'Savin's face darkened, his skin turning pale as cold dread crawled down his spine. The figure stood still—unnaturally still—until it moved.
His breath came shallow. He couldn't make out the details from where he stood, but one thing was certain. It had seen him. And now, it was coming to claim its prey.
The thing shifted, its form morphing like smoke, like liquid, gliding across the field toward the tree. Its movements looked slow, eerily smooth, but that was a deception. In mere seconds, it had already crossed the distance from the hill to the tree.
Savin stood frozen. He didn't know what to do—didn't know what he could do. There was only fear. Overwhelming, suffocating fear of the thing that was about to kill him.
Then—it stopped.
The shadowy form came to a halt just a few meters away, lingering at the edge where the moonlight touched the ground. It stayed in the pale, ethereal glow, while he remained hidden beneath the shadow of the tree.
It was watching him.
Savin's stomach twisted as he got his first clear look at the creature. It was the wrongest thing he had ever seen.
A dog, but utterly wrong.
Its head bore two mouths, both positioned on the upper sides of its skull. Three vertical eyes ran down the center of its face, unblinking, black as voids. Bloody, dirt-stained bones jutted from its back like grotesque, malformed wings. And then, its legs—six of them. Four at the front, two at the back. But of those front limbs, two were massively larger than the others, covered in thick, black fur, fused to the uppermost part of its torso.
It looked sinister. It looked unnatural. It looked wrong. And yet...
Savin's breath hitched.
And yet, he wanted to touch it.
Slowly, he stepped forward, drawn by something deep and unnatural. His body moved on its own, following a strange instinct. But was it really instinct?
He wasn't sure. He wasn't thinking—couldn't think.
All he knew was that he wanted to touch it.
He hadn't even considered the implications of what he was doing—hadn't questioned why he felt this way—until the creature suddenly shrieked.
Its mouths opened wide, releasing a piercing, guttural cry as it reeled back, as if struck by something unseen.
That was when Savin snapped back to reality.
'What?! A mind attack?!'
His breath hitched. His thoughts spiraled.
He stumbled backward, his balance lost, and fell hard onto the ground.
'What in the bloody hell was that?!'
His heart pounded in his chest.
'That was too close.'
The Enigma kept shrieking. For a moment, Savin thought it was screaming at the tree. But that didn't make any sense. How could it be hostile toward a tree? Trees didn't have consciousness or minds… did they?
Either way, he wasn't about to question it too much. His life had been spared this time, and he had no idea why.
'Maybe I've got a guardian angel.'
But then, something else clicked. The Enigma wasn't just shrieking—it was avoiding the tree altogether. It couldn't even step into the shadow cast by the massive trunk, recoiling in rage every time it tried.
'Safe, I guess.'
That thought brought Savin a moment of comfort. But then, another question rose in his mind—one that made his skin crawl. What was it about the tree that made the Enigma wary? Does it... really have a consciousness?
'That... that can't be, right?'
He raised his head, trying to see the peak of the tree, but the thick canopy swallowed it from view. Then, he looked down at the shadow. If it formed a circle, its radius would have been at least fifteen meters. That was huge.
Frankly speaking, there could have been a huge Enigma lurking in the tree right now, and Savin wouldn't even know. His life was in danger at every moment… or so he thought.
After what felt like an eternity of raging, the Enigma finally cooled down and gave up on its hunt for soft human flesh. Fortunately for him, it left without further disturbance. But even then, Savin couldn't relax. The entire time, a single dreadful thought loomed over him—what if the strange charm protecting him suddenly disappeared? How frightening.
Of course, that Enigma wasn't the last of his worries. More came at different intervals, sometimes in groups, sometimes alone. All tried to claim his flesh, yet none could. No matter how terrifying, how relentless, something about the tree made them hesitate, forcing even the largest and most nightmarish of them to back off.
This night in the Nether World had given Savin his fair share of horrors, but soon, at last, the faint glow of dawn crept across the western sky.
Finally, he could sleep in peace.
***
Savin had now spent more than an entire day under the shade of the great Fountain Tree—a name he had come up with out of boredom, inspired by its peculiar nature. But he couldn't stay here forever. He had to find a way back to Earth.
'Doesn't seem like there are any Monuments nearby either.'
That was frustrating in its own way, and it seemed time here passed just as it did on Earth. Mrs. Lundy would be worried by now, and Robin—she was still ill. She hadn't gotten her life support battery yet.
'Mrs. Lundy, please try to get her a new battery. I promise I'll pay you back.' Savin prayed, hoping, somehow, his words would reach her.
His thoughts drifted back to the present, and he glanced across the open fields. There wasn't another tree in sight. Lifting his head, he looked up at the Fountain Tree and spoke aloud:
"You must be pretty lonely, huh? I bet you are. Well, I am too."
Silence. But Savin treated it as if the tree had responded, despite knowing full well that trees didn't talk.
"You know, where I come from, beings like you are treated like members of high society. Honestly, I envy you. I bet on Earth, you'd be considered a celebrity. Considering how golden you look… A celebrity tree. How cool would that be?"
"..."
"I'm going to get back to Earth. I know it sounds absurd, but do you want to come with me? You'll get lots of love and good treatment. No—the best treatment ever."
"..."
The tree remained in its eternal silence, and Savin smiled to himself, shaking his head. A single day alone, and he was already talking to trees.
