Chapter 6: The Waiting Woods
It was now midnight.
Aiden sat on the edge of the hard wooden bed, his elbows resting on his knees, eyes fixed on the grimy cabin window. The forest outside was drenched in moonlight, silent and unmoving except for the occasional flicker of leaves swaying in the breeze. Yet, despite the stillness, something gnawed at his mind.
It was too quiet. Too peaceful.
"There's no way the fifth game is just... this," he muttered to himself.
He couldn't shake the feeling. Every game before had thrown him into chaos. The burning heat of the desert. The haunting masks in the forest. The blood. The fire. The death.
And now? Birds. Trees. Villagers selling fruit.
He'd wandered into a village with nothing but his name and his sword. No one attacked him. No one screamed. No one even looked at him twice.
It didn't sit right.
Three hours passed. Aiden stayed glued to the window, watching. Waiting. Not even the hoot of an owl broke the silence. The wind howled faintly at times, but even that felt staged. Too neat. Too fake. Like a movie scene left on loop.
By hour five, Aiden's back ached and his eyes burned from staring. He hadn't moved much, afraid that if he looked away even once, something would finally appear.
Nothing did.
He let out a long breath and stood, muscles stiff.
"Screw it. If nothing's coming to me, I'll go find it myself."
He grabbed the crossbow that leaned against the wall, checking its string and weight. It was in solid shape, well-used but functional. Next, his eyes turned to the DaneSword, still hanging in its place.
He reached out, pulled it from the leather straps, and gave it a slow swing.
"This baby better come in clutch."
Crossbow over his shoulder. Sword on his back.
He pushed open the cabin door and stepped into the forest.
The air was cold now, sharp against his skin. The trees cast long shadows, some dancing like ghosts in the wind. He walked quietly, each step careful, ears straining for even the smallest sound.
Minutes passed.
Then half an hour.
Nothing.
Just when he was about to think he might be wrong—
Crack!
A branch snapped somewhere to his right. He spun, heart racing, crossbow raised.
There, just ahead in the clearing, stood a large brown figure. Muscular, twitchy. Four legs.
A deer.
"That scared the crap out of me!" he hissed, lowering the crossbow.
His heart was still pounding, but the adrenaline slowly drained. He shook his head, half amused and half annoyed.
And then it hit him.
He didn't have food.
No coins. No cash. The villagers weren't about to hand out roasted chicken to strangers with swords. And unless this place ran on kindness—which, judging from the game's track record, it didn't—he'd be starving soon.
His gaze locked back onto the deer.
"You're my dinner tonight."
He took aim.
Breathe in. Hold. Release.
Thwip!
The arrow soared through the night air and struck the ground a few feet to the right. The deer flinched, then bolted.
"Oh, come on!"
Without thinking, Aiden ran after it.
Branches slapped against his face as he darted through the underbrush, ducking under low-hanging limbs, hopping over roots. The deer was fast, but Aiden had determination.
Five minutes in.
Ten.
Fifteen.
He wasn't gaining ground.
At the twenty-minute mark, he noticed something strange.
The same mossy rock.
The same broken tree stump.
The same patch of purple flowers.
He skidded to a stop, chest heaving.
"You've got to be kidding me."
The deer wasn't just running.
It was looping.
Either the creature was smart, or the forest was playing tricks on him.
More likely the latter. This was a game, after all.
And this was no ordinary forest.
Aiden let out a sharp breath and leaned forward, hands on his knees.
"I just chased dinner in circles for half an hour."
The deer was long gone. His stomach growled in protest.
He looked around once more, scanning the trees.
Still no monsters.
Still no madness.
Just silence.
"Alright," he muttered. "You win, forest."
Turning on his heel, he retraced his steps back toward the cabin. His legs ached. His throat was dry. Every step back felt heavier than the last.
When he finally arrived, the cabin looked the same as when he'd left it. Cold. Lonely. Waiting.
He stepped inside and shut the door behind him with a soft click.
Sword, crossbow, arrows — all set down gently.
He collapsed back onto the bed, staring once more at the ceiling.
Still no monsters.
Still no madness.
But Aiden knew better.
This was only the calm.
And the storm was never far behind.
The mattress creaked beneath him as he shifted, closing his eyes briefly. His body was exhausted, but his mind refused to shut down. Each rustle of the leaves outside made him jolt slightly, a spike of anxiety curling in his gut. He tried to reassure himself that the deer was the worst thing he'd face tonight, but even he didn't believe it.
Suddenly, a faint whisper echoed from outside. Not a breeze. Not an animal. A voice. Muffled. Indistinct.
He sat up quickly, staring at the door.
Was someone there?
He reached for his crossbow again, creeping slowly to the window. The forest outside looked the same — quiet, still, untouched.
But Aiden had been in the game long enough to know that the real threats never announced themselves.
He backed away from the window, hand still gripping the crossbow. Whatever this game was hiding, it wasn't ready to show itself yet.
But when it did, Aiden would be ready.
He lay back down, one eye open.
Waiting.
And Aiden knew better.
This is the only calm.
Before the grueling storm.
And if the forest truly had a secret, it wouldn't stay hidden for long. He could feel it now, crawling just beneath the surface of the night. The air tasted different, colder, tighter. Something was coming. He didn't know when. He didn't know how. But he would meet it head-on, even if it cost him everything.