She moved with regret, feeling bad about the missed opportunity. A chance for payback wasted so stupidly. But Mira knew, even with the element of surprise, she wouldn't be able to dispatch them all.
The owl flew steadily ahead, its wings beating in a slow, deliberate rhythm. Mira kept pace beneath, moving swiftly but cautiously, keeping her eyes fixed on the creature that guided her. It was strange, how it seemed to glide with no urgency, despite the time crunch she felt tightening around her chest. She had a clear mission—to find Pluto. And yet, the owl's leisurely pace made her question whether it shared that same sense of urgency.
Each beat of the owl's wings was like a mocking echo in the otherwise tense quiet of the forest. Mira's feet moved with purpose, but she felt something gnawing at the back of her mind. The compression, creeping forward like a fog, distorted everything. It wasn't just the physical sensation that made her feel like she was walking through a veil. It was how everything felt so off. The mist curled around her, and more than once, she had to stop and squint, confused about where the owl had gone. Sometimes, she couldn't even find its silhouette in the haze, even though it was right in front of her. The world was bending, stretching, warping.
And yet, the owl didn't seem to mind. It moved on without a care, gliding through the ever-thickening fog, leaving Mira to chase after it.
She almost wished she could stop, to take a moment to think. But she didn't. Time was slipping away, and Pluto—Pluto—was still out there. She couldn't waste another second.
But why was the owl acting this way? Why was it slowing down? Was it toying with her? The thought made her clench her jaw.
The mist thickened again, and this time, it felt wrong—as if the air had grown heavier. It wasn't just a natural fog; it was something else entirely, something the compression had caused. The forest was becoming oppressive in a way that hadn't existed before. It was alive, and it was pressing in on her, squeezing, tightening.
Mira pushed through, her senses stretching to their limit. She gripped her weapon tighter, suddenly alert. The uncertainty of the situation gnawed at her, but she didn't stop to question it. Not yet. She couldn't afford to.
***
Elsewhere, deep in the forest, Pluto staggered to his feet, his chest heaving as he watched Saul effortlessly cleave through another beast. The black mark on Pluto's shoulder burned again, its insidious spread creeping deeper into his flesh. The weight of it was unbearable at times, like a presence inside his skin, draining his energy and pushing him toward weakness. He could feel the pull—the mark wanted him to break, to stop.
But he didn't.
Every time he stole a core from one of Saul's kills, the pain seemed to lessen. Just a little. But even that small reprieve was enough to keep him moving.
Saul, on the other hand, didn't seem to notice the toll it was taking on Pluto. Or maybe he just didn't care. The man moved with an almost mechanical precision, killing without hesitation, without remorse. His blade flashed through the air, striking down beasts with a casual efficiency. But Pluto could see it. The strain in Saul's movements, the way his hands were starting to tremble.
He knew the man couldn't keep this up forever.
And so did Saul.
But it wasn't the time to stop yet. Not while the beasts kept coming.
Pluto, despite the sickness curling in his veins, had been watching Saul. He had learned a lot in the past day, or in what ever warped time the forest adopted,—about how Saul fought, about how he moved, and about his stamina. Saul wasn't invincible. He was strong, sure, but there was only so much one person could handle before exhaustion set in. And it was setting in now.
They'd been at it for hours—killing predators, stealing cores, running from more. And the mark on Pluto's shoulder only grew stronger with each passing minute, dragging him down further, draining him faster.
After another brutal kill, Saul slowed his pace. His breathing was harsh, his footsteps heavy.
Pluto didn't hesitate.
"You can't keep this up," he said, his voice rasping with the effort of speaking.
Saul shot him a sharp glance, eyes narrowed.
"I can keep going as long as I need to."
But Pluto could see it—the sweat, the unsteady hands, the slight tremor in his legs. Saul was lying to himself. And they both knew it.
"You can't," Pluto repeated, taking a cautious step closer. "This—this will wear you out. Eventually, you'll burn out."
Saul didn't reply at first. Instead, he looked at the bodies scattered around them, the aftermath of their fight. He wiped his blade clean, eyes dark with something close to exhaustion. Then, his gaze flicked back to Pluto.
