Cyrus ignored the tendrils that crashed into the ground around him. His gaze never left sight of the abomination as he loosed a tension-infused ray. Again, Cyrus was thrown back into a roll. But the howling and subsequent crash brought a second wind as he received moments to withdraw two potions. Grimacing at the black sludge eating away at his flesh, Cyrus doused both his wounds. Except... why weren't they healing him?! Why now? Worst yet, the life runes around his wounds are crumbling under The Maw's corrosive power.

He just lost three life runes in just a few seconds! The Maw stood up and howled, more and more tendrils splitting from its back. There was nothing to stop it from eating its meal.

Cyrus stood along with it. Fueled by only adrenaline, his body worked to the limits in pretending the festering, spreading wounds were nothing. At the same time, his mind worked desperately on how to alleviate his wounds. In the end, he came to a single conclusion: Use light against dark. But the sight of The Maw's drooling, foggy mouths forced Cyrus' attention. The creature was more than just insatiable—it was a force of nature, driven to madness by its unending desire to gorge until it exploded from overindulgence. Its shadowy spindle legs dug into the ground with each step, drawing ever closer.

Cyrus ignored the burning pain and readied himself. There was one idea lingering in the back of his mind. The ever-growing flames around him and Latriaen's earlier teachings might be the key to saving himself. And so, he moved. With the Maw trailing behind him, Cyrus sprinted into the flames, channeling mana into his fire runes to draw them in. The fire surged after him. The flames kept building and building. He soon transformed into a fiery snake, heading deeper and deeper into the burning forest while absorbing mana crystals to offset the draw.

And just when Cyrus couldn't handle it anymore, he struck.

Wasting no time, Cyrus pivoted to The Maw and made a slamming motion, pouring all his mana and flames into a single attack! A torrent of blaze followed his arm movements and slammed directly onto The Maw! All of his planning was for this. To force a blazing font and enhance his fire runes while using it as ammunition! The Maw shrieked as a burning wave crashed onto him in a resounding explosion. The ground was plumed and molten with fire as Cyrus stepped back. But he had no time to pay attention.

Cyrus knelt down and checked over his wounds. The horrific muck had devoured down to the muscle, exposing some bone. Under the screams of The Maw, Cyrus drained a mana crystal before preparing another tension. Once it was ready, he lined both wounds together and fired.

A new pain erupted as golden flames covered his wounds. Slowly, they torched the corrosive plague threatening to consume his limbs. Gritting his teeth, Cyrus held the beam steady, enduring the agony until the golden flames finally subsided. But Cyrus wasn't finished. Quickly, desperately, he poured over the health tonics by the vials. His supplies drained like spilled water down the drain until his muscles knitted back together and flesh grew over them.

Now, Cyrus was better. Now, he could fight, and wi—fog and shadow blew over the flames like ocean waves over sand. And Cyrus was left alone in the dark.

Except that he was not left alone. In the darkness and thick fog, Cyrus heard gurgling and swallowing. He activated his lightvision and watched the scorched wraith, no longer covered in flames, slowly stand up.

Despair momentarily took hold, but Cyrus swallowed it down. Reacting quickly, he channeled mana as he prepared for another attack. Meanwhile, he stood there, not waiting to break the equilibrium at the first sound. Not that it mattered. Once his lightvision flickered up, he found the wraith simply standing on its spindled legs, staring at him with those beady, cloudy eyes.

It looked like it was toying with Cyrus.

Then, it took a step. Then another. Slowly, it closed in on him, shadows springing from its back, ready to spring forward. But Cyrus was ready. He still had tension! Quickly, he blasted another attack, throwing himself back again.

But nothing happened. Cyrus heard no howling or screaming when he scrambled up. It simply just stood there, staring at him. Again, Cyrus fired another attack. And another.

No reaction.

Only then did Cyrus realize the truth. This thing was intelligent. Like an actor on a stage, it played a specific role that followed a script. It chased and reacted, fooling Cyrus into thinking he was in a real struggle—one that he could survive.

His mind nearly shattered at the thought. Visions of a grand and gnarled monstrosity wearing his face-skin appeared behind the wraith.

"S-stay back." Cyrus fell on his ass as he stumbled backward. "Stay back!"

But The Maw didn't listen. Slowly, toyingly, it skittered toward him, gaunt arms spreading its jaws wide as shadowy tendrils shot forward, blocking the path like a cage.

"Stay back!" Cyrus tossed a hungry ember.

And it struck at the wraith's chest! But instead of the engulfing flames that covered everything within its touch, the ember simply sputtered out of existence.

The sight was another blow to his mind. It wasn't supposed to be this way. Once the forest fire boosted his attack, Cyrus was supposed to either kill the creature or make an escape. But what was he supposed to do with this? It was all a game—a play.

And now, the show was over.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

Wait. There was one last thing.

Quickly, Cyrus reached into his coat and tossed a small canary through the shadowy cage. Although he could hear Bird's terrified squawks, Cyrus chose to keep his gaze on that ever-closing maw before him.

How... disappointing. He'd thought there'd be more to his life than... this.

But it seemed fate, or rather that entity, had other things in mind, for The Maw stilled frozen.

