One week. That was all Cyrus had until his food would dry out, meaning he had to start scouring for the exit yesterday. All the while, a fight larger than life was ensuing around him.

An explosion confirmed his thoughts. Cyrus drew his attention eastward and arched his brows at the faraway flaming cyclone slowly spinning away from him. It appeared to be vacuuming the fog around it—or rather, the wight inside of it was.

With a sigh, he slowly stood up. "I should keep going."

Not that he had any choice. That, starve, or hope that Latriaen vanquishes that monstrosity. And yet, when Cyrus recalled the utter change in personality once it concluded its... 'act,' he knew better.

Chirp!

Bird flapped to his shoulder and nuzzled its small head on his neck. The sight of it brought a weak chuckle to Cyrus. Now, it started to speak more often.

In any case, Cyrus knew he had to do something. So, forward he went. Maybe there was something at the cav—er hamlet that could open the way back to the real world.

Time and a lot of ground passed. Cyrus soon broke from the treeline and stood where he had first found the small village all those months ago. Without hesitation, he revealed his binoculars and scanned the area, mind on high alert for more lurking dangers.

Five minutes. Ten.

Quit being a fool! Chastising himself, Cyrus nearly chucked them onto the closest tree. There is nothing here…

And yet, he didn't move down the slope. No, he waited and waited, ignoring the distant explosions reverberating throughout the forests.

"What about you?" Cyrus asked, tilting his head to the bird on his shoulder. "Sense anything?"

The canary simply stared at him. Nothing. Nothing save for the slight tremble on the bird's feathers.

"It's safe in here." Cyrus coaxed, opening his inner pocket. "Want to take another break?"

Yet the canary refused to, preferring to stay perched on his shoulder. With a sigh, Cyrus nodded and began his trek. Once at the center, he stopped and fixed his gaze on the ground around the pool.

"Where's my stuff?" Cyrus frowned and looked around. "Did Latriaen hide it?"

Not that it mattered. Everything truly import—Cyrus heard the stomping first. Quickly, he turned around and brandished his spear from his pouch. Palm blazing with tension, Cyrus warily scanned the charred remains and wreathed fog in search of an enemy.

A breath passed. "Bird."

Bird immediately flew up into the air and circled over the place. But there was no call of discovery—no chirping either. Bird was just as blind as he was.

That was until Cyrus spotted it lumbering behind the charred remains of hamlet's houses. Hidden by the fog, it slowly circled them as if it were a hunting shark. A low rumble came from it. Almost like—"You?!"

Shocked, Cyrus balked at the sight of it. What came out was a two-meter-tall smileodon. Its entire body remained covered in segmented armored plates wreathed in clinging fog.

It slowly lumbered before him, its gaze no longer bright and green with vitality but now dull, cloudy gray. The two stood in silence as Cyrus noted the fog spilling from its mouth like frothy saliva. No, it couldn't have been. Had it really...

In an instant, Cyrus channeled his flame into a single point, mimicking the words he had spoken before. He thought it would trick it, scare it off like before. But it didn't. It simply stared at him with those listless eyes.

Then, it moved. It had broken into a sprint, thick claws tearing to the dirt as it roared—a strangled, desperate sound.

Cyrus' first instinct was to run. Yet, he kept channeling his tension until the beast bolted in range. A roar sounded as Cyrus was propelled backward, an inferno blasting from the tip of his finger.

A beat passed. Cyrus had scrambled up as he watched the wraith slowly recover from the force of the attack, uncaring of the flames covering it. With a deafening roar, it charged again.

A simple rush could turn Cyrus into mince paste. Quickly, Cyrus ran for it, weaving through the broken houses in a serpentine pattern to disrupt its acceleration. Not that it mattered, as it was closing in. So when he rounded another corner, Cyrus abruptly turned toward the forest line.

Another roar echoed from behind as the wraith followed in pursuit. Its dull gray eyes never lost track of him. Gritting his teeth, Cyrus allocated both his flame and life runes down his legs and prepared tension. He glanced backward, counting the seconds as the wraith closed the distance, maw wide open as froth spilled.

Now. Flames then erupted as Cyrus launched himself into the air, the flames igniting the ground and then the wraith that charged right under him. Again, Cyrus was in the air. Tension was building again, and he considered his next moves as his momentum stopped, leading to a fall.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

His gaze fell upon the wraith. Despite running headfirst in a burst of flames, the creature remained unharmed, uncaring even. So, light it is, then.

Once Cyrus landed, he charged into the forest with Bird chasing from above. But the wraith proved its speed. It forced Cyrus into the air several times before finally reaching the forest.

Quickly, He crammed through the small gap between trees. A sudden crash came from behind as Cyrus turned to watch the wrath smashing through. It splintered wood as if it were nothing, but that was not all. Cyrus' gaze narrowed as he watched a corrosive mark left on the trees. Slowly, the building sludge brought forth a chilling thought.

You killed your own pack.

Cyrus stepped back. His mind raced as he thought of how the creature kept chasing him. What if it wasn't to eat him? What if it was a compulsion that led to waiting here and striking when Latriaen was distracted by the wight?

