Soren's steps slowed as the air changed.
Warm.
Too warm for a forest in this season.
He tilted his head slightly, sharpening his senses. Wet leaves, the chirping of insects—everything seemed normal. But there was one thing off.
Silence.
In one part of the woods, the sounds had stopped. No birds. No breeze.
Only breath. Heavy. Strained. Pained.
Soren moved closer, brushing past the undergrowth. The end of his wooden staff touched the ground, which gave off a faint, unnatural heat. Ahead—he could feel it now. A pressure. Mana… fragile, yet dense. Like an ember close to dying, but still hot enough to burn.
Someone was there. No… something.
He realized it just before the voice came.
"Do you smell death too, human?" A low, hoarse voice. Rough, but steady. Each word rumbled like a restrained growl.
Soren stood still. Silent. Listening. Focusing. The source of the voice… leaned against the trunk of a large tree. Its breath was uneven, but the presence was terrifying. Even in this state, its aura crushed the space around it.
He analyzed: the figure was grievously wounded, its mana fractured, like shattered glass being forced back together.
But more than that…
Soren felt pressure. As if the air itself grew heavier just from the thing's presence. Even near death, the sheer weight of its existence was overwhelming.
"Leave," it commanded. Flat. Cold.
And Soren understood.
This wasn't a human.
Its mana was too different. Too old. Too condensed. A voice in his head urged him to retreat. To avoid this. To flee.
He gave a slight nod, then turned. Began walking away.
Then stopped.
A wrinkle of thought creased his brow. Something was there.
He turned back again. Walked slowly—not directly toward the figure, but slightly to the side. Just past the tree it leaned against.
Reaching under a bush, he gently retrieved something.
A mushroom. With a faint, nutty smell. The one Lyra needed.
"I'm not here to bother you," Soren said calmly, without fear. "I was just looking for this. For my sister."
The figure remained silent. But the atmosphere shifted—focused, probing.
Soren knew he was being examined.
And he knew he wasn't lying.
"…Hmph," came the faint sound. Disdain, or pain? Hard to tell.
Soren turned again. Ready to leave.
But once more, he stopped.
What held him back? Not fear. Not bravery. But curiosity.
If this being was truly dangerous, it would've silenced him already. Without even opening its eyes, Soren could tell—it could have.
But it didn't.
Why?
Because it was dying? Because it lacked the strength?
Or perhaps… because it didn't want to?
A person's true self is clearest when they're near death.
Which meant—this being didn't seek bloodshed.
Slowly, Soren turned again. This time, he walked straight toward the source of that crushing aura.
The figure didn't move. But the stillness grew heavier.
Soren knelt down quietly. And without hesitation, reached out to touch the limp arm hanging beside the large, battered form.
Immediately—clearer.
Mana flow—broken. Chaotic circulation. Deep internal wounds. Magical core near collapse. And yet… strong. Unbelievably strong. The fact this being was still alive in such a state was nearly miraculous.
"So… this blind human wants to inspect me?" the voice said again, with a faint edge of mockery.
Soren didn't respond. His hand remained steady, tracing mana pathways, sensing shattered pulses.
Then he murmured, almost to himself.
"Even a being this powerful… can be hurt this deeply…"
Silence.
Soren's fingers still rested lightly on the being's arm, tracing the flow of broken mana as if trying to piece together a puzzle already shattered.
Then, softly, he asked, "If I channel my mana into you… would it give you enough strength to move, to find someone who can heal you?"
For a moment, silence. Then came a sound—a low, guttural chuckle.It ended abruptly in a pained grunt.
"Your mana?" the being rasped, his tone laced with dry amusement. "That's like trying to fill an empty ocean… with a single drop of water."
Soren's brow furrowed, lips tightening in concern. "Then I'll carry you," he said, simple and determined. "To a wound-healer."
The being turned his head slightly. Soren couldn't see it, but he could feel the refusal.
"…I am already dying. It's pointless."
Silence returned like a curtain falling.
Then, the being's voice again, harsher this time.
"Human. Why do you care? Just go home. My condition… is none of your concern."
Soren remained still, then replied, his voice calm but firm. "I don't know whether you're good or bad. But you let me go. That alone means you're not the worst kind of being."
"I'm blind," he continued. "Since I was little, people have helped me get this far. I don't want to be someone who only receives. If someone's suffering and I have a way to help, then I should. That's how kindness becomes a chain. One that keeps going."
He paused. Then added, quieter:"It's something worth fighting for."
The being said nothing. The air between them grew heavy.
Then came a faint snicker. "If you knew who I was… you'd realize just how amusing your words are." A pause. "Speaking of moral duty… to someone like me."
There was movement.
From beneath the folds of his tattered chest wrap, the being pulled out a ring. To ordinary senses, it might seem like nothing. But to Soren—it radiated. Ancient. Powerful. Alive.
Then… the sensation dimmed.
The being did something. A seal. A magic veil cast upon the object, snuffing out its presence. To Soren, it now felt like a simple trinket.
"If you want to help," the being said slowly, his voice rough and low, "give this ring… to my daughter. Her name is Lilith."
Soren accepted it with both hands, feeling the cool metal rest against his palm.
He remained quiet for a moment. This wasn't just a favor.
It was a dying wish.
"…Where can I find her?" he asked softly.
But the being's tone shifted.
"Before that…"
The ground trembled.
A low hum began to rise from beneath the soil, through the trees, into the air itself. It wasn't sound—it was presence. Something vast. Endless.
"First, accept my gift."
The moment those words left his mouth, the being's aura surged.
The world darkened. Shadows bled out from his body, devouring light, swallowing the forest into a suffocating void. It was like standing on the edge of an abyss that had grown hungry.
And Soren—Soren was nothing but a grain of dust before it.
The pressure wrapped around him, forcing him to his knees. But then… it narrowed. Focused.
Directly into his left eye.
Heat. Burning. No, searing. A force unlike anything he'd ever felt invaded him, tearing through nerves, through flesh, imprinting itself into the very fabric of his soul.
A scream tore from his throat—raw, broken. Not of fear, but agony.
And in that moment—
He saw.
For the first time in his life—
He saw.
But what he saw… was not the world of humans.
It was something far, far darker.