The gigantic Stratus Songbird glared downward in fury as it surveyed the corpse of its child. The longer it lingered on the tragic sight, the more its anger seemed to swell, intensifying with every passing moment. Its gaze then shifted steadily to Narvel, as if it fully comprehended that he was the culprit behind this loss.
Narvel felt the oppressive force of the bird's aura press down upon him, so powerful that it suppressed his movements entirely. He struggled desperately, trying his best not to be crushed under the immense pressure emanating from the beast.
Meanwhile, Voidscale was nowhere to be seen—as if it had found a safe hiding place amid the tangled underbrush of the forest.
The Stratus Songbird inhaled deeply, drawing the surrounding air toward its immense form. The leaves on the trees below seemed to obey its call, swaying in unison in the direction of the bird.
Even Narvel could feel the suction force of that inhalation tugging at him, drawing him in just a fraction. For a moment, a soft silence fell upon the forest—a deceptive calm that presaged the coming storm.
Still immobilized by the crushing aura, Narvel could almost swear that his life was flashing before his eyes. Then, the Stratus Songbird opened its beak wide, and from within emerged a swirling ball of wind.
This vortex rotated furiously, embodying the same powerful force that had drawn the air in earlier as if it were the very source of that suction. Just as the wind ball reached its furious peak, a fine, pink, almost imperceptible dust began to drift into its midst.
Boom!
That deafening explosion was the last thing Narvel heard and saw. The blast shook the earth, sending shockwaves rippling through the forest that shattered many of the trees in its wake.
The immense shockwave hurled Narvel far away from the site, tossing him like a ragdoll alongside the corpse of the Stratus Songbird he had killed moments before.
In mere moments, his body rolled and tumbled until he found himself at the entrance of the Hollow Forest.
The gigantic Stratus Songbird, realizing what had transpired, cried out in uncontrollable fury until the reality of what truly transpired fully set in. Although the bird eventually fell silent, the fury remained visible in its eyes as it fixed its gaze on the direction from which Narvel was thrown.
"Why help the worm?" The bird demanded, addressing the drifting pink dust as though it were a living presence. "Even if he has your protection, he killed my child! I suffered for years to bring forth a single offspring, only for it to be slain by a worm barely a week after its birth."
A soft wind then emanated from the pink dust, gently blowing over the Stratus Songbird as if offering a quiet response.
With this unspoken answer from the pink dust, the bird turned its attention toward the direction of the colossal tree. "You will really allow me to cultivate next to you for a year in exchange for the life of my child?" it asked, its voice mixed with sorrow and steely determination.
"Will you also protect me until I reach that place? As you can tell, the creatures in the deeper parts of this forest are Beyonders and I am not. Without your protection, venturing there is no different from committing suicide."
After a moment of silent communication with the pink dust, the Stratus Songbird looked once more toward Narvel. "I will keep your scent in my memory," it declared solemnly.
Then, with a final, awe-inspiring display of power, it began flapping its wings with such ferocity that they divided into four distinct sets, giving the impression that the bird possessed eight wings in all.
In a sudden burst, it shot forward, leaving behind a resounding boom and a fleeting, colossal shadow as it broke through the sound barrier and vanished into the depths of the forest…
…
As for Narvel, it took him several seconds to regain his composure.
He lay sprawled on the grassy floor, his mind racing with questions about how he had managed to survive. In that brief moment of clarity, he conjured up a thought he could almost believe:
'Perhaps that tree assisted me again.'
He mused over the sensation—a familiarity in the way he had been tossed from the depths of the Hollow Forest to the first elevated part of the forest without suffering grievous injuries.
Although this time he had ingested some dirt in the process of being thrown, aside from that minor discomfort, he was remarkably alright. His scythe had long since returned to his body.
Turning his head slowly to the side, Narvel noticed the lifeless form of the Stratus Songbird he had slain.
Its head lay detached beside its body.
Beyond the corpse, his eyes were drawn to a breathtaking sight he had only glimpsed from atop the colossal tree: a vast grassland stretching out in a golden-green expanse, dotted with jagged, weathered rocks. Some of these rocks were small and pitted, while others were massive, their surfaces cloaked in thick, lichen-like growth.
The wind blew through the swaying blades of grass, carrying with it the faint, earthy scent of dry grass and wild thyme.
As the land sloped gently upward, the rocks grew denser, clustering together like ancient guardians stationed at the foot of the looming mountains.
In the distance, the mountains themselves towered with iron-streaked cliffs that pierced the sky, their peaks adorned with glittering patches of snow. A thin, winding river snaked its way down from the heights, cutting a narrow path through the expansive plain below.
Compared to the lush garden he had seen before, this rugged terrain seemed sparse and unadorned, yet it filled Narvel with a profound sense of relief.
He was now closer to his goal.
His attention was soon drawn back to the corpse of the Stratus Songbird as he heard a sound coming from it. As he examined it more closely, he noticed something unusual: something was wriggling around the bloodied neck of the beast.
Instinctively, he sat up, ready to launch another attack, only to be confronted by the sight of a blood-covered Voidscale. His greedy pet, ever opportunistic, had been feasting on the remains of the bird.
Narvel glared at the creature in annoyance, but his glare quickly shifted to one of surprise when he spotted a small orb clutched in Voidscale's claw.
The orb looked familiar—similar to the ones he had encountered in the depths of the Hollow Forest, the very orbs he had used to return home during his first and second entries.
Although this orb bore a different color—brown and was several times smaller than the ones he had previously used, Narvel did not rule out the possibility that it could still serve as a means of returning home.
Seeing Voidscale contentedly chewing on the bird's meat, Narvel suddenly recalled that his pet had a tendency to consume any orb it could get its claws on if left unattended. Determined to have this orb, he stretched his hand forward, mobilizing his telekinesis in an effort to retrieve the orb.
Voidscale was entirely absorbed in finishing its meal and remained oblivious to Narvel's actions.
In one fleeting moment, the creature's attention shifted away from the orb, and before it could react, the orb flew from its grasp into Narvel's waiting hand. For a brief second, Voidscale was motionless, confusion evident in its gaze, until it realized that its prized snack had been taken.
It quickly turned to look at Narvel, its eyes narrowing as it recognized the orb now in his possession.
With displeased cries, Voidscale reappeared before Narvel, its tone laced with accusation as it complained and called him a thief for taking what wasn't its due.
"I swear I'll skewer you if you utter another word of insult at me. Didn't you also steal an orb bigger than this from me in the past? And what do you mean by 'this is yours'? I was the one who killed the bird, even its meat is mine." Narvel argued fiercely, unwilling to be branded with unworthy names by his pet.
Despite his threats, Voidscale showed no sign of fear. Instead, it continued hurling insults at Narvel. "Insult me one more time and I'll unsummon you and send you back to that dark place, leaving you to rot there for who knows how long," He declared coldly.
Upon hearing this, Voidscale fell silent, fully aware that Narvel possessed the power to carry out this threat—a thought that clearly displeased the creature, as it despised the dark place and had no desire to return. With a dissatisfied snort, Voidscale landed back on Narvel's shoulder, its gaze still fixated on the orb in his hand.
Suddenly, it sensed a presence nearby. Not far away, a group of living beings emerged—they were humans, or rather, Novas like Narvel, exuding an unmistakable aura of hostility.
This realization further infuriated Voidscale, and its agitation was palpable…