The first thing Narvel noticed that was different on his stats was his Will points. Previously, his Will read 23, but now it showed 29—a significant jump that made him pause. In addition, he observed that his Dexterity stat had increased by 4 points, a change he hadn't been alerted to like he had for his Strength, Stamina, and Speed stats.
His body felt noticeably lighter, and a new surge of power coursed through his muscles. He couldn't decide whether this was solely due to the stat increases or if it was influenced by the scythe that had found refuge inside him.
"Can I get another one?" Narvel asked nervously, uncertain of what response to expect. He waited for over a minute, listening to the silence emanating from the colossal tree around him. Finally, with a resigned sigh, he abandoned the thought of obtaining another fruit from it—at least for now.
He recalled the unspoken rule he had discovered at the base of the tree: the rule of one leaf of water per being. 'Perhaps that rule applies to this fruit as well,' he mused.
Then a new question arose in his mind: 'Why did it listen to me when I was hungry? Did it truly provide me with what I needed rather than merely what I wanted?' Narvel pondered this, realizing that the tree seemed to possess a degree of sentience and wonder. If not this tree, he could not explain his sudden appearance in that garden or the conversation he had overheard. Most confounding of all was the mysterious way the scythe had found its way to him.
"Rather than what I need, does it resonate with intention?" He wondered, his thoughts drifted back to his original purpose before attempting the climb—the desire to ascend high enough to glimpse the Anchor beyond the Hollow Forest. Yet, there was an inexplicable intermission, leaving him with no clear explanation for how he had climbed so high.
"But, I still can't see any settlements from here. All that is below this branch are dark clouds," he remarked aloud, his voice tinged with frustration and uncertainty. Almost immediately, a pink petal appeared out of nowhere, floating before his eyes for several seconds.
The petal seemed to collect an ethereal light the longer it lingered. Unintentionally, Narvel activated one of his talents, [Deep Thoughts].
With this talent activated, he saw a vivid image: a hand holding a thin branch, which it waved side to side before flicking it forward. At that moment, an incredible force manifested—something that surpassed everything Narvel had ever known or witnessed. His [Deep Thought] talent deactivated forcefully as the dark clouds below parted into two distinct sections.
From his elevated position, Narvel could now see a breathtaking panorama of the Hollow Forest. Before him lay seven levels—seven elevated grounds arranged like tiers. The colossal tree on which he now stood appeared at the center of this ring of elevated lands, each level marked by trees that differed wildly from one another in form and in the terrain that supported them.
Beyond the final elevated ground, a settlement nestled meters away from a range of looming mountains. It was the Anchor Narvel had been searching for. Relief and eagerness soon filled his heart, but so did the dawning realization of just how far he was from the Anchor, or indeed, from any other human.
Observing the vast distances between each elevated expanse, Narvel doubted he could traverse such a span in a month, even if he ran all day. Slowly, the initial relief and eagerness gave way to despondence and depression.
By the side, Voidscale was busy asking the tree for the same fruit it had handed to Narvel, but despite its repeated pleas, the tree remained silent.
"Was this all for nothing? How long will it take me to get there? What if by the time I get there, Joseline is already dead?" Narvel muttered as he collapsed onto his buttocks, utterly abandoning the idea of rushing to Joseline's aid.
There was nothing he could do.
"If only I could soar through the air—at least get close to the entrance of the Hollow Forest." With a heavy sigh, Narvel ran a hand through his disheveled hair as he struggled to arrange his thoughts. He pondered where he might find an orb to use to return home while trying to ignore the persistent ramblings of Voidscale, who continued to ramble at the colossal tree for another fruit.
The greedy beast's ceaseless requests did nothing but increase the frustration Narvel was feeling.
"Can't you take me there?" He asked, desperately.
The moment he uttered those words, a strong gust of wind blew at him. At first, it was a manageable breeze, but it soon intensified until it began lifting Narvel from the branch he was seated on. Before he could react, the wind flung him far away.
Narvel saw the earth, then the sky, then the earth again as his body spun in a disorienting arc. With each rotation, the landscape changed; he was crossing the elevated grounds of the Hollow Forest.
Before he knew it, his descent began, and terror seized him.
He screamed for his life as he hurtled downward. In a final act of resignation, Narvel shut his eyes, accepting that this might be where he perished, for there was nothing he could do to save himself.
Just as he was mere feet away from the ground, a pink leaf appeared out of nowhere and exploded into a cloud of delicate pink dust. At that moment, Narvel felt as though he had been cradled in the softest, most comforting cushion he had ever known.
The pink cloud lingered for a few seconds before vanishing with the sudden onset of a strong wind. Almost immediately, Voidscale reappeared, crashing head-first onto the ground and kicking up clumps of dirt. Seated on the rough earthy floor, Narvel remained motionless for a while, gathering his strength.
Slowly, he rose on his shaky legs and realized that the colossal tree had brought him here. Looking back in the direction he had come, he noticed that the colossal tree was no longer visible—even though this spot was the highest part of the forest—making him wonder how he had once seen the entire forest from atop that tree.
"Thank you," Narvel said sincerely, unsure if the tree could hear him. Almost immediately, a soft breeze caressed his face in what might have been an acknowledgment.
At that moment, Voidscale struggled to free its head from the ground, its senses suddenly alerting it to impending danger. Noticing his pet's reaction, Narvel quickly deduced that danger was approaching. He made a calculated guess as to the direction he should take and broke into a full sprint. Within moments, Voidscale rejoined him on his shoulder.
Not far behind, a huge, monstrous creature pushed through the trees, bending them with a mere push from its arms. This beast exuded a nightmarish presence.
Its head was skull-like—dark, hollow, and foreboding—and enormous. With twisted antlers, resembling tangled branches of a barren tree that spread out from its head, forming a skeletal silhouette against the fog that enveloped it. Its body was lined with sharp, bristling spines jutting out in every direction, and its elongated, thin limbs moved with an unnaturally fluid gait.
The misty surroundings amplified its eerie aura as if the creature were the silent guardian of this land.
The monster roared, and the mist in the forest thickened. The dense fog clung to Narvel's ankles like spectral hands as he ran—though he could swear that it was only in his mind. Above him, a vast canopy of leaves stretched across the sky.
Some leaves were deep, venomous green and jagged, serrated like knives that rattled like bones, clattering under the echo of the monster's roar; others were a shimmering indigo that glowed faintly in the fog, their smooth, translucent edges curling into delicate spirals. They pulsed softly, as though breathing while casting a dim violet light that stained the swirling mist below. Occasionally, a leaf would detach and float downward, dissolving into smoke before it touched the ground.
Even stranger were the trees' eyes—knots in the bark that split open to reveal glassy, pupil-less orbs the color of tarnished silver. These eyes followed Narvel's every move, their heavy cold gaze unyielding.
When he looked at them, the eyes blinked slowly, their lids peeling back like wet parchment. The sight sent chills down Narvel's spine, making him feel as though he were on the verge of madness.
The comforting presence of the colossal tree had made him forget about the horrors that filled this forest, and now he was being reminded why his younger self swore to never come back here.
"Damn it! I must be stupid. My scream must have attracted that beast—and it might not be the only one… and these trees…"
Just then, from one of the trees ahead, a sparrow-like creature—about as large as a well-grown hyena—flapped its wings and readied itself to ambush Narvel.