The Oni scouts trudged through the desolate landscape, their destination clear in their minds. Centauri Castle—once a proud fortress, now a place veiled in mystery. The Shogun had grown impatient with the eerie silence that surrounded the Centauri Territory. There were no reports from the Oni Army they had sent, but also no retaliation skirmishes from the Centauri side either. There were rumours whispered of strange happenings, but none had returned to confirm them. And so, Kuro, the seasoned captain of the Oni Scouts, led his small band to investigate the silence.

There were six of them in total: Kuro, the leader, a hulking figure with black horns and scars from countless campaigns, Riku, the silent shadow always lurking at the edges of the group, Tenzo, loud and brash with a thirst for blood, Yasuke, the Shogun’s nephew on his first scouting mission, and the brothers, Sota and Roku—loyal to each other above all else, but deadly when it came to anyone else.

For days, they had trekked across barren hills and empty plains. The air was thick with tension, as if the land itself was holding its breath. But now, something far worse stood before them. A thick fog hung low over the horizon, shrouding the landscape beyond in a sickly grey mist. Where they expected to see the plains that led to Centauri Castle, they were met with something far more sinister.

A forest. Dark, twisted, and sprawling, it stretched as far as the eye could see.

“This wasn’t here before,” Kuro muttered, his hand resting on the hilt of his katana, his face tightening with unease.

The trees loomed above them, monstrous, snake-like trunks twisted in unnatural angles. Black scales covered the bark, which was interrupted by hollow eyes blinking from within the knots and crevices. The eyes watched them, cold and unfeeling, reflecting their every movement.

“This place stinks of sorcery,” Riku muttered, his eyes flicking around at the shifting shadows.

Kuro shot him a sharp look. “We have orders. We reach the Centauri Castle. Whatever magic this is, it will not stop us.” His voice, though firm, betrayed a tension he could not hide. He felt it too—this place was alive.

Stepping forward, they ventured into the mouth of the forest, the ground shifting beneath them, wet and slick with an oily substance. The blue moss clung to the soles of their boots, squelching with each step. Around them, thorny vines hung like webs, weaving themselves through the canopy, inching ever closer. They moved not with the wind, but with purpose, stretching out as though feeling for the Oni, searching for weakness.

Riku slowed as his eyes fell upon the blue moss underfoot. His foot slid, nearly losing balance. “Watch your step,” he warned the others, but his voice wavered. The moss shimmered with an unnatural light, as if a pulse of life ran through it. He felt eyes on him—watching from the trees, from the earth itself.

“This forest… it’s unnatural,” Yasuke whispered, his usual cocky bravado stripped away by the suffocating dread that filled the air.

Kuro pressed on. “Keep moving. Our goal is close.” But the words felt hollow. The deeper they ventured, the more alive the forest became. The trees groaned, their roots slipping beneath the soil with uncanny grace. Vines slithered like snakes above, their thorns gleaming in the dim light that filtered through the dense, overgrown canopy.

The first to fall was Sota.

The group had been walking in tense silence when a sickening snap echoed from above. In an instant, one of the vines shot down, its razor-sharp thorns wrapping around Sota’s neck with terrifying speed. He screamed, struggling to wrench himself free, but the vine was too strong. The thorns dug deep into his flesh, drawing a choked cry for help as it yanked him off his feet.

“Sota!” Roku’s voice was raw with panic as he slashed at the vine with his blade, but the vine tightened, pulling his brother into the black tangle of branches overhead.

“Sota! No!” Roku’s cries turned to frenzied shouts, his blade hacking wildly at the trees, but it was too late. His brother was gone. No body fell from the canopy, no blood dripped down to mark his passing—only the echo of his final, gurgling breath hung in the air.

The forest had swallowed him whole.

Roku stood frozen, eyes wide with horror. Kuro grabbed his shoulder. “We need to move. Now.”

But the forest had awakened, and it wanted more.

Tenzo, ever the brash warrior, was next. He had rushed ahead in a blind fury, determined to cut a path through the twisted undergrowth. His feet struck the slick moss beneath him, and with a startled yell, he slipped, landing hard on his back.

