Zami's steps echoed faintly as he traversed the empty expanse of Forsaken Hollow. The oppressive silence of the place had given way to a disquieting question that gnawed at the edges of his mind. For years—centuries, perhaps—he had wandered the colony, facing its horrors alone.
But now, as he moved through the aftermath of Silent Agony's defeat, the thought surfaced unbidden.
Am I truly the only one left?
He had encountered creatures of every conceivable shape and form. From the mindless masses to the cunning vessels, the colony was teeming with life—twisted and monstrous though it was. Yet, in all this time, he had not seen another human. No voices, no allies, no remnants of a people who might have survived.
His silver eyes scanned the Hollow as he moved. The jagged terrain and twisted formations seemed endless, a labyrinth designed to disorient and isolate. It was hard to imagine that anyone, even the strongest, could endure here as long as he had.
Still, the question lingered.
He stopped beside a peculiar rock formation, its edges worn smooth as though it had once been touched by water or wind—elements that had long since vanished from this forsaken world. Kneeling, he traced his fingers across its surface, feeling the faint grooves carved into the stone.
Were these natural? Or was this the work of something else, someone else?
The idea was almost laughable. After all, he had seen no signs of civilization, no evidence of survivors. Yet, in this rare moment of quiet, the possibility seemed to flicker like a distant flame.
Zami stood, brushing the dust from his cloak. He shook his head, trying to dispel the thoughts. Hope was a dangerous thing. It clouded judgment, made you hesitate when you needed to act. But as he continued walking, the notion refused to leave him.
What if there are others?
The Hollow stretched on before him, an endless maze of despair. The air grew heavier the farther he ventured, and the terrain became more treacherous. His body, still recovering from the recent battles, protested with every step. Yet, he pressed on, driven by an unshakable need to find an exit.
The Forsaken Hollow, with all its twisted horrors, felt like a prison—a place where time had ceased to exist. But there had to be a way out. There always was.
Hours—or perhaps days—passed as Zami navigated the desolate landscape. The Hollow seemed to shift around him, the paths blurring and folding in on themselves. He climbed jagged rocks, crossed narrow ledges, and waded through pools of dark, viscous liquid.
Each step felt heavier than the last, but he kept moving, his katana resting against his shoulder. He didn't know where he was going, only that he couldn't stay here.
As he reached the crest of a ridge, Zami paused, gazing out over the Hollow. The view was the same as it had always been—endless darkness, broken only by the faint glimmers of bioluminescent fungi and the eerie glow of the crystalline formations.
For the first time in a long while, Zami allowed himself a sliver of hope.
If I can find a way out of here... maybe I'll find answers.
And with that thought, he descended the ridge, his resolve unwavering.