He smirked. "Alone?"
A pause. Then: "Always."
He leaned his head back against the wall, exhaling slowly. "Bet you don't miss the company."
Cloud didn't answer right away. The fire crackled softly between them. Then: "Company is fine. Talking is the hard part."
Cal raised an eyebrow. "Funny. You're better at talking than most people I've met."
She turned her head slightly, just enough to glance at him through the veil. "You must've met some quiet people."
He chuckled, then winced. "Point taken."
The fire popped softly, sending a spark up into the cave's dark ceiling.
Cal shifted slightly, watching her from across the flames. His gaze drifted to her arm—the one she'd nicked during the fight.
The cloth she'd wrapped around it was still there, tied tight, but it looked stained, fraying at the edges. The cut had stopped bleeding, but the bandage was stiff with dried blood.
"You should change that," he said.
Cloud didn't look up. "It's fine."
He frowned. "It's not. That wrap's half falling apart."
"It's clean enough."
"No, it's not."
A pause. Then she said, flatly, "Drop it."
Cal leaned forward, tossing another stick into the fire. "You looked after me for days. Let me return the favor."
"I don't need favors."
He raised an eyebrow. "It's not a favor. It's basic wound care."
She finally glanced at him. "I said it's fine."
"And I say it's dumb to walk into wild beast territory with a half-rotting bandage."
Her eyes narrowed slightly behind the veil.
Cal held up his hands. "Look, I get it. You're tough. Strong. Mysterious sword lady. Very intimidating."
She stared at him in silence.
"But even the strongest people bleed," he added, voice quieter now. "Let me help."
She looked away, her jaw tense.
Cal reached into his bag and pulled out one of the cleaner wraps he had.
For a moment, she didn't move.
Then, slowly—reluctantly—she extended it.
Cal scooted closer, careful not to move too fast, and took her wrist gently. Her skin was cool, her muscles tense beneath his touch. He began unwrapping the old cloth, watching her expression for any sign of discomfort.
Peeling the last of the dirty bandage off. The cut beneath was clean, but red and irritated. He reached for the bottle of salve and dabbed it on gently.
She winced—just barely—but didn't pull away.
"Sorry," he murmured.
Cloud said nothing.
He worked in silence, wrapping the new cloth tightly but carefully. His fingers moved with a quiet precision that surprised even him.
When he was done, he tied it off and let her go. "There. Still looks cool. Still deadly. Just less likely to get infected and fall off."
She flexed her fingers, testing the wrap. "Tolerable."
Cal gave her a look. "That's high praise from you."
He returned to his side of the fire and leaned back with a sigh. "You're really bad at letting people help you, you know that?"
Cloud didn't reply at first. Then she said, almost like it was a confession, "Most people only offer help when they want something."
Cal blinked at her.
"I don't want anything," he said.
Another long pause.
"...I know," she said.
...
Dawn broke slow and pale, the first shafts of light filtering through the thick canopy. Mist clung to the forest floor in soft tendrils. The fire had burned low, embers faint in the cave's dim light.
Cloud stood first, already re-packing her things, movement quiet and precise. Cal rubbed the sleep from his eyes and stretched, groaning as his shoulder twinged.
"Time to go?" he muttered.
She nodded, tightening her pack. "We follow the river. If the map was right, then we should be on right path soon."
They stepped back into the forest, following the gurgle of the river through moss-covered stones and weaving roots. The trees here grew closer, thicker, the trunks dark and scarred, their tops lost in fog. Birdsong was gone. Even the insects were quiet.
Cal slowed, his brows drawing together. "Is it just me or… something feel wrong?"
Cloud stopped mid-step.
The air had changed.
Thicker. Heavier. A faint pressure pressed on their skin like humidity before a storm—but dry. The scent of ozone clung faintly to the air, sharp and unnatural.
Cloud's eyes narrowed. She crouched beside a tree, touching the ground.
Long gouges tore through the bark, deep and jagged. The underbrush nearby was crushed, branches snapped. Nearby, a boulder had been split clean down the middle.
She rose slowly. "Something passed through here. Big."
Cal looked at the damage. "That from another boar?"
Cloud shook her head. "Greater Mana Beast. Likely serpentine class." Her tone was flat, but he caught the edge in it.
Cal paled. "Like… bigger than the boar?"
She gave him a sharp look. "If we see it, don't talk. Don't run. Just move when I tell you."
Before he could ask anything else, she added under her breath, "This shouldn't be happening. Greater Beasts stay deeper, near the heart of the forest."
They pressed forward, keeping close to the water. The river had narrowed here, trickling over jagged rocks. The canopy overhead thickened, and light grew harder to find.
Then the sound came.
A low rumble, like boulders grinding together. Followed by the high, metallic screech of scales dragging over stone.
Cloud froze. Her hand went to her sword instantly.
From between two massive trees, the creature emerged.
It slithered silently, impossibly large—easily forty feet long, its body coiled like a python. Its hide shimmered with translucent, crystalline scales that caught the rising sun and scattered it into blinding shards of light. Two eyes glowed a sickly yellow, and faint pulses of energy flickered beneath its skin.
It watched them, unmoving. Then, like a switch flipped, it struck.
"Move!" Cloud shouted, shoving Cal aside as the beast lunged.
Its jaws snapped shut where he'd stood moments before, crushing a boulder like glass. Cal rolled, scrambled to his feet, heart hammering.
Cloud's sword was out in a flash. She moved with precision, sidestepping its tail and landing a clean slash against one of its coils. The blade glanced off the scales with a sharp clang, leaving barely a mark.