But there was no time to ponder. Mana channeling, Cyrus sprinted away as the wraith broke through and charged toward him. His palm shot forward as the light struck the metallic plating. But it was useless. More than useless because at least the flames momentarily clung to the creature? This? It bounced right off its metallic sheen.

Panicked, Cyrus channeled mana again—time for a gamble. As the wraith lunged for him, he shot light into its cloudy, dead gaze. And it worked! The beast recoiled as if acid had been thrown into its eyes, steam hissing from its gaze as it crashed into the ground.

Quickly, Cyrus made to strike with his spear. But he hesitated mid-thrust as the image of The Maw flittered in his mind.

"...Fuck it," he screamed as he stabbed forward while building radiant tension.

And it worked! It actually worked! His spear tore through the air, driving straight between the gaps of the segmented armor and into the fleshy joint of its foreleg!

Wasting no time, Cyrus used all his strength to penetrate as much flesh and bone as possible. But the wraith was relentless. It stretched out its neck, frothy maws wide open, and lunged for Cyrus' throat. Not that it mattered, as Cyrus released his tension.

An explosion of golden lights rang. Thrown back, Cyrus tumbled to the ground, from which he quickly recovered. He gaped as he watched the wraith thrash about, writhing in golden flames.

Then, it stood up, slamming against trees to extinguish the flames. Yet how could Cyrus allow that to happen? Thus, the battle settled into a grim cycle: The wraith would attack while Cyrus used his radiance while targeting its limbs with precision attacks.

More and more, he fought. His confidence surged every time he took cover and retaliated with radiance. And soon, he began to press the offensive, forcing more and more wounds that spilled brackish bile on the wraith.

But was this all? A sudden dread crawled up Cyrus' spine as he prepared to finish it off once and for all.

He began channeling radiant tension, ready to blast, then strike for its eyes, hoping to pierce straight for the brain. Except that didn't happen. Instead, the wraith chose to run!

Frothy mist and black bile trailed behind it as it bolted at full speed. Taken aback, Cyrus and Bird chased after it, the former using light attacks to hopefully slow it down. It did nothing. The wraith kept breaking through trees and branches. And it was running toward the hamlet.

Cyrus frowned and tried to close the distance. The wraith was so close to death, so close to ending all of this. Meanwhile, the fog around them thickened into a soup, swirling around the hamlet as the two entered it.

But then, it all changed when they entered the center. The wraith turned around and stopped, facing Cyrus head-on! Frowning, Cyrus planned to use radiant tension but soon stopped as the wraith howled. And to his shock, it jumped straight into the dark font!

There was no splash when it sank into the murk. Horrified, Cyrus froze as black veins stretched upwards, burrowing into metal and flesh, moving ever upwards. And it roared in anguish. Bones snapped, metal twisted, and flesh rended.

Cyrus stepped back as a black, gnarled claw dug into the shoreline. Slowly, it dragged itself from the dark abyss. Its once gleaming metal plates were now brittle and twisted into thorns that dug into its own flesh. It shored on all fours, the hulking mass now skeletal in its form. Even the head, now reduced to a bony skull with missing eyes. And the black bile. It spilled from its mouth like blood, sizzling the earth wherever it touched.

Chirp!

Bird's terrified call brought Cyrus back to reality. He released his radiant tension, launching himself backward. Yet all he could do once he witnessed the after-effects of his attack was gasp.

It just stood there. Not like when it moved around on all fours, but on two of its hind legs. And as if with intelligence, it landed its pitch-black gaze on Cyrus.

Death.

At least, that's what Cyrus had experienced when the two locked gazes. And it took several squawks and bites from Bird for him to react.

Run. That's all Cyrus thought, his legs already ahead of his mind as he bolted between charred houses.

Chirp!

Cyrus abruptly moved to the side. A near-instant later, black tendrils rushed past him like lightning-fast javelins, striking the ground. His heart was lurching in his chest, and Cyrus couldn't help it. He looked back.

To his surprise, the abomination thrashed in a frenzy. Fog coiled around it like a spider binding its prey while that thing flailed wildly, striking at invisible forces. And it didn't stop there. The fog tendrils wound tighter and tighter until they were as thin as strings, latching around the wraith's legs and neck.

And with it came a sudden change. It returned to all fours and snapped its attention back to Cyrus. Slowly, surely, it coiled, kneeling low to the ground as it stared at Cyrus running.

Then, it sprang.

It only took mere moments before it appeared before Cyrus. Its mouth unhinged as an ebony miasma plummeted forward in an all-consuming cloud, melting everything within its deathly touch. Cyrus moved to use his light, but it barely pushed back the tide before darkness devoured it.

Still, it bought Cyrus enough time to evade the smog. Radiant tension ready, Cyrus released another attack as the creature leaped out of the dark cloud.

It struck. Cyrus could see its black ooze igniting in golden flames. But he never expected the strings to tug. In a near instant, that thing uncannily moved to the side, like a puppet, evading his attack.

And it was heading right towards him.

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