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Chapter 6: A Glimpse of the Abyss
The forest grew darker as Zhao Fei ventured deeper, the canopy overhead blotting out the sun. The comforting sounds of birdsong and rustling leaves that had greeted him days before had faded, replaced by an eerie stillness. He pressed on, his hand resting on the hilt of the small kitchen knife he had salvaged from his ruined home.
It was this same knife that had ended the life of a rabbit days prior, his first successful hunt. The memory played vividly in his mind—the trembling of his hands as he held the blade, the way his breath had hitched before the final, decisive thrust. He hadn't wanted to kill, but the gnawing hunger in his stomach had demanded otherwise. The rabbit's blood had stained his hands, but its meat had filled his belly, a grim reminder of the price of survival.
Now, the knife felt heavier in his grasp, not because of its weight but because of what it represented: a lifeline in a world that seemed intent on crushing him.
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Days turned into weeks, each one a trial of endurance. The forest was vast and merciless, offering little in the way of comfort. Zhao Fei adapted quickly, learning to track small game and fashion crude traps from vines and sticks. His hands, once soft and unblemished, were now calloused and scarred. The boy who had once laughed at his mother's stories by the hearth was fading, replaced by someone harder, someone colder.
Yet, even as his skills grew, the weight of his losses lingered. He would often wake in the middle of the night, clutching at the ground as though searching for something—or someone—he'd lost. The faces of his parents haunted his dreams. His father's bloodied form, his mother's scream... they replayed endlessly in his mind.
He had yet to find his mother. The thought of her fate gnawed at him, a festering wound that refused to heal. He told himself she had escaped, that she was out there somewhere, waiting for him. But doubt was a cruel companion, whispering the same question over and over: What if she's gone too?
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One night, as Zhao Fei sat by a small fire, exhaustion weighed heavily on him. He tore a strip of roasted meat from a bird he had snared earlier, chewing slowly as his mind wandered. The flames cast flickering shadows across his face, making him appear older than his years.
The night was silent save for the crackling of the fire, yet Zhao Fei couldn't shake the feeling that he wasn't alone. He glanced around, his eyes scanning the darkness. The forest seemed to close in on him, the shadows deepening unnaturally.
It was then that he felt it—a presence, heavy and oppressive, as though the air itself had thickened. Zhao Fei's heart pounded as his surroundings melted away, replaced by a vast, desolate plain.
The ground beneath his feet was cracked and dry, stretching endlessly in all directions. Above him, a swirling vortex of shadows twisted and writhed, whispering in a language he couldn't understand. The whispers grew louder, their cadence hypnotic, drawing him forward.
At the center of the plain stood a towering figure cloaked in darkness. Its form was indistinct, shifting like smoke, yet its presence was overwhelming. Zhao Fei felt his knees buckle under the weight of its gaze.
"You are weak," the figure said, its voice a chilling echo that seemed to reverberate in his very soul. "But you need not remain so. Strength lies in the taking. Claim what is yours, and rise."
Before Zhao Fei could respond, the vision shattered. He woke with a start, the fire reduced to glowing embers. His heart raced as he sat up, clutching his chest. The dream had felt so real, the figure's words seared into his mind.
"Claim what is yours..." he murmured, his voice barely audible.
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The next day, Zhao Fei encountered the wolf.
He had been following a deer trail, his senses alert, when the beast emerged from the underbrush. Its yellow eyes locked onto him, gleaming with a predator's hunger. Zhao Fei froze, the knife in his hand suddenly feeling woefully inadequate.
The wolf growled, its lips curling back to reveal sharp teeth. Zhao Fei's grip tightened on the knife as fear surged through him. This wasn't a rabbit or a bird—this was a predator, one that could kill him with ease.
The wolf lunged without warning, and Zhao Fei barely managed to roll to the side, its claws grazing his arm. He stumbled to his feet, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The beast circled him, its movements fluid and menacing.
"This is it," Zhao Fei thought, despair washing over him. "I'm going to die here."
But then, the voice from his dream returned, louder and more commanding than before.
Take what is yours. Rise.
A strange calm washed over Zhao Fei. His fear melted away, replaced by a cold determination. He adjusted his grip on the knife, his stance steadying. When the wolf lunged again, Zhao Fei met its attack head-on, plunging the blade into its chest.
The wolf howled, its body convulsing before collapsing to the ground. Zhao Fei staggered back, the knife slipping from his bloodied hands.
Then he felt it—a warmth spreading through his body, starting at his fingertips and radiating outward. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced, a surge of vitality that made his heart race and his wounds close.
"What... what is this?" Zhao Fei whispered, staring at his hands.
The sensation was intoxicating, filling him with strength and clarity. Yet it came with a sinister undertone—a faint voice whispering in the back of his mind.
Take more. You need more.
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The days that followed marked a turning point for Zhao Fei. Hunting had once been a means of survival, but now it was something more. Each kill brought with it that strange warmth, healing his injuries and invigorating his body.
At first, he tried to ignore it, chalking it up to his imagination. But the truth was undeniable—he was changing. His reflexes were sharper, his strength greater. The hardships of the wilderness no longer felt as insurmountable as they once had.
Yet the power came with a price. The voice that had guided him through his fight with the wolf grew louder, more insistent. It urged him to hunt, to kill, to claim what was his. Zhao Fei fought against it, clinging to the memory of his parents and the values they had instilled in him.
Still, doubt crept in. If this power could keep him alive, could it also help him find his mother? Could it give him the strength to avenge his father?
As Zhao Fei reached the edge of a dirt road, his thoughts churned. In the distance, he spotted a small caravan of travelers. For weeks, he had been alone, surviving on instinct. The sight of other people filled him with both hope and dread.
The voice in his mind whispered again, darker than before.
They are nothing compared to you. Take what is yours.
Zhao Fei clenched his fists, forcing the voice into silence. He turned away from the caravan, retreating into the forest. For now, he would survive. But deep down, he knew the darkness growing within him was not so easily ignored.