CHAPTER 4 : The Lurer's Deception
A figure moved through the forest, its form nearly swallowed by the suffocating darkness. The night clung to it like a second skin, making it almost impossible to see where it began and ended. It glided silently, purposeful, as if following some unseen path.
Then, without warning, another figure appeared—human, ordinary, fragile.
"Hey… I'm lost," the traveller stammered, his voice trembling. "Could you… could you tell me where to go? I'm alone… I don't know where I'm going."
A thin, unnerving smile curved the shadowy figure's face. Its voice was soft, almost coaxing.
"Of course. I can show you the way… just bring your head closer to me."
The traveller, desperate and unsuspecting, leaned in. The shadow's hand brushed over his skull—and in that instant, something unholy sparked behind his eyes. His pupils rolled back, revealing only white, and a scream tore from his throat—twisted, hollow, not entirely human.
He convulsed violently, thrashing against invisible chains, before his body went limp. The grass beneath him seemed to drink the sound of his cries. Then a dark, sickly light began to pulse from his chest. Slowly, agonizingly, he started to glow with shadows that writhed like living smoke. And just as suddenly as it began, he vanished—erased, leaving nothing behind but a whisper of despair hanging in the cold night air.
The creature straightened, a low chuckle vibrating from deep within its chest. Its voice, dripping with malice and delight, sliced through the silence:
"Another Dreadfallen… added to the collection. I will make him my subject, my little vessel of terror. More fear… more screams… more power from these obedient slaves."
It melted back into the darkness, its form dissolving into the night, leaving only the memory of horror behind.
I woke up abruptly, my heart hammering in my chest. It had only been a dream—but it had felt so real, so vivid that the memory of it still clung to my skin like sweat. I could feel it even now: the terror, the impossibility, the sheer horrifying weight of what I had seen.
I swung my legs over the edge of my makeshift bed and sat upright in the tent. The canvas walls offered a sense of safety, familiar and grounding, and the soft padding of my bedding was almost comforting—a stark contrast to the nightmare I had just endured. My previous injuries had healed overnight, but my body still felt stiff.
Sitting alone in the quiet of the tent, my thoughts began to wander, circling endlessly until one question burrowed deep into my mind, refusing to let go:
Will I ever become a good survivalist?
It was a simple thought, almost mundane, but it gnawed at me relentlessly. I had no answer—not now, not yet. Perhaps my future self could answer it, if I were lucky enough to survive long enough to reach that version of me. I felt anxious due to this thought, but I knew, giving up is the lamest answer to this question.
I got out of bed and stretched my still-sleepy body. Then I stepped out of my camp. Everyone was already gathered outside except Reiji—he was probably holed up in his own space. Honestly, he's just too complicated to understand.
Yasuto looked up, waved me over, and gestured for me to sit and eat. "How's your body feeling now?" he asked, concern evident in his voice.
"Better than ever." I replied with a small smile.
Leo sat quietly on a log, eating his breakfast. He still looked a bit uncomfortable, but I had a feeling he'd settle in sooner or later.
Breakfast was simple—peanut butter sandwiches and coffee, we still had plenty of food supplies, all thanks to the old man. I finished my meal in a few quick gulps, watching the others as I waited. The Eternal Forest felt uncharacteristically quiet today; despite the horrid monsters known to roam these woods, it was almost... peaceful. Once the last of the rations were gone, we began to pack our gear.
I reached for my sword—the finest blade the old man ever forged—and felt its familiar weight. We set off again, picking a direction and hoping it would eventually lead us to Shizumori Village.
We continued our journey through the woods; we just headed towards a random direction without any knowledge.
Leo gripped his bag tightly and glanced around nervously, as if even the trees themselves posed a threat. His eyes darted from shadow to shadow, and every rustle of leaves made him flinch. He looked deeply shaken.
I slowed my pace a little so he wouldn't fall behind, keeping an eye on him without making it too obvious. The forest had a way of preying on fear, and the last thing he needed was to feel alone out here.
