Cyrus moved through the trees, his steps purposeful. The ever-thickening fog obscured his vision, just like the day he first woke up in this new world.

In truth, Cyrus never expected to return. He even wished to avoid such an event, only ever moving toward his future. But now, he felt it rather nonsensical that he expected smooth sailing.

Cyrus broke into a sardonic chuckle. Back then, he imagined he would immediately start traveling the world upon arrival. His journey would bring him to new sights nearly every day. If possible, Cyrus would mingle with the natives while picking up new skills before ultimately moving on to the next big thing.

This wonderful cycle would continue ad infinitum until one day, Cyrus would meet his last breath in some quiet, unknown ruin where the dangers would finally prove too much.

Hopefully, decades would have passed by then.

"I can still make it happen," he whispered. "There is still a world out there, waiting for me."

This was the most he had done with his life up to this point. And his soul craved for more. The thought called upon sudden nostalgia, carrying a yearning deep inside him. Slowly, hesitantly, he retrieved his camera from his pouch. Its screen lit up, and Cyrus slowly scrolled through his pictures.

There were plenty of them, hundreds even. Some were of Avalorn, with its old-world slowly claimed by nature aesthetic, while others were random pedestrians living out their lives.

Ah, here is one: A Half-Elf woman with a bright, verdant gaze smiling brightly while sitting on a vine-covered bench. Another: A sleeping bear covered in moss, curled up among a sea of white lilies. Further deep within his storage was a marketplace filled with chaos. So far, yet so close.

Each image brought back a flood of memories.

But Cyrus did not stop sifting through the images as he moved. His world had shrunken down to just his camera again. But there was a pause in his slideshow. An image of several gray-skinned, emaciated corpses filled his screen.

"Oh..." Cyrus distastefully said, subconsciously grimacing at the sight. "I forgot about these."

One swipe was all it took to remove those photos forever. Satisfied, Cyrus glanced around to ensure he was on the right path. Thankfully, he was. Satisfied, he returned to his peruse, his mind drifting back to those moments.

That was until a sudden photo brought him to a pause. It was one of a woman with long, radiant blonde hair. Hands cupped in the lap of her white robes, she appeared almost demure, with her light flush running across the freckles on her nose bridge. Her eyes, bright and intelligent, were clear blue pools behind a pair of glasses, and a small, shy smile on her cherry lips made the whole picture more colorful.

She is beautiful—was beautiful.

Cyrus stilled, frozen at the sight. Slowly, hesitantly, his finger and gaze turned toward one of the options hovering on the top left corner of the camera's screen—delete. And oh, how he wanted to press it. The sight of the image brought back harrowing memories that refused to leave—memories that drifted in the back of his mind like the fog around him.

But no matter how Cyrus tried to will such thoughts away, to delete this memory of someone impacting so hard to his core despite the brief day, he could not. There was nothing but silence as he stared hard at that image. In the end, Cyrus scrawled and selected it before throwing it into the hidden section along with the others.

"How are they doing?" Cyrus mumbled absent-mindedly.

His friends. Elizabeth. What were they doing? Were they still searching for him after months of nothing? Did they even care he was gone? Did they still think about him? Maybe he should have waited longer before stepping inside.

As if to respond to his internal feelings, the world around him shifted gray. Or maybe it was the fog playing its tricks again. Cyrus did not know, nor did he care.

"I'm such a hypocrite." Cyrus bitterly smiled while softly petting the round outline in his inner coat.

There was a reaction—a soft press onto the cup of his hand. It brought a smile to Cyrus' visage.

"All right," he abruptly said, vigorously rubbing his face as if to reshape anew. "What's done is done. All I can do now is press forward."

So a rekindled Cyrus did. While he moved, his palm torched a small ember, and the Wayfarer initiate resumed his fine runic manipulation to stave off intrusive thoughts. There was more work to be done: flame shaping, light, everything, combat training, culture education, and so much more.

Oh, there it is! Cyrus hopped over a small bush and inspected the ground before him. It should be closed now.

The cave awaited, marked by the dirt trail he had walked on so long ago. His heart sped up, and Cyrus matched it with his footing. After what felt like an hour, Cyrus stopped before a small clearing resting at the foot of a small hill. And there it was, as if with open arms.

Cyrus didn't rush in headstrongly first. Instead, his brows furrowed as he looked at his surroundings, a strange realization forming.

"Where's the body?"

It should be right there where he left it. The groove mark remained—a faint sign of its past existence, but nothing else.

Did Lord Dílis take it?

That or animals. But judging from the ever-present silence engulfing the area and the lack of skid marks or signs of dragging, Cyrus banished the thought.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

"Now what?" he asked. "Was coming here pointless?"

Slowly, his hand reached into his inner pocket and held onto his camera.

Click

To Cyrus' surprise, there was a mass of darkness where the carcass once lay. A clue? It was barely worth mentioning compared to the empty void in the hamlet, but notable nonetheless.

Frowning, Cyrus stepped back and fell into thought. A moment later, he brandished his trusty 'ol orichalcum shovel and began digging sans standing on top of his dig this time.

It didn't take long for Cyrus to hit soft... liquid? He quickly pulled back his shovel to find its head caked in all-too-familiar sludge. With a clang, the shovel dropped to the ground, and Cyrus quickly provided a wide berth between the hole and him.

Under his horrified gaze, the crater widened into a pit of earth-consuming darkness nearly a meter in circumference. A moment of silence passed until Cyrus sighed in relief.

Still, he waited. And waited. And waited until his nerves got the better of him. Slowly, he closed in the liquid void before him and took notice of the darkness clinging to his shovel.

"Don't tell me my shovel is now ruined," Cyrus muttered, channeling mana.

That thing was probably worth more than he was. Shaking his head, Cyrus stretched out his arm and shot forward radiance onto the shovel. Like paper meeting a flame, the oily substance ignited a bright white conflagration, slowly eating away until nothing was left.

Cyrus was taken aback. That worked? It was not what he expected, but a welcome surprise. After a couple more blasts onto the shovel, just to make sure, Cyrus picked it up and inspected it.

It's clean.

His focus then landed on the pool before him. Mana channeled into his arm again, and Cyrus directed another ray into the pooling black ink. And in a blinding brilliance, the darkness ignited in white flames, slowly devouring it until nothing was left in the hole but pure obsidian crystals.

A runic crystal? Cyrus knelt down and examined it.

It carried all the hallmarks of one—black as night and radiated mana, with a few occasional motes floating underneath its surface. Cyrus could not find anything inherently wrong with it. But it didn't stop him from blasting a few more rays just to be sure.

Only then had he fallen into thought. Could the fog affect the dead? But there was no mention of that within any of the books he's read, nor from Lilie or her father. Was it someone else who arrived and picked up the corpse?

Why?

Shaking his head, Cyrus carefully stored several crystals in his pouch. Maybe there could be something gleaned from this at a later date. Now, his attention turned to the cave before him.

Click

But Cyrus learned his lesson the first time. He used insight into the forest, cave, and even the sky to find hidden elements—nothing.

"Damn." With a tsk, Cyrus looked around the cave's open mouth. "No spatial affinity? I was hoping for some insights..."

At least Bird was the only living entity around him.

Looking to the sides, Cyrus channeled a flame and spear just in case. Slowly, carefully, he stepped inside, ready to strike at a moment's notice. And nothing. Less than nothing. For just like when Cyrus first awoke, there was just stone and gray that greeted him. The sight made Cyrus frown, and he used insight just in case.

"Nothing." He sighed, shoulders trembling. "It's always nothing when it matters."

Aimless and hopeless, Cyrus slowly walked inside until he reached the back end. His back hit the wall with a thud, and he slowly slid downwards until sitting on the floor.

Now what?

"What was I hoping for?" Cyrus mumbled, his gaze drooping to a close.

Should he head back? It was a long shot, and it wasn't like he hadn't gained any leads, dubious as they were. Should he—Cyrus' gaze snapped open.

He heard a twig snap.

Heart racing, Cyrus jumped and readied his spear, mana channeling into a flaming palm. His gaze narrowed as his vision turned golden, never blinking for whatever awaited beyond the ever-bubbling fog. There, just almost beyond his sight, he saw something enormous stab into the ground before instantly shooting upwards.

Fuck.

A cracking sound came from outside. Then another. And another. They moved in sync as it came from above Cyrus' head. Something was climbing on top of the hill, waiting for him to come out.

Swallowing his saliva, Cyrus stayed put. He felt Bird tremble inside his coat but refrained from moving.

"Bird," Cyrus whispered as low as he could. "Fly—Fly away as fast as you can."

But the canary stayed put despite Cyrus' insistence. Didn't it understand that it was safer flying between branches and trees than locked in here with him?! A sudden snap brought his heart to a stop. Ten seconds. Twenty. Nothing but silence. Was it—chirp!

His heart lurched when two arms of pure darkness stretched from the roof of the cave's mouth toward him. Quickly, Cyrus jumped to the side, barely evading the arms as they dug into the wall.

Eyes gaping, he watched as they twisted and churned their claws, digging deeper into the stone before tearing off chunks of rock and withdrawing. Once retreated, Cyrus heard the sound of grinding and crunching before three arms came for the attack.

This time, Cyrus was ready. He moved toward the side, infusing light into his spear at the stuck arms. It did nothing—less than nothing, as the spear bounced back without a sign of injury. A new plan. Once they dropped down again, with an extra limb, no less, Cyrus attacked. With a crackle, Cyrus spewed flames in hopes of doing something—anything.

Nothing. Useless.

Despair began to build up, but Cyrus pressed on with the attack. His attacks changed between domains, and he launched himself several times with tension. But it was of no use. More and more shadowy limbs came, offering less and less opportunity to evade.

And that damn crunching.

More and more torn-off pockets line the stone walls after each attack. After each interval, Cyrus was forced to move closer and closer toward the cave's exit.

"It's no use." Cyrus gritted his teeth and turned his attention to the small bits of forest that remained visible despite the thick fog. "I'll have to risk it."

Next attack. He'll make a run for it on its next attack.

Not a moment sooner, twelve arms rushed inwards, nearly blocking the exit. Cyrus dropped low as several limbs crashed at torso heights just above him.

Quickly, desperately, he crawled toward the cave's mouth and straggled into a sprint. There was no time for plans. Cyrus ran without looking back.

But a death-rattling roar rang in his ears. Followed by the sound of that stomping.

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