Rustling leaves followed Lican as he emerged from the bushes, stepping into an area where the trees grew taller, their thick trunks rising towards the sky while their branches spread overhead, casting shadows across the forest floor. He had been venturing deeper into the wilderness, eager to test Wailing Bone and discover what the strange bracelet could do.
His body moved before his thoughts settled. He broke into a sprint, weaving through narrow gaps between trees and leaping over exposed roots. The wind brushed against his face as he passed through the undergrowth, his movements carrying him deeper into the wilderness until the trees gradually thinned and the ground beneath his feet sloped towards a cliff.
Lican slowed to a stop at the edge.
Before him stretched a vast expanse of wilderness, a seemingly endless sea of green broken by towering mountains and dense forests. The wind swept across the open landscape, carrying the distant cries of beasts and the rustling of leaves from the valleys below. Here and there, traces of battle scarred the wilderness, patches of damaged vegetation and broken terrain hinting at the violence that had once unfolded there.
His gaze travelled across the landscape before settling towards the west. He studied the distant wilderness for a moment, taking in the mountains and the seemingly untouched forests stretching beyond them.
Then, without another word, he began descending the cliff.
His fingers dug into cracks in the rock, gripping whatever surfaces could bear his weight. Whenever he found a foothold, he lowered himself carefully, dislodging small rocks that tumbled down the cliffside and disappeared into the depths below. The descent demanded his attention, forcing him to move cautiously despite his eagerness to explore.
Nearly thirty minutes passed before his feet finally touched solid ground at the foot of the mountains.
This time, Lican did not sprint.
He walked through the wilderness at a leisurely pace, observing his surroundings as the wind swept through the trees and stirred the vegetation around him. Every so often, his gaze shifted towards the shadows between the trunks, searching for anything that might reveal the presence of a beast. He had come here to test Wailing Bone, but there was no need to rush blindly into danger.
Squash.
Lican stopped.
He lowered his gaze to his feet, where something had been crushed beneath his sole. Squatting down, he examined the residue before carefully touching it with his fingers. He brought them closer to his nose and sniffed.
"Hmm, droppings. They seem fresh, perhaps an hour old," he murmured.
His eyes narrowed slightly as he studied the ground around him, looking for any additional traces that might reveal what had passed through the area.
The wilderness remained quiet, the wind whispering through the trees as though nothing had disturbed its serenity.
Yet the fresh droppings suggested otherwise.
Without giving it much thought, Lican followed the faint tracks deeper into the wilderness. The marks were barely visible, easily lost beneath fallen leaves and patches of overgrown vegetation, but he continued tracing them until he arrived at a crooked stretch of land where crimson stained the ground.
He stopped to examine the bloodied earth. Dark red streaks spread across the soil, splattered over exposed roots and smeared against the rocks. Some had already begun to dry, their colour deepening into a dull crimson, while others remained fresh enough to glisten faintly beneath the canopy.
Lican crouched and dragged a finger through one of the bloodstains. He lifted it to his mouth and tasted the blood, closing his eyes as he savoured its flavour. His brows gradually furrowed as he considered what it meant.
"An intense taste, but it still died."
He opened his eyes.
Whatever creature had shed this blood, its strength had not been enough to save it. Yet the thought did not bring him any comfort. Instead, he rose slowly, allowing his gaze to wander across the surrounding wilderness as he considered what might have happened here.
Wailing Bone rotated gently around his wrist, its pale beads shifting against one another. The crimson runes etched across their surfaces glimmered faintly, as though responding to something buried deep within the forest.
Lican followed the claw marks carved into the towering ancient pines. The trees rose like enormous pillars, their thick trunks disappearing into a canopy so dense that the sunlight struggled to penetrate it. Their branches stretched overhead, blotting out the sky, while their iron-hard bark bore deep furrows that looked as though some monstrous creature had dragged its claws across them without the slightest effort. High above, the leaves shimmered faintly whenever the wind stirred them, but beneath the canopy, the forest remained swallowed by shadow.