It was our duty to protect him now—and to make sure he made it through this journey in one piece.
"Do you really think we're going the right way?" Leo stammered, his voice thin as he glanced nervously at the shifting shadows. "The trees... they all look the same."
Yasuto reached out, patting Leo's shoulder with a kind smile. "Don't worry, Leo. Even if we're a bit off course, we're together. We'll find it."
A dry chuckle came from behind us. "If the trees scare you that much, you won't last long against what actually lives here," Reiji said, his tone sharp and mocking. He didn't even bother looking at Leo, hands tucked into his pockets as he walked. There was something hollow in his voice—like he wasn't really talking to Leo, but to something from his own past.
"That's enough, Reiji," Yasuto cut in gently but firmly "He's doing just fine."
Satoshi adjusted his glasses, his gaze scanning the forest with unsettling calm. "Psychological pressure," he murmured. "This environment amplifies fear responses. Stay focused. Panic is far more dangerous than anything lurking out there."
"Got it." Leo mumbled.
We had been roaming aimlessly for what felt like hours when the monotony of the wasteland was finally broken: a trail of human-sized footsteps pressed into the dirt.
"Should we follow them?" Kira asked, her voice hushed as she stared at the imprints.
"Well," Satoshi said, adjusting his pack, "we're essentially walking in circles anyway. Following a trail—any trail—is better than wandering blind."
"But what if it's a trap?" I asked, remembering my previous dream, the poor traveller was tricked into his own death. The memory made my skin crawl.
"Then we die," Reiji grumbled, his jaw set in a hard line. He didn't wait for a consensus before trudging toward the tracks. "Either way, I'm running out of time. Let's move."
He followed the footsteps; we hesitated at first but ultimately decided to trail him. We couldn't afford to lose a member, as any casualty would be far too costly for the team.
The forest darkened as we followed the trail of footsteps, none of us sure if continuing after Reiji was the right move. Leo's knuckles were white as he gripped his bag, while Satoshi scanned the surroundings with a calm, steady gaze. We were all lost in our own uncertainty.
Suddenly, Reiji stopped in front of a sign. We hurried to catch up and read the weathered wood:
SHIZUMORI VILLAGE [200 metres North]
Reiji turned back to us with a smug grin. "See? I told you following me was the best choice. Just rely on me and we'll get this job done a lot faster."
His confidence was infectious yet irritating. None of us spoke as we stared past the sign into the thickening mist. The path ahead didn't look like it led to a village; it looked like it swallowed the light. Despite the directions, a sensation of uncertainty tightened my stomach. I was well aware we had already trekked over a kilometre into these woods. Perhaps the village was just out of sight, buried in the suffocating grey of the fog—or perhaps the forest was toying with us, stretching and bending the distance to keep us within its reach. The sign said two hundred metres, but the path ahead looked like an endless, open throat.
"Reiji, are you sure this is the right path?" Kira's voice was a brittle whisper, barely audible against the oppressive silence of the trees.
"Yes," Reiji snapped, his eyes fixed forward with an unsettling intensity. "Didn't you see the sign? It clearly said Shizumori was to the north."
None of us argued further. The sign had indeed pointed this way, yet a cold, inevitable dread began to coil in our guts—a sickening realization that the path knew something we didn't. As we pushed through the suffocating fog, the expected village rooftops never appeared. Instead, the trees simply... stopped.
The trail didn't lead to a village. It ended abruptly at the jagged, yawning mouth of a cave. The blackness inside was absolute, smelling of wet earth and dry blood.
Reiji's mask slipped. For a heartbeat, his eyes went hollow, a flicker of raw uncertainty crossing his face before he wheeled around to face us. "Once we cross this cave, we're there," he declared, his voice thin with a forced, brittle conviction.
"We need to weigh our options," Satoshi countered, his calm a sharp contrast to Reiji's jagged nerves. "That cave is a death trap. It's too obvious."
