"You can come out, Edna," he said.
Yet only the howling sound of the trees can be heard, nothing happened. He stood there, waiting for the one he called to come out, but the only one greeting him was a screeching sound. Tendrils lash at him, with a hisses that makes them feel alive.
Erik moved with predator's grace, his knife slicing through the writhing tendrils as though they were something insignificant.
Why are there only crazy women I meet today, his voice is sharp-edged with an irritating voice. Are they testing my sanity or just one-sided anger?
The forest went silent. The silence itself bears an edge, a predator coiled to strike anytime. Erik lowered his knife, the blade was glinting faintly reflecting the light that came down through the thick leaves surrounding them.
"Now, you can—"
Before he finished his sentence, the forest screamed. A fresh onslaught erupted beneath the soil, their movement frenzied. They tore through the air with a sound like rending metal. The screeching gets louder as if the space itself is being ripped apart.
But to Erik, it was all... slow.
This passive ability of him is really awesome, he thought.
The world slowed as if the time itself had decided to take a leisurely stroll. The roots, once a chaotic storm of writhing tendrils now swayed lazily in the air, their movement looked like branches brushing against the summer breeze. Erik stood at the centre, looking at it nonchalantly. With precision, he stepped aside, titled his body with minimal movement, rendering all the attack useless. But as he dodged it all, his head became more and more heavy as time passed.
Is this the side effect of using it longer than I should be? He thought.
In the end, the attack calmed down for the third time.
"Now you—"
Before he finished his sentence, the roots erupted again. Their jagged tip hurled at him with renewed vigour. Erik sighed, his shoulder slumped as if he was dealing with stubborn children.
"Oh come on!" Erik exclaimed. A bulging veins popped up on his head as he moved.
In the end, he snaped, "For god's sake, can you stop?!"
The roots paused mid-air, their movement gone sluggish as it seemed useless to continue. The forest went silent. The roots retreated into the earth, their tip sinking deep into the soil leaving the crack behind.
The forest seemed to exhale as the girl emerged from the shadow, the silhouette of her figure against the dim, flickering light that screened through the leaves. Her shoulder-length chestnut hair swayed with each step, its brown strands gleaming faintly catching the glow of the runes that coming from her staff. She clutched her staff tightly, her knuckles pale, as if it was the only thing that could make her stay in this reality.
Erik turned to face her with his knife hung loosely at his side. The forest had fallen silent, the oppressive stillness broken only by the sound of branches and leaves that Edna made as she walked closer.
She stopped a few steps away, her gaze was piercing, looking into his. They were a storm of emotion— Anger, curiosity, and something bordered on fear.
"Who are you?" She demanded, her voice was low and steady, yet carrying an edge that could pierce. The question hung into the air, it was not a request for a name, it was a challenge, a demand that she would pursue until the very end.
Erik tilted his head, his movements slow and deliberate.
Is she serious? he thought, his irritation simmering beneath the surface. The fatigue from the battle—and the relentless pounding ache in his skull—was beginning to weigh him down. All that bravado to ask that question?
"Who am I?" he echoed, his voice low and resonant, carrying a weight that seemed to vibrate through the thin air. His tone was calm, almost detached, yet there was an edge to it—a sharpness that cut like a blade, pointing at the girl's throat. His gaze bore into hers, unblinking, dragging her to the unspeakable place where no one could comprehend.
But in reality, he wants to end this pointless encounter. His head rang as they talked, heavy as if he was holding a boulder at his head. A wound that he deserves for trying something that he should never have thought about.
"Me?" He opened his mouth, his voice steady despite the agony. "I am just a commoner from the countryside who happened to be in the same class as you."
The girl—Edna—narrowed her eyes as her grip on her staff tightened, the staff gleaming casting an eerie shadow across her face, "Don't play games with me!" She snapped, her voice raised slightly.
"Your movement has no waste in it, dodging all my attacks as if it were nothing. That movement is not something you achieve within days—or even years. So I'll ask again—who are you?"
Erik closed his eyes, his expression was unreadable. For a moment, the forest seemed to hold its breath before a gust of winds hit the leaves making a noise that cut through the silence. When he spoke, his voice was low almost whisper yet carried an edge that sent shiver down to Edna's spine.
"The same question can be pointed towards you as well, Edna," Erik said, his tone measured yet carrying something darker. "That spell, reaction time, and timing—it was not at the level of a mere student. Besides, Sigrun,..."
He paused, his eyes slowly opening, revealing a gaze that was hollow and depthless, "You... already witnessed the end, haven't you?"
Silence caught on Edna's tongue, the words that came out from Erik's mouth hung into the air, heavy and suffocating.
"What... what are you talking about?" She stammered, her voice trembling as she tried to feign ignorance. But the cracks in her facade were already showing, her eyes betraying the fear and recognition that his words stirred.
"You know exactly what I mean," he said, his voice soft yet carrying undercurrent menace. "You've seen it, haven't you? The end of everything. The collapse of the world. The unravelling reality itself. You live through it—no, you've lived it again."
Edna's eyes widened, her grip on her staff faltering as she reminiscences the past—no, the future that will uphold, befall this world again. The forest shuddered, creaking as if they were recoiling from the truth he had just spoken. "As I thought,... we're the same," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
"No, we aren't," he said, his voice low and heavy, each word carrying an unspeakable burden.
"What do you mean?" She said.
On his face, a gentle smile bloomed yet it was tinged with sorrow. "Some truths are too heavy," his voice low and resonant. "What you know, I also know."
"But, one thing that you need to know. I am on your side," with that, he turned and walked away. Blending into the shadows as though it was natural to him. Edna watched him go, her mind reeling with questions that couldn't be answered. For the first time in her regression—she felt relief towards the words that Erik had uttered.
The forest closed in around her, and as she stood there, she realised that the path she chose was not a lonely journey.
"Erik,..." She uttered his name in a low voice akin to a whisper. His words and expression were instilled inside her mind as she walked away, following behind Erik's step.