Before he could rise, the blue moss rippled beneath him, and in a moment, jagged ferns burst forth from the earth like blades. The ferns, deceptively delicate in appearance, slashed through his armour with terrifying precision, slicing into his flesh with every movement.

“Tenzo!” Yasuke screamed, rushing to help, but it was useless. The ferns, sharp as razors, shredded Tenzo's body, leaving him a broken, bleeding mess on the forest floor. His lifeless eyes stared up at the sky, wide with shock.

The group’s resolve shattered in an instant.

“Run!” Kuro ordered, his voice hoarse with fear, but the others had already started fleeing. Yasuke, his face pale, darted into the undergrowth, with Riku following close behind. Kuro could hear their ragged breaths, the frantic pounding of their feet, but the forest was far faster.

The ground beneath them began to pulse, undulating as if alive. The trees moved, shifting closer, their roots stretching out like hungry claws ready to entrap them. The vines above seemed to sense the panic, writhing and twisting, their thorns gleaming hungrily.

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Kuro kept his katana at hand, eyes darting around for any sign of an attack. But the forest was relentless. From every angle, it shifted, twisted, morphed.

Riku’s instincts had always kept him alive, but here, in this twisted nightmare, they betrayed him. He saw it ahead—an inviting glow amidst the darkness. A flower, its petals a deep, alluring red, glowed faintly from within, casting a soft light in the gloom.

It was beautiful. Impossible to resist.

His feet moved toward it, his hand reaching out as if compelled by some unseen force.

“No! Riku, stop!” Kuro shouted trying to catch up, but the moment his words left his mouth, the flower snapped shut with a sharp hiss. Its petals closed like the jaws of a beast, and a cloud of red spores exploded outward, engulfing Riku in a choking mist.

He staggered back, coughing violently, his eyes bulging in pain. The spores clung to him, filling his lungs, turning his skin a sickly shade of purple. Blood dripped from his nose and mouth as he collapsed, his body twitching in its death throes before finally going still.

Yasuke, now a trembling wreck, stumbled forward in a blind panic. His once proud posture was broken, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he ran through the forest, desperate to escape. But there was no mercy in the forest’s heart.

A creature emerged from the underbrush—a ball of twisted, green growth, its spindly, thorn-covered legs clicking menacingly as it skittered forward. It had four eyes, all gleaming with wicked intelligence, and it moved with the precision of a spider.

Yasuke didn’t have time to scream. The creature’s claws wrapped around him, thorns piercing his flesh as it dragged him down. In an instant, vines shot out from the forest floor, cocooning his body in a web of greyish strands. His body twitched and struggled, but the vines tightened and the monster dragged him away. Yasuke, the forest swallowed him too.

Kuro and Roku were the last.

The trees shifted around them, closing in like a cage. The blue moss pulsed beneath their feet, the thorny webs above tightening, growing thicker, trapping them in a living labyrinth.

Kuro gritted his teeth, gripping his katana tighter. “We need to move, Roku. There’s still a chance—” But the words faltered in his throat.

Ahead of them, something moved. It was a familiar figure, its body wrapped in sinewy, plant-like tendrils. The eyes were hollow, lacking any light, but its limbs twitched with unnatural life. This was Sota! Or at least his dead body. It stood, frozen for a moment, before lurching forward, its cold arms reaching out with unnerving speed.

Kuro swung his katana, slashing at the creature, but it was too late. The vine-webbed figure latched onto Roku, who still believed it to be his brother. The creature dragged Roku into the underbrush, where the vines waited, hungry and eager to claim a new body.

Roku’s scream was the last thing Kuro heard before the forest swallowed him too.

Kuro stood alone, his heart pounding in his chest. The forest, now silent once more, watched him with its unblinking eyes. Kuro’s breath came in ragged gasps as he stumbled through the labyrinthine forest.

