The night sky dimmed gradually, the horizon shifting from bright orange hues to the deep darkness of night. The forest seemed to stretch endlessly as I looked through the many rows and columns of trees; it was truly an unbroken expanse of trunks and shadows. They all fought for light, the ones that couldn’t reach it lying dead, providing nutrients for the others. My long journey south offered little in the way of distraction, doing nothing to ease the restless thoughts swirling in my mind.

Boredom was what was killing me—not even the path I was walking, just my mind and me, a true hell.

I kept walking forward, for who knows how long. My mouth slowly became parched, desperate for even a single drop of water. As my journey continued, I lost track of time; my mind was numb from this long escape I was on, the only thing that wasn’t numb being my aching body. As I continued to walk, my head throbbed like a growing tumor, pain pulsing behind my eyes.

As if a third sense had activated, I could smell the running water; I could sense it, and I knew it was there. My desperate mind recognized it just from the scent of mildew that probably grew nearby; it was noticeable.

As I continued walking, my body automatically picked up the pace, entering a sort of sports mode. A sound filled the air that would tell anyone everything they needed to know. It was loud, crashing against the surroundings—a recognizable rhythm that started fast-paced but slowed to a halt.

I could hear it.

The forest path seemed to be leading me directly to it. The sound of running water flowed through my ears. I could hear it—smell it even—though I couldn’t pinpoint what was drawing me toward the river. The rushing sound grew louder with every step, urging me forward, and soon I was running, almost in a frenzy. I tore through the tree line, and there it was—a slow-moving river winding its way downstream. A small waterfall crashed into the rocky bed below, its roar drowning out all other sounds.

It was a rare sight; if I could, I would save it in my memories forever, like a painting but portable.

Massive boulders broke the waterfall as it collided with the surface of the water, which was deep and murky. The green muck that covered it made it impossible to see more than an inch below the surface. I had thought there might be an animal or something else waiting for me, but there was only silence. It was strange seeing a waterfall for the first time when you don’t know if you will live or die. Waterfalls were rare in the Surat Plains, a mostly flat region, and this one felt like an anomaly.

The filthy-looking water sat there; it was unappealing in every way, yet my thirst was unbearable. My mind might have been overreacting, but my body didn’t care—it moved on its own, carrying me under the waterfall with my mouth wide open. The cold water hit my throat, flooding my senses and revitalizing me. My hair became completely soaked, and my ranger’s coat protected my clothes, at least. It felt like life itself had been poured into me, washing away the exhaustion that had gripped me for hours. I was alive again, but something still confused me.

The way I was going, I should have reached the city of Sengun by now if I had been heading due south. So why was I here? This walk was taking its toll—my body was tired, burning and strained from not taking a break. Sengun was the only city in this area; it would be hard to miss. Though nearly abandoned, the only other place nearby is the Sabonis Fortress, home to the other hunter orders.

If I head to Sengun, I’ll have to deal with the city’s “new owners”—a group of cultists who go to extremes to fulfill their goals. Even though they worship us hunters, most of what they do is pure evil for the sake of it.

I don’t know which one is closer, but I’d bet my chances on just following the river upstream to Sengun.

Climbing back up the slope, I began to walk along the edge of the waterfall. The current was faster here, the water so clear it looked like glass—smooth, without a rock in sight. Just the flowing current.

I stared at it, lost in thought, feeling a sudden urge to jump in and take a much-needed bath, to let the water cleanse me. It was tempting, the idea of swimming in it, feeling clean again. But I couldn’t waste time—not with the risk of arriving after they’d already assumed me dead, placing my name over an empty casket.

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Though my mind was running haywire, the way the water moved reminded me of life itself—clear at the start, growing muddy as it went on. Watching it brought back my past in a single moment. I still remember most of it, though some parts have begun to blur. I remember, yet I don’t.

My thoughts were wild, like dogs running loose. And the only thing coming to the surface was yesterday morning—when I could still see them. My friends. They were like family. I wish I could be with them now. But that’s a childish thought, isn’t it? I know they’re dead. Yet every time I think about it, I’m not filled with sorrow. It’s rage, burning for revenge.

