The forest stretched endlessly, its towering trees casting long shadows that intertwined with the thick mist curling at Grey's feet. The atmosphere was oppressive—dark, cold, and teeming with unseen threats. Yet, in the heart of this hostile wilderness, Grey found himself sitting by a small bonfire, the orange glow flickering against the encroaching darkness. The crackling flames provided a meager barrier against the cold and dread that seeped from the forest, but even that comfort was fleeting.
Grey leaned back, turning the skewer of roasting meat over the fire, the sizzling sound mixing with the occasional distant howl of a creature lurking beyond the tree line. The scent of the meat was mouth-watering, though his surroundings didn't exactly lend themselves to appetite.
He let out a breath, a small smirk tugging at his lips despite the unnerving silence of the forest around him.
"Well, isn't this cozy? Monsters all around, and here I am playing chef,"
The irony was not lost on him. The absurdity of the situation almost made him laugh, but the cold, biting air quickly tempered the thought.
The night had dragged on longer than he'd planned. He was supposed to have left this forest a day ago, on his way to the academy. Yet here he was, still in the heart of monster territory.
"Well, what's the harm in staying one more night?"
Grey justified it to himself. His lips curled slightly as he gazed into the fire. The academy could wait a day or two—after all, what difference did it make? He wasn't exactly eager to rush into that pit of self-entitled nobles and arrogant elites anyway. In his mind, staying a little longer wouldn't be a problem. It wasn't as if anyone was counting on his punctuality.
Besides, this forest was... entertaining, in its own way. It was teeming with monsters—some vicious, some cunning, but all dangerous. Yet to Grey, that danger didn't seem all that terrifying. In his past life, he had hunted animals across desolate landscapes and fought against fellow humans in countless battles. But monsters? Monsters were new to him—something different. Killing them was almost fun, a new kind of thrill.
'At least monsters are honest,'
he mused, the corners of his mouth twitching upward in a cold smile. Animals hunted for survival, humans for power or pleasure, but monsters... monsters were pure. They killed because it was in their nature. It made them refreshingly simple in his eyes.
The fire crackled as the meat continued to roast. He stared into the flames, lost in thought.
Rustle.
Suddenly, a faint noise broke the stillness—a soft rustle, barely audible, but enough to catch Grey's attention. His body tensed instantly, instincts honed from countless battles kicking in. His senses sharpened, his eyes scanning the darkness beyond the fire.
"What was that?"
He extinguished the fire in a single, fluid motion, dousing the flames with dirt before slipping silently into the shadows. His steps were cautious, deliberate, as he moved toward the source of the noise. Every movement was measured, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, ready for anything.
The faint rustling sound led him deeper into the forest. Each step brought him closer to something... off, something that shouldn't be here. The darkness felt heavier now, the air thick with tension. And then, just ahead, in a clearing hidden between towering trees, he saw it.
An altar.
It stood alone in the center, an ancient and foreboding structure of dark stone, its surface glowing faintly in the dim light of the moon. The oppressive heat radiating from it felt almost unnatural, like standing next to molten rock. The very air around it seemed to shimmer with waves of heat.
Grey's eyes narrowed as he stepped closer. The sight of the altar triggered something in the back of his mind—a distant, hazy memory. In his previous life, altars like this had been used for darker purposes. They were places where humans had sacrificed others in the name of gods, all under the guise of faith. The memories were vivid—the sight of blood-soaked stones, twisted chants, and the stench of death hanging heavy in the air. He'd torn those altars down, killed the zealots who offered lives to their gods of darkness and death.
'Is this the same?'
The thought gnawed at him, a creeping sense of familiarity he couldn't quite shake. There was something disturbingly similar about the design, yet he couldn't place it. The details escaped him, like a forgotten dream lurking at the edges of his mind.
The altar was massive, made of dark stone that seemed to glow from within, exuding an intense, oppressive heat. Seven triangles were interwoven into its surface, their lines glowing faintly as if molten lava coursed beneath the stone. The pattern was intricate, each triangle composed of smaller ones, forming a lattice that radiated energy. And at the center, where all the lines converged, a black void gaped like an open wound in the world.
'hmm?'
Gray's eyes narrowed as he examined the altar. The heat was suffocating, like standing too close to an open forge, but it wasn't just the oppressive warmth that made him frown. There was something far more unsettling.
Blood. Dark, dried streaks of it marred the surface of the altar, smeared across the glowing triangles like a sacrificial stain. It wasn't fresh, but recent enough to send a shiver crawling up his spine.
"What in the world happened here?"
he muttered under his breath, his gaze tracing the lines of the intricate pattern. The blood hadn't been randomly spilled; it pooled around the center where the black void gaped, as if drawn into the very heart of the altar.
Despite the dread gnawing at his gut, Gray couldn't stop himself. His hand moved on instinct, reaching out, curiosity and an inexplicable pull overriding his sense of caution. The closer his fingers came to the stone, the more the heat intensified, waves of scorching air pulsing from the surface.
Swish!
The moment his fingers brushed the surface, a sharp pain flared across his cheek. Grey jerked back, his hand instinctively reaching up to touch the wound. His fingers came away wet with blood.
"What the...?" He hadn't seen or sensed anything. The pain was sudden, like being sliced by a blade he never saw coming.
Drip. Drip.
The sound of blood hitting the ground echoed in the eerie silence, and just as the realization hit him, another attack followed.
Thwack!
An arrow, glistening with a cold blue light, pierced his shoulder. The pain shot through him like fire and ice combined, but before he could react, the frost began to spread from the wound. His blood froze in his veins, and the muscles beneath his skin tightened, locking him in place.
"Damn it!"
Grey hissed, eyes scanning the tree line. His breath came in short, ragged gasps as the cold intensified. He could feel the frost creeping through his arm, his fingers going numb as the ice spread.
Another arrow struck, this time embedding itself deep into his leg. The ice crawled up his skin, freezing him in place. His muscles tensed painfully, and a cold sweat broke out on his brow despite the heat from the altar.
"I need to move,"
Grey growled through gritted teeth, summoning his great sword.
Think, think!
But there was no time. He could already feel the ice creeping toward his chest, his body growing colder by the second. The pain was overwhelming, but he knew—if he didn't act now, he would be frozen solid, just another casualty of this cursed place.
With a final burst of strength, Grey swung his sword at the ice encasing his limbs.
Crack!
The ice shattered, but not without leaving its mark. His movements were sluggish, the cold sapping his strength.
Swish!
The ice shattered, but the relief was short-lived as another arrow flew through the darkness. Grey barely raised his sword in time, but the impact was brutal. The force knocked him off his feet, sending him crashing into the ground with a bone-rattling thud.
This is insane...! The freezing pain, the relentless attacks—it was all too fast.
He rolled to his feet, panting, eyes scanning the tree line for any sign of the attacker. But there was nothing. Just the icy grip spreading through his limbs, the oppressive heat of the altar, and the suffocating silence of the forest.
"I... I have to run..."
His breaths came in short, pained gasps as he forced his body into motion. Each step sent jolts of agony through his frozen leg, but he couldn't stop. Not now. Not here.
An arrow shot through the darkness again. Swish! This one grazed his side, but the pain was a reminder—he couldn't afford to be slow.
With his great sword still in hand, Grey staggered forward, every fiber of his being focused on escaping the deadly chill chasing him. His body screamed for rest, for reprieve from the cold, but he knew better.
If he stops... he's going to die.