Chapter four

Claire stumbled through the forest, her body sluggish with exhaustion. Every muscle ached, and her limbs felt heavy, weighed down by the bruises and cuts from her desperate escape. She hadn’t realized how important the naginata had become to her until it was gone. Without it, she felt utterly defenseless, like a piece of her had been torn away in the chaos. *I have to find it.*

She pushed through the underbrush, barely aware of the scratches forming on her legs and arms from the branches that snagged her. Her breath hitched, and she couldn’t stop the involuntary shudder that coursed through her body as the memory of the creature’s claws dragging across her skin surfaced. It had toyed with her, and the feeling of being prey—helpless, hunted—wouldn’t leave her mind. Her hands clutched at nothing, the absence of her weapon a gaping void, making her heart pound with fresh panic.

*It has to be here,* she thought wildly, her breath coming in shallow bursts. *It has to be here.* Her body was running on adrenaline, her vision narrowing as she scoured the forest floor in a frenzy. Her hands tore at leaves, dirt, and roots with growing desperation, her breath becoming erratic as the minutes passed. She could hear herself hyperventilating, her panicked gasps echoing in the quiet forest. Frustration and fear coiled tight in her chest. A strangled scream of frustration ripped from her throat before she could stop it, and immediately she clamped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide with fear. She held her breath, listening intently for any sign that something—or someone—had heard her. Her eyes darted around the woods, heart hammering in her chest.

Just as her legs threatened to give out, her foot hit something solid. Claire froze, staring down at the object half-buried in the dirt. Her naginata. Relief surged through her, though it was quickly overshadowed by exhaustion. She bent down, her fingers brushing the cool metal before she pulled it free from the leaves.

The forest felt like it was closing in on her. The trees seemed to stretch taller, their branches intertwining overhead like skeletal fingers, blocking out what little light filtered through the canopy. Every step Claire took felt heavier than the last, the ground beneath her feet tilting and shifting like it was trying to pull her down. The air was thick, almost suffocating, pressing down on her chest with each shallow breath she managed to take.

Her vision blurred, the shapes of trees and rocks blending into a dizzying haze of green and brown. The world around her swam, distorting in a way that made her stomach churn. It was as if the forest itself was warping, bending reality just enough to keep her disoriented and off-balance.

A cold shiver ran down her spine. There was a lingering stillness in the air, too quiet, as if the world was holding its breath. But it wasn’t the peaceful kind of quiet. It was the eerie, unnatural silence of a predator stalking its prey, waiting for her to make a mistake. The memory of the creature’s claws tearing at her skin resurfaced, sharp and vivid, making her flinch. Her body ached with the phantom pain, the reminder of how close she’d come to death.

Her legs trembled, her muscles screaming for rest, but her mind wouldn’t let her stop. She had to keep moving. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was still watching her, lurking just out of sight, waiting for the right moment to strike.

The fear gnawed at the edges of her thoughts, an ever-present shadow that refused to fade. The fight had taken more out of her than she’d realized, leaving her body drained and her mind frayed. Each step felt like it would be her last, her body too exhausted to keep going, her mind too clouded to find a way out of the oppressive maze of trees.

Just as her legs gave out, Claire collapsed against a tree, her body trembling uncontrollably. The forest seemed to close in around her, the twisted branches overhead casting long, oppressive shadows that stretched like claws reaching out to swallow her whole. The air was thick, suffocating, as if the weight of Grimoria itself pressed down on her chest, making it impossible to catch her breath.

Her heart pounded painfully in her chest, each beat echoing like a drum in her ears. She tried to hold it together, tried to push the fear away, but the memories of the creature—the feel of its claws tearing at her skin—rushed back with brutal clarity. The forest had taken on an eerie, almost otherworldly silence, but she could still hear it in her mind—the growls, the snarls, the way it had toyed with her like prey.

Claire squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the sounds, but it only made the panic worse. Her breath came in short, shallow gasps as her chest heaved. The cold, damp earth beneath her felt like it was pulling her down, dragging her into its depths. She was so tired, so completely drained, that all she wanted was to disappear into the ground and let it end.

She could feel the emptiness inside her, gnawing at her, making everything worse. There was no one here. No one to care if she lived or died. The realization hit her hard, and her whole body shook as the tears started to fall. Hot, bitter sobs wracked her frame, the kind of tears that came from a place deep inside, where all her fear and frustration had been hiding.

The tears blurred her vision, but it didn’t matter—there was nothing comforting to look at. The forest was a twisted nightmare, and she was trapped in it. The gnawing loneliness clawed at her, and for the first time since arriving in Grimoria, Claire let herself fall apart completely.

“I can’t do this,” she whispered, her voice hoarse and broken. Her hands shook as she tried to cover her face, muffling her sobs. “I can’t... I’m not strong enough.”

