Daylight, even the filtered, ancient green-gold light of the Deepwood, felt like a benediction. After the suffocating darkness, the chilling presence of the ward-shadows, and the constant, gnawing fear, the simple warmth of the sun on their skin, however faint, was intoxicating. Birds sang somewhere high in the canopy – real birds, not spectral horrors. Small, mundane animals rustled in the undergrowth, going about their business, seemingly unaware of the cosmic anomalies and desperate struggles unfolding nearby.
Gregor felt the tension ease fractionally from his shoulders. He could see threats now, or at least the places where threats might hide. He could orient himself, confirming his initial assessment – southeast was indeed the general direction towards the kingdom's settled borders, though the journey remained daunting. He rationed the small amount of water they'd managed to collect at the spring, ensuring Lyra and Renn drank first. Their faces had regained a little color, their steps, while still heavy with fatigue, no longer the stumbling shuffle of near-collapse. Survival, for the moment, felt achievable.
"So," Saitama piped up, interrupting Gregor's fragile moment of peace. He pointed at a large, mossy boulder. "Is that rock edible? Looks kinda… chewy."
Gregor sighed. "No, Saitama. Rocks are not edible."
"Shame," Saitama replied, unfazed. "Would save a lot on grocery bills." He continued walking, occasionally swatting at buzzing insects or examining interesting fungi with purely academic (or perhaps culinary) curiosity. His presence remained a constant, bizarre comfort and source of low-level anxiety for the escapees. They owed him their lives, multiple times over, yet understanding him felt less likely than understanding the motivations of the stars.
Lyra walked beside Renn, her earlier despair replaced by a quiet determination. "We made it through the night," she murmured, more to herself than to him. "We actually made it."
Renn nodded, still looking nervously at the trees, but his shivering had stopped. "He… he keeps us safe. Even when he's asleep." The awe in his voice was palpable. Saitama wasn't just a protector; he was a phenomenon, a walking zone of impossibility that monsters and magic seemed to simply break against.
Their path led them gradually downwards, following the natural slope of the land. The trees remained immense, ancient, but the undergrowth became slightly less dense in places, suggesting they were slowly moving away from the primordial heart of the Deepwood. They crossed small, gurgling streams, replenishing their water, the clear, cold liquid tasting like life itself.
It was mid-morning when the relative peace was shattered. It started with a low, guttural rumbling from a dense thicket off to their right, followed by the violent snapping of branches and saplings. Something large, heavy, and extremely angry was forcing its way through the woods towards them.
Gregor instantly pushed Lyra and Renn behind him, drawing his sword. "Get back! Something's coming!"
What burst from the thicket was less a creature of nightmare magic and more a force of pure, concentrated porcine fury. It was a boar, but scaled up to monstrous proportions – a Great Tusk Boar, known colloquially as a 'Forest Ram.' It stood easily six feet at the shoulder, a mountain of bristly black hair, corded muscle, and pig-headed rage. Its tusks, thick as a man's arm and stained yellow with age and gore, jutted wickedly from its elongated snout. Its small, bloodshot eyes burned with primal aggression, fixed squarely on the intruders in its territory. Unlike the Corrupted Hounds or Shadow Stalkers, there was nothing overtly magical about it – just sheer size, toughness, and bad temper cranked up to lethal levels. Its hide looked thick as seasoned leather layered over muscle hard as oak.
The Great Tusk Boar pawed the ground, snorting aggressively, its breath pluming in the cool morning air. It lowered its massive head, aiming its formidable tusks like siege weapons. This wasn't a psychic attack, not an ethereal drain, not a magical blast – this was several tons of furious muscle and bone preparing to charge and gore anything in its path into bloody ribbons.
"Stand fast!" Gregor yelled, planting his feet, though he knew his sword would likely snap against such a charge. Lyra whimpered, covering her eyes. Renn fumbled uselessly for the dagger he likely didn't even remember dropping earlier.
The Boar charged.
It was terrifyingly fast for its bulk, the ground trembling under its thundering hooves. It didn't roar; it emitted a series of furious, high-pitched squeals that somehow sounded more menacing than any roar. It aimed straight for Gregor, the perceived leader, the one holding the pointy metal stick.
Saitama, who had been examining a beetle on a leaf, looked up as the earth began to shake. He saw the charging behemoth, registered the tusks, the speed, the obvious intent to turn Gregor into kebab. He sighed. Another interruption.
He didn't step in front of Gregor this time. Instead, as the Forest Ram thundered past him, mere feet away, focused entirely on its target, Saitama simply… stuck his leg out.
It was the same tripping motion he'd used on the Chasm Guardian. Casual. Almost lazy.
The boar, moving at full charge, its immense momentum carrying it forward like an avalanche, slammed its surprisingly sturdy front leg directly into Saitama's unyieldingly placed red boot.
What happened next was pure physics, untainted by magic or shadow.
CRACK-CRUNCH-THWUMP!
