The jungle groaned.
No—the space around it groaned. The shrine behind Koda was no longer a structure of stone and ritual, but a bleeding wound in the fabric of the world. The air rippled. The canopy buckled. The altar cracked in half and spat its dying energy into the sky like smoke from a dying star.
"Run," Koda yelled out, voice hoarse, already moving.
He didn't need to say it twice.
Renn darted out from the ferns to meet him, breath ragged, her tunic torn where a claw had grazed her ribs. She didn't ask what he'd done—she could see it in the light still glowing faintly from the blade in his hand. She just nodded once and turned to run beside him.
Lumia came next, barely keeping pace, her face streaked with sweat and grime and drying blood. She had burned too much mana too quickly, and the edge in her steps faltered with every stride. But she ran.
Behind them, the world gave way.
The earth cracked underfoot, the trees bending in impossible directions as if the dimension itself was forgetting how to hold shape. Vines twisted, snapping like lashes as the jungle died in folds, unraveling from the edges inward. The wind howled in reverse—pulling instead of pushing—ripping leaves from trees, ash from the air, and breath from their lungs.
They didn't look back.
Roots reached for their legs like hands desperate to keep them here. A stone burst to Koda's left, shrapnel catching him across the shoulder. He gritted his teeth. Keep moving. The ground dipped sharply, and they half-tumbled down a slope of slick moss and loose soil.
They hit the lowlands running, the terrain now boggy with the dying pulse of dungeon energy. The once-firm earth had softened into a mire of quick-sinking decay. Each step was a fight, each breath cut with sulfur and rot.
"Left—go left!" Renn shouted, pointing toward a hollowed tree they'd passed on the way in. The landmark. The memory.
But the air behind them shattered.
A deafening crack tore across the jungle as a whole section of terrain folded in on itself, like paper burnt from the center. The pressure slammed into them like a wave—flattening trees, splitting bark in vertical tears, sending a violent whine through the marrow of every bone in Koda's body.
They stumbled, Lumia falling to her knees in the mud.
Koda turned, reached, hauled her up by the arm. She bit back a cry, but didn't let go. Her legs moved again, shaking.
They pushed toward the light—real light—where the scar's mouth waited. It had begun to flicker, the edges stuttering like flame in the wind. Reality didn't want to hold here anymore.
Ahead, the collapsed body of one of the winged creatures twitched in the dirt. Not dead. Not dead enough.
Renn didn't break stride—she leapt, pulled an arrow mid-run, and drove it straight through its eye. It stilled, twitching once, then went slack.
Koda caught her glance. Just a breath between them.
Then—the edge.
The lip of the dungeon's wound.
The scar surged like the last gasp of a sinking vessel. Its frame cracked, fragments flaking off into empty light. The stone arch they had entered through now looked like it was held together only by desperation.
Koda didn't slow.
He grabbed Lumia's wrist and flung them both into the collapse, Renn diving in just behind them—
—and then the jungle was gone.
The noise stopped.
The weight disappeared.
The light went white.
And when their feet hit the ground again—rough stone, solid—they were in the cave.
The air was still. Cold. Damp.
No sign of the shrine. No more mutated beasts.
Just silence.
Just three bruised, battered survivors, sprawled across the cavern floor, breathing like they'd forgotten how and only just remembered again.
Lumia began to cry—not from pain, but from everything else.
Renn sat down hard, head in her hands, her bow clattering beside her.
And Koda… knelt.
Looking up at the empty cave around them.
They had made it out.
But they would never be the same.
____
They didn't speak. There wasn't anything to say. The silence between them was an agreement.
Erilan and Grent hadn't made it. And whatever had waited beyond the shrine—whatever force had warped those creatures into things half-born of nightmare and half-burnt by failed divinity—it had nearly taken them too.
They made the walk back to Oria in silence.
They limped. They bled. They kept their eyes low and their weapons close.
⸻
At the city gates, Lumia was the one to break the hush.
"We should report to the Shield. Tell them the scar's been closed." Her voice was small, almost numb. "There'll be questions."
Renn nodded, eyes red but dry. "We'll write it together. All three of us. But after that…"
She looked at Koda. He looked back. Something unspoken passed between them—an understanding carved from loss, not shared words.
They all needed space. To rest. To think.
And to grieve.
⸻
The orphanage was just as he'd left it.
The old shutters creaked in the wind. The garden had withered in the frost. The matron was waiting.
She didn't ask questions—not right away. She only helped him through the gate, arm slung over her shoulder, and got him inside before the city stirred awake.
"Koda," she whispered, as he all but collapsed onto the bed, "we were starting to worry. You were gone a long time."
He blinked up at the ceiling. He didn't answer.
Instead, he let sleep take him.
⸻
It was two full days before he could bring himself to sit upright.
Three before he pulled open his system window again.
His body still ached in places he didn't know he had. His muscles were bruised, his ribs wrapped tight beneath a linen shirt. But his will—his will—was intact.
And the system had kept pace.
⸻
Koda of the Eternal Guide
Level 8
HP: 120 / 120
Mana: 120 / 120
Stamina: 120 / 120
Stats
Strength: 12
Vitality: 12
Agility: 12
Intelligence: 12
Wisdom: 12
Endurance: 12
Trait
Balance (Divine) – All stat increases apply equally to all attributes. Harmony is growth.
Skills
[Blade of Conviction] (Active)
Summon a weapon forged of pure will. The more clarity and purpose you hold, the stronger the blade. Willpower and Wisdom affect damage.
⸻
He stared at the space just beneath his first skill.
A new slot pulsed faintly in silver.
[New Skill Slot Unlocked]
Choose 1 of the following:
[Mantle of Echoes] (Passive) – Your presence carries the weight of battles past. Enemies hesitate. Allies move with clarity. Aura of subtle fear and focus. Scales with Wisdom.
[Step Between] (Active) – Once per combat, move through the space between moments. Evade a single incoming attack entirely. Scales with Agility and Willpower.
[Unshaken Root] (Passive) – While standing still, gain immense resistance to knockback, fear, and mental influence. Minor passive regeneration. Scales with Vitality and Willpower.
He didn't reach out yet.
He wasn't ready.
Not because the skills weren't valuable. Not because he doubted their use.
But because the weight of choice had started to mean something more now. Each skill he took shaped the kind of fighter he became. The kind of person.
The path ahead wasn't just dungeons and monsters.
It was faith. Consequence. Names he'd learned and names he'd buried.
⸻
He pulled his knees up to his chest on the bed and looked out the crooked window. Morning light had begun to break over the rooftops. The city stirred, unaware of how close it had come to a new ruin.
He thought of Erilan's smirk. Grent's gruff laugh.
The sound of Lumia crying, hidden behind her hands.
And he sat with it all, quiet and unblinking, while the wind moved through the orphanage eaves.
Tomorrow would bring a new chapter.
But tonight, he'd remember.