Surprised, Cyrus shimmied back a few steps, watching as the wraith turned its cloudy gaze away from him. It then turned its attention upwards to the skies, moving its body in a more defensive position by covering the fleshy part of its body in fog and shadows.

The sudden change opened the way for Cyrus. Quickly, he scrambled between the gaps of the limbs and claws and slipped through. Once he was free, Cyrus bolted and escaped toward the closest tree.

But The Maw remained still regardless, staring at the skies.

Cyrus hesitated. Now was his chance. He should be running as fast as he can, as far as he can. Instead, he stayed and watched the skies as well.

Not a moment sooner, a vermilion glow bathed the forest as if an ancient, red sun had broken dawn, hurtling from the West! Its rays pierced past the burnt trees, drawing long shadows that stretched forever. Then, the shadows began to move because that very sun was also moving.

It was flying to him.

That was no sun but a meteorite. It appeared six meters wide as a great flame trailed its back as it shot toward them at incredible speeds. And at a certain point, Cyrus felt the air around him heat up.

A thought appeared in his mind. One that was basically confirmed once The Maw wreathed itself in more and more fog and shadows, bracing itself.

"Oh shit." Cyrus then broke into a sprint. Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh Shit!

There was no time. But even as he ran for his life, Cyrus glanced backward and was stunned by the sight of the wraith moving upward. It began to suck in the surrounding haze, growing larger and more unstable as its shadows flickered. More and more tendrils sprang from the misty ball, shooting upwards by the tens—no hundred. They shot upwards, heading directly toward the coming meteor.

Not that it mattered. At an invisible threshold, they combusted into flames. Few barely reached the meteorite, but those that did instantly burned into vapor the instant they struck against the blaze.

But the maw was relentless. A seemingly endless stream of shadowy hands rose from the shadows and struck against the coming meteorite, desperately trying to impede it. Yet it was futile as the flaming ball drew ever closer.

Meanwhile, Cyrus kept running. That was until the ground began to tremble, causing him to trip over.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit!

He flipped to his back and watched The Maw, now an anomalous blob of shadows and fog, lift itself with hundreds of tendrils and throw itself at the coming meteorite.

Once the two smashed into each other, a shockwave blew out, shattering the closest trees into smithereens. Cyrus was knocked back by the clash. A moment later, he quickly scrambled up to see the two pushing against each other in a battle of dominance. Shadow and fog versus conflagration.

And the wraith lost that fight. Barely ten seconds in, the meteorite incinerated through the shadowy barrier and smashed into the wraith. The two then impacted the ground with a resounding fiery explosion. Everything near the impact site was instantly incinerated, turning into flaming ash as a mushroom cloud of fire erupted.

One second. Two. For a moment, everything was white. Yet Cyrus still had the mind to thrust his hands forward, desperately channeling his flame runes to shield himself from the inferno.

Of course, it was futile. But the instant vaporization Cyrus expected never came. Nor did the extreme heat that should have melted his bones. Rather, it felt... kind of pleasant, like a warm hug.

Cyrus felt like he could really use one right about now.

"Cyrus." A sudden, gruff voice came from the flames around him. "I don't know how you lasted this long against a wight." There was a breath of silence. "But you did well."

"Latriaen?!" Cyrus shouted. "Oh, how glad I am to see you. But" —he looked around, only spotting an endless white— "Where are you? There's only emptiness around me."

It was kind of frightening.

There was a pause, followed by a tremble that nearly tripped Cyrus over. "Damn it, Boy. Didn't you close your eyes?!" —His tone grew chastising— "Now you've gone blind!"

Cyrus was taken aback. Blind? How the hell was he supposed to enjoy life now?! Was everything for naught? He then started to hyperventilate, having completely forgotten that he was near death barely a few seconds ago.

"Calm down, Boy," Latriaen said, tone lowering. "Just use potions on your eyes."

"Wait, really?" Cyrus was gobsmacked.

Was curing blindness that easy in this world? Just take a potion? How... unfair.

"Yes, do it."

Cyrus nodded and scrambled for his pouch. Quickly, he took as many potions as possible and rained the red liquid onto his steel-blue eyes, ignoring the stinging pain. When one wasn't enough, Cyrus took two. When two wasn't enough, he took four of the eight left. Slowly, eventually, his vision returned.

"That was close..." Cyrus sighed in relief and looked around. He blinked at the sight around him.

The world was now engulfed in an inferno. Yet the flames did not crackle or burn with violent energies. No, they took more of the form from ethereal whisks. Their orange-red tendrils flowed and ebbed like dyes spreading in water, gently circling Cyrus. And when a fiery tongue brushed against his skin, he didn't feel a burning sensation but a gentle touch. Cyrus closed his eyes for a brief moment, absorbing the warming heat. After a deep breath, he gazed upon the flames again.

"Thank you..." Cyrus genuinely bowed before the flames. "Without you... I." He paused to look around. "Did you kill the wraith?"

A sudden tremor came before Latriaen spoke. "No. The bastard is pretty strong." Another pause. "Tell me, how did you survive a wight?"

A wight? The thing that a seasoned Wayfarer explained that he should always run away from? Cyrus went silent as a dread climbed up his spine. In truth, he shouldn't have survived. But what was he to say?

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