The narrow trail twisted, leading them from the dead forest's cold embrace. Raizen trudged forward, each step crunching gravel beneath his tattered high-tech boots. The worn rubber scraped against gray ash, producing a harsh, chilling sound. Fatigue weighed heavily, but his iron will refused to yield. Ash swirled with each gust, forming misty clouds that carried the acrid scent of scorched earth and faint, rusted metal—a tangible remnant of the Asvaria explosion, haunting his mind like an unspoken curse.
Winds from Noxvaria's depths howled, whistling eerily through the withered, skeletal trees scattered along the path. Broken branches, twisted like bony arms, clawed desperately from the blackened soil. Beside him, Selena moved with silent vigilance, her steel sword poised for action, its cold blade catching the gray sky's dim light and reflecting her uncanny dual eyes—glacial blue and fiery red. This outsider, she thought, stealing a glance at Raizen, he's quiet, but those eyes hold a calculating, fearsome resolve. He survives, he fights, and he doesn't flinch in this hell. Who is he?
Kaelric led the way, his aged shoulders hunched from the bleeding wound crudely bandaged, yet his steps remained surprisingly steady on the death-strewn path. His deep eyes glinted with exhaustion, suspicion, and the hard-earned wisdom of a lifetime battling for survival. Behind, Kael and Seiryu kept close. Kael clung to the warped Asvaria fragment like a sacred relic, its faint red pulses flickering like a dying machine's heartbeat, his pale blue eyes shadowed by regret and intense focus on the tech that had shattered their lives. Seiryu stayed at his side, her grip tight on her small scalpel, her cold black eyes scanning their surroundings but darting to Raizen with fleeting worry she tried to mask—she feared he'd fall, feared his instinct to plunge into danger.
"Raizen," Seiryu broke the silence, her clear, icy voice slicing through the wind's wail like a honed blade. "Where are we going? This Aerith outpost the old man mentioned—how far is it? And what really happened? What did Valen Kabe do? I need the truth, Raizen. To prepare for the death that could come any moment in this cursed place." She quickened her pace to match his, her sharp gaze demanding clarity amid the ash and death.
Raizen paused briefly, his eyes tracing the trail ahead, where ash-streaked ground stretched into a hazy expanse under an eternally gray sky. He closed his eyes for a moment, the horrific memory of Saigon's explosion crashing back like a nightmare—Asvaria's roar, the blinding white light swallowing all, the stench of molten metal mingling with the desperate screams of comrades who couldn't escape, and Valen Kabe's manic, savage laughter echoing: "This is the future, Raizen—a new world for those worthy like us!" Now, he understood the cost of that "future"—Noxvaria, a living hell of blood, ash, and ravenous creatures, where Valen had callously cast them as pawns in his power game.
He opened his eyes, his gaze now razor-sharp and resolute. "Valen Kabe activated Asvaria, ignoring Kael's warnings, ignoring every risk," he said, his voice low but unwavering. "It wasn't just a failed experiment—it tore through space and time, throwing us here. This isn't Earth, Seiryu. Not our past or future. This is another world, a planet called Asvaria, according to Kaelric. The Aerith outpost is our only chance to survive today, to learn more, to find a way back—or find the others." His tone hardened. "I won't let any of us die pointlessly before we do."
Seiryu's brow furrowed, her hand tightening around her medical kit's strap. Her usual icy facade cracked, revealing deep unease. "Another world? So… we could be trapped here forever?" Her voice dropped to a near-whisper, fear seeping through. "And Kael—" she glanced at him, engrossed in the metal fragment, "can he really get us back, or is it just desperate promises?"
Before Raizen could respond, he turned to Kaelric, still leading but clearly listening. "Kaelric," he called, his commanding voice demanding attention. "You spoke of the Aerith tribe. Tell me more. How far is the outpost? What's its true state? What dangers besides Twistfangs await us? I need everything to prepare."
