Vlad's mind raced. Following Lana—he scrambled onto a thicker, near-vertical branch that spiraled towards the distant canopy roof. Their movements fueled by desperation and frantic scrabbling of the pursuing mutants drawing ever closer from below. The dim crimson light filtered through the increasingly sparse leaves. The top of the massive Bentree, a chaotic tangle of branches and leaves against the blood-red sky, felt tantalizingly close.
The climb was brutal, testing their strength and agility. Each strained muscle fiber screamed in protest.
Just as Vlad's hand reached for a sturdy branch, a blur of immense wings whooshed past them. The air pressure shifted violently, whipping their hair and the leaves around them. It was the massive, bird-like creature, its silhouette momentarily eclipsing the dim crimson light.
He caught a horrifying glimpse of a mangled chunk of the crushed mutant clutched in its powerful talons as it ascended with terrifying speed, disappearing into the dense foliage above
The whoosh of the winged creature left a ringing in Vlad's ears. He clung to the branch, his knuckles white, as the disturbed leaves rained down on him and Lana. Below, the hissing intensified.
"Don't stop," Lana hissed.
"I know...ahh…" Vlad replied, breathing heavily. "I know."
Every second, the gap between them and the pursuers narrowed.
With a final, desperate heave, Vlad and Lana hauled themselves onto the broad, surprisingly stable surface of a massive branch. It was the widest they had encountered during the entire climb—solid beneath their feet, almost like a platform. And unlike the ones below, this branch didn't taper toward its edges. In fact, none had for quite some time.
That was when Vlad realized why.
This Bentree—the one they'd been climbing—wasn't as massive as he thought. It was smaller than the others, its trunk slender and spiraling compared to the towering giants around it. And those giants—older, thicker, more ancient—had sent their branches twisting through it, merging and interweaving like veins through muscle. The branches from the larger Bentrees had pierced through this one as they grew, forming strange, chaotic bridges of bark and bone and leaf. It was as if the trees had grown together in a slow, deliberate collision.
That was why the branches hadn't narrowed.
They weren't just climbing one tree anymore. They were climbing a tangle of trees—a woven cathedral of crimson leaves and twisted wood.
And up here, in this strange tangled web of living branches, the air carried a new scent—sharp, almost spicy.
***
Vlad's arms felt like iron rods wrapped in fire. His right arm was shaking horribly from carrying his whole body up dozens of meters, his other injuries were hampering him further. His breath came in ragged gasps, throat raw, ribs tight like they were being crushed from the inside. His legs threatened to buckle beneath him, muscles quivering with each movement.
Lana wasn't much better. Her fingers were trembling, slick with purple blood. She climbed with brutal efficiency, but her jaw was clenched. A bruise had bloomed across one cheek. Her lips moved constantly—cursing, counting, praying. Vlad couldn't tell which.
Below them, the noise swelled—claws on bark, wet snarls, the heavy panting of creatures that should have collapsed long ago. The mutants were almost on them.
His breath ragged Vlad said:
"They're here."
Lana didn't answer. She drew her sword in one sharp motion, the metal catching a flicker of the crimson light. Her shoulders squared.
They lingered below, crouched in the shadows just beneath the branch.
The mutants hissed and shifted, claws scraping bark, glowing green eyes locked on Vlad and Lana—but they didn't climb. Agitated, twitching, bristling with hostility… yet they stayed put, as though an invisible line had been drawn that they could not cross.
Vlad and Lana exchanged a look—part confusion, part disbelief. The mutants were there, but they wouldn't come up.
"They... stopped?" Lana whispered.
Vlad nodded slowly, still watching them.
"Yeah. But they're not leaving."
A gust of wind whipped through the upper reaches of the smaller Bentree, rustling the strange, crimson leaves. A few detached leaves spiraled downwards, catching the dim light as they fell towards the canopy below where the mutants waited.
As the leaves fell, the mutants below grew more agitated. They hissed louder, their four arms twitching violently. Their eyes narrowed, their bodies coiling back. It wasn't rage. It was discomfort. Maybe even fear...