The sound was visceral, sickening. The boar's thick leg bone, strong enough to shatter rock, met an object with fundamentally superior structural integrity and zero give. It didn't just break; it practically exploded, shattering into multiple fragments from the sheer kinetic force being instantly stopped and reflected.
The boar's terrifying charge collapsed into an immediate, catastrophic failure of anatomy. Its forward momentum sent its massive body tumbling head over heels in a truly spectacular display of uncontrolled porcine acrobatics. It cartwheeled through the air, squealing in bewildered agony, before crashing down hard onto its back twenty feet away with a ground-shaking thud that knocked the wind out of it. Its remaining three legs flailed uselessly. Its back was clearly broken.
Silence descended, broken only by the boar's pained, wheezing gasps and the frantic pounding of the escapees' hearts.
Saitama withdrew his leg, examining his boot again. "Huh. That one felt a tiny bit solid. Still didn't hurt, though." He looked over at the incapacitated, wheezing boar. "See? Told you tripping was dangerous. Should watch where you're going, Mr. Pig."
Gregor stared, his sword still raised uselessly. He'd braced for impact, for being torn apart, and instead… the monster had tripped. Over the bald man's foot. And apparently shattered itself in the process. He slowly lowered his sword, feeling a familiar sense of reality fraying at the edges.
Lyra peeked through her fingers, saw the overturned boar, and let out a shaky breath of relief mixed with utter confusion. Renn just gaped.
Saitama walked over to the downed boar, which was still wheezing, its small red eyes rolling in pain and panic. "Looks like you're not getting up, huh?" He scratched his head. "Waste of good… well, probably not good bacon, but still." He looked back at Gregor. "So… what do we do with it? Can't just leave it here suffering, right?"
Gregor swallowed, forcing his mind back to practicalities. The boar was mortally wounded, clearly. And they were starving. "We… we put it out of its misery," he said, his voice rough. He drew his own knife, a sturdy skinning blade. "And then… we butcher it. It's… meat." The thought of fresh meat, cooked over a fire, was almost dizzying.
Saitama nodded. "Okay. Makes sense." He delivered another swift, precise neck chop, silencing the boar's pained sounds instantly. "Done. Now, butchering? Is that hard? Do we need special knives?"
"I have one," Gregor said, already approaching the massive carcass. "It will take time. We'll need a fire…" His eyes lit up. Fire. Cooked meat. Warmth. Maybe… maybe they could actually rest properly for a bit.
"Fire!" Saitama beamed. "See? Knew camping was a good idea! Okay, I'll gather wood!" He immediately started wandering off, enthusiastically punching dead branches off nearby trees with far more force than necessary, creating a rapidly growing pile of firewood.
Lyra and Renn exchanged glances, a spark of genuine hope in their eyes now fueled by the primal promise of food and fire. They cautiously approached the boar carcass, watching as Gregor expertly began the long, arduous process of skinning and butchering the massive beast, his exhaustion momentarily held at bay by the immediate, tangible goal of sustenance. The forest, for a brief moment, felt less like a prison and more like a provider, albeit one whose bounty had been delivered via a reality-breaking trip hazard.
Miles behind them, Kristoph's team emerged from the misty, now unwarded valley just as the sun climbed higher, burning away the last vestiges of the grey shroud. The change was palpable. The air felt lighter, cleaner. The oppressive silence was gone, replaced by the normal sounds of a thriving forest.
Elara knelt, touching the earth just outside the valley's edge. "It's confirmed, Commander. The wards are completely gone. No residual signature. It's as if this valley was never sealed." She looked around, her expression troubled. "The ambient magical energy is… fluctuating. Rebalancing. Like water rushing into a space that was kept artificially empty for millennia."
Zenon examined the ground. "Tracks are clear again. Saitama and the escapees passed through here less than an hour ago. Moving southeast." He paused, frowning. "But there are other signs now. Faint tracks… disturbed earth further back within the valley, near the center. Something was definitely roused when the wards fell."
"Can you identify it?" Kristoph asked sharply.
Zenon shook his head. "The signs are unclear, Commander. Muddled. Something large… or perhaps multiple smaller things… shifting beneath the surface. Whatever the wards contained, it hasn't fully emerged yet. Or perhaps it's moving underground."
Kristoph's unease grew. Saitama hadn't just removed an obstacle; he had potentially unleashed an unknown variable into the already volatile ecosystem of the Deepwood. An ancient contagion? A powerful entity? A forgotten colony of monstrous creatures? They had no way of knowing.
"Maintain awareness of our back trail," Kristoph ordered. "Whatever was in that valley might follow the path of least resistance – the one the Tempest just cleared." He looked southeast, where Saitama's trail led. "Our priority remains the Tempest. Let's move. Daylight is burning, and we're still behind."
They set off again, the clear daylight making the tracking easier but doing little to dispel the growing sense of foreboding. They were following a man who casually dismantled ancient magic and tripped giant monsters to death, and in his wake, the very foundations of the forest seemed to be shifting, releasing secrets best left buried. The consequences were coming. It was only a matter of time.