'Stupid Savin.'
He had to prepare to leave, but there was a major problem—everywhere outside this tree's shadow was unsafe at all times.
The fields were as inviting and beautiful as ever, but this was the Nether World. Nothing here could be trusted. Demons always disguised themselves as beauty to lure in the unsuspecting, so believing anything here was truly beautiful was a dangerous delusion.
Yet, for some reason, he couldn't think that way about the Fountain Tree. It had saved him multiple times in such a short span.
This land, however, clearly wanted to kill him. If it wasn't the scorching heat of the day, it was the nocturnal Enigma at night. That was… if there weren't diurnal Enigma lurking as well.
If he wanted to leave this tree and make it back to Earth in one piece, then he would have to travel at the most optimal time available, and that required some experimenting. He turned back to the tree and said:
"Say, you don't mind if I borrow a branch or yes do you?"
***
Nightfall came again, and once more, Savin found himself surrounded by horrors beyond human comprehension. The nocturnal Enigma emerged from the darkness, their grotesque forms shifting and writhing under the moonlight. Their very existence defied logic, as if something had plucked creatures from the deepest corners of nightmares and thrust them into reality. No human mind could have conjured these abominations on the fly.
'Abominable.'
But tonight, Savin welcomed them. He wasn't just a helpless observer anymore—he was testing a theory.
The first Enigma to approach was a thing of nightmares. Its face was a twisted mess, as if some blind, careless god had tried to sculpt a human visage but had kept adding features without thought to symmetry. Multiple eyes, some open, some fused shut, were scattered haphazardly across its grotesque visage. Its gaping mouth dripped saliva that hissed as it touched the ground, leaving blackened, dead grass in its wake. The creature's wet, matted fur clung to its hunchbacked form, and its legs, thick with grime and riddled with darkened scales, moved with a sickly grace. Even on all fours, it nearly reached his height.
Savin clenched his jaw, forcing down the bile that rose in his throat.
'I think I'm going to throw up.'
The Enigma moved closer, its breath thick and putrid in the cold air. But as soon as it reached the edge of the Fountain Tree's shadow, it jerked back, snarling.
Savin's grip tightened around the thin branch he had snapped off earlier. His heartbeat pounded in his ears. Even if he was protected, he was still human and fear was still a companion. This was it—the moment of truth. If his suspicions were correct, the tree's power extended beyond just its shadow. He just needed to be sure.
Gulp. Let's just get this over with.
Taking a slow, cautious step forward, Savin stretched the branch toward the creature. The Enigma recoiled, snarling in frustration. Its disfigured face twisted further, almost like it was in pain.
Savin's lips curled into a grin.
'Not so tough now, are you?'
He took another step, pushing the branch further. The creature backed away again. It feared the tree—it feared anything that came from it. That was the key. If he could harness that fear, he could travel safely, even at night. A weapon wasn't necessary; the tree itself was his protection.
For the first time since arriving in this forsaken place, he felt a flicker of control.
And then he let his guard down.
The Enigma lunged.
Savin barely had time to react. One moment, it was cowering; the next, it was on him, moving with terrifying speed. Panic seized his chest as he staggered backward, his heart hammering. He had miscalculated.
'What? Did I get the wrong idea? Damn it! I was wrong! I'm going to die—I'm going to die!'
The beast's massive jaws closed around the branch in his hands. There was a sharp tug—forceful, but not enough to pull him out of the shadow. Then, just as quickly, the Enigma recoiled, spitting the branch onto the ground with a guttural snarl.
Savin hit the ground hard, breathless and stunned.
'What? Wasn't it scared?' His eyes darted to the branch, then back to the creature, and realization dawned.
The damned thing wasn't attacking him. It was trying to pull him out.
Rage flared in his chest as he scrambled back to his feet, still safely within the tree's protective shadow. He glared at the retreating creature, his voice hoarse with fury.
"You bastard!"
He was mad about it, but at the same time, relief settled in his chest. At least now, he had confirmation—proof that the tree held some kind of power over the Enigma. That knowledge alone made all of this worth it.
But then another thought struck him.
If they're afraid of the tree itself… what about the water that comes from it?
His gaze flickered toward the shimmering pool at the tree's roots. That water was strange—too pure, too clear. And more than that, ever since he'd been drinking it, he hadn't felt hungry. Not once. It should have alarmed him more, but right now, all he cared about was testing his theory.
The Enigma still lingered, pacing just beyond the tree's shadow, hesitant yet unwilling to leave completely. Savin's grin returned.
Without hesitation, he rushed to the pool, cupped his hands, and gathered as much water as he could carry. It was cold against his skin, almost unnaturally so.
Turning swiftly, he sprinted back, water sloshing between his fingers. The Enigma, distracted by its own indecision, didn't react in time to the sudden attack.
With a sharp flick of his wrists, Savin flung the water straight at the creature.
The reaction was immediate.
The Enigma attempted to lurch backward, but the droplets struck its blackened fur before it could fully evade. The effect was instant—the sizzling hiss of burning flesh filled the air as patches of its body began to smolder and crack. The creature howled, writhing in agony, its form twisting in unnatural ways.
Savin watched, his breath quick, his eyes sharp, and slowly, a triumphant grin stretched across his face.
"Eureka."