Cyrus felt an unseen gaze fall upon him. But from where? He shifted his attention to the surrounding woods.

Nothing but the swirling thick haze.

Was Cyrus wrong? But he was sure something was spying on him. Nerves tightening, Cyrus shifted his gaze onto Latriaen, who strode ahead. The man kept his sights forward as if Cyrus' misgivings were all in his head.

But were they?

Just relax, Cyrus, he thought, silently speeding up his pace. If Latriaen doesn't sense anything, what should I fear?

The Ork was a master mage, after all. He was able to cast incredible spells and hear sounds from unbelievable distances. Why not put trust in him?

Feeling somewhat better, Cyrus turned his attention to Bird. It flittered about in the air with the carefree grace that belied the somber surroundings, searching for the rare burst of colors of life that occasionally revealed themselves.

And that was just more proof of Cyrus' current paranoia.

He bitterly smiled at the thought. No matter how hard he tried to rationalize his mind, it stubbornly clung to the back of his head and whispered dark thoughts. In the end, he flickered off his ember and kept his gaze fixed on Latriaen.

"How close are we to the mountains?" Cyrus asked.

Latriaen maintained a momentary silence, adjusting the long dreadlocks atop his head. "About a few day's travel."

"Does it have a name?"

"No." Though Cyrus couldn't discern Latriaen's expression, the disdain in his voice was unmistakable. "Are you not ashamed that your city, your people, squandered two hundred years? Take a look at Stàilinn. A mere fraction of your city's age, and they wasted no time to master the elements."

It's not my city, nor my people, Cyrus grumbled internally.

But wait. Had Latriaen come from Stàilinn? Maybe further deeper into the central states?

"Teacher, you've been to Stàilinn? Could you tell me about it?"

Latriaen fell silent while leading the way. There was a long pause between them, leaving Cyrus wondering if his teacher was simply ignoring him.

"It's a place where order reigns supreme," he eventually spoke up, glancing back at him. "Everything is rigid and cold—the buildings, the city's layout, and its people. Soldiers patrol every street and search every corner for the slightest sign of trouble." He paused, a snort of derision escaping him. "And your life and future are chosen for you unless you are strong enough to prove otherwise."

Cyrus hummed in surprise. Stàilinn seemed the complete opposite of Avalorn. And if it were the first city he encountered, he would have stopped at nothing to escape after gathering information.

"What abo—" Snap

Cyrus froze. Spine tingling, his gaze darted toward the source of the snapping twig. But there was nothing except those pale, thin trees that stretched endlessly into the gray abyss.

"What's wrong?" Latriaen halted and turned to face Cyrus, noticing his sudden stillness.

"I... I heard something."

Latriaen furrowed his brow, scanning their surroundings intently. "I didn't hear anything."

Cryus froze. Was he wrong? The Ork's keen senses far surpassed his own. But he knew something was there; he could feel it in his nerves. Slowly and cautiously, Cyrus turned his attention back to the source of the sou—his gaze narrowed.

Standing in the murk and birch like an eerie statue was... something. Its long, gaunt gray form towered over Cyrus and Latriaen, rising as high as the trees. Cyrus slowly dared to follow up past the gnarled torso to find... nothing.

The chilling familiarity brought Cyrus back to that night. Back when he was helpless and weak, a towering, headless monstrosity ripped his face like a mask and claimed it as its own.

There were no thoughts. Only action. Cyrus turned to Latriean and broke into a mad dash past him. Maybe the master mage could do something—fight or kill it. Perhaps he could at least stall it with his own life. But none of that mattered as long as Cyrus cou—urk

Before Cyrus knew it, he was quickly yanked back and lifted by Latriean.

"Cowardly whelp," The Ork snorted. "If there is danger, you face it." He then forced Cyrus to stare in the direction of it. "What do you see?"

Cyrus struggled at first. He had to break free and escape! But it was futile, and he knew it. In the end, Cyrus pointed a trembling finger at the distant silhouette.

"Don't you see it? It's right there!"

Seeking assurance, Cyrus glanced at Bird, but the canary seemed unperturbed, casually flitting about the pair. Then, with an oomph, he was suddenly plopped to the ground as Latriaen stepped forward without so much as a sign of trepidation.

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Meanwhile, the Ork's brow furrowed. His searing gaze glowed brighter and brighter as he peered into the cloudy distance. But then, Cyrus froze as a snort escaped the man. Was he laughing at Cyrus?

But Cyrus stopped caring as his eyes bulged wide at the sight of Latriaen raising his tattooed arm and hurling his spear toward the towering figure. Just like that!

"Are you out of your mind?!" Cyrus bellowed.

The spear sliced through the air toward The Entity. With a crunch, it stabbed straight into its torso before glowing hot red. And then... nothing. The Entity did not move or attack. It just stood there. Sure, the heat from the spear dissipated the surrounding fog, but nothing was happening. Gone was The Entity with its twisted limbs that stained his soul with darkness. No, the towering figure was nothing but an old, dead tree.

"I've slain your monster," Latriaen said, heading to recover his spear. "Come, claim your trophy from its remains."

Cyrus remained frozen, transfixed. Even when he watched Latriaen dislodging some dead wood as he retrieved his spear, Cyrus remained quiet. And as if to confirm the situation, Bird alighted on top of the dead tree without fear.

"It... I saw something else," Cyrus listlessly murmured as he staggered up.

"The fog likes to play tricks." Latriaen shook his head, returning to the whelp. "Try not to dwell on it."