The oppressive silence of the forest pressed in on her, making her feel even more powerless. The weight of her situation bore down like a boulder on her chest, making it hard to breathe. She curled up tighter, her body shaking uncontrollably, as the enormity of it all crashed over her in waves. For the first time, she truly understood just how alone she was.

Claire’s legs trembled as she stumbled toward the stream, her body aching with every step. The sound of running water was a small relief, but it did nothing to quiet the gnawing anxiety still buzzing in her chest. The eerie silence of the forest around her made her skin prickle with unease, as if the shadows themselves were watching.

Her clothes stuck to her skin, heavy with dried sweat, dirt, and blood. They were soaked through, clinging to her body in uncomfortable ways, and she could feel the fabric rubbing against her wounds, making the pain worse with every movement. She needed to clean up—now.

With trembling hands, she tugged her shirt over her head, hissing as the rough fabric dragged across her ribs. Her skin was sticky, and as she glanced down, she saw that the inside of her bra was stained dark with dried blood. Where the fabric had rubbed against the gouges left by the creature’s claws, it had opened up fresh wounds, and each movement sent sharp pangs through her body.

Biting her lip, Claire unclasped her bra, the cool air hitting her bare skin. The relief was immediate but short-lived. She winced, glancing at the deep scratches across her torso. Blood had seeped through the band, and the sight of it made her stomach churn. She tossed the bra aside, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.

Her pants were next. They were caked in grime and clung to her legs uncomfortably, but when she tried to peel them off, the movement tugged at the cut on her thigh—a shallow but jagged wound that had reopened during her frantic run through the woods. “Damn it,” she muttered under her breath, her fingers trembling as she slowly worked the fabric down her legs.

Her underwear was the last to go, and she winced as the elastic waistband brushed against the cut. It wasn’t deep, but it stung like hell, and as she finally got the last piece of clothing off, she tossed them aside with a frustrated sigh. There was nothing dignified about it, nothing remotely graceful, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. Not here. Not now.

Claire stood at the edge of the stream, naked and raw, her skin marred with bruises, cuts, and dried blood. The cold air bit at her skin, but the sensation was grounding—reminding her that she was still here, still alive. She stepped into the water slowly, the cold shocking her system. Her breath caught in her throat, and for a moment, the only thing that existed was the sharp sting of the water against her wounds.

The stream came up to her waist, and Claire lowered herself in, submerging as much of her body as she could. The cold was unbearable at first, biting and relentless, but as she sat there, letting the water wash over her, the pain dulled into a kind of numbness. She closed her eyes, her arms wrapped around her chest—not to cover herself, but to hold herself together.

The water did its job, loosening the grime and dirt from her skin, but as the blood washed away, the reality of her injuries became more apparent. The gouges across her ribs, the scrape on her leg, the bruises that dotted her arms and back—each one a reminder of how close she’d come to death.

It was too much. Too overwhelming.

Her breath hitched, and without warning, the tears came. She tried to hold them back, but the sobs broke free, raw and uncontrollable. She hugged her knees to her chest, the cold water mingling with the hot tears that spilled down her face. Her body shook, her breath coming in ragged gasps as the fear, the exhaustion, the loneliness—all of it—crashed down on her at once.

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She was alone in a strange world, fighting to survive, and for the first time, it hit her how truly helpless she felt.

The sobs wracked her body, and for a long time, she just sat there, letting the emotions pour out. There was no one here to see her fall apart, no one to judge her weakness. It was just her and the water, the oppressive silence of the forest, and the overwhelming weight of everything she’d been holding back.

Eventually, the sobs subsided, leaving her feeling hollow and drained. She wiped her face with the back of her hand, sniffling as she tried to pull herself together. She couldn’t stay like this forever. She had to keep going, had to survive, no matter how broken she felt right now.

With trembling hands, she reached for the naginata she had left at the bank of the stream. The weight of the weapon in her hand was a strange comfort—a reminder that she wasn’t completely defenseless. She wasn’t dead yet.

Not yet.

A rustling sound behind her snapped Claire out of her daze, sending a jolt of adrenaline through her system. Instinctively, she grabbed for her naginata, her fingers wrapping around the familiar handle as she spun toward the noise, her body tensing for a fight. Her breath quickened, her heart pounding in her chest as she prepared to defend herself against whatever threat had crept up behind her.

But instead of a monstrous creature, it was a man—tall, gangly, and clearly caught off guard. His face turned beet red the moment their eyes met.

“Oh gods! I swear, I didn’t mean to look!” Harold stammered, flailing and stumbling back as if the sight of her nakedness had struck him like a blow. “I didn’t see anything—I mean, not much—I mean—oh gods, this is bad.”

