The wasteland stretched endlessly before Vigdis, the jagged rocks and cracked earth a bleak but familiar sight. Her boots crunched softly against the dry ground as she walked, her axe resting against her shoulder and the crossbow slung across her back. The morning air was cool, carrying the faint metallic tang of distant storms. She’d felt it for hours now—the faint, rhythmic tremors beneath her feet.
At first, she’d thought it was nothing. The wasteland was full of strange occurrences: collapsing ground, burrowing creatures, even the occasional pocket of shifting air that made the earth shudder. But this... this was different. The tremors were steady, deliberate. They felt like something alive.
She paused briefly, crouching to press her hand against the dirt. The vibrations were faint but constant, like the heartbeat of something enormous lying dormant beneath the surface. Her green eyes narrowed, scanning the horizon for any sign of movement.
“Wasteland nonsense,” she muttered, rising to her feet. Still, her grip on the axe tightened as she continued her journey.
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The hours passed slowly. The wasteland offered little in the way of distraction—just endless rock formations, cracked roads, and the occasional skeletal remains of long-dead creatures. Vigdis kept her pace steady, her sharp eyes scanning the terrain for any sign of trouble.
By late afternoon, the sun hung heavy in the sky, its heat beating down relentlessly. She stopped at a half-collapsed ruin—a crumbled structure of twisted metal and broken stone. It provided enough shade for her to rest, her back against the cool surface as she sipped water from her flask. Her body ached, the weight of her gear pressing down after hours of walking, but she didn’t complain. Complaining never got anyone anywhere out here.
As night fell, the wasteland came alive with its eerie symphony. The distant howls of creatures echoed across the barren land, and faint glimmers of green light flickered along the horizon—some kind of magical anomaly she’d learned not to approach. She built a small fire and kept her crossbow close, sleeping lightly, her instincts always attuned to danger.
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The next morning, the horizon shifted. As the sun rose, its pale light revealed a jagged skyline in the distance—rows of blocky, uniform structures that stood like silent sentinels against the wasteland’s emptiness. The Danger Zone.
Vigdis paused on a rocky outcrop, her gaze fixed on the ruins. The buildings weren’t skyscrapers, but they loomed nonetheless, their broken windows and crumbling facades giving them a hollow, menacing appearance. The ground around them was uneven, cracked as if by some ancient earthquake. Even from this distance, the place felt wrong, like a wound festering on the land.
She exhaled sharply, shaking off the unease. Her path would take her closer to that place, but not yet. For now, it was a distant threat, one she’d deal with when the time came.
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The tremors returned by midday. This time, they were stronger, the ground shifting beneath her boots. She stopped abruptly, her hand instinctively going to her axe. The rhythmic vibrations were no longer faint—they were coming closer.
Before she could react, the earth erupted behind her, roots bursting forth like the limbs of some monstrous creature. They lashed out, their bark-covered tendrils whipping toward her with terrifying speed. Vigdis spun, her axe coming up just in time to sever one of the roots. The thick, gnarled limb fell to the ground, writhing like a severed snake.
The whispers came next, faint at first but growing louder, echoing in the air around her. They weren’t words, not exactly—just a deep, guttural sound that carried the unmistakable presence of the Hollow King.
From the shadows cast by the jagged rocks, a form emerged. It was skeletal, its frame a twisted amalgamation of bark, antlers, and fungus. The Hollow King’s visage was unmistakable, though this version was smaller, less rooted than the one she’d fought before. Its hollow eyes glowed faintly, its movements deliberate and slow as it stepped toward her.
“You again,” Vigdis muttered, her grip tightening on the axe.
The thing didn’t respond. It raised a clawed hand, and the roots surged forward again, aiming to entangle her. She ducked and rolled, coming up with her crossbow in hand. The green-tipped bolt struck true, embedding itself in the Hollow King’s chest. Light flared, bathing the chamber in its eerie glow—but the creature barely staggered. The roots around Vigdis didn’t retreat, and the Hollow King stepped closer, unbothered, its hollow gaze fixed on her.
She froze, her mind racing. These bolts had felled monsters before, creatures of darkness and chaos, but this thing... it wasn’t the same. The thought clicked into place like a puzzle piece she hadn’t noticed missing. The Hollow King was of nature—twisted and monstrous, yes, but still rooted in the primal forces of the world. The sap of the Tree of Life couldn’t destroy what was already a part of it.
“Perfect,” she muttered bitterly, yanking her axe free from its loop as she prepared to fight.
Stolen story; please report.
The fight was brutal, the creature’s roots lashing out with relentless precision. Vigdis’s axe cleaved through them, but they regenerated quickly, twisting and reforming as they tried to ensnare her. The smaller form of the Hollow King moved with unnerving grace, its antlers slicing through the air as it lunged for her.
But Vigdis was faster. With a roar, she brought the axe down in a powerful arc, severing the creature’s arm. The impact sent it staggering back, its hollow eyes fixed on her as though assessing her strength. For a moment, she thought she saw something like recognition in its gaze.
The roots retreated suddenly, sinking back into the ground. The Hollow King’s form crumbled, its bark-like frame collapsing into a pile of ash and moss. But Vigdis didn’t lower her weapon. She knew this wasn’t over.
“It’s not going to stop, is it?” she muttered, scanning the empty wasteland for any sign of movement.