The once-proud Oni captain pushed forward, his heart hammering against his ribcage, blood pounding in his ears. Each step felt like a futile struggle against an enemy he could not see, a force he could not fight. The trees shifted and closed around him, their bark rippling with strange, unnatural movements. The evil eyes blinked from their hollows, watching his every move. The vines above slithered, the ground beneath him pulsated, and the air was thick with the stench of forbidden sorcery.

He was the last. He had watched them all fall—his comrades, his brothers-in-arms—all claimed by the cursed forest. Sota was strangled by a vine, Tenzo butchered by a fern, Riku poisoned by a flower, Yasuke cocooned by a plant monster, and Roku… Roku was killed by a creature which wasn’t quite his brother. It all stunk of foul sorcery.

The forest had toyed with them all, one by one, and now it was his turn.

Kuro slipped on the treacherous blue moss, the slick, oily substance coating his boots. He caught himself just before crashing into the ground, narrowly avoiding the serrated ferns that awaited his misstep. His body screamed with exhaustion, and his mind reeled from the trauma. The forest was closing in, tighter and tighter, and with every blink, the world seemed to shift. The trees were no longer just towering—they were looming, bending toward him, their hollow eyes gleaming with cruel delight.

He slashed at the vines that descended toward him, his katana biting into the thick, thorny tendrils, but there were always more. They seemed endless, reaching out like claws eager to drag him down into the suffocating dark.

A creature emerged from the shadows—a hulking mass of green growth. It was a boulder of a monster, bigger than the last. It scuttled over the moss with a hundred tiny root-like legs like a centipede. Its single eye, big as a fist, locked onto Kuro. The monster buzzed a low, droning cry—a challenge. Kuro raised his katana, ready to defend himself, but the creature was fast—too fast. It lunged at him, its many legs skittering through the slippery moss with frightening dexterity. A thorny tendril on its back, thick as a leg, was already midswing.

Kuro dodged, narrowly avoiding the creature’s strike. His muscles screamed in protest, exhaustion threatening to overtake him, but he couldn't stop. He swung his sword wildly, severing the creature’s tendril, and it screeched, retreating momentarily into the shadows.

But Kuro knew it was only a matter of time before it, or something even worse, returned. The forest was alive, sentient perhaps, and it wanted him. His comrades had been claimed—dragged into the maw of this nightmare, and now he stood at the edge of death’s grasp. The creatures of the forest moved with cruel intelligence, each trap and horror perfectly placed, perfectly timed.

And yet, through the swirling fog, there was a glimmer of hope.

In the distance, beyond the reach of the twisted trees and writhing vines, Kuro saw the faintest hint of light. A break in the endless darkness. His breath hitched—an escape, perhaps, or at least a chance to flee this cursed place. His heart hammered in his chest, and with the last of his strength, Kuro ran.

The forest roared behind him, the vines thrashing through the air, the creatures stirring from their hiding places. The ground shifted beneath his feet, roots rising like snares to trip him, but Kuro kept running, desperation pushing him forward. His vision blurred, his body weakened, but the light was there—so close now.

Just as he broke through the last line of trees, something lashed out from above—a vine, thick and bristling with thorns, snaking down with unnatural speed. Kuro felt the sting as it grazed his shoulder, but he didn’t stop. He pushed through the pain, diving out of the forest's reach, and collapsed onto the open ground.

For a moment, he lay there, panting, the cold air of freedom washing over him. The silence felt almost deafening, but the cries of his comrades still rang in his mind. Kuro lifted his head and looked back.

The trees stood tall and still now, as if they had never moved at all. But he could feel it—beneath the surface, they waited. The hollow eyes gleamed faintly from the darkness, watching him. The forest had not forgotten him, nor forgiven him for escaping. It would remain, lurking, waiting for anyone foolish enough to wander into its depths.

Kuro pulled himself to his feet, his body aching, his mind reeling from the terror of it all. He was the only one left, the last survivor of a doomed mission. But he had a duty, a message that had to reach the Shogun.

He turned away from the forest and began the long, agonizing journey back, haunted by the memory of his fallen comrades and the horrors that had claimed them.

The forest had let him go this time. But in his heart, Kuro knew it was only a matter of time before it came for him again.