Claire blinked, completely thrown off by the sudden turn of events. The threat wasn’t a beast but some idiot with terrible timing. She immediately dropped her guard and scrambled to cover herself, the naginata forgotten as she used her arms to shield her chest, cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“Turn around, you perv!” she barked, sinking lower into the water, her voice filled with mortification.

Harold spun around so fast he nearly tripped over his own feet, his hands clapping over his face. “I didn’t know anyone was here!” he blurted, though Claire could still see him peeking between his fingers. “I swear I wasn’t trying to—uh—uh—do you want a sandwich?”

Claire scowled, her face flushing with anger. “Did you like what you saw, creep?” she muttered, her voice laced with venom.

Harold’s face somehow turned even redder as he stumbled over his reply. “Yes—I mean no! I mean, it wasn’t like that! I didn’t mean to—oh gods!”

Claire glared at him, her arms still tightly wrapped around herself as she sank lower into the water. *What kind of person offers a sandwich in this situation?*

Before Claire could respond, a new voice chimed in from behind Harold.

“Harold, what in the gods’ names are you doing?”

A woman appeared, her arms crossed and an eyebrow raised in mock exasperation. She took in the scene with a smirk, clearly amused by Harold’s flustered state.

“Oh, I see what’s going on here,” Elise said, her eyes glinting with humor. “Harold, were you peeking?”

“No!” Harold yelped, spinning again to shield his eyes, though the hand holding the sandwich flailed in the air. “I wasn’t—I didn’t—uh, I should... uh, go set up camp!” He blurted the last part out and fled into the trees, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste to escape.

Elise’s smirk widened as she watched him go. “Do you think he peeks when I bathe too?” she asked with a wink, turning her attention back to Claire.

Claire, despite herself, snorted at the absurdity. “I sure hope not,” she muttered, still crouched low in the water, arms crossed tightly over her chest.

Elise chuckled, shaking her head. “Don’t worry, he’s harmless. Just not great with timing.”

Claire groaned, sinking deeper into the water. *Clearly.*

“Could you two *please* let me get dressed?” she asked, her voice tight with frustration.

“Right, right,” Elise said with a smirk. “We’ll be at the camp when you’re ready. Take your time.”

Claire remained in the cold stream, her arms wrapped tightly around her chest, trying to process the whirlwind of embarrassment, frustration, and exhaustion. This was how her day was going—almost torn apart by monsters, barely clinging to her life, only to end up caught bathing by a couple of strangers.

“Fantastic,” she muttered under her breath, the water lapping softly against her skin.

Harold’s panicked exit had left her feeling both humiliated and oddly relieved. At least he wasn’t a total creep. Elise’s smirk, however, lingered in her mind. There was something about the way the woman had handled the situation—like she was completely at ease in this world—that made Claire feel even more out of her depth. Of course, they know how to survive here. I’m the rookie.

The water chilled her to the bone, but it was better than sitting in her filthy, blood-stained clothes. Still, she couldn’t linger forever. Claire took a deep breath, forcing herself to push past the exhaustion and soreness as she stood up, the cold air immediately sending a fresh wave of goosebumps over her skin. She wrung out her hair and reached for her discarded clothes on the bank.

I just have to get through this. The thought echoed in her head as she pulled her shirt over her head, grimacing as the fabric stuck to her still-healing wounds. The scratches were raw, but the water had at least done its job, cleaning away the worst of the grime.

As she dressed, Claire kept her naginata close, her eyes constantly scanning the treeline. This place wasn’t the kind where you could afford to relax—not even for a moment. She had learned that the hard way. Always something lurking.

With her clothes back on and her weapon in hand, she took a deep breath and glanced toward the direction Harold had fled, Elise likely close behind.

I guess I have to face them again. She wasn’t looking forward to the inevitable awkward conversation, but it wasn’t like she had many other options. And as much as she hated to admit it, she needed allies—badly. She wasn’t going to survive this place alone.

After one last glance around the forest to make sure nothing was sneaking up on her, Claire made her way back toward where Elise had mentioned setting up camp. She moved cautiously, each step deliberate, her body tense from both pain and the lingering anxiety that had settled in her chest ever since the encounter with the creature.

The camp was modest, nestled in a small clearing just off the stream. A flickering fire had been set up in the center, and around it, a few makeshift logs had been dragged to serve as seating. Harold was already there, nervously fiddling with a piece of jerky, his eyes darting between the fire and the trees. Elise was leaning against a tree, sharpening a small blade, her expression calm, but her eyes sharp and alert.

They noticed her approach instantly. Harold sat up a little straighter, his face flushing again, while Elise gave her a casual nod.

“Glad you decided to join us,” Elise said, not looking up from her blade. There was an ease to her tone, but Claire could sense the underlying strength in her. Elise wasn’t someone you wanted to cross.

Harold, meanwhile, couldn’t seem to meet Claire’s eyes, his face still a deep shade of red. “I, uh… didn’t mean to…” he mumbled, trailing off awkwardly.