I don’t know why these thoughts consume me so much, but they’re like a cog turning, pushing me forward. Maybe that’s what’s kept me moving without rest. I don’t know if I could do it without this ever-growing parasite gnawing at my mind.

I tried to collect myself. I knew that these thoughts, left unchecked, could be a sin. And yet, I don’t even know if my prayers will be answered. I need to stop doubting, to believe in people again. But even though my thoughts are supposed to be on the god I’ve worshipped since childhood, they run wild. I don’t know why my mind is changing so much, why I can’t focus on my faith like I used to.

“God, don’t you watch over your followers?” I murmured to the sky. “Please, if you can hear this, clear my mind.” I truly hoped that what I asked for would come true. That it would silence the doubts, ease the chaos. But deep down, I knew—asking never grants anything for free.

My doubts only grew. These events had changed me for some unknown reason that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Was it the thought of betrayal? Or the inability to tell a lie from the truth? My thoughts were riddled with doubt—about everything, even things I had held firm since childhood.

My mind wouldn’t stop. It was as if, all at once, I had been enlightened in the worst way possible. Every belief I had, every truth I’d trusted, was unraveling before me. Nothing seemed certain anymore, and the more I tried to hold onto something solid, the more my mind questioned everything—tearing apart what little I had left.

I felt like a stranger to myself. The doubts, once whispers, had become loud, relentless, filling every corner of my mind, demanding answers I didn’t have.

“Aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh!”

The scream tore from my throat, raw and desperate, with no other purpose than to drown out the storm inside my head. It was useless, I knew that. But I needed something—anything—to make the noise stop. I just wanted everything to stop. I wanted me to stop.

I grabbed my head desperately, my fingers digging into my scalp, though there wasn’t any real pain. I didn’t even know why I did it—it wasn’t because of the ache behind my eyes or the pounding in my skull. It was just… a reaction, something automatic, like my body knew to do it before I did. Like I was trying to hold myself together.

Without any thought, I just started walking downstream, turning my back on the sun. If a cold breeze had come, maybe it would’ve made me stop and look back, but the air was still—unnaturally so, given that I was in the middle of a forest. The only sound was the rhythmic crunch of my boots against the damp earth, a sound that slowly faded from my awareness as my ears seemed to automatically drown it out.

Oddly, my mind began to clear. The memories and swirling doubts that had plagued me moments ago felt distant, like they had lost their grip. It was as if focusing on the present, on each step forward, washed away the chaos inside.

I felt… different. Like something inside me had snapped, and all the noise was gone. The shift was subtle yet profound, like I’d shed a layer of myself I didn’t need anymore. For the first time in what felt like hours, I wasn’t overwhelmed by memories or rage—just… quiet.

Though my mind was much clearer, thoughts still lingered as I walked, and one thing became certain—I had limited time. My old mindset, in hindsight, was strange, almost naïve. I used to think as if I had all the time in the world, that I could live forever. It was an immature way of thinking, a delusion of endless possibilities without consequence.

But now, that seemed foolish. Time wasn’t a luxury; it was slipping away with every step I took. And yet, even as I had this realization, I knew I wouldn’t change my ways. I wasn’t about to start dreaming of a quiet life, lounging in the sun without purpose. A life without meaning would be more unbearable than death itself. I wanted more than that.

This would destroy my own purpose. To join that life, I would need two good reasons.

Each step I took against the riverbank sent my mind racing, while the clear and empty water drew my gaze. The forest grew denser along the river as the bank diminished. High bushes pushed against me as I tried to navigate through them.

Not far from me, I heard a small rustle from the bushes. I wouldn’t have thought much of it at all if not for the low growl that followed.

“Come out now,” I said, hoping it wasn’t anything dangerous.

I received no response; I wasn’t expecting much. Pulling my sword from its sheath, I pointed it at the bush where the sound had come from. I wanted to grip it tightly, but my injured arm felt like dead weight.

In a moment of panic, I stabbed the bush. A small whine escaped, and I hadn’t expected that. With trepidation, I opened the bush to see what was inside. The only thing left there was a dead baby fox.

A wave of guilt crashed over me—an innocent animal that posed no threat was killed because of my paranoia. Is this really what it has come to?

Why? Why? Why am I so stupid? I killed a baby that had parents. What kind of monster am I?