"What do you suggest?" Saul asked, his voice surprisingly calm.
Pluto paused. The question had caught him off guard. He'd expected more resistance, more pride, more of that unrelenting drive. But this time, Saul seemed to be waiting for something. Maybe even hoping.
"You're not getting out of this alone," Pluto said, his voice steady now. "You're smart, but you're wearing yourself thin. And there are too many of us. There's no way to do this by yourself."
Saul's eyes flickered.
"You're offering a partnership?" he asked, a bit of mockery in his voice.
Pluto nodded. "Temporary. We help each other for now. We don't have to be friends. But if we work together, we'll stand a better chance."
There was a long pause.
Finally, Saul exhaled a sharp breath and looked away. "Fine," he muttered, the words laced with reluctant agreement. "But only as long as it works for both of us."
Pluto felt a flicker of relief at the agreement, though it was far from a sure thing. Saul wasn't the type to trust easily, and this alliance wouldn't be smooth. But for now, it was the only option.
"There's one more thing," Pluto added.
Saul's gaze flicked back to him.
"We need to find Mira."
Saul raised an eyebrow.
"You're telling me you want to find the girl you've been running from?" he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
Pluto's eyes hardened.
"She's not the enemy. We need her. You'll see."
Saul didn't respond immediately. But after a moment, he gave a short nod.
"Fine. We'll find her. But I'm not going to babysit."
Pluto didn't respond to that. He didn't need to. Saul would follow—at least for now.
***
Deeper in the jungle of blood and bodies another confrontation happened , this time to two entrants, locked in a struggle neither could win.
The sound of flesh colliding with bone echoed through the forest as they wrestled on the uneven ground. Both men were wearing the remnants of what could have once been decent armor, but now it was torn and battered from the fight. They had no abilities to speak of—just brute force and desperation.
One of them was taller, stockier, but the other was quicker. They moved like animals, driven only by the instinct to survive, with no room for finesse.
The taller man threw a wild punch, which the smaller man dodged by a hair's breadth. The smaller man countered, slamming his fist into the other's gut. The larger one grunted but didn't stumble. Instead, he grabbed the smaller man by the throat and slammed him into the nearest tree.
The smaller man gasped for breath, eyes wide with panic. He reached for a knife strapped to his waist and drove it into his opponent's side. The larger man growled in pain but didn't let go.
They struggled for a few more moments, neither able to fully land a decisive blow. The forest seemed to close in on them as their bodies collided with the dirt and the trees, grunting, cursing, scraping, and clawing.
Finally, with a low growl, the smaller man twisted the knife and wrenched himself free. He staggered back, chest heaving, but his opponent was already on him again, stronger, heavier.
The larger man landed another blow, and this time, the smaller one didn't get up.
The fight was over. Nature had taken its course.
***
Meanwhile, Ronan, Khalifa, and the new third member of their group, a short bearded man, moved cautiously through the dense underbrush. They were exhausted, battered, and drained from the constant fighting. Their bodies were beginning to betray them, but they knew that stopping was not an option.
They moved together in a loose formation, staying close but not speaking. The silence between them was heavy, charged with the unspoken understanding that they were all in this for one reason—survival.
As they neared a clearing, a medium-sized beast emerged from the foliage. It was fast, sleek, and seemed to know its terrain. But it wasn't invincible.
The trio closed in on it with practiced precision, but it was evident that their teamwork had grown strained. Khalifa and Ronan moved to flank it, while the third member of their group circled from behind. It was clear that they were no longer fighting with the same skill they once had.
The beast, sensing their weariness, began to retreat, but it was too late. They surrounded it, not with finesse, but with desperation. It didn't take long for them to overwhelm it. With a final strike, the creature collapsed to the ground, its breath rattling in its chest.
The three of them stood over it, breathing heavily.
The tension in the air was palpable as they all eyed the core, which glowed faintly. Desperation and necessity brimmed with a hostile glint in their eyes. They knew it, they could all see the plain underlying.