Claire raised a hand, cutting him off before he could dig himself any deeper. “It’s fine,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady, though her cheeks still burned with embarrassment. “Let’s just pretend it never happened, okay?”

Harold’s face brightened in relief. “Deal!” he said, far too quickly.

Claire sighed and settled onto one of the logs near the fire, the warmth immediately soothing the chill that had settled into her bones. She stretched out her legs, feeling the ache in her muscles from the day’s ordeal. The fire crackled softly, and for the first time in what felt like ages, Claire let herself relax—just a little.

“So,” Elise began, looking up from her blade, her gaze sharp as it fixed on Claire. “What brings an Aetherian out into the Wilds?”

Claire’s stomach twisted at the question. She had been hoping to avoid this. “Aetherian?” she echoed, playing dumb.

Elise raised an eyebrow, her lips quirking into a half-smile. “Don’t play coy. That arcane look, pale skin, that’s Aetherian blood, no doubt about it. You lot don’t usually come out here.” Her gaze was assessing, like she was trying to figure out why someone from the floating city of Aetherium would be wandering around the Wilds without backup or even proper gear.

Harold, ever helpful, chimed in. “Yeah! You’re way too, uh… shiny for this place.”

Claire blinked at him, caught off guard by the odd description. “Shiny?”

Elise rolled her eyes, but there was amusement in her voice. “What Harold’s trying to say is, we don’t usually see your kind out here. The Wilds aren’t exactly friendly territory, especially for people who rely on magic and fancy floating cities. So, either you’re lost… or there’s more to your story.”

Claire felt her heart skip a beat. Lost. Yeah, that was one way of putting it. But she couldn’t exactly explain where she had come from—at least, not yet. She barely understood it herself. Instead, she forced a casual shrug, hoping to deflect.

“Guess you could say I took a wrong turn.”

Elise’s eyes narrowed slightly, but she didn’t push. “Not a smart place to get lost in. The Wilds have a way of chewing up those who don’t belong. Even locals know better than to wander without a plan.”

Claire glanced down at the fire, feeling the weight of her own uncertainty settle in her chest. She was starting to understand that. The Wilds were more than just a dangerous landscape—they felt like a living force, ready to swallow her whole if she wasn’t careful.

Harold, sensing the tension, leaned forward, eager to shift the conversation. “Well, I think you’re doing pretty great so far!” he said, offering Claire a hopeful grin. “You found that naginata, didn’t you? And you’re still here. That’s more than most can say.”

Claire forced a small smile, though Harold’s compliment didn’t quite reach her. She knew the truth. Surviving isn’t the same as thriving.

“Thanks,” she muttered, her thoughts drifting back to the creature that had nearly killed her. She had barely survived—barely. The naginata felt like a lifeline, but it also felt like a reminder of just how out of her depth she really was. She didn’t feel strong. Not yet.

“You’ve got the look of someone who’s been through hell,” Elise remarked casually, her eyes never leaving her blade. “But here’s the thing—you’re still standing.”

Claire looked up at her, surprised by the sudden intensity in her words. Elise’s gaze was steady, almost challenging, as if daring Claire to break under the weight of her own self-doubt.

“That means something,” Elise continued. “The Wilds don’t give second chances. If you’ve made it this far, there’s something in you that’s worth watching.”

Claire held her gaze, feeling a strange mix of defiance and doubt stir inside her. Something worth watching? Did she really have that, or was she just stumbling along, trying to stay alive by sheer dumb luck?

“Maybe,” Claire said softly, not entirely convinced.

Elise shrugged, her smirk returning. “Or maybe you’ll find out soon enough.”

Harold, always eager to fill the silence, suddenly dug into his pack and pulled out something wrapped in cloth. He held it out to Claire, his expression sheepish. “Hey, uh, I know this doesn’t make up for the earlier thing, but… sandwich?”

Claire blinked, momentarily thrown off by the absurdity of the offer. The gesture was so awkward and oddly normal that she couldn’t help but let out a small, tired laugh—one that came more easily than she expected.

“Sure,” she said, accepting the sandwich. “Thanks.”

As she took a bite, the tension in her shoulders eased just a little. It wasn’t much, but sitting by the fire with these two strangers—both awkward and oddly comforting in their own ways—felt like the first step toward something. What exactly, she wasn’t sure yet, but for now, it was enough.

For now, it felt like she wasn’t completely alone.

As the night deepened, the fire crackled quietly, and the forest around them remained eerily still. Claire glanced up at the stars peeking through the treetops, feeling the weight of everything she’d been through settle in her chest. The danger hadn’t passed. It never would—not in the Wilds. But at least, for tonight, she had a fire, a weapon, and two allies.

It wasn’t much. But it was a start.