸻
I jerked awake with a gasp.
Crap, how long has it been.
The forest was darker now. Not quite night. More like dusk closing in. The light overhead had dimmed, filtered into a copper haze.
Huh, guess I'm alive…
I rose on shaky legs and forced myself forward. Step by step. Every few paces, my vision swam, and my knees buckled. I'd brace against a tree, steady my breath, and continue.
Okay, let's find somewhere to wash up…
SNAP.
I winced. "Ughn…"
My groan burst out before I could choke it down. Thorns scratched into my forearms and legs, clawing through mud. For once, the mud helped—acting like a strange armored cocoon.
Tears blurred my vision, I didn't bother trying to wipe them.
Hahahaha, what a sick joke.
I was unraveling. That was the only way I could describe it. Something inside me had come loose during that first flicker, and now it was stretching—fraying—like old rope under too much weight. My muscles twitched without reason. My head rang.
I should've died already.
But I kept moving.
Even though I deserved it, even though I should've just died, a strange sweltering desire to live still burned in my soul.
I was seeing things, Arins smile, his laugh, his smug face. It was if he was there in front of me, begging me to join him.
Sorry, I'm selfish, I'll join you later…
There were no signs of pursuit. No monstrous silhouette sliding through the ferns. No vines reaching from the shadows. But I didn't feel safe—just… discarded. As if the forest no longer saw the point in playing with me.
Somewhere in the distance, water moved—slow and deliberate. Not threatening. Just the gentle whisper of a stream or spring.
Maybe I can wash up, what a privilege!
I
My breath caught again.
SNAP.
Just a heartbeat—barely a second. But when my vision cleared, I was on my back, staring up into branches I didn't recognize. I didn't move. I couldn't.
For a moment, all I could hear was my own breathing. Then silence returned.
The forest here was eerily still. Trees were spaced wider apart. The underbrush had thinned into brittle carpets of old leaves. There were no glowing plants. No whispering moss. The air felt… dry. No longer thick with humidity and rot.
The smell of death lingered—faint and fading. Not like the muddied mangrove. This was older. Lingering. Passive.
I dragged myself upright, arms trembling beneath me. Every muscle screamed. My legs felt hollow. But I rose. I had to.
Each step forward was a gamble. Would I flicker again? Would I fall? Would something be waiting just ahead?
I didn't even care anymore. I just needed… sleep.
I followed a shallow ridge downward. The terrain changed again—rocky, uneven. The trees thinned further.
No monsters. No vines. No tricks.
Just me.
Just my breath. My blood. My pain.
Another flicker hit. This time, I landed face-first in cold mud.
Yeah… I'll just rest.
The muck soaked through my shirt and pressed against the bruises blooming along my ribs. I turned my head, trying to breathe through the thickness. Eventually, I rolled over onto my back.
What's that?
I couldn't see clearly. Just a shape. Something geometric—cubic—wedged between trees in the distance. It didn't glow. It didn't hum. It just… existed. Unmoving. Silent.
Just… another short nap…