The first step felt like weighing new ground.
Not only because the forest floor differed from the wooden floor of the hut, but because Dio's body had yet to learn how to move with a chestplate and a shield on his arm.
He adjusted his balance. His shoulders shifted slightly, his back straightened, his gaze traced through the spaces between the trees. Every small movement felt unfamiliar but… not wrong. His body followed, though stiffly.
A tree root crossing his path forced him to stop for a moment. The root was thick, as wide as a person's arm, covered by a bit of soil and moss. Dio lifted his foot, stepped over it slowly, and placed it down on more even ground.
In that second, the forest returned its small noises.
Leaves brushing against one another high above.
A bird he did not recognize gave a short call, then fell silent.
Deep in the undergrowth, a twig broke, muffled by moss.
No path.
No sign anyone had ever passed.
Just the forest, as it was.
Dio raised his face briefly, searching for the sun. Thin beams slipped through the leaves. He remembered the direction of the hut, then followed the light in the opposite way.
He did not rush.
With each step, he ensured the ground was stable.
With each glance downward, he checked whether there were small holes or sharp stones hidden among the leaves.
The sword at his waist swayed lightly with every movement. The shield on his right arm made each step heavier, but not unbearably so. He could still breathe in a normal rhythm.
He did not know how long he had been walking when he began to notice something:
all the forest sounds… were still there, but a little distant.
Not truly silent.
Just… not close.
As if the forest was watching, not scaring.
On the ground, some leaves remained green.
Dio crouched and touched one. His fingertip met a damp surface, not slimy. Not long fallen. That meant the wind above had been active.
He released the leaf and stood again.
A few steps later, he found something else: a broken branch with pale inner wood, clean of soil. The branch had snapped only recently—maybe last night, maybe hours ago.
Dio scanned the surroundings.
No claw marks.
No drag marks.
No blood.
But a tree did not break itself.
Dio continued.
His feet pressed into softer soil. Moss covered parts of the ground, giving a faint coolness when stepped on. He gripped the shield slightly tighter without realizing it.
He wasn't afraