Chapter 12 – Edge of the Forest
The last echoes of Ariz's laughter faded into the forest, swallowed by trees older than memory.
He stood still for a while, blade still at his side, heart slowing. The wind didn't move. Even the animals had grown silent, as if sensing what he had become. Sweat soaked through his shirt, his breath heavy in his lungs, each exhale edged with the taste of copper.
His training ground—just a ring of flattened earth bordered by broken stumps and training stones—reeked of blood and bark. In the center stood the gravity pillar, faintly glowing.
"Weight setting: 4.0x normal."
He tapped it off.
The pressure lifted, and his muscles screamed with the sudden release. He dropped to one knee, panting—not because of weakness, but because pain was his fuel now, and he had run it dry for the day.
Then he heard it.
A footstep. Careful. Deliberate.
He stood immediately.
Another step.
He turned and reached for his sword, fingers curling tight around the hilt, drawing half an inch of steel before a voice called out softly from between the trees.
"Wait—it's just me."
A shadow moved through the brush and stepped into the clearing.
Toran.
His gray cloak was travel-stained, his boots muddy, but his expression was as familiar as it was wary—eyes wide, hands raised.
Ariz released the sword, but didn't step back.
"You're alive," Toran said, voice soft, like the wrong word might trigger something dangerous.
Toran took a cautious step forward. "I didn't tell them anything. Not a word. No one knows I came here."
"I know," Ariz replied, with a nod so slight it barely moved his head.
There was silence again—awkward, thick. A hundred things unsaid.
Then Toran pulled a cloth bundle from his satchel and laid it gently on a moss-covered rock.
"Food. Water. Bandages. A few herbs. It's not much, but... I didn't know what you'd need."
Ariz didn't move toward it. His gaze was locked on Toran like he was watching an enemy scout, not an old friend.
"I saw your training," Toran said after a beat. "From the ridge. You're not just trying to survive out here."
Ariz didn't answer.
"You're preparing for something."
Still nothing.
"I know what they did," Toran added, voice low. "I know it was wrong. I know it hurt."
"It didn't hurt," Ariz said.
Toran blinked.
Ariz's voice didn't rise. It never needed to. "It killed me."
That shut Toran up. His hands dropped to his sides.
"I want to help you," he said finally. "But not like this. This thing you're chasing—it's going to eat you alive."
"No," Ariz said. "I'm going to eat them."
"Ariz—"
"They burned him alive. My grandfather. The only man who ever gave a damn whether I lived or died. They came into our home. Called us monsters. Said it was justice."
"They were afraid," Toran said.
"They should've been."
Another long silence.
Toran stepped forward again—slow, like crossing a frozen lake. "You're not this person. Not really. You're angry. You want revenge. I get it. But this path you're on—it's not just fire. It's ash. It leaves nothing behind."
Ariz looked at him then. Really looked.
And for a second, Toran saw something.
Not rage.
Not sadness.
Just… nothing.
An awful, hollow calm.
"You think I haven't thought about that?" Ariz said. "You think I don't know what I'm becoming?"
"Then stop before you go too far!"
"I already went too far," Ariz said, stepping closer. "The moment I opened that pouch and buried what was left of him beneath the oak tree—I stopped being the person you knew."
Toran's voice broke. "You're still him. I know you are."
Ariz's smile returned, but it didn't reach his eyes.
"No. You just hope I am."
He turned away and walked to the tree line, facing deeper into the woods. "Take your supplies. Go home, Toran."
"I brought them for you."
"I don't want them."
"I don't care."
Ariz stopped. Toran stepped beside him and set the bundle on a stump. He looked up once more.
"Just promise me one thing," he said. "When it ends... don't let it be them who decide what you become."
Ariz didn't answer.
He didn't even look at him.
Toran lingered a moment longer, then turned and walked back into the forest. He didn't run. He didn't cry. But his steps were slower than when he arrived.
Behind him, Ariz stood alone.
The trees whispered nothing.
And the wind began to move again.