*****
After three endless hours, Zephyr woke up. His body felt as though it bore the weight of the entire world. Every movement was a torment, every breath an ordeal, and yet the true burden was not the flesh that carried him—it was the mind, spiraling in a chaotic tempest. Dried blood crusted his orifices, painting him as a grotesque figure of suffering, a being caught between the living and the broken.
He forced himself to crawl toward the nearest tree, each motion an unbearable strain. Time itself seemed thick and viscous, every second dragging like molten lead. The sensation was unlike anything he had known; it was as if the universe itself pressed upon him, an invisible gravity pulling at the edges of his sanity.
"That… that was so fucking hard!" he groaned, his voice cracking under the weight of agony. "Why am I always subjected to this endless torment? This is only the second day of becoming a Wisper, and yet all this suffering falls upon me like a relentless storm!"
He bit back a groan of despair. Another day like this, and he might not survive. But he had made the choice—he had touched the Wisp of the Bloodfang. Curiosity had driven him forward, a dangerous, reckless curiosity capable of killing even the most careful. Fortunately, he was not a cat; perhaps fortune had spared him, if only barely.
"How long… how long was I out, Maw?" he muttered weakly, his consciousness still clouded by pain and exhaustion.
"You were unconscious for three hours," Maw replied, his voice calm yet carrying an undercurrent of amusement.
Three hours. The realization made Zephyr's mind whirl. Three hours gone… He scanned the surrounding forest with frantic eyes, half-expecting some predator to have discovered him during his stupor. Yet, the clearing was silent. No predatory gaze tracked his every trembling movement.
"Hah… maybe I'm lucky," he whispered to himself, relief flooding his chest. For reasons he could not yet comprehend, Maw's presence had shielded him. Countless beasts had approached, drawn to the scent of his blood, yet none dared advance. Even the mightiest predators within a one-kilometer radius were forced to prostrate themselves, immobilized by an unseen force emanating from his guardian.
Unknown to Zephyr, even those observing him from the distant training hall were unaware of what had transpired. To them, he had merely disappeared for a time; they could not see the invisible hand that had intervened to preserve his life.
"Think of it as a reward for surpassing your own limits, Zephyr," Maw murmured quietly, floating beside him in the shadows of his mind.
"Rest for now," Maw continued, his tone gentler than usual. "Once your body recovers, I will explain the true purpose of the trial you endured."
Zephyr tried to nod, but his strength faltered. Even Maw's voice sounded distant, hazy, as though filtered through a dream. His condition was dire, and the haze of fatigue clung to him like a suffocating fog.
*****
An hour passed. Slowly, agonizingly, the suffocating weight lifted from his mind. His limbs moved again, though stiffness and exhaustion still held him in a cruel embrace. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, he could think with clarity.
"Now… tell me," Zephyr rasped, clutching the ground to steady himself, "What exactly happened? Why was I teleported to that… unknown place?"
Maw observed him carefully, his luminous form shimmering faintly. "You already understand the Pillar and the souls trapped within it. Now, I will explain the phenomenon you experienced."
"You were teleported to a place beyond the comprehension of ordinary beings," Maw began, pausing to allow the weight of the words to sink in. "A place we call the Trial Ground. Here, those you have killed and devoured are trapped within the Devourer's Pillar. When you touch the essence—the Wisp—your fate is bound to theirs. You must fight to the death. If your mind shatters before you slay the beast, you will truly die."
Zephyr's chest tightened. The implications were horrifying. The fight with the Bloodfang had not been mere training; it had been a genuine death sentence. Failure would not have meant retreat. It would have meant annihilation, a total collapse of mind and body alike. He had danced along the edge of oblivion and survived by hair breathe.
"However," Maw continued, "if you succeed, if you manage to kill the beast as you did today, you will gain a fraction of its strength. Power will flow into you—strength, speed, agility, and, on rare occasions, even some of its abilities."
A flicker of hope ignited within Zephyr. This was the shortcut he had sought—the one so often granted to the protagonists of other stories he had read, a path to power that circumvented years of grueling effort.
But Maw's next words snuffed out his delusions.
"Do not dwell on dreams. Wishing alone will change nothing. You are too weak."
' Weak...' that words echoed in Zephyr's mind again and again and again....
The word struck him like a blow, yet he knew it was accurate. Today, he had barely defeated an elite beast. Beyond the Bloodfang, there were countless horrors: minotaurs he had encountered during his first Ascent, monstrous entities that could destroy him with a mere whim, and, most terrifying of all, the true horrors known as the Fallens.
He refused to dwell on comparisons. To do so would be hopeless. He chose instead to focus on what was within his grasp.
Clutching his other arm, Zephyr tested himself.
" Huh…" he thought, sensation slowly returning.
" I feel… stronger. Just a little… but it's there."
"The merging process is ongoing," Maw explained.
"It will take time before the Wisp's prowess is fully integrated into your body."
"How long?" Zephyr asked, impatience and curiosity coloring his voice.
"At least five more hours," Maw replied. "The process began the moment you defeated the Bloodfang. It will take roughly eight hours in total for the Wisp to fully digest within you."
Zephyr's eyes widened. "Eight hours?"
"The process is slow because your constitution is not yet capable of handling such stress all at once. Your body must integrate the essence gradually," Maw said, his tone clinical but patient.
Despite the danger and the excruciating labor of comprehension, Zephyr felt a surge of admiration for Maw's methodical explanation. The being was stern, yes, but meticulous. If the question fell within his capabilities, Maw would explain it thoroughly, refusing to spoonfeed yet ensuring comprehension.
Maw snorted, reading the thoughts swirling in Zephyr's mind. "Yes, it may take longer than you wish, but it is infinitely faster than attempting to grow stronger through your own means. The risk is substantial, but the reward is far greater. No pain, no gain.
Zephyr nodded, resolute. The truth of those words resonated deeply within him. Pain had always been a companion, but through it, strength could be forged.
"My immediate goal," he murmured, focusing on survival, "is food. I never expected the Bloodfang to vanish. Not a single morsel remained."
He rose slowly, testing the limits of his strength. "Time to move," he whispered, and began the painstaking process of recovery and preparation.
*****
The forest stretched before him, indifferent and silent. Zephyr felt every wound, every muscle tear, yet also the faint stirrings of new power coursing through him. The world was cruel, indifferent, and yet filled with opportunity for those willing to endure.
This was only the beginning.
And Zephyr, battered and bloodied, would endure.