The escape began the instant Selena's sharp warning cut through the air. Raizen had no time for questions, only the raw drive to pour every shred of strength into his legs, sprinting like an arrow through the dead forest, chasing the fleet shadow of the white-haired warrior. His high-tech boots, once a pride of Saigon 2050, now crushed Noxvaria's gray ash, each desperate step crunching like brittle bones snapping underfoot.
Ash clung to his soles, swirling into faint clouds with every stride, carrying the acrid stench of scorched earth and ancient, rusted metal—as if this land had been the crucible of a cataclysmic war eons ago, now reduced to relics and lingering death. Blackened, barren trees loomed on either side, their skeletal frames clawing at the sky, twisted branches like despairing arms reaching from a darkened abyss, their cracked bark scarred by an unseen fire that had burned for centuries.
The wooden spear he'd claimed was gripped so tightly his knuckles whitened. His breaths came in hot, ragged bursts, mingling with the icy whistle of wind through jagged stones, weaving a sinister melody that echoed in Noxvaria's chilling silence—no birdsong, no trace of familiar life, only death lurking in every shadow, behind every gaunt tree.
The feral roars of the Twistfang pack grew closer, each guttural snarl a blade slicing the air, fiercer and more frenzied, pounding Raizen's chest with a heart-thumping dread. Adrenaline surged like a wildfire blazing through a pitch-black night.
Selena Kazehana led the fleeing group, her movements swift and fluid, almost otherworldly. Her steel sword flashed with lethal precision, cleaving a reckless Twistfang that lunged from a thicket to her right. The blade sliced through its gray, decayed flesh as if parting air, black ichor spraying in a rancid torrent, staining the ashen ground before the earth swallowed it in a blink, leaving only a fleeting, blood-red smear—like some grotesque ritual etched into this cursed land. The beast collapsed, its warped body twitching in agony, claws scraping futilely before it stilled, its ember-red eyes dimming to cold ash in the biting wind.
Kaelric Duskwind and the two surviving Aerith clung close behind Raizen. Blood seeped from Kaelric's shoulder wound, his weathered face pale under the dim, gray sky, his wild eyes flickering with desperate resolve tempered by a lifetime of loss. The other Aerith, their legs trembling, pushed on relentlessly—they knew death stalked just steps away, lurking behind every skeletal tree, in every smoldering ash pit trailing ghostly white smoke, like cursed souls trapped in Noxvaria's eternal nightmare.
"Faster, unless you want to be their dinner!" Selena barked, her icy voice slashing through the chaotic roars of the pursuing horde. Her dual-toned eyes burned with defiance—one glacial blue like a frozen abyss, the other a blazing red like unquenchable hellfire—glinting with scorn for the bloodthirsty beasts and an iron will to survive.
She vaulted over a massive, blackened root caked in gray moss, then spun abruptly, her sword carving a perfect arc to fell another Twistfang mid-lunge. The blade's whistle was brief and deadly. Its scythe-like claws missed Raizen's shoulder by inches as he dodged in a heartbeat, the chill of their passing wind grazing his skin. Black blood rained down, splattering the thick ash, and again the ground drank it greedily, the crimson stain vanishing as if erased, leaving only a hollow void—a silent warning of this place's unnatural hunger.
"This earth… it's like it's alive," Raizen muttered, clutching the bleeding cut on his arm. Each searing pulse of pain was a brutal reminder: this wasn't Saigon 2050—no neon-lit skyscrapers, no plasma engines humming through skyways. Only cold darkness, ever-present death, and a gnawing alienation cloaked him like an unyielding shroud. The air reeked of damp mold and crusted blood, a vile stench that churned his stomach, but he clenched his jaw, forcing razor-sharp focus: survival was all that mattered now. Questions about this strange land, about his friends' fates, would wait until he had breath to seek answers.
Kaelric, his matted hair whipped wild by the wind, blood soaking his leather tunic, panted beside him, his frenzied eyes blazing with despair and a flicker of stubborn grit from a man who'd seen too much yet clung to faint hope.
"They won't stop, outsider!" he shouted, his hoarse voice half-swallowed by the wind but piercing through the Twistfangs' chilling howls. "Those bastards hunt by blood—they'll chase us till we're all dead or they are! My Aerith tribe's lost too much to them—my father, our greatest leader, torn apart on a frozen winter night years ago; my warrior brothers fell one by one defending our last village before the Shadowfangs burned it to ash!"