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Before she could take another step, the ground erupted beneath her. Thick roots shot up with violent force, tangling around her legs and pulling her off balance. She swung her axe instinctively, severing one of the tendrils, but more replaced it almost instantly, wrapping around her arms and torso.
With a sharp tug, the roots dragged her downward, the wasteland’s surface crumbling as she was pulled into a dark, gaping hole. Dirt and debris showered her as she struggled against the constricting roots, but the force dragging her down was relentless.
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When the descent finally stopped, Vigdis found herself in a massive underground chamber, dimly lit by an eerie green glow emanating from veins of glowing moss that clung to the cavern walls. The air was thick, damp, and stifling, carrying the faint scent of decay.
In the center of the chamber, the Hollow King’s malformed visage emerged from the shadows. Its skeletal frame was smaller than before but no less terrifying. Antlers twisted upward like jagged spears, and its hollow, glowing eyes fixed on her with a predatory intelligence. Its bark-covered limbs were fractured and warped, but they moved with unsettling fluidity, each motion deliberate and purposeful.
The whispers returned, louder now, filling the chamber with their guttural chorus. They seemed to come from every direction, wrapping around her like a suffocating fog. The roots holding her tightened, their coarse texture digging into her skin as the Hollow King stepped closer, its movements echoing in the still air.
Vigdis gritted her teeth, her muscles straining against the restraints. “You should’ve stayed dead,” she growled.
The Hollow King didn’t speak, but its presence was oppressive, radiating malice and something deeper—a connection she couldn’t quite place. The roots lifted her higher, bringing her face-to-face with its grotesque visage. Its hollow gaze seemed to pierce through her, as though searching for something.
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With a roar, Vigdis twisted her body, using every ounce of her strength to break free. Her axe was still clutched in her hand, and with a powerful swing, she severed the roots around her waist. The sharp crack of splintering wood echoed through the chamber as she fell to the ground, landing in a crouch.
The Hollow King’s antlers glowed faintly as it raised its clawed hand. Roots erupted from the ground, coiling like serpents and striking toward her. Vigdis ducked and rolled, narrowly avoiding the first wave, her axe slicing through the air in a brutal arc. The blade cleaved through a thick tendril, severing it with a wet crunch. Sap sprayed across the stone floor, but the roots kept coming.
She snarled, pivoting to face the advancing mass. The Hollow King loomed above her, its hollow eyes glowing faintly. It moved deliberately, its clawed limbs jerking like a puppet’s. Her axe bit deep into another branch-like limb, splitting it in two, but the creature didn’t falter. The severed pieces writhed on the ground before sinking back into the earth.
Her heart pounded as she realized her attacks weren’t slowing it down. If anything, the creature seemed to grow stronger, feeding off the very ground they stood on.
The roots surged again, wrapping around her ankle and yanking her off balance. She hit the floor hard, pain shooting through her elbow as she rolled to avoid the next strike. The Hollow King loomed closer, its skeletal frame casting long shadows across the chamber.
“Stop,” a voice rang out, clear and calm, cutting through the din of the fight.
Vigdis froze for the briefest moment, her eyes darting around the chamber. The voice wasn’t hers. It wasn’t the Hollow King’s either. It was steady, commanding, and eerily familiar.
“Run,” it said, unyielding. “You’re not ready.”
Her jaw tightened. The roots surged again, snapping toward her like whips. She swung her axe, cutting through two, but a third caught her wrist, twisting her weapon from her grasp. The Hollow King leaned closer, its antlers glowing brighter, the chamber pulsing with their eerie light.
“You cannot win this fight—not yet,” the voice urged. It resonated through her mind like a distant tolling bell, unwavering and ancient.
Vigdis’s instincts screamed to stand and fight, to push back. But deep down, she knew the voice was right. This thing—this twisted force—was more than she could handle now. Her hands clenched into fists as she made her choice.
The roots came for her again, but she rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding them. She spotted a weak point—one of the glowing veins in the wall seemed to pulse in sync with the creature’s movements.
“Let’s see if you bleed,” she muttered, lunging toward it. Her axe slammed into the glowing vein, and the effect was immediate. The Hollow King let out a deafening screech, its form flickering like a shadow caught in the wind.
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Taking advantage of its disarray, Vigdis sprinted toward the far end of the chamber, her axe hacking at the roots that tried to block her path. She found a narrow tunnel leading upward, the faint light of the surface visible in the distance. With one final burst of effort, she clawed her way out, the roots snapping at her heels as she emerged into the wasteland once more.
She collapsed onto the cracked ground, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath. The sun was blinding after the dim light of the chamber, but the fresh air was a relief. She lay there for a moment, letting the weight of her escape sink in.
When she finally stood, her body ached. Her armor was scratched, her arms bruised, and a fresh scar ran across her left forearm—a parting gift from the Hollow King’s claw. She ran her fingers over it, the mark a tangible reminder of their connection.
She looked back at the ground she’d just escaped from, her green eyes narrowing. The Hollow King wasn’t gone. It wasn’t done with her.
“Fine,” she said aloud, her voice low and steady, a promise rather than a challenge. “Next time you come for me, I’ll be ready.”
Adjusting her gear, she turned toward the distant skyline of the Danger Zone.