She didn't retreat.
She danced around it, her feet gliding over moss and rock, striking again and again—aiming for the eyes, the underbelly, the joints. But the beast was faster than it looked, and it had a trick of its own.
A burst of light erupted from its body—like sunlight condensed into a flashbang.
Cal shielded his eyes with a cry. His vision went white.
Cloud staggered back, momentarily blinded.
The beast lunged again, twisting unnaturally, using its momentum to coil toward her. She barely dodged, its tail smashing a tree to splinters beside her.
Cal blinked rapidly, vision swimming. "Cloud!"
She didn't answer, her breathing fast. Her movements were slowing.
"I can't keep this up," she muttered to herself.
Her strikes lacked the edge they once had.
In truth, she wasn't using her full strength—couldn't.
This land, this continent. The air was thick with mana, but not her kind. She drew from qi, the lifeblood of all things in Tianxuan. But here, the air repelled her cultivation. No qi flowed through these trees, this ground. The mana here pushed against her meridians, refusing to be absorbed.
So she fought on raw skill alone. No techniques. No internal boost. And it was catching up.
The serpent coiled for another strike.
Cal saw her stumble—only slightly—but enough.
Something cold snapped inside him.
Not again.
Not this time.
The light around the beast began to dim.
A pulse of wrongness rippled from Cal like a breath drawn in reverse. The shadows stretched unnaturally toward him, then snapped forward like ropes.
They wrapped around the beast's midsection, not holding it down—freezing it in place. The air itself distorted, the world flickering like a broken image.
Cloud turned sharply, sensing the shift.
The beast roared in protest, thrashing against the grip of something that wasn't physical. Its scales shimmered violently, but it couldn't move.
"Now!" Cal shouted through gritted teeth, blood trickling from his nose.
Cloud didn't hesitate. She blurred forward and drove her blade under the creature's jaw, up through the thinner plate near its head. A crack split the air as the mana core shattered.
The serpent thrashed once—twice—and went still.
Silence.
The beast's body began to break down, scales fading to dust, its presence evaporating with the mana surge it had created.
Cal dropped to his knees.
Cloud was there in an instant. "Cal—"
He waved a hand, breath ragged. "I'm fine. I just—" He wiped his nose, saw the blood, and frowned. "Okay. Not fine."
"What was that?" she asked, voice low. Not accusing. Not angry. But something close to awe.
Cal looked at his hands. "I don't know. I didn't mean to. I just… wanted it to stop."
Cloud helped him sit upright, her grip strong and steady.
"We'll talk later," she said sharply, scanning the trees. "This much mana and noise—it'll draw more."
Cal nodded, dizzy, his ears still ringing from the strain. "Right. Let's go."
Cloud turned toward the serpent's remains. Its body was already crumbling, but at the center of the broken chest cavity, something pulsed faintly—smooth, glass-like, with flickers of color trapped inside like lightning in amber.
A mana core.
She crouched and reached into the dust, retrieving it with one practiced motion. The core was warm, vibrating softly in her palm, and she quickly wrapped it in cloth before stashing it in her pack.
"We'll follow it upstream. Fast as you can manage."
"I can walk."
She gave him a look. "You'll try. I'll carry you if I have to."
He almost smiled at that—almost. But her expression wasn't joking.
With one last glance at the ruined battlefield, they turned and slipped into the trees, moving quickly but low. Cloud stayed ahead, blade in hand, her posture tense. Every snap of a twig made her flinch just slightly, her senses sharp. Cal followed, one hand pressed to his side, each step heavier than the last.
Minutes stretched. The river grew louder.
Cloud paused at a ridge, crouching beside a cluster of pale-stemmed trees. Below them, the river curved around a flat shelf of stone—a narrow path hugging its edge.
"That way," she said.
Cal nodded, too winded to speak. He followed her down the slope, boots skidding on loose moss.
They followed the river's bend, the trees thinning with every step. The air lost some of its oppressive weight, and the smell of wet rot began to fade.
Cloud glanced back at him—Cal was moving, but barely. His steps had grown uneven, his shoulder hunched like he was carrying more than his pack. His face was pale, skin damp with sweat, but he didn't complain.
He hadn't said a word since they left the clearing.
Cloud said nothing either, but she slowed her pace just enough to keep him within reach.
Then—sunlight.
It broke through the branches in scattered rays, soft at first, then stronger, until the trees finally parted.
A clearing opened ahead, wide and golden with tall grass. The edge of the Mana Beast Forest lay behind them—twisted trees ending like a curtain pulled back. Beyond it, rolling hills and open sky. Real sky. Blue and unbroken.
Cal stepped into the light, squinting up at it.
He smiled faintly. "We made it…"
Cloud stopped just behind him, her gaze sweeping the horizon.
She didn't see the collapse coming.
Cal swayed once, then his knees buckled, his body folding forward. Cloud stepped toward him—just in time to catch him as he fell.
He slumped into her, his full weight crashing into her chest, and she grunted, staggering a step back.
"Cal—!"
His head rested against her shoulder, his breathing shallow. His eyes were closed, skin cold with sweat. Blood had dried along his collar and temple, more now at the corner of his mouth. He'd pushed himself too far.
Cloud froze for a breath, arms half-curled around him. Then slowly, carefully, she adjusted her grip and lowered him to the grass, cradling the back of his head so it didn't hit stone.
She pressed a hand to his forehead. Fever.
"Tch."