The land changed again as Volow and others moved forward.
Trees grew thinner, roots twisted tighter, and the ground sloped downward in a way that made Volow's legs ache with every step. The air felt heavier than before—thicker, pressing against the chest when he breathed in. Even Suki seemed quieter, her ears alert, body tense.
"This is it," Volow said under his breath.
Marga looked around. "The entrance?"
"Close," Volow replied. "Very close."
And then they saw it.
A small hut stood ahead, placed where stone met soil, half-hidden by old trees. It wasn't falling apart like Scotch's. This one was solid. Built with care. Thick logs. Reinforced corners. Someone strong lived here.
They approached slowly.
No sound.
Volow pushed the door open.
Empty.
The inside was simple. A bed. Weapons neatly arranged. Tools sharpened to perfection. No dust. No neglect.
"Does someone live here?" Marga said.
Suki suddenly stiffened.
Volow felt it too.
A presence.
He turned—
Pain exploded across his shoulder.
Volow was slammed into the ground as a figure dropped from above. He rolled just in time, dirt flying as something heavy struck where his head had been.
The attacker landed lightly.
A boy.
Not older than Volow. Lean, sharp, eyes burning with suspicion. His muscles were trained hard, not polished—strength born from survival, not teaching.
"Get away from here," the boy snapped.
He didn't wait.
He attacked again.
Volow barely blocked in time. The force rattled his arms straight to the bone.
Strong.
Way stronger than he looked.
They clashed again and again. Fists. Elbows. Legs. The boy moved fast, relentless, like he couldn't afford hesitation. Volow struggled to keep up, adjusting, reading his movements.
Marga stepped forward—
"No," Volow said quickly. "Stay back."
This was his fight.
The boy landed a clean hit to Volow's ribs.
Volow felt the air leave his lungs. He countered, barely dodging a kick that would've cracked his jaw.
"Why are you attacking us?" Volow demanded.
"You don't get to ask questions!" the boy shouted.
They fought harder now. Dirt tore under their feet. Sweat ran into Volow's eyes. The boy was strong—but reckless.
Volow waited.
Then he moved.
He caught the boy's arm mid-strike, twisted his body, and slammed him to the ground. The impact knocked the breath from the boy's lungs. Volow followed through, pinning him cleanly—knee locking his leg, forearm pressed across his chest.
It was over.
The boy struggled once.
Stopped.
Volow didn't hit him.
He stepped back.
The boy stared up at him, chest rising fast, eyes sharp but confused.
"You could've killed me," the boy said.
"I wasn't trying to kill you," Volow replied.
Silence hung between them.
"Why did you attack us?" Volow asked again, calmer now.
The boy sat up slowly. "Because people like you come here to take me. Or kill me."
"We're not here for you," Volow said. "We're here for the entrance."
The boy frowned. "Entrance?"
Volow turned and walked a few steps away, stopping near a section of stone that felt wrong.
He pressed his hand against it.
The ground shifted.
Stone slid aside.
A dark opening revealed itself, air flowing upward from below—warm, heavy, alive.
The boy froze.
"That…" he whispered. "That was here this whole time?"
"Yes."
The boy stared at it, stunned. "I've lived here for years. I never knew."
"This leads to the Inner World," Volow said.
"The Mantle."
The boy's shock slowly turned into something else.
Excitement.
"You're going down there?" he asked.
"Yes."
The boy laughed once, short and breathless.
"That's insane."
Then his eyes lit up.
"…That's amazing."
They sat near the hut as the tension faded.
After a moment, the boy spoke again.
"I was taken from my home when I was a kid," he said. "Masked men. They were moving people somewhere. They dropped me here by mistake. Never came back."
"Why didn't you return?" Volow asked.
The boy looked away. "I didn't want to. Not then."
Volow studied him. "Where are you from?"
"Illenwood." the boy replied.
Volow stiffened.
"Illenwood?" he repeated, slower this time.
The boy nodded. "Yeah. That's where I was born."
Volow was quiet for a moment, then asked,
"You ever think about going back?"
The boy looked away, eyes drifting toward the trees.
"Sometimes," he said. "Not right now… but someday."
Volow didn't interrupt.
"My family is still there," the boy continued. "At least, I think they are. I was taken when I was young. I don't know what they believe anymore."
He rubbed his thumb against his palm, a small, nervous habit.
"But if I ever go back," he said, "I'd want to see them. Especially my brother."
Volow's head lifted slightly.
"…Your brother?"
The boy nodded. "Yeah."
There was a pause before Volow spoke again.
"What's his name?"
The boy hesitated, just for a second—then answered.
"Taro."
The world seemed to pause.
Volow's breath caught before he realized it had.
"…Taro?" he said again, quieter. "From Illenwood?"
The boy frowned. "Yes. You know another one?"
Volow shook his head slowly. "No. Just him."
The boy watched Volow's face change, confusion creeping in.
"You know him," the boy said, not asking—realizing.
Volow nodded. "I spent time with him. Not long ago."
The boy sat back, staring at the ground for a moment.
"He always talked about leaving," he said softly.
"Said the world was bigger than Illinwood. Said staying in one place felt like dying slowly."
Volow swallowed. "That sounds like him."
Silence stretched between them.
The boy met his eyes.
Volow swallowed. "Taro told me he wanted to explore the world. He wanted me to come with him. But he stayed."
The boy smiled wider. "So he's still chasing the horizon."
Then his expression darkened.
"Why don't you go back?" Volow asked.
The boy's jaw tightened. "Because those masked men are still taking people. I don't know where. Or why."
He clenched his fists. "I don't want anyone else to end up like me."
"…They tried to take your brother too," Volow said.
The boy's head snapped up. "Taro?"
"Yes," Volow said. "I stopped them. That's how I met him."
The boy went quiet.
His fists clenched, anger flashing across his face.
"So they really did come for him," he muttered. "I always feared that."
He took a slow breath, steadying himself.
"…Thank you," he said. "For protecting him."
Volow nodded. "Your family is doing fine. Taro talked about them a lot."
The boy looked down, then let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding.
"So they're alright," he said softly.
He looked back up at Volow.
"Thank you. For saving my brother… and for letting me know."
The boy straightened, anger still there—but now it had direction.
"I wanted to stop them too," he said. "For everyone they took."
Volow felt something settle in his chest.
"You want the truth," Volow said. "And you want them gone."
"Yes," the boy replied firmly.
Volow smiled.
"You're a good person," he said. "And i guess those men are connected to the Inner World."
The boy hesitated.
Volow stepped closer. "Come with us."
The boy shook his head. "That place sounds like death."
"It probably is," Volow replied. "But you're strong. And i like you anyways."
The boy looked away.
Volow pressed on. "You won't be alone. And you won't be hiding anymore."
Silence.
Then the boy sighed.
"…Alright," he said. "I'll come."
Volow smiled.
"I'm Volow."
The boy nodded. "I'm Yuki."
Volow stepped closer to the opening, fear tight in his chest—
"Let's go" he said.