Vlad narrowed his eyes.
The leaves?
Before he could say anything, something cool touched his neck. A single drop. Then another.
Rain.
He blinked and looked up.
Another drop followed. Then another. Light, delicate—like the forest itself had begun to cry in relief. The rain was barely more than a mist, falling in uneven rhythms, trailing along leaves and branches before drifting down to where they stood.
Not a storm—barely even a shower. Just the lightest sprinkle, like dew falling from the sky. Tiny droplets beaded on his skin, cold and clean. It was the gentlest rain Vlad had ever felt.
It was… pure.
And yet, below them, the effect was immediate.
The mutants shrieked—not in challenge, but in… pain?
As the delicate drops reached through the canopy, landing on them, they writhed and twisted, their bodies recoiling. Their hisses turned to panicked screeches. One tried to scurry higher but jerked back the instant a drop touched its shoulder.
One by one, they turned and disappeared into the darkness below, vanishing into the massive lower limbs of the Bentrees like shadows fleeing the sun.
Vlad and Lana stood frozen.
And then—they were alone.
The world was quiet except for the soft kiss of rain on leaves and bark. No more howls. No more claws. Just that strange, whispering hush.
Lana let out a slow breath beside him, her voice barely above a murmur.
"I think the tree's protecting us."
Vlad didn't know if it was the tree, rain or something else. But the mutants were gone. And the air, once heavy with tension, now felt light—alive.
Above them, the summit waited, bathed in pale crimson light and growing rain.
For a long moment, neither of them moved.
The only sound was the hush of rain—soft and uneven like the tree itself was exhaling. Tiny droplets kissed the bark and leaves around them, tapping lightly on the skin, soaking slowly into their hair. This gentle fall, fragile and clean.
Vlad laid down against the branch with a groan, the rough bark biting into his spine. He didn't care. Every inch of him throbbed—his shoulder a fire, his legs trembling with exhaustion. His head tilted back, eyes half-lidded, letting the rain fall across his face.
Lana stood with her hands on her knees, bent over and breathing hard. Her hair was soaked in seconds, streaked with blood and pieces of moss, her cheeks hollow with fatigue. One by one she took the unwanted bits off of her short green hair.
They had climbed nonstop, through madness, through pain. But the exhaustion went deeper than just the climb.
First was the entrance test and the attack of the Disaster-class mutant. Then getting chased by the bird-like creature. A predator of iron feathers and rage. They'd run through darkness, barely avoiding its talons, hearts pounding, every shadow a threat.
And then, the four armed armoured mutants.
The chase. The climb. The blood.
They had fought when they had nothing left. Run when they should have collapsed. Climbed a living mountain covered in foliage with trembling hands and burning lungs.
They hadn't slept. And they hadn't had water—not one sip—since the morning before.
So when the rain began, soft and cold and clean, it felt like the world had finally exhaled.
Vlad licked his cracked lips, tasting salt and blood. Then he opened his mouth, letting the tiny droplets fall in.
It wasn't much. But it was something.
He held out his good hand—as the rain grew—catching water in the curve of his palm, then brought it to his mouth.
The rain tasted strange—earthy, slightly sweet, like something drawn straight from the roots of the world.
Lana joined him, cupping her hands to gather what she could. Her voice was rough.
"It's clean."
Vlad nodded.
"Best thing I've tasted in days."
They crouched together, collecting rainwater slowly—desperately—like animals in drought. They drank in silence, ignoring the soreness, and the trembling in their limbs. Letting their breathing finally slow.
The cool drops ran down their faces, their necks, into the fabric of their clothes. Washing off some of the blood. Some of the fear.
Just for a moment, they weren't running.
They weren't fighting.
They were just alive.
And the tree… or whatever it was that stopped the mutants—had given them that.
Lana leaned her head back, eyes closed, letting the rain fall across her face.
Vlad watched the branches above sway gently, dim light filtering down in soft, pale beams.
It wasn't peace. Not yet.
But it was a pause.
And for now, that was enough.