Ronan knew before he said it out loud.
"He's dead."
The woman beside him acted like she didn't hear, walking without a chance in expression.
Her grip remained firm around her sheathed knife, shifting it slightly to clank in rhythm to a song playing in her head.
"You don't know that," she replied evenly, a edge visible in her voice.
"I do," he said with a matter of fact tone.
The forest ahead was clustered with roots and misplaced branches, drastically reducing their speed.
Ronan felt the absence more than anything, the clog in the once smooth wheel. When they had first met, fear and formed a bond time could not. Their interests had been the same, their breaths had matched in pace.
And now, it all felt missing.
"He went east," the woman said.
"Doesn't matter were he went, he's dead."
She stopped walking and turned to him with raging eyes. "Say that again."
Ronan didn't flinch, his stare just as stern. " He's dead, Khalifa, if he were alive, we'd feel it."
Her jaw tightened in grief. She didn't argue further, she knew it was true. She felt the severed link too.
***
The forest played with sound in a strange way, sometimes allowing sounds to travel farther than it had supposed to, or doing the exact opposite. It was quite hard to ascertain anything from the sound alone.
A rustle came. The infamous harbinger of problems that the forest entrants had grown accustomed to.
Both froze. Then it came again, low and dragging.
Then it emerged from a patch of grass too suspiciously placed to be natural.
Smaller than the first creature they had faced a few days ago. It was in the similar niche of a hound dog, much more defined than the vast majority of predators. Its spine was hunched and had bark plates overlapping along it.
Ronan stepped aside to give the woman a better view of the creature. "Don't waste energy," he said calmly, like she wasn't about to fight something that would make international headlines.
She nodded once. Then the predator lunged. She didn't retreat.
She gripped the hilt of her blade for a brief moment, allowing the monstrosity to bridge the distance.
The instant it reached her, her hands flashed forward. A clean streak crossed the neck of the predator. Resistance was negligible as the body relinquished control over the head in a heartbeat.
It might have seemed as if she was fast, but in reality, the space had slowed down for her to move in.
The predator collapsed in two uneven halves, bleeding out pus like dark blood. Ronan studied it with a flat expression. He wasn't impressed, he was analytical.
'So this breed of predators are poorly protected around the neck.'
"How much did it take," he asked.
She flexed her fingers, observing the way dirt fell from them. "Manageable."
"Don't overuse it."
"I won't," she said, slightly absentmindedly.
The space returned to normal as the invisible strain was lifted. They stood over the body, admiring the glowing core beneath its sternum. It pulsed faintly.
She crouched briefly in front of the body. Her hand hovered over it, but she eventually decided not to touch it. "He didn't die to this."
"Unlikely."
They both understood one thing. If their third had fallen, it wouldn't have been to something small.
The woman stood just again, sniffing her nose in irritation to the pungent smell.
"We'll find whoever did it."
Ronan nodded. In the forest, killing was an arithmetic mathematicians did not understand. It was not a question of moral debate.
They kept moving.
***
Pluto felt the watchful eyes before he saw it. Not through sound, but through stillness. The way the mist pressed unnaturally.
The way the forest seemed to become a red carpet walkway as they got closer to the owl's domain.
The environment felt waiting.
"You think it sees us?" Mira asked quietly.
"Yes."
"I hope it talks."
Pluto glanced at her, confused. "It does... Doesn't it?"
She smiled weakly. " That's not what I meant. I mean I hope it shares it knowledge with us."
Then–
A wing beat. Low carrying, but unmistakable.
The owl descended from above without urgency, its eyes glimmering even brighter. It parted its beak in its sore imitation of a smile.
"You return with payment," it said smoothly. Pluto didn't not waste time with pleasantries. He took the seed from his pocket and tossed it at the base of the tree.
The owl's pupils widened hungrily. "May I?" It asked, suppressing a laugh.
Mira's voice was sharp. "You're going to take it either way, so why ask?"
The owl tilted its head. "Participation implies consent."
Pluto nodded to give it the "consent " it sought. At the approval, it swooped down in a fluid glide.
It closed its talons around the battle seed and then swallowed. Not in the way someone hungry would eat, but in a way of converging with what was once a part of it.
The seed dropped down Its throat and then its feathers tremored imperceptibly. Its body widened by a fraction of an inch. Not dramatically, but noticeable.
Mira took a step back, still feeling unsafe anywhere around it.
"Rich," it murmured.
"You said answers," Pluto reminded impatiently, not wanting to remain there any longer.
"Yes. You may ask."
" What is the point of this?"
The owl hopped back up, placing itself on an almost eye level height. " Bloodshed in essence."
Mira choked on air. " So we are just to continue killing each other until we all die?"
"Until half of you die."
"Then what?" Pluto asked. Silence pressed briefly.
"Then transition," the owl's gaze flickered briefly. "When the count reaches its equilibrium, the region changes."
"Changes?"
It nodded. Mira huffed. "And until then?"
"You remain here."
"And after that?"
"You will compete again."
"For what?"
The owl's eyes gleamed dangerously. "For continuation."
Pluto's stomach sank. He shrugged it off. Instead of worrying about the future, it was better he focused on his immediate present. " You said killing gives growth?"
"It does."
"How?"
The owl hooted slightly, a trait of it that it seemingly could not overcome. "When one entrant kills another, the battle seeds aren't the only gains. The killer evolves, slightly but progressively. Think of it as an increase in potential."
Mira's voice cut through. " So we are meant to slaughter each other."
"Meant?" The owl asked with amusement. "No one forces your hand. Necessity will. You either join in or die trying to ride against the traffic."
"Power increases faster with human lifes as resources." The owl continued. "Beasts provide growth too, but minimally. Just above the margin of training alone in a cave."
Mira felt a crippling chill. Murder wasn't chaos anymore, it was an incentive for action.
"So–"
"If you don't kill, you'll progress nonetheless, but not as efficiently," said the owl interrupted Mira midway.
The simplicity was nauseating, but not irrational. There was reason behind it, and that was what made it terrifying.
Pluto's thoughts pieced together the pieces. Random selection, grueling trials, murder incentive, pass mark. It was almost as if they were being forged like steel in a furnace.
"How many were chosen?" Mira asked shakily.
The owl blinked playfully. "Enough."
Pluto leaned closer. "And you?"
"I am a native to this region, born of the arithmetic that governs you."
Mira's gaze hardened. "You grow from conflict, from us killing each other." The owl loosened its grip on the branch. "I grow from the returns of my knowledge."
She snorted slightly. "But you're benefiting somehow."
"Yes." It didn't deny.
Pluto stored this again. He was making his own website of the forest, containing things that the owl wouldn't outrightly say, and things he didn't fully understand yet.
Pluto felt his eel shift, more noticeably this time. It reacted to information more than it did to violence. It was not hostile, it was attentive.
Mira turned to Pluto, seeing the same realisation swirling in his eyes.
If everyone understood this...
Then no one would hesitate.
"We leave," Pluto said after he had gotten bored of the silence. The owl did not stop them, it just simply spoke once more.
"Be prepared young fledglings."
They didn't not respond, but they heeded its words.
***
They had walked in silence long enough to leave the range of owl's hears. Of course they didn't really know how far that range stretched.
Mira did what she did best, breaking the silence. She had slaughtered this prey more than the actual beasts in the forest. "Half," she said.
"Yes."
"And killing is rewarded with growth."
"Yes, it is."
She looked back the way they had come.
"Then not killing... isn't mercy."
"It's disadvantage," Pluto added.
The words felt heavier than the seed had, yet again, the seed was quite light.
"So who do start with?" Mira asked sceptically. Pluto looked forward, observing the silence, mist, plant life and heat signatures that filled the forest.
He glanced down too, at his glossy friend that derived being from his existence. " The ones who would kill us anyway."
Behind them the owl retreated back into the skies, watching and calculation equations beyond human comprehension.
The games were accelerating, and the count was falling.