The forest smelled of damp earth and blood. Stephen sat beneath a leaning tree trunk, his light sword resting beside him as faint rays of silvery light filtered through the drifting mist. His arm still ached from where the Blackfang Panther's claws had grazed him, and though his sprout soul had already mended most of the wound, fatigue clung to his bones like lead.
He drew a slow breath, letting his mind quiet. The adrenaline that had carried him through the fight had long since faded, leaving only the exhaustion and the dull throb of overexerted nerves. Inside his soul sea, both the blue sprout and the Azure Sparrow pulsed faintly — stronger than before, but… hungrier.
He frowned, glancing at his bag. The crystal from the Blackfang Panther still lay inside, wrapped carefully in a strip of cloth. Even through the fabric, he could feel it — a faint hum, almost like a heartbeat.
"You'll have to wait," he muttered softly, adjusting the cloth around it. "I can't afford to draw attention yet."
The sparrow's will stirred again, faint and restless, but soon quieted — as if it understood.
He leaned his head back against the bark, eyes half-lidded, listening to the forest. The mist had returned in full, rolling low over the ground like a living thing. Somewhere far off, a beast howled — answered by another, then silence.
He wasn't alone.
Through the hours that followed, Stephen kept on the move. He'd learned quickly that staying in one place too long was an invitation for trouble. Even now, despite his fatigue, he slipped quietly between the undergrowth, avoiding open paths.
In the distance, faint bursts of light and the clash of weapons echoed through the mist. Sometimes, he caught brief glimpses — a spear glinting in the air, a burst of flame, the shimmer of a defensive barrier.
The other participants were fighting too. The strong hunted with confidence, moving in teams; the cautious lingered near the safer zones, preying on the weak. Stephen had seen more than one skirmish between examinees — some ended quickly, others left trails of blood and broken weapons in their wake.
The Federation had warned them — the rift test was survival, not a game.
He passed a clearing where a body lay half-covered in fog, the faint glimmer of a red ring still clipped to its torn earlobe. Stephen hesitated only a moment before taking it. His bracelet flickered.
[420 Points | Rank: 58]
He didn't feel proud. Just wary. If anything, each ring he collected only made him more of a target.
As the day wore on, Stephen found shelter in a shallow cave along the side of a rocky ridge. From there, he could see faint flashes of light further in the rift — the heart of the battlefield. The cave was cool and narrow, with only a single entrance.
He made no fire. He ate a ration bar in silence, checking his gear, then leaned against the rock wall, closing his eyes for a brief rest.
But peace was short-lived.
At first, he thought it was just the wind. Then he realized — there was no wind down here.
The faintest rustle came from outside the cave — not loud, but deliberate—a slow drag of something heavy brushing against stone.
Stephen's body went still. His senses sharpened instantly, the glow of the Azure Sparrow stirring beneath his skin. He listened — heart beating steady, breath held.
Another sound followed — the soft crunch of gravel, closer this time. Someone… or something… was approaching.
He reached for his sword, easing it free soundlessly. The blade caught a faint shimmer from the mist seeping in through the cave mouth.
A shadow passed outside. Tall. Humanoid.
He didn't move.
For a moment, it stood there — as if listening. Then, slowly, it turned its head, and Stephen caught a faint glimpse of eyes that gleamed faintly crimson in the dark. But before he could react, the figure stepped back into the mist and vanished without a sound.
Stephen exhaled slowly, muscles taut. He moved to the cave mouth and peered out — nothing. Only the same drifting fog, the same eerie quiet.
But something felt… wrong. He could still feel a trace of presence — faint but cold, brushing against the edge of his senses like a ghost.
"That wasn't a beast…" he whispered.
He waited there for a long time before retreating deeper into the cave, resting with his back to the wall and his sword in hand. Sleep never came. His thoughts were sharp, his body tense.
When dawn broke — or what passed for dawn inside the rift — the mist outside had thinned slightly, but the feeling of being watched hadn't left.
As he stepped out, his bracelet flickered again.
[420 Points | Rank: 67]
"Strange…" he murmured. "Someone else must've been eliminated."
He tightened his cloak and set off into the forest again, steps cautious, eyes scanning every shadow.
The whispers in the mist followed him, faint and fleeting — never close enough to see, never far enough to forget.
And though he couldn't yet tell if it was beast, man, or something else entirely…one thing was certain.
The hunt was no longer one-sided.