Chapter 6
Ark wakes up to the sound of the wind.
Soft, steady wind. The kind that brushes through trees and carries the smell of damp leaves.
He groans and opens his eyes. The first thing he sees is a canopy of branches, sunlight peeking through. The forest is quiet again—calm, peaceful, and painfully familiar.
"...Oh, you've got to be kidding me."
He sits up slowly, rubbing his temple. The same forest path. The same trees. The same sound of distant birds. It's exactly how he started.
He pushes himself to his feet and looks around. The clearing is gone, the cultists are gone, the altar is gone. His pistol lies beside him, half-buried in dirt.
"Okay," he mutters, "so either I passed out and had the world's worst acid trip, or…"
He looks around again, uneasy. "No, no, no, don't tell me—"
He glances down at the nearest tree and frowns.
There's a rough 'A' carved into the bark.
His mark.
He laughs—short, humorless. "Oh, perfect. Back at the start. And I thought the last forest I walked through was bad."
The forest hums faintly around him. No voices this time. No chanting. Just the same peaceful, recycled quiet.
After a few minutes, something catches his attention—footprints.
His own.
He crouches beside them, staring. The impressions are fresh, too clean. They lead forward, down the same path he's walking.
"Alright, this is new," he says, eyes narrowing. "Apparently, I'm following myself. Fantastic."
He moves faster now, half-running through the undergrowth, until the forest opens again into the same clearing.
The altar. The crystal. The cultists.
Everything is exactly as before.
Ark stops dead, his chest tightening.
"Okay," he says slowly. "No problem. Just… déjà vu on steroids."
He takes a step back, then another, half expecting the forest to reset again. But it doesn't. The crystal remains, pulsing faintly in the center.
He turns to leave.
The path is gone. Again.
Of course it is.
Ark lets out a shaky laugh. "Y'know, I'm starting to see why this place is called the Forest of Madness. Very creative."
He points his pistol at the crystal, expression cold. "I'm not playing this game again."
He fires once.
The bullet hits dead center. The crystal shatters—again—and the world explodes in light.
And then he's on the ground.
The forest. The wind. The same 'A' on the tree.
He laughs this time, loud and sharp. "Alright! Great! Reset number two. Let's see how many free respawns I get before this kills me."
He fires at the tree, just to hear the sound. It echoes far too long, bouncing back like the forest itself is mocking him.
He lowers the gun and mutters, "This is a loop. It's a damn loop."
The System flickers to life for half a second.
[Warning: Environment anomaly detected.]
[Reality stability compromised.]
Ark snorts. "Really? Just noticing that now?"
He paces in a circle, trying to think. "Okay, there's got to be a pattern. I touch the crystal, and I die. I shoot the crystal, I die. Maybe if I just… don't do anything?"
He sits down in the middle of the path, crossing his legs. "Fine. Let's see what happens when I just wait."
Minutes pass. Then hours.
The forest doesn't move. The sun doesn't shift. Nothing changes.
Finally, Ark sighs. "Well, that was enlightening."
He stands, brushing off his pants. "Alright, fine. You want me to move, I'll move."
He starts down the path again, slower this time, eyes sharp. The air feels heavier, like the forest itself is holding its breath. He can feel something watching him.
"Come on then," he says. "Let's get this over with."
The clearing appears again—familiar, wrong, endless.
But this time, something is different.
The cultists aren't looking down anymore. They're all facing him from the start, heads tilted at the same eerie angle. Their robes sway slightly, even though there's no wind.
Ark stops just short of the tree line, raising his pistol but not firing. "So what now? You going to clap? Sing? Burst into confetti?"
Nothing.
He hesitates, then takes a slow step forward. "Alright, fine. Let's try this again."
The air thickens as he moves closer. The ground under his boots pulses faintly—like it's breathing.
He reaches the altar. The crystal hums quietly, flickering between purple and blue. He doesn't touch it this time.
He just looks at it.
And in its reflection, he sees himself.
Only it's not him.
The reflection's grin is too wide, its eyes too bright, too aware.
Ark stares, breath catching. "You again."
The reflection tilts its head, mirroring him perfectly—until it doesn't. It moves before he does, smiling like it's enjoying this far too much.
"Not real," Ark mutters. "You're not real."
The reflection speaks. Its voice is his own, layered with something older.
"How many times are you going to die before you figure it out?"
He freezes. "What?"
The reflection's grin widens.
"You can't leave because you already died here."
Ark steps back, gun raised. "No, no, that's not—"
The reflection moves again—closer this time, pressing its palm against the crystal from the inside.
"The moment you touched it, you became part of it."
Ark hesitates. His mouth goes dry. "You're lying."
"Am I?"
The reflection leans forward, its voice now a whisper that slithers through his thoughts.
"You think you're walking out of this forest? You're not even walking anymore."
Ark's finger tightens on the trigger. "Shut up."
"Go ahead," it says, smiling wider. "Shoot me. You'll only wake up again."
The pistol shakes in his hand.
"You're not the player anymore, Ark."
"You're just another loop."
He fires.
The bullet shatters the crystal—again. The flash swallows him whole.
When his eyes open, he's on the ground. Same forest. Same tree. Same mark.
He doesn't laugh this time.
He just sits there for a long, silent minute.