He continued following the metallic scent of blood, moving cautiously between the ancient trees.
Gradually, the air changed.
It became heavy and stagnant, pressing against his skin as though the forest itself had ceased to breathe. The familiar sounds of the wilderness faded one after another. No birds called from the branches, no insects stirred among the roots, and even the wind seemed to have abandoned the place.
Then the forest began to betray the presence of something unseen.
To his left, a dense patch of spirit grass suddenly bent flat against the earth. The movement was slow and deliberate, the blades pressing into the dirt as though crushed beneath the weight of an enormous paw. Yet nothing stood above them. There was no visible body, no shadow passing between the trees, and no sound of footsteps to explain what had happened.
Lican watched the flattened grass without moving.
Several heartbeats passed before a faint metallic tang drifted through the still air, mingled with the acrid scent of sulfur. It was subtle at first, almost indistinguishable from the smell of blood that had led him here, but it grew stronger with every passing moment.
Then he felt it.
A low, rhythmic vibration travelled through the soles of his feet, sending a faint tremor through the ground beneath him. It was deep and resonant, a steady thumping that seemed to rise from somewhere beneath the forest floor.
Thump.
The earth trembled.
Thump.
Lican's eyes narrowed.
It sounded like a heartbeat.
A tremendous, unhurried heartbeat, pulsing in perfect rhythm with the earth itself. Each beat carried a weight that seemed too immense to belong to an ordinary living creature, as though something ancient lay hidden beneath the wilderness, its existence woven into the very land upon which he stood.
Yet the vibration was not what made the hairs on the back of his neck rise.
It was the feeling that something was watching him.
His skin tightened as the sensation grew stronger, crawling across his back with every passing second. Whatever lurked in this forest was different from the beasts he had encountered before. He could not sense its location, nor could he determine its size or strength. There was simply a presence, silent and oppressive, that seemed to surround him from every direction.
Lican did not move a muscle.
He gradually slowed his breathing, forcing his heartbeat into a sluggish rhythm as he stood among the ancient pines. Even the slightest movement felt dangerous now, as though the forest were waiting for him to make a mistake.
He could feel the gazes from all around him.
One from the left. Another from somewhere beyond the trees to his right. Others seemed to linger above him, concealed among the branches, while something unseen watched from the depths ahead.
But none of them compared to the one behind him.
That gaze was different.
It was heavier, more distinct, and so intensely focused that Lican felt as though something had fixed its eyes directly upon his soul.
The hairs on his body rose.
He remained perfectly still, his expression growing grim as the realisation settled over him.
The tension snapped like an overdrawn bowstring.
The patch of flattened grass to Lican's left suddenly imploded. The air twisted violently, distorting like a heat mirage as the hidden predator unleashed its strike. In the blink of an eye, a massive, five-foot-long wolf covered in green scales materialised out of thin air. Saliva dripped from its open jaws, revealing rows of razor-sharp fangs as its body shot forward with terrifying speed. It was a blur of dark green lightning, its claws tearing through the air as it aimed straight for Lican's throat.
"Break!"
Lican didn't turn around. His honed survival instincts took over, reacting before his mind could fully process the danger. Wailing Bone spun violently around his wrist, its pale beads rattling as crimson runes emerged and floated before his palm. Without hesitation, he tapped one of them.
The Windstride Seal.
BOOM!
The beast's razor-sharp claws tore through Lican's torso, yet no blood spilled. Its attack had struck nothing more than an afterimage. Lican's real body had already flashed thirty yards away, appearing atop the thick branch of an ancient ironwood tree.
Crimson wind swirled around his legs, slicing the surrounding fallen leaves in half. The red mist clinging to his limbs moved like a living current, trailing behind him as he appeared to slip through the space between one moment and the next. Even Lican could feel the difference. This was not how the Windstride Seal had worked before. His movement seemed to have transcended ordinary speed, almost as though he had phased through dimensions rather than simply crossed the distance.
