Riku’s breath came in ragged gasps, his chest heaving as he struggled to steady himself. The fight had taken everything out of him—every ounce of strength, every ounce of focus—and still, he stood. His fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword, its edge slick with the black ichor of the Corrupted Abomination. The creature’s massive form lay sprawled before him, its grotesque body twisted into a heap of darkness and decay. Its once-glowing eyes were now dull, the flickering light that had once emanated from them fading into the murky air.

Victory.

He should have felt elated. Should have felt triumphant. But all he could feel was a hollow emptiness, as if the forest had stolen the victory from him before he could savor it. The damp air seemed to press in on him, heavy with the remnants of the battle, the stench of decay lingering in the oppressive mist. The fog had not retreated fully, still clinging to the earth like a shroud, as though it too was unwilling to let go of the darkness that had clung to the forest for so long.

Riku wiped his blade clean, the motion automatic as his mind wandered. His arms felt like lead, the weight of the sword a constant reminder of the toll the battle had taken on him. His body ached with bruises and cuts, but none were as painful as the raw exhaustion gnawing at his bones. He was used to the burn of combat, to the pressure of battle. But this… this had been different. The very air in the Abyssal Woods had felt thick with corruption, like the forest itself was alive with malice, watching his every move, testing his resolve. It was unlike any fight he had ever faced.

The Abomination was a monster in every sense of the word. A hulking, grotesque thing, born of darkness and twisted by whatever dark force held sway over these woods. It had come for him with ferocity, its claws rending the air with deadly precision, each strike capable of tearing through bone and flesh alike. But Riku had stood firm, parrying its blows with all the skill he had honed over the years. He had fought with every ounce of his being, channeling his strength and will into each swing of his blade.

And in the end, he had won.

But the victory tasted bitter on his tongue, overshadowed by the feeling that this battle was merely a prelude to something far worse. He had come here to rid the forest of its corruption, to destroy the source of the dark force that had warped the land. But now, as he stood over the fallen creature, he realized how little he understood of what he was truly up against. The Abomination had been a symptom, not the disease.

Riku cast a glance at the creature’s twitching form. It was dead—there was no mistaking that. Its massive body was still, the glowing veins that had once pulsed with dark energy now dimmed and lifeless. But Riku knew better than to let his guard down. He had seen enough death, enough destruction, to understand that monsters like the Abomination didn’t die so easily. Even now, he could feel the shadows shifting around him, as if the very woods themselves were mourning the loss of the creature. Mourning, or preparing for something far worse.

He sheathed his sword with a mechanical motion, the hilt slipping into place with a muted thud. His hand still trembled from the sheer force of the battle, the aftershocks of adrenaline coursing through his veins. He needed to move.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Taking a deep breath, Riku forced his body to respond, pushing through the fatigue that threatened to consume him. He turned away from the creature, his eyes scanning the thick fog that surrounded him. The trees loomed like sentinels, their twisted branches reaching toward him in the dim light, their trunks gnarled and knotted like old, weathered hands. The fog swirled at his ankles, thick and suffocating, curling around his feet like an unwelcoming embrace.

It had been hours—no, days—since he had crossed the threshold of the Abyssal Woods, and yet it felt as though time had warped in this cursed place. His sense of time had long since been lost, swallowed by the endless expanse of dark trees and shifting shadows. The air was damp, the smell of decay seeping into his very skin, mingling with the scent of his own sweat and blood. He could feel the weight of the forest pressing in on him, suffocating him, urging him to give in to the despair that lurked at the edges of his thoughts.

The woods were alive. He had known that from the beginning, had felt it in his bones the moment he had stepped into the fog. The trees whispered to one another in the windless air, their low groans carrying on the unseen currents. They seemed to shift and bend as he moved, their shapes warping in his peripheral vision, as though the very forest was alive, watching, waiting for him to make a mistake.

His instincts screamed at him to turn back, to flee this cursed place before it consumed him as it had so many others. But he couldn’t. Not yet. He had come too far to turn back now. He had a purpose here, and he wouldn’t allow the forest—or its dark forces—to defeat him. Not now. Not when he was so close to the truth.

The wind howled through the trees, a mournful cry that sent shivers down Riku’s spine. It was a warning, he knew that much. But the forest wasn’t the only thing he had to worry about. He had heard the rumors, the stories whispered in the dark corners of taverns and inns, of cursed lands and the creatures that roamed these haunted woods. They were the stuff of nightmares—beasts twisted and deformed by the corruption that had taken root in the heart of the forest. But Riku had seen enough to know that monsters didn’t always take the shape you expected.

His grip on his sword tightened, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the mist-shrouded path ahead. Something was wrong. The air felt different now, heavier. Charged. The faintest rustle of leaves reached his ears, and his heart skipped a beat. His instincts flared, his senses tingling with the presence of something—no, someone—else.

He wasn’t alone.

Riku’s fingers brushed the hilt of his dagger as he moved off the path, seeking cover behind a large, gnarled tree. The forest had a way of playing tricks on the mind, but his eyes never failed him. Every shadow was a potential threat, every sound a signal of danger.

He waited, his muscles coiled like a spring, every sense trained on the shifting fog. The air grew colder, the hairs on the back of his neck standing at attention. There. A soft crunch of underbrush, the unmistakable sound of footsteps—heavy, deliberate, and too far apart to belong to any normal creature.

Riku’s heart pounded in his chest. This wasn’t a lone animal. No, this was something far worse.

The creature emerged from the fog like a phantom, its hulking silhouette just barely visible through the mist. His breath caught in his throat as his gaze locked onto it. The Corrupted Abomination had not been the only threat here. The forest was teeming with creatures, its depths crawling with horrors that sought to tear apart anything that dared to enter.

He pressed himself against the tree, his heart racing. The creature was close—too close. He had only moments before it would spot him. His mind raced as he calculated his next move. Should he fight again? Or was it time to run? The options were few, and none of them were pleasant.

Riku exhaled slowly, his fingers tightening around the hilt of his sword. No. He hadn’t come this far to run. Not now.

With a low, steady breath, he prepared himself for the next battle. The real fight had only just begun.