"Satoshi's right," I added, glancing at the swallowing blackness of the entrance. "There has to be another way around."
Reiji stared into the cave. His gaze drifted, lost in the shadows, until he suddenly snapped. He let out a sharp, jagged laugh that sounded more like he was choking.
"THE SIGN SAID SHIZUMORI IS THIS WAY!" he roared, his composure shattering into a raw, ugly desperation. "Don't you get it? I don't have time to—to—" He stammered, his breath coming in ragged hitches as he glared at us. "What, are you both too pathetic to move? Or are you just cowards?"
Satoshi didn't flinch. He didn't even blink. He simply adjusted his glasses, his gaze piercing through Reiji's frantic facade with a clinical, detached precision.
"Your urgency is noted, Reiji, but it's clouding your judgment," Satoshi said, his voice dropping an octave, becoming dangerously smooth. "A trap this blatant isn't designed to stop us—it's designed to exploit someone in a hurry. Someone exactly like you."
He took a single step forward, narrowing the distance until Reiji's ragged breathing was the only sound between them.
"If you rush in there because you're 'out of time,' you aren't being brave; you're being a variable I can't control. And in a place like this, variables get people killed." Satoshi leaned in, his eyes cold and analytical. "Now, tell me: is Shizumori the goal, or is your own impatience the death sentence you're trying to hand us?"
Satoshi's words hung in the humid air like a physical weight, cold and biting. For a moment, Reiji froze, his back turned to us, his shoulders hunched as if he were bracing against a blow. I could see his hands trembling—not from fear, but from a desperate, repressed fury that seemed to be eating him alive. He didn't offer an explanation; he just let the silence fester until it was unbearable.
Then, with a guttural growl that sounded more like a cornered animal than a man, he spun on his heel. He didn't look at Satoshi. He didn't look at any of us. He simply turned his back on the light of the forest and the logic of the team.
"Variables?" Reiji whispered, the word coming out as a serrated snarl. He didn't look at Satoshi. "You want to talk about logic? Fine. Here's a calculation for you: we stay out here and 'weigh options' until the trail goes cold, or we go in now while we still have a lead."
He turned his back on the group, his shoulders shaking with a frantic, rhythmic tremor. "I'm not asking for your permission anymore. Stay behind and die in the open or follow me to Shizumori. I'm moving."
"Reiji, stop acting like a martyr," Kira snapped, her voice cutting through his frantic energy. She stepped forward, her eyes sharp and cold, reflecting the dim light. She wasn't pleading; she was demanding a grip on reality. "We're a team, not your baggage. If you've got a reason to hurry, then say it, but don't you dare use our safety as an excuse to throw your life away."
Reiji didn't look back. He didn't even pause. He just kept walking into the shadows, his pace uneven and desperate.
"If you're too 'intelligent' to take a risk, then stay in the light and rot," Reiji called back, his voice echoing with a bitter, jagged edge.
The insult hung in the freezing air, sharp and uncalled for. Satoshi didn't flinch, but I saw his jaw tighten, his analytical gaze following Reiji's receding silhouette.
"He's going to get himself killed," I muttered, my hand tightening on my sword hilt until my knuckles turned white. I hated his arrogance, but I hated the idea of losing a teammate even more.
Leo dropped his bag; his hands pressed against his ears as he stared at the cave. "I can hear it," he whimpered, his musician's ears picking up something the rest of us couldn't. "It's not a village. It's... it's breathing."
"We can't leave him alone. We must support him, or this becomes a suicide mission for him," Yasuto said, his voice heavy with a sense of duty.
Reiji had already made up his mind, disappearing into the shadows of the cave before we could even attempt to reason with him. He was already too deep to call back; his stubbornness had effectively forced our hand.
