Fractured Realities. (61)

Gripping my fist tightly, I gazed at the expanding fog that seemingly represented my very essence—rotten, devoid of vibrant hues. Disappointment washed over me, as I had hoped at least the stars would grace the sky with their presence.

In this desolate region, the dull green landscape evoked a sense of apathy, while the somber fog obscured the color of the sky.

Smirking at the irony of it all, I forged ahead without a guide, refusing to remain stagnant and risking the descent into madness.

Rotten driftwood obstructed my path, and although the swamp lacked a distinct odor, its density impeded my progress. Glancing at my dwindling stamina, I caught a flicker of movement in my peripheral vision.

Summoning the Dark Threads cautiously, I captured the frenzied energy trailing behind me. Drawing in a deep breath, I plunged into the swamp's clutches, immobilizing myself within the viscous abyss.

If this were an illusion, I had to exercise caution and refrain from employing dangerous skills.

The energy crackled above the swamp's surface, directly overhead. Oxygen evaporated from my lungs, my throat constricted from the lack of air, and the desperate need to inhale grew unbearable. In that moment, a thought dawned upon me:

What if the swamp itself is the illusion?

Gathering the flame within my palm, I ignited my fingers with a radiant blue hue, illuminating the murky surroundings.

My body felt weightless, and the pressure on my skin dissipated. As I opened my eyes, I found myself surrounded by a dense forest of dark brown poplar trees. Their barren crowns were concealed by a thick, gray fog, devoid of branches and leaves.

Crouching on my heels, I sought refuge beneath my wings when a chilling wind whipped decaying splinters against my face. Doubt crept in—was this yet another illusion?

Surveying my surroundings, I strained to discern any distinguishing features amidst the monotonous backdrop. However, everything appeared eerily similar, leaving me uncertain about which direction to take.

Swallowing hard, I rose to my feet and surveyed the area.

Damn.

My feet were no longer ensnared by the swamp, but the new environment posed its own challenges.

My skin bristled with needles, reacting to the impossible cold. This illusion was so vivid and realistic that it amazed me how I had not immediately succumbed to the cold upon descending into the swamp.

Pursing my lips, I summoned the Dark Threads, hovering them twenty centimeters above the frozen ground covered in thin layers of ice. Stepping onto the threads, I resumed my journey amidst the poplar trees.

At one point, I attempted to climb a narrow trunk, hoping to gain a vantage point and survey the landscape from above. Yet, I encountered an impenetrable barrier.

In a desperate effort to mark my path, I etched crosses into the tree trunks with my claws. But when I turned around, those gnarled scratches vanished within seconds, leaving no trace.

I walked on my own two feet for what felt like an eternity, gradually growing weary. Leaning my hands on my knees, I gazed upon the never-ending forest. Days, perhaps even weeks, passed, yet those accursed trees loomed before me without respite.

Feeling utterly defeated, I sat on the Dark Threads and conjured the Ignition once again. The surrounding air, in contact with the flame, crackled and seared, but the fire extinguished itself promptly.

They don't want me to shatter this illusion, do they?

Glancing behind me, I recalled the words of the 605, mentioning that the inhabitants lacked physical bodies. What then were they? Spirits? Ghosts? Or perhaps an integral part of the terrain itself?

I decided to test my theory and set one of the trees ablaze, but in response, a powerful gust of wind slammed into me, forcefully pinning me to the ground.

Gasping for breath, I lay prone, a rotten snag piercing my skin and penetrating deep into my liver. Agony shot through me as the tree seemed to wrench my insides out, blood seeping from the wound. Wheezing, I clenched a fistful of earth and cast a bitter smile toward the fragile-looking poplars.

At that moment, a spark of realization flickered in the depths of my mind.

Contemplating the events since I had attempted to burn the tree, I questioned whether a mere snag could cause me harm.

Swiftly, I sat up and grasped my stomach, only to find unbroken skin, thorns intact.

What was the truth?

With determination, I clenched my fist and unleashed a Shadow Blow upon one of the trees. This time, the wind did not interfere, but the damage inflicted upon the trunk was minimal. Each blow reverberated through my tail, numbing it, while the trunk bore only shallow scratches.

Opening my mouth, I unleashed a Sonic Attack.

