Jin-Su moved silently through the forest, unseen and unfelt, his presence erased from the world around him. The stillness pressed against him, heavy and expectant, stirring something deep within—an old familiarity with the aftermath of carnage.
[Environmental distortion detected.]
The metallic tang of iron thickened the air. He recognized the pattern—subtle yet deliberate. The forest had been reshaped, its very structure manipulated. Trees, stones, even the lay of the roots beneath his feet all conspired to guide him in a single direction.
[Pathway manipulation evident. Directional intent confirmed. You are being led somewhere via this path. Assuming as you are invisible and presence less, this is not something made specifically for you.]
"Seems to be a funnel for those who end up in the forest."
The path twisted deceptively, looping in on itself, but always leading forward. The deeper he went, the less the forest resisted. The canopy above filtered the moonlight into warped silhouettes, their shifting forms creeping along the ground. Roots jutted out like skeletal fingers reaching for him, yet never obstructed his steps.
His movements were effortless, guided by Aelis' training. Not even the wind carried his presence. Aelis had always emphasized the importance of becoming part of the terrain rather than simply traversing it.
"The trees listen, the earth remembers," she had said. "But a shadow leaves no mark."
Jin-Su had trained relentlessly—gliding through branches without disturbing a single leaf, treading over roots without a whisper of sound. He had learned to sync his breathing with the rhythm of the wild, vanishing into the spaces where no sound belonged. He stepped now as he had been taught, silent as the shifting darkness.
[Atmospheric composition altered. Increased particulate density detected. Trace blood and combustion residue present.]
Jin-Su breathed in the air, "Blood and Powder."
Even before he reached the clearing, the air had changed. The iron scent grew stronger, laced with something acrid, something burned. Then, he stepped past the threshold, and the truth revealed itself.
A clearing, torn from the earth like an open wound, lay at the heart of the forest. The trees surrounding it were stripped bare, their bark peeled away as if flayed, exposing raw, blackened wood that cracked and bled sap like open sores. Symbols—burned into the trunks—formed jagged, angular scripts, their meanings lost to time, but their intent unmistakable.
The earth was worse. It pulsed with the weight of something ancient, soaked in layers of congealed blood that had long since thickened into tar-like pools. Jagged remains of bones jutted from the filth, some shattered as if gnawed on, others deliberately arranged into crude, malformed effigies. The ground was slick, uneven with the crushed remnants of bodies that had long since become part of the soil. The patterns weren't random; they were arranged with ritualistic intent, spiraling outward like veins from a diseased heart. Bones jutted from the soil—some half-buried, others placed with deliberate care to form grotesque effigies of figures long forgotten.
The scent of decay was overwhelming, but beneath it lay something far more insidious—the sharp tang of incense, clinging to the air as if the ritual still lingered, waiting for its next sacrifice. Wax-coated skulls rested atop jagged pillars, their melted faces frozen in expressions of agony. Some bodies had been nailed into place, their flesh long since rotted away, but their positioning remained intentional—prone in supplication to something that had already come and gone.
"This has been going on for a long time."
Jin-Su's gaze moved across the carnage, his expression hardening with disgust. These were cultists—zealots who had thrown away their humanity for something unspeakable. Their robes, once embroidered with ritualistic symbols, were now soaked in their own arrogance and blood. The crows stirred above him, their black eyes following the faint disturbances—objects shifting without a visible cause, as if something unseen was passing through. Then, something new. A flickering glow near one of the corpses. The crows cawed sharply, their cries breaking the heavy silence. Some took flight, circling above as though drawn to the unseen force shifting the world beneath them. Another caw, this one sharper, urgent. A rustling of wings. They knew something was wrong. He moved closer, brushing dirt away from a cracked display screen. A sliver of text, barely legible, flashed weakly.
A name: Darin Vaughn.
[Scanning identity... 'Darin Vaughn' does not exist in any prior memories of either this or last timeline. Presuming to be the name of the body, possible to be incorrect.]
Jin-Su narrowed his eyes. A name meant intent. It meant someone had been important enough to be recorded, and yet, the system had nothing.
His fingers moved over the device, sifting through corrupted files until he found something intact—a team photo. His stomach twisted as he recognized the same robes, the same insignias. Cultists. He had no pity for them, only the cold understanding that they had invited their own destruction. Faces, frozen mid-expression, some barely recognizable beneath the grotesque modifications. They wore the same robes as the corpses around him. Some were here, mutilated and unrecognizable. Others… were missing.
"This ritual wasn't interrupted," Jin-Su murmured. "It was completed. Whatever happened here came after."
[The probability that the situation in front of us is the aftermath of the ritual is high.]
The symbols carved into the dirt were long faded, their meaning lost beneath dried blood and scorched earth. Some were smeared by what looked like desperate claw marks, as if those involved had tried to alter their own fate at the last moment. The scorched earth cracked beneath Jin-Su's boots, releasing a sickening odor, a mixture of decay and something far worse—something unnatural, something still watching. The ritual had been completed, its purpose fulfilled before the destruction followed.
The land bore the scars of the ritual—deep etchings burned into the soil, sigils that pulsed with forgotten meaning, their purpose obscured by time and violence. Thick lines of dried blood had hardened into ritualistic pathways, stretching outward from a central point where a stone altar had once stood. Now shattered, its jagged pieces lay strewn around the clearing, darkened by the sacrifices it had once held. The stench of burnt offerings clung to the air, mingling with the acrid scent of charred flesh.
Torches, long extinguished, formed a perfect ring around the site, their wax melted and dripped like coagulated blood, hardening into unnatural formations. Some had fallen, their blackened remains twisted in unnatural shapes, while others stood upright, their charred wicks frozen in time. Shadows danced across the misshapen wax, casting figures that seemed to reach outward, as if the ritual itself had tried to grasp something beyond its reach. Strips of cloth, once banners or ceremonial garments, were half-buried in the dirt, embroidered with symbols that had been meticulously sewn by hands long stilled.
[Warning: The ritual's outcome indicates the presence of an entity with high destructive capability. Probability of proximity: significant.]
Jin-Su's fingers hovered over the shattered data core, its weak glow flickering in and out. A crow let out a shrill call, its wings flaring as if startled. Others shifted restlessly on their perches, their gazes locked onto the anomaly of movement without presence.
He sneered. The cultists had been so eager, so willing to carve themselves into offerings. And now they were nothing—just hollow, discarded remains of their own delusions.
"I figured that part out quite some time ago." He gestured toward the modified bodies before him, his eyes narrowing as he took in the grotesque amalgamations of flesh and intent, stretching in a winding trail before him. It wasn't a single site of horror—it was a path.
[A deliberate route leading deeper into the woods.]
Broken limbs pointed like waymarkers, their jagged ends blackened and split, skin and muscle peeled back to expose bone. Some of the bodies lay twisted, their faces locked in expressions of twisted reverence, their hands outstretched toward something unseen, as though they had welcomed their fate. Limbs fused where they shouldn't be, faces frozen in silent agony, their final moments captured in the warped contours of their distorted forms. Blood pooled around them, some of it fresh enough to suggest the work had not long been completed. Ritual carvings had been etched into their very skin, jagged and overlapping as if layered over previous incantations. Whatever had happened here was beyond a mere sacrifice—it was an intentional remaking of bodies into something else. Something unnatural. Something waiting.
"We need to take care of this creature."
[Warning: This act will create an irreversible shift in future outcomes. Probabilities of widespread impact increasing rapidly.]
Jin-Su's gaze darkened, his voice firm and resolute. "That's exactly what I'm here to do."