We trailed behind him, our eyes scanning the jagged walls and shifting shadows. Leo had already pulled his keyboard from his bag, his fingers hovering over the keys as if seeking comfort in the familiar weight of his instrument. The rest of us moved with caution, weapons drawn, ready to strike at the first sign of movement.
The air inside the cave was stale, thick with the scent of damp earth and something metallic—like old blood. Every drop of water hitting the floor sounded like a gunshot in the oppressive silence. We weren't just walking into a cave; it felt like we were stepping into the digestive tract of the forest itself. Reiji's silhouette was a sharp, dark flicker against the dim light ahead, his reckless pace forcing us to move faster than I liked. My thumb traced the hilt of the old man's sword, the steady pulse of my own heart the only thing keeping the rising dread at bay.
We pressed on through the cave, the passage beginning to feel like an endless, winding throat with no sign of a village—just a cold, damp stretch of stone that seemed to swallow our torchlight. Suddenly, my boot caught on something brittle. I looked down, my heart skipping a beat; a skeleton lay at my feet, snapped clean in half as if by some massive, crushing force.
A weathered leather bag lay slumped beside the remains. Crouching down, we rifled through it and pulled out two items: a strange, brass compass whose needle whirled in frantic, random circles, and an unused rifle. Its barrel was cold and heavy, and when I checked the chamber, I counted exactly ten silver-tipped bullets.
"Ten rounds," Satoshi murmured, his eyes scanning the deepening shadows. "In a place like this, that's either a gift or a very grim countdown."
I slung the rifle over my shoulder, the weight of it a small comfort against the rising dread. We moved forward, the cave walls beginning to narrow until the air grew thick with a metallic tang. The rhythmic thud of Reiji's boots ahead of us was the only thing anchoring us to reality as the stone beneath our feet started to feel uncomfortably warm.
The descent grew steeper, the jagged floor giving way to a slick, porous rock that felt disturbingly like bone. We had to move in a single file, our shoulders brushing against walls that seemed to throb with a faint, rhythmic heat.
Finally, the tunnel didn't just end—it opened.
We stepped out onto a jagged ledge overlooking a massive, hollowed-out chamber. At the far end stood a sheer, vertical wall of black rock—a literal dead end. But filling the floor of the cavern was a wide, stagnant pond of deep, visceral red. In the dead centre of the crimson water sat a small, pulsing mound that looked less like earth and more like a fleshy, pale organ.
Growing from that mound was a tree, its bark and leaves a matching, sickly scarlet. But it wasn't fruit that hung from those weeping branches. Dozens of people were suspended by thick, vine-like ropes, their bodies swaying in a wind we couldn't feel, their feet dangling just inches above the blood-red water.
"We need to go. Now," I whispered, my hand white-knuckled on the sword hilt. My instinct was screaming at me to run, but my legs felt heavy, as if the very air in this chamber was trying to pull us toward the water.
Suddenly, one of the bodies—a girl with long, matted hair—twitched. Her head didn't lift, but her fingers curled into a claw, and a wet, gurgling sound escaped her throat.
"Did you hear that?" Kira gasped, stepping back, her dagger raised.
The gurgle wasn't a cry for help. It was a signal. All around the red tree, the hanging dead began to stir, their joints snapping and popping in the silence like dry kindling. The pond began to bubble, the crimson liquid churning as if something massive was rising from the depths beneath the fleshy island.
"The exit," Yasuto barked, his voice finally breaking the spell of horror. "Find another way out! The way we came is gone!"
Thick, vein-like branches had already snaked across the entrance behind us, weaving together until the exit was completely sealed. We were caught in a tomb.
Reiji stood a few paces ahead; his previous bravado shattered into jagged pieces. He stared at a weathered, blood-stained signpost jutting out of the red silt, his eyes wide and vacant with a paralyzing shock.
"This isn't Shizumori," he whispered, his voice trembling as if the very words were breaking his teeth. "This is…"
He stammered, the realization draining the last bit of color from his face.
"The Lurer's Cave."