There was blood in his mouth again. Metallic. Dry. Bitter.
Lysander blinked against the crust caked in his lashes, dragging himself into a seated position among splintered roots and shattered bark. A carcass twitched beside him—three limbs missing, half a face melted by what had to be his own handiwork. It didn't register. Not fully. His thoughts were wrapped in fog, thick and viscous.
He checked his forearm where the interface usually flickered into being. This time, it didn't wait for permission.
[Veil Frame - Trial Interface]
Name: Lysander
Level: 4
Experience: 134/400
Status: Stabilizing...
Trial Zone: Crucible
Red Zone Proximity: 6.3 km - Encroaching
Imprint Detection: Passive (Unclaimed)
Skills:
Observation Glare [Lv.1] (Active)
Instinct Overdrive [Lv.0] (Dormant)
Bloodline Compatibility: 9% (Latent)
Anchor Protocol: Established (Status: UNSTABLE)
Cognitive Alert: Memory Fragmentation Detected (Severity: Moderate)
Right. That explained the headache. And the sudden flashes—blades flashing, screams in the canopy, eyes like lanterns before everything went white.
A click echoed behind him.
He rolled to his side, hand slipping into the crook of his ruined coat, fingers brushing the cold handle of his jagged blade and a... Bony mask , which he quickly put on . A few meters away, a figure emerged through the hanging moss—shorter, lean, crossbow in hand but held low.
"You alive or just twitching for fun?" the figure asked, raising a brow.
Lysander coughed once, then again, then spit out blood and something that might've been a tooth. "Alive. Maybe not for long."
The stranger laughed—a dry, sandpaper chuckle. "Welcome to the Black Forest. We don't get many solo psychos who survive the Red Bloom."
Behind the speaker, two more emerged. All armored in scavenged gear. Makeshift plates. Cloth wraps. One had a busted AR with moss growing from the barrel.
"We saw the lightshow," the crossbow guy continued. "That was you, right? Looked like a mini sun exploded."
Lysander didn't answer. He stood, slowly. His legs protested.
"What's your name?"
"Lysander. "
The group looked at each other. A girl with oil-smudged cheeks let out a low whistle. "Lysander , hug seems symbolic"
"You heading to the lake?"
He paused. "What lake?"
They exchanged another glance. The crossbow guy pointed at the sky, where a faint shimmer pulsed.
"Got a system prompt this morning—same time as everyone. Whispering Lake event. Limited access. Something about resonance benefits for those who reach it. We were going, but figured we'd sweep the forest edge for stragglers. Like you."
Lysander frowned. He hadn't seen that notification.
"System glitched for you?" the girl laughed "Or... you are just too deep in the mess?"
"Bit of both."
They moved together. Cautiously. A temporary alliance born from necessity. The group introduced themselves without formality. Crossbow guy was Tarek. The girl was Mina. The silent one with the mossy gun was Jian. They were a microgroup—one of many in Crucible, held together not by trust, but desperation.
They didn't ask where Lysander came from. He didn't ask about their dead. There was an unspoken understanding in this zone: everyone had ghosts.
The trees here whispered. Not metaphorically. Some literally whispered in voices not their own. Jian told him one tree kept reciting an old Earth radio jingle on loop. No one laughed.
Halfway to the lake, they ran into a crawler nest. Black shelled things. Bone-thin limbs. Eyes that radiated cold.
Mina fired first. Crossbow bolt to the neck. One dropped. The rest hissed.
"Pull back!" Tarek shouted, loosing a shot of his own. Jian, despite the AR's age, managed a controlled burst that knocked a crawler's head clean off.
Lysander moved differently. The world slowed—not literally, but his senses surged. Observation Glare kicked in, pupils dilating as patterns etched across his vision. Weak points. Tendon lines. Fracture paths.
He stepped through one, blade burying into its spine. Another lunged. Instinct Overdrive surged for a moment, just enough for him to duck low, roll, and slam the blade upward.
Four kills later, it was over. Mina stared at him like she wasn't sure if she should thank him or shoot him.
"That skill of yours... that observation thing..." she said. "It's not standard."
He wiped the blood off on a leaf. "Neither am I."
By dusk, the trees began thinning, and they saw it: the Whispering Lake. Silver ripples across dark waters. A halo shimmer hung over it, distorting air and distance.
"We camp here," Jian said, speaking for the first time. Voice low. Raspy. "We wait until midnight. Then go."
Lysander sat at the edge of camp, staring at the lake.
From somewhere above, the red zone shimmered faintly. Shrinking.
And from within the Veil Frame, a new message blinked to life:
Imprint Signal Detected. Synchronization Threshold: Near.
He didn't know what that meant. Not yet.
But something in the lake was calling.
And for better or worse—he was going to answer.
Chapter End.