The headwind rushing into my mouth made me cough, momentarily depriving me of the ability to breathe.

Exhaustion consumed me.

The wind extinguished my attempts at Ignition and Sonic Attack.

Neither Shadow Strike nor Dark Threads posed any threat to the towering poplars.

Without the knowledge of Witchcraft at my disposal, I was left with only my final gambit. Perhaps I was only digging myself deeper into trouble, but I couldn't bear to be trapped within this loathsome forest any longer.

Squatting down, I tapped into the power of Dragon Scales, my skin adorned with spikes, and a silvery tail trailing behind. With focused intent, I unleashed hundreds of needle-like bones toward the barrier, but they were absorbed without any discernible impact. Even the projectiles failed to harm the poplars.

I had employed various skills, but none had proven successful. I couldn't bring destruction to either the forest or a single tree trunk.

Having depleted half of my stamina, I weakly exhaled.

Lowering my tail, I leaned back against a tree, sinking to the ground. All my power amounted to nothing in this place.

Breathing heavily, I cast a furious glance at my surroundings, refusing to accept defeat.

If I couldn't trust my eyes, nose, and ears, then I would rely on my inner strength.

Frowning, I closed my eyes and extended my mental tendrils outward. After a few moments, I sensed the vibrations of life approaching from all directions, rushing toward me like a colossal wave. Yet, I remained seated, unmoving.

90 meters, 70, 40, 20, 10, 5, 2.

They drew nearer with each passing minute. Sweat trickled down my face as my body remained rooted to the spot. My thoughts were muddled, but I clung to my willpower.

The aura pressed upon me, even on a physical level. When I finally opened my eyes, I saw nothing but the familiar sight of trees surrounding me.

"I wish to meet your King," I declared.

In response, silence prevailed, with only a gentle wind stirring the withered and sparse grass over the frozen ground.

How do I find my way to Nemfis?

My fangs gnashed against each other, producing a discordant melody.

Chilled to the bone and fatigued, I summoned the Fiery Dark Threads and wrapped them around myself. The threads infused warmth into my body, hastening the flow of blood through my veins.

But I remained devoid of ideas. Continuously wandering through this forest would only lead me in circles.

The incessant monotony of the fauna grew even more grating after an hour of fruitless contemplation. That's when I turned to my limited knowledge.

Primitiveness, chaos, and sadness.

Opening my eyes, I dispelled all my skills, including the needles that dotted my skin. The cold gradually eroded the warmth in my blood. Steam billowed from my mouth, thick and heavy, as I stepped onto the frozen ground, feeling the touch of the wind against my wings.

My tail swung to the right, and I stood frozen like a statue.

The cold had seeped into my bones, slowing my heartbeat to a mere throb per minute. The wind howled like a tempest, while the gap between the poplars narrowed before my eyes.

With determination burning within me, I vowed to find an escape from this twisted realm, accepting myself for who I am without relying solely on the external manifestations of my newfound existence.

If my thoughts have conjured this landscape, then I shall locate its source and dismantle the very root of chaos.

I refuse to trade my prejudices for sorrow. I will forge my own path to hell, paved with the blood of my enemies and the torrent of tears and sweat. I will stand before Nemfis, unyielding and resolute!

The Dark Threads penetrated deep into the ground, and with each passing moment, I could sense the ebb and flow of time against my weathered face. My cells aged and withered, my skin sagged like that of a feeble old man, only to rejuvenate into a youthful form with diminished stature. The wind grew restless, and the environment morphed, transitioning from desert to dungeon, from battlefield to vibrant landscapes. The allure of illusions became increasingly captivating.

Yet, I pressed on, unyielding.

And then, I caught sight of a structure that struck a painful chord within me. It was yellow and square, etched into my mind like an impenetrable rock. My heart tightened into a knot, my breath held captive, and two tears traced a path down my cheeks as one of the threads collided with a boulder towering hundreds of meters above the ground.

With a frigid sigh of air, my balance faltered, and I found myself hurtling through the air, plunging towards a green island where the relentless waves of a blue sea crashed against formidable rocks.

My entire body bore the scars of burns and deep wounds, yet my heartbeat pulsed within my chest.

Then the illusion shattered like shards of glass.