As Kaelric's words faded, one of the remaining Aerith—a gaunt man, hands shaking from exhaustion, eyes sunken from hunger and sleepless nights—screamed and collapsed face-first. A Twistfang's claws had pierced his chest from the flank. Crimson blood gushed from his mouth like a small stream, his cry cut short in the frigid air, leaving a terrifying silence for mere seconds before the pack's roars surged louder, reveling in their fresh kill.
Raizen glanced back, a pang of sorrow and helplessness flashing in his eyes. His mother's memory stabbed his heart—her frail hands stroking his hair in their Saigon hovel, her faint voice whispering through coughing fits: "You must survive, Raizen, even if the world crumbles, even if you're alone." Her fever-clouded eyes, dim yet fierce with faith in him, burned in his mind. That memory now flared like a stubborn ember in his chest, urging him forward, refusing to let him fall.
He gritted his teeth, unable to pause even a moment to mourn the fallen—death in Noxvaria struck too swiftly, too cruelly. Gripping the spear tighter, he raced after Selena as she pointed to a towering cliff ahead. Its surface bore deep gouges, as if clawed by some colossal beast from an ancient battle, green moss clotting its cracks, gray stone slick with seeping moisture, cold to the touch.
"Up there, now!" she commanded, her low voice resolute, a non-negotiable order in the face of peril. "Twistfangs can't climb well!"
The group surged toward the cliff's base, ash swirling in clouds under their frantic steps. The acrid scent of smoldering pits nearby stung Raizen's nose, stirring uneasy memories of the Eternal Seed training camp—where he, Kael, Seiryu, and others endured brutal, sometimes sadistic drills under Valen Kabe's cold gaze, his enigmatic smile and piercing eyes always unsettling. Raizen recalled those endless nights, Valen looming before complex consoles, his steady voice laced with menace: "We'll reshape this world, Raizen—but every great change demands a worthy price." Back then, Raizen hadn't grasped that cost, but now, in this death-soaked alien land, it was painfully clear—a world where death was the only constant companion.
Selena scaled the cliff first, agile as a panther stalking through deep forest shadows. Her strong hands gripped jutting rocks with precision, each move honed by countless life-or-death struggles. She tossed down a braided hide rope, hauling up the remaining Aerith—a scarred middle-aged man, his hopeless eyes clinging to survival, and Kaelric, nearly spent from his wound. Raizen steadied Kaelric, shouldering him upward when he nearly slipped. Blood from Kaelric's shoulder dripped onto the stone below, each red bead vanishing into the ash as if consumed, leaving fleeting, ink-like stains that faded in an instant, as though they'd never been.
Alone at the cliff's base, Raizen turned to face the snarling Twistfang pack—five beasts left, their twisted forms forged from ash and shadow, gray hides marred by old battle scars, crimson eyes glowing like forge embers, and the spiral symbols on their brows pulsing with eerie red light, flickering with each guttural breath of murderous intent.
The alpha, larger and fiercer, advanced slowly, its claws carving deep furrows in the earth, its burning eyes locked on Raizen as if sensing he'd slain its kin.
Raizen stood like a statue carved from stone, spear raised across his chest, his cold gaze flickering with a spark of unyielding resolve. "Mother, I won't die here," he vowed silently, her final words echoing from her sickbed, her fevered eyes pleading through a haze: "Never let blood stain your hands needlessly, but remember, survival is paramount—for me, and for yourself."
He didn't wait. With a swift thrust, he drove the spear into the alpha's remaining eye, the point piercing its fragile guard and plunging into its brain. A frenzied, agonized roar shook the forest as black ichor sprayed, rank and vile, splattering his hands and the tattered tech-suit vest—once a small badge of pride in Saigon 2050—now blackened and ruined. The alpha collapsed, claws scrabbling in its death throes, but the other four showed no fear, no hesitation.
They charged as one, a trained pack, claws slashing like reapers' scythes, ash billowing to cloud his vision, their furious roars blending with the howling wind into a deathly symphony closing in. Raizen dodged a lethal strike, thrusting his spear through the throat of one beast lunging from his left, black blood gushing like a fountain, but a third raked his right shoulder, tearing his vest and leaving a shallow, burning gash.
"Get up here, now!" Selena's shout rang from the cliff's top, piercing the chaotic din. She'd secured the rope to a sturdy outcrop, tossing the other end down like a lifeline in a tempest.