The forest had swallowed their scent, but not their footprints.
Madness may have stolen their minds, but not their weight.
I knelt beside the torn underbrush, fingers brushing across crushed moss and the faint imprint of a boot heel smeared with blood—the same blood I'd spilled with Sigil Brand. The trail wasn't easy, but it was there. A broken twig here. A pattern in the muck. Even madness left behind a path.
They weren't fleeing blindly.
They had somewhere to return to.
'A nest. A shrine. A den of fanatics.'
I followed the signs in silence. Not because I feared discovery—but because the silence was alive. The air didn't carry sound; it held it, suspended like a breath before a scream.
The forest wasn't hostile anymore.
It was listening.
Watching.
Curious.
Was it the spiral sigil branded into my arm? The Devourer's Core pulsing faintly inside me? Or just the weight of resurrection on borrowed flesh?
Either way, I walked in shadow.
Hours passed. The trees grew closer, stranger. Their bark twisted in jagged whorls, some naturally formed, others carved with spiral symbols that throbbed with faint heat. One trunk bore a severed hand nailed through the palm, its fingers curled toward the sigil.
Then I found it.
Not a shrine. Not a camp.
A totem.
It hung between two trees like a gatekeeper, made from antlers, bones, and cloth soaked in what I could only assume was blood. Spirals covered every piece—some scrawled hastily, others etched with ritualistic care. One had been painted upside-down.
The scent of ash, incense, and rot lingered.
Beneath the totem, the trail led into a ravine—its slope hidden by brambles and mist so thick it looked like the breath of the earth.
The system pulsed.
[System Notice: Spiral Ritual Perimeter Detected]Soulbound resonance increasing. Host presence may trigger response. Risk Level: Moderate.
I took one step down the slope—and felt it.
Pressure.
Cold. Familiar. Like the memory node's pull, but distorted, as if something deeper was waiting to notice me.
Still, I went on.
The ravine led to a hollow—sunken like a crater punched into the forest floor. Trees didn't grow here. The earth was bare, black, and cracked like dried blood. In the center stood a ruined stone circle, tangled in vines and spirals—some chiseled, others glowing faintly as if freshly drawn.
At the heart of it all: a firepit.
Still warm. Ash stirred by my breath.
They'd been here recently.
I crouched, inspecting the site. Blood spattered the stones. Burnt fabric—deep purple robes—smoldered with runes too faded to decode. Something heavy had been dragged. Something with arms.
A whisper stopped me.
No—sobbing.
I turned sharply, hand instinctively tightening.
Behind a half-collapsed pillar, wedged in rubble and shadow, sat a girl—barely fifteen, wrists bound in thorned twine, her skin cracked with dried blood and bruises. Dirt streaked her cheeks, and her eyes were wide with terror.
She tried to recoil, but her bindings held her fast.
"Please," she rasped, barely audible. "Don't let them come back…"
[System Notice: Non-Cursed Survivor Detected – Ritual Target Identified]Interference with boundary may escalate threat response.Extraction recommended.
I didn't hesitate.
She wasn't just bait.
She was an offering.
I dropped to my knees and tore at the twine. It bit into my palms, but I didn't care. Her arms trembled, but she didn't pull away. She just watched me with stunned, pale-blue eyes.
"You're not one of them," she whispered.
"No," I said softly. "But I wish I'd killed them slower."
I pulled her free, cradling her weight as she collapsed against me. She weighed almost nothing. The spiral circle beneath us pulsed—and shattered.
The air screamed.
Not with sound, but light.
Dozens of spirals lit up in the soil around us, burning red, spinning in opposite directions. The mist recoiled—and shapes stepped free from it.
[System Warning: Ritual Disturbance Triggered – Hostile Response Imminent]Prepare for confrontation.
They came in silence.
Five of them.
Not like the others. These were larger—more intact. Clad in ritual armor, with rusted plates and dark robes bound by rope sigils. Their faces were covered by metal masks shaped like spiral helixes, elongated downward like melted wax. Each mask was different—one was cracked. One was charred black. One glowed from within.
Their weapons were forged, not improvised. One carried a staff of black bone. Another, twin blades inscribed with writhing glyphs. The third had no weapons—just elongated, clawed gauntlets covered in dried blood.
The girl trembled in my arms.
"They're not like the others…" she whispered. "They're the Keepers…"
'Elite fanatics. Guardians of the ritual. Of course they'd come.'
I set her down behind a fallen stone slab and stood slowly, facing the enemy.
I didn't tremble.
Because neither was I like before.
My body hummed with borrowed strength.
My fingertips burned with echoes.
"Let's see what makes you worthy of guarding this madness."
[System Objective: Survive the Keeper's Rite]Optional: Terminate All Ritual Enforcers. Bonus Reward: Spiral Sigil Fragment (Rank C) – Purified Form.
I raised my hand—and stepped forward.
The spiral glowed on my arm, pulsing with purpose.
The Keepers raised their weapons in unison.
The fight had only just begun.