Meanwhile, the green-scaled wolf's missed strike slammed into the forest floor.
A devastating shockwave exploded outward. The earth cratered beneath the impact, sending broken rocks and soil flying in every direction. Three towering ancient pines snapped like toothpicks, their trunks splintering under the tremendous force. Friction scorched the shattered wood until it crumbled into black ash, filling the air with a bitter, smoky stench.
Perched on the branch above, Lican narrowed his eyes.
Wailing Bone continued spinning around his wrist. Crimson inscriptions hovered above the pale beads, revolving in a slow, deliberate pattern. He studied them for a fleeting moment before moving his finger towards the central rune.
Tap.
A brilliant red light flashed.
Behind him, the malicious mist began to gather.
It churned and twisted, the distorted faces of countless beasts emerging from its depths. Their features overlapped and scrambled together, forming a grotesque mass that writhed as though several creatures were struggling to occupy the same body. Gradually, the mist condensed into a towering, humanoid figure.
The apparition had no discernible features beyond its gaping mouth and hollow, lightless eye sockets. It threw its head back and screamed.
The sound pierced the forest, carrying the anguish of countless wailing spirits.
Then something even stranger happened.
The blood scattered across the forest floor began to tremble. Crimson droplets rose from the soil, while the blood smeared across the roots and rocks peeled away from their surfaces. Streams of blood converged towards the apparition, spiralling through the air before pouring into its gaping mouth.
The figure swallowed it all.
Yet the blood did not remain within its body. Crimson streams flowed from the apparition and rushed towards Lican, entering him through his skin as though drawn by an invisible force.
His face gradually paled.
Lican watched the process with narrowed eyes, feeling the unfamiliar power flood into his body. This was not the Mountain-Breaking Seal he had inscribed. That inscription was supposed to draw upon the strength of the mountains, allowing him to borrow their might and reinforce his physical strength.
But this was different.
The power entering him carried the essence of the blood scattered throughout the forest. It was as though the rune had reached beyond the earth itself, gathering the strength left behind by the dead and drawing it into his body.
It was doing both.
The power of the mountains and the essence of blood were being drawn together, merging within him in a manner his original inscription had never been designed to accomplish.
At the same time, the pale beads of Wailing Bone began turning crimson, one after another, until the entire bracelet glowed with a sinister red light.
The wails intensified.
They clawed at Lican's consciousness, threatening to invade his mind. The voices overlapped, each carrying its own malice and hunger, yet he remained strangely unaffected. He could hear them, feel their presence, and sense their desire to consume him, but the fear they should have inspired never came.
It was as though the scriptures engraved upon his soul had formed an invisible barrier between his consciousness and the malicious spirits.
Lican lowered his gaze towards Wailing Bone.
What exactly had he created?
Before he could examine the question further, the green-scaled wolf turned towards him.
The beast had noticed the change.
Its emerald scales rose along its back, and its pupils contracted as it studied the figure perched upon the tree. The weak human it had intended to slaughter was no longer giving off the same impression. An unfamiliar pressure now emanated from Lican, accompanied by the crimson mist coiling around his body.
For the first time since appearing, the beast hesitated.
Then—
ROAR!
The wolf threw back its head and released a deafening roar. The surrounding trees shuddered, and the earth beneath its claws cracked under the force of its fury.
Lican raised his head.
His blood-red eyes fixed upon the beast.
BOOM!
The ancient branch beneath his feet exploded into splinters.
Lican launched himself forward, the force of his departure shattering the tree as his body shot through the air towards the green-scaled wolf. Crimson mist spiralled around his legs, while the runes hovering above Wailing Bone blazed with an ominous light.
He had come into the wilderness to test a bracelet he barely understood.
Now, with the blood of the forest flowing through his veins and a strange power awakening within him, he was about to discover just how much it had changed him.
The real battle had just begun.