Chapter 18: Deep into the Woods

Far in the dark regions of the world, space was torn open. A jagged crack in reality appeared, spitting a boy out mid-air before snapping shut into nothingness.

Arthur hit the ground hard on his back. It wasn’t stone, luckily, but it was a cold, slimy mud.

He gasped, air rushing into his lungs, and opened his eyes. He was greeted by a view that stole the breath right back out of him.

The sky wasn’t the sky; it was a nebula of shattered glass. Clouds were spiraling in impossible geometric shapes, and rain was falling, but it wasn’t hitting the ground; it was evaporating, turning into steam that hissed like a snake.

Where am I?

He sat up, wiping mud from his face, and looked around.

The trees weren’t growing up. They were twisting into irregular forms. Some were floating a few inches off the ground, their roots dangling in empty air. A rock near his hand flickered in and out of existence like a broken hologram.

Arthur tried to stand up, but a sudden wave of nausea hit him.

Drip. Drip.

His nose started to bleed—a steady stream running down his lips—, his ears popped painfully, and his organs felt like they were being squeezed.

Magnus was right. The mana density wasn’t just high; it was lethal.

In his case, it was a death sentence. His mana core was sealed shut, unable to purify the mana trying to force its way in. His Ashborn blood was acting like a shield, fighting to keep the foreign energy out, but that created a terrifying trade-off.

The outside world was oversaturated with mana, while his core was completely empty. Thus, it created a massive pressure differential.

“I need… to move,” Arthur wheezed, wiping the blood from his mouth.

He reached for his cane. It was lying in the mud a few feet away, slightly bent but intact.

He grabbed it and forced himself to stand, fighting the blurriness of his vision at the edges.

Grooowl.

The sound didn’t come from his stomach; it came from the cracking space.

Arthur froze.

Ten yards away, the air shook violently, and a beast stepped out of the distortion. It was a wolf the size of a horse, its fur matted with black thorns, and its eyes glowed with a deep violet light.

Its skin was glitching—portions of its muscle were exposed, then covered, then exposed again, shifting with the flow of the chaotic mana.

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It was the Void Wolf.

“Oh, come on man, I am already screwed here. “Arthur whispered, gripping his bent cane. “I am already dying, Do I really need a monster too? It’s not like I’m the protagonist of some fantasy novel.”

The wolf didn’t care about his frustration. It just opened its massive jaw and lunged.

And of course, Arthur didn’t fight. That would have been a one-kill instant death.

He threw himself to the left, rolling under a floating tree root just as the wolf’s jaws snapped shut on the air where his head had been seconds ago.

Arthur scrambled to his feet, ignoring the screaming pain of his weak leg. He limped to the dense forest, tearing his clothes on thorns as he sought cover.