The light pulsed once. Then again.
And from within it… something floated down.
Wings flapped—not like a bird's, but loose, fluttering membranes that shimmered with faint color. Translucent. Pale gold.
The thing attached to them was a single, enormous eye. Roughly the size of a human head, suspended in the air like it didn't care about physics. Its pupil shifted—too fast, too fluid—as it scanned our camp.
No body. Just the wings and the eye.
And a voice.
"Well that was entertaining."
The sound didn't come from a mouth—obviously—but we heard it clearly. Crisp, almost playful. Slightly amused, like someone who'd been eavesdropping on a good story.
No one moved.
The eye tilted—no, it bobbed. Like a shrug.
"Oh, now, there is no need to radiate such intense mana. I'm not here to murder all of you, you guys are strong. I could never. That was the crawlers. You were the ones watching. I was the one watching you."
I was ready to blow it out of the forest with a single punch—but it gave no signs of hostility.
Calixtus blinked. "What?"
The eye twirled in place. A slow, lazy spin. "Been following your group since yesterday. Interesting dynamics. Lot of unspoken tension. Very dramatic."
No one responded.
"And that"—the eye gestured, somehow, with a flap of one wing toward Marcus' team—"was a lovely performance. The regeneration bit? Very flashy. I give it an eight."
Marcus just stared.
The eye bobbed closer. "Anyway. You may want to consider relocating tomorrow. The Veiled Forest is about to shift. One of its… evolution phases. Terrain moves. New things come out. Old things go deeper."
It paused, hovering a foot above the fire.
"I'm telling you this because I want the show to continue. You die, I get bored."
Nerissa narrowed her eyes. "Why help at all?"
"Simple. You're fun."
It turned slowly in the air, eye sweeping across the camp.
"Most who come here are dull. Straight lines and screaming. You, though? Intrigue. Tension. Subtle power plays. Even a little romance brewing, maybe?"
Thalia made a noise in her throat. Somewhere between disgust and disbelief.
The eye winked. Actually winked.
"Well. Consider the warning a courtesy. The Forest is changing soon. Be clever."
It began to rise again, wings fluttering once.
Then it stopped mid-air.
"Oh. One last thing."
The pupil dilated. Voice turned suddenly hopeful.
"After your seven days are up… would you consider staying?"
It hovered there, waiting.
"Just a little longer? Just for me?"
No one answered.
"Think about it!" it chirped, then zipped upward in a blink—light trailing behind like a comet—and vanished into the trees.
Silence followed.
Orin, finally awake, said, "What the hell was that?"
We hadn't noticed it at all.
It had been close the entire time—watching us, listening, knowing we were only meant to be here for seven days.
Was that how the Instructors monitored us? I doubted it.
They probably used something tech-based. More sterile.
Whatever that thing was, it wasn't in any of the data we studied.
Still, it was probably telling the truth.
And even if it wasn't—there was no downside to acting like it was.
Being more cautious about the Veiled Forest's shift could only help.
Marcus spoke up, unprompted.
"We've noticed some shifts already. Minor ones. Terrain distortion, pressure changes. They seem to move from north to south."
He looked around the fire.
"We're in the northern stretch right now. Which means we'll be hit first."
Dawn was nearing. Third day of the exam.
The fire had burned low, casting long shadows that wavered with every breath of wind.
We all understood it, staying here was not wise.
I stood. Brushed off dirt.
"We move at first light."
Going south was the best option.
If the forest was shifting from north to south, then getting hit as late as possible gave us more time to adapt. More time to observe.
And time was leverage.
But I stood up and said:
"I'll be heading north. Maybe I can spot the changes firsthand."
That wasn't the real reason.
Not even close.
There was a substance I needed to find.
We'd learned about it years ago—buried deep in one of the instructor-led briefings. Most students forgot. I didn't.
An extremely potent chemical agent. Naturally occurring. Rare.
Highly classified. It didn't even have a proper name—just a designation: XM6.
If digested, it shattered the mind. Extreme schizophrenia. Paranoia. Hallucinations. Your team became strangers. Your thoughts stopped being yours.
Nobody was a friend.
Which made it… useful. In the right hands.
Thalia responded without hesitation. "Oh, very well. We'll move on soon—try to catch up."
Calixtus nodded along with the others.
But his gaze lingered a second too long. Sharper than usual.
Was he onto me?Did that sound out of character?
I couldn't tell.
Probably not enough to confront me. But enough to wonder.
I turned without saying more.
The Instructors would likely see me go for it.
That was unavoidable. But that was also the point.
If they saw me go for it, they'd draw closer.
They'd have to. In case things went south.
Which meant, for once, the Instructors wouldn't be watching from a distance. They'd be nearby. Actively monitoring.
From what I remembered, the compound—XM6—was derived from Solmons.
A type of snake. Not that venomous while alive. But when dead, it didn't rot.
It transformed.
Over weeks, its body hardened, limbs fracturing outward. Roots dug in. The skeleton twisted upward until it became a tree.
And the venom? It concentrated.
The older the tree, the stronger the chemical saturation.
If the one I saw had been around long enough—really old—it'd be a jackpot.
I hadn't been able to get a good look last time.
Too many eyes.
I will make it work regardless, but the stronger the better.
As of now I was not going too fast. I had to leave Thalia's range of listening before I went full speed.
Did not want to make any of them suspicious, at least more than necessary.
As I ran, I kept scanning the terrain for movement.
A creature would help. Something hostile.
If I ran into one, fought it, came back with a few bruises—that would only help sell it.
Their minds would do the rest. Cognitive ease.
The mind prefers things that are easy to process. A story that feels familiar is more likely to be believed—
Even if it's not true.
I picked up the pace once I was sure no one could hear me.
Branches blurred. Mist deepened. The air had that same charged pressure I'd felt before storms.
The forest was shifting. I could feel it now—not as noise, but as rhythm. Subtle. Like the ground was breathing slower than it should.
I'd mapped the approximate location. Northeast quadrant. Near a bend in the river where the moss grows silver.
If the Solmon tree was still there, I'd find it.
If something else had claimed it—
I'd deal with that, too.
A branch snapped somewhere behind me. Not far.
Then I saw it.
Tall. Humanoid. Slate-black skin that shimmered faintly beneath the mosslight. Ears too long. Limbs too thin. Bow slung across its back. Barefoot, but its steps had left no sound.
Not a monster. Not quite. A hunter.
Of something else.
Its gaze met mine. Unblinking. And then—it spoke.
The language was guttural. Layered syllables, hollow echoes. Ancient. Lost.
"Intruder. Turn back. You walk on our hunting grounds."
I blinked once.
Not sure why I understood it. Didn't care.
No teammates. No one to protect. No one to impress.
Just me.
And something I didn't have to lie to.
I rolled my shoulders. Let mana surge through me—full output. No restrictions.
The hunter reached for its bow.
I dashed forward.
Charging.