"But I heard something snap while we were walking. Didn't you catch that?" Cyrus scanned the surroundings, hoping to spot any signs of disturbance among the dense blanket of dead leaves.

His teacher mirrored his actions but found nothing unusual. "I heard no such thing." He turned his gaze back to Cyrus. "Have you been absorbing the mana in the air?"

Cyrus shook his head adamantly. "No, never. I'm aware of the risks."

Latriaen crossed his arms and contemplated.

"Maybe it's because it's your first time outside of Avalorn," he eventually said. "The fog is known for having a profound effect on beginners like you."

"That's possible. I'm not... well, I'm not used to all of this," Cyrus replied resignedly.

No kidding. Cyrus' first time being surrounded by the stuff led him to another world! But he remained silent on the matter. He was playing the role of an inexperienced pedestrian turned initiate, not an otherworldly explorer pedestrian with harrowing experiences notched on his belt.

Meanwhile, Latriaen cast a meaningful glance at Cyrus before retaking the lead. "Let's go. If you feel something strange, anything, then tell me."

Cyrus responded with a silent, despondent nod. But at least Bird tried alleviating his misgivings by nestling on his shoulder and rubbing against his neck. So, there was that. With a sigh, he patted Bird before trailing behind his teacher. But did not leave without one last glance toward the dead tree that slowly faded into the mists.

The trio pressed forward. As the day progressed, Latriaen detailed the potential effects of the fog on unsuspecting travelers.

"First, you might experience hallucinations, ranging from subtle sounds like twigs snapping to more vivid sightings of shadowy figures." He effortlessly leaped over a rugged outcrop that rose to Cyrus' upper torso. "That's just the beginning. You start believing in strange ideas and convince yourself that everyone is out to kill you."

Cyrus scrambled up the small climb. "Sounds daunting. Is that the first sign of becoming a wraith? Should we head back so I can get checked?"

Latriaen shook his head. "No. Those infected with the blight lost their sense of self. But if you're looking for traits, look for cloudy eyes or lowered intelligence."

"Is there a way to cure it?"

Latriaen idly toyed with one of the casings on his large tusk, pondering. "Not in the late stages." He skimmed pointedly at Cyrus. "But I've heard that light mages can cleanse those afflicted."

Right. Like the pylons and the fog.

"In any case, you'll be fine once you get used to being outside Avalorn. His gaze turned fixed on the forest ahead. "Let's hurry up. We still have a lot of ground to cover."

Time passed. In the meantime, Cyrus resumed his practice of shaping. Anything to take his mind off what happened. And what luck! The sea of white birch soon dispersed into rocky paths and scattered trees, with the rocky outcrops looking like someone had been tossing large boulders off a cliff. But that would be silly. Besides, Cyrus had already searched for impact sites and found none.

The trio moved these outcrops, heading closer and closer toward the somewhat obscured mountain.

"Something is coming," Latriaen said, halting his stride.

Cyrus stilled but recovered enough to pull out his spear and cast a devouring flame. He looked at the top of outcrops, searching for signs of an amb—a woman's shriek sent a shudder up his spine, nearly making him lose control of his ember. It grew louder and louder until it felt as if whatever it was stood right beside his ear.

He followed Latriaen's gaze and found several familiar mountain lion beasts perched on the ledges of a large outcrop.

And then, it appeared. A towering smilodon that matched the height of Latriaen appeared on top of the largest crop. Its hulking body shone like metal while those green pinpricks for eyes eerily glowed, not once leaving its attention from Cyrus.

It's you! Cyrus was taken aback. It's those damnable beasts that chased him so long ago!

The metallic beast let out a guttural roar and released a killing aura. It wanted to tear out Cyrus' flesh and eat his bones. Oh, and it was going to. It would hunt the boy and sink its—A fiery beam tore through its metallic hide without even a sign of its arrival. A second later, it was gone. The beam left a large, glowing scar of melted metal and sizzling flesh before passing through a tree, instantly scorching it into a cauterized mess.

Silence.

"Hó'ájitéégóó yáat'é," Latriaen murmured calmly, his pointed finger emitting hot smoke.

As if his voice started a cascade, all but the alpha lion escaped the scene in sheer terror. They scattered to the forest, not caring for their leader's fate. Meanwhile, the alpha was still alive but badly wounded. Chest heaving, it remained motionless as its gaze remained fixed on Cyrus.

If looks could kill... But in the end, it turned away, slowly limping off into the distance and leaving the trio behind.

Holy shit. That was amazing. Cyrus turned to Latriaen with a zealous gaze. "Please, tell me you're going to teach me that."

"You wish to learn? "The Ork regarded him as if finding a small bug on the road, his fiery gaze flickering. "Then, quickly master your exercises. Only then will we talk about learning such an attack."

Well, that sucked the momentum out of Cyrus.

"Then stop wasting my time," Latriaen said, continuing the trek. "We still have time before setting up camp."

"Alright, but you need to tell me how you did that," Cyrus pressed. "Come on. It will he—Wait." He paused. "Where's Bird?"

Looking around, Cyrus whistled a command he had learned from Leal's notebook. Ah, there he was. Bird popped his head out of some tree branches and flew over, landing on his head.

"There you are." Cyrus smiled. He then turned to Latriaen. "By the way, Teacher. What did you say to the spirit beast?"

Latriaen fell silent for a moment, his gaze drifting upwards. "'It's up to you to decide what happens next.'"

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