Scene 60 — "Only One of Them Understood the Horror"
Rain fell steadily through the forest.
Cold droplets struck leaves, roots, stone, and cloth with equal indifference.
The assassin remained on the ground.
Breathing hard.
Hands trembling.
Eyes fixed upon the traveler.
Not because he feared another attack.
Because he feared looking away.
The darkness still lingered inside memory.
That endless place.
That impossible eye.
The feeling of standing somewhere beyond direction, beyond distance, beyond meaning itself.
His chest tightened.
The memory felt fresh.
Too fresh.
Like it had happened a moment ago.
Or perhaps it was still happening somewhere.
The traveler stood a short distance away.
Confused.
Nothing more.
No triumph.
No threat.
No awareness of what had just occurred.
The assassin watched him carefully.
Searching.
Looking for some sign.
Any sign.
A hidden smile.
A cruel expression.
A glimpse of intention.
There was nothing.
Only uncertainty.
Only a hooded traveler standing in the rain.
"...Are you injured?"
The traveler asked quietly.
The assassin stared.
Unable to answer.
Because the question itself felt absurd.
Injured?
How could he explain what had happened?
How could he explain a wound that existed inside understanding itself?
His lips parted.
No words emerged.
The traveler waited.
A moment passed.
Then another.
Finally, he looked toward the fallen spear.
Then back toward the assassin.
"...You tried to kill me."
The statement carried no anger.
No accusation.
Just fact.
The assassin swallowed hard.
The traveler continued.
"...But now you're afraid."
Silence.
The assassin lowered his gaze immediately.
Because that was true.
Painfully true.
The traveler frowned slightly beneath the hood.
As though trying to solve a puzzle.
"...I don't understand."
The assassin almost laughed.
Not from amusement.
From despair.
Neither did he.
Not anymore.
The rain grew heavier for a moment.
Branches swayed softly overhead.
The traveler looked toward the dark road ahead.
Toward the path continuing deeper into unknown territory.
Then back toward the assassin one final time.
"...I don't think you're going to attack me again."
The assassin's hands tightened involuntarily.
Attack?
The very thought felt impossible now.
Like suggesting a man stab a thunderstorm.
Or challenge the ocean.
Or strike a mountain.
The traveler waited briefly for an answer.
None came.
Only silence.
Only trembling.
Finally—
the traveler nodded once.
As if reaching a conclusion.
"...Then I should continue."
The assassin looked up sharply.
Continue?
That was it?
After everything?
After the impossible darkness?
After the collapse of reality?
The traveler simply intended to leave?
The realization felt almost surreal.
Yet it made terrible sense.
Because the traveler genuinely did not know what had happened.
He turned away.
No dramatic farewell.
No declaration.
No warning.
Just a man resuming his journey through the rain.
One step.
Then another.
The forest accepted him immediately.
Dark trees swallowed portions of his silhouette.
Rain blurred the edges.
Distance grew.
The assassin remained frozen.
Watching.
Unable to stop himself.
The traveler never looked back.
Not once.
And somehow—
that felt worse.
Because monsters looked back.
Predators enjoyed fear.
Tyrants demanded recognition.
This man simply walked away.
As though none of it mattered.
As though he truly believed he was nothing more than a traveler moving from one destination to another.
The assassin sat in silence.
Rain soaking through his clothing.
The spear forgotten beside him.
Minutes passed.
Or perhaps longer.
Eventually—
the traveler disappeared completely among the trees.
Gone.
Only the road remained.
The assassin continued staring at the empty path.
Heart still uneven.
Thoughts still fractured.
Then slowly—
he lowered his head into his shaking hands.
"...What are you..."
The question vanished into rainfall.
No answer came.
Far ahead, the traveler continued through the forest alone.
His pace remained steady.
But his thoughts had changed.
The black smoke.
The failed attack.
The frightened man.
None of it made sense.
He looked at his hand while walking.
Turned it over once.
Nothing unusual.
Nothing visible.
Just skin.
Just fingers.
Just a hand.
Yet questions lingered.
Questions without answers.
Who had attacked him?
Why had the spear failed?
What was the black smoke?
And why did people keep reacting strangely around him?
The traveler exhaled softly.
The road stretched onward beneath ancient trees.
For the first time since beginning this journey—
curiosity had become something deeper.
Not fear.
Not concern.
A need to understand.
Somewhere ahead—
answers existed.
Or at least fragments of them.
And somewhere far beyond the horizon—
stories about the Abyss continued spreading from village to village.
Stories he still believed belonged to someone else.
The rain slowly weakened.
The night deepened.
And unseen by both traveler and assassin—
a crow landed on a branch high above the road.
Watching.
Silent.
Motionless.
Its eyes followed the traveler until he vanished into darkness.
Then—
without a sound—
it spread its wings and flew in the opposite direction.
Carrying news.
To someone.