Kaelric halted, slowly turning. His eyes met Raizen's, then flicked to Selena, Kael, and Seiryu, glinting with ingrained wariness but also a curious, unreadable spark. He stood silent, weighing how much of his tribe's secrets to share with these outsiders, then spoke, his hoarse voice steady, carrying the weight of decades surviving darkness and death: "The Aerith outpost is half a day's walk at this pace, if we face no obstacles," he began. "It's just a cluster of tattered tents patched with dry leaves, nestled at the base of a barren stone hill. About two hundred of my people, the last survivors, cling to life there, bracing for the harsh winter coming." He sighed, his eyes clouding. "But don't expect a sanctuary, outsider. It's a place of hunger and disease. My people fight over murky stream water, scraps of bone from rare hunts. The Shadowfangs have taken too many warriors, and Duskborn like Twistfangs lurk in the surrounding forests, ready to tear apart anyone weak or alone." He fixed Raizen with a stern gaze. "If you want to survive there, steel yourself. Noxvaria spares no one weak, and I don't easily trust those who haven't proven their worth with blood and deeds."
"Asvaria… Noxvaria…" Kael, silent until now, broke in, his voice rough from ash and exhaustion. His pale blue eyes sparked with scientific curiosity amid lingering guilt. He raised the Asvaria fragment, its red circuits pulsing faintly like a fading heartbeat. "This planet… what is it? Why did Valen Kabe bring us here? Does this metal… is it linked to those Twistfangs with the same spiral symbol on their foreheads?" He looked from Raizen to Kaelric, his tone urgent. "I need to understand, to fix my mistake, to keep anyone else from dying because of my stupidity."
Kaelric sighed again, his gaze lingering on Kael with a trace of pity, then settling on Raizen, as if reassessing the outsiders' potential under the dawn's faint light. "Asvaria is this planet's name—a vast, ancient world beyond your imagining," he explained slowly. "We're in Noxvaria, a cursed deadland in Avarith's southeast. They say it was once part of the mighty Zaratharion Empire, ruling Avarith millennia ago, but they vanished, leaving this land in ash and unbreakable dark curses. Duskborn like Twistfangs are born from this dead earth—some wild like beasts, others tamed by the Shadowfangs, bloodthirsty humans in the Blackspire Valley north, as war weapons." He glanced at Kael's metal fragment. "I don't know what your metal is, but if it caused that explosion, the Shadowfangs will soon sniff out the smoke and blood. They're numerous as ants, savage as beasts, and spare no one in their path." His voice dropped ominously. "But they're not the only threat. This dead forest hides things even Shadowfangs fear to name." A shadow of primal dread flickered in his aged eyes, hinting at horrors he wouldn't—or dared not—voice.
Raizen nodded slowly, his strategic mind cataloging every detail, each warning ringing like an alarm etched into his thoughts. He sensed the weight, the hidden dangers in Kaelric's words, a vague premonition of threats beyond Shadowfangs lurking in Noxvaria's shadows. "Then we must reach the outpost before anything finds us," he said, his voice low but resolute. "But if the outpost is as dire as you say, if your people are starving and broken, they won't hold out long—against Shadowfangs or whatever else stalks this forest. I have a plan. A way to turn the tide, to give them a reason to keep living, and more importantly, to arm them to defend themselves." He stepped closer to Kaelric, his gaze locking onto the elder's, demanding trust, however reluctant, in this sea of doubt.
Kaelric's brow furrowed, his hand clutching his bleeding shoulder, his eyes flashing with ingrained skepticism but unable to hide curiosity. An outsider, fresh to this land, dared claim he could change the tribe's grim fate? "What do you plan, outsider?" he asked, his voice tinged with doubt. "We've hunted dozens of times, but the forest is now the domain of ferocious Graysows and bloodthirsty Twistfangs. You think you can do something different that I, with years of experience and blood lost, haven't tried? I lost my father, my closest brothers, to those beasts!"
Raizen offered a rare, faint smile—not of arrogance, but of the quiet confidence of one who'd survived worse in the Eternal Seed camp. "We'll hunt the Graysow herd," he said firmly. "But not your way. We'll hunt with strategy, tactics, improved weapons. Not just for today's food, but to secure tomorrow and beyond. Trust me, Kaelric. I don't make empty promises. I've led my people through places worse than this, against enemies you can't imagine. I'll do it again here, with you and your remaining villagers."
As the dawn's faint light pierced the thick ash on the trail, the Aerith outpost's silhouette emerged in the distance—a ramshackle cluster of sagging tents huddled beneath a barren stone hill. Thin, feeble smoke rose from small fires, like desperate pleas unheard in this desolate, death-ridden land.
Raizen halted, closing his eyes briefly. Memories of Saigon, his lost world, flooded back like a lavish dream—skyways ablaze with neon, the hum of vehicles echoing among steel-and-glass towers, the warm aroma of fresh bánh mì from his mother's corner oven each morning before her final fever claimed her. She'd gripped his hand, her frail breath carrying fierce faith: "Survive, Raizen—for me, and for yourself."
He opened his eyes, his sharp gaze sweeping the bleak scene. A few villagers gathered near the outpost's rickety entrance, their gaunt, haggard faces marked by hunger and disease, sunken eyes dull with exhaustion and despair. Their hands clutched crude, weathered wooden spears, many splintered as if crumbling under the weight of poverty and futility. A small child, hair matted, skin clinging to bones, clung to her mother's skeletal arm, her large, hollow eyes staring blankly, as if smiles and hope were long-forgotten relics.
Raizen felt the oppressive weight of the outpost's air—not just material starvation, but a silent fear, a constant dread of what lurked beyond, in the inescapable dead forest. To lead these people, to transform Noxvaria into a place where they could truly live, not merely survive, he couldn't rely on words or empty promises. They needed immediate results—food to survive today, and more crucially, a steadfast belief to fight for tomorrow.
"Kaelric," he called, his low, clear voice ringing through the outpost's stifling silence, a powerful summons amid the waiting, desperate crowd.
The elder stopped, turning to face him, his aged eyes glinting with familiar suspicion, a fortress built from years of loss and pain, not easily breached. Yet, a flicker of curiosity, a faint hope, shimmered—like a parched man in a desert seeking one last spring. "What now, outsider?" Kaelric replied, his voice hoarse from his wound but carrying the authority of one accustomed to commanding desperate survivors, despite his own pain and heavy memories.
"Your people are starving," Raizen said bluntly, no hesitation or evasion, his gaze locking onto Kaelric's like a relentless blade slicing through doubt's thick veil. "Without food, they won't have strength to hold a spear, let alone face Shadowfangs or whatever else stalks that forest. I have a solution—we'll hunt the Graysow herd. Not just for today's meal, but to rebuild this tribe's strength, step by step, so they're no longer shadows waiting for death, but warriors who can stand against the dark."
Kaelric crossed his arms, his chin tilting defiantly, his eyes brimming with deep skepticism and weary resignation. He'd heard too many hollow promises from strangers, always ending in failure and more blood. "Graysows? Are you truly mad, outsider?" he growled. "Those are giant boars—their hides are thick as stone, their tusks sharp as reapers' scythes, and they're fiercer than anything you can imagine from your old world. My tribe's lost countless to them—my father was torn apart one frozen night trying to feed our village. My warrior brothers fell one by one, wielding trembling hands and frail wooden spears. You think you can do better with a few ragged outsiders and bold words?"
"I'll prove it," Raizen replied, his voice steady as a vow carved in stone, each word a hammer shattering fear and doubt. "But I need everyone's help—my group and your people. I can't do this alone. Together, we'll make the impossible real, so your villagers see they're not just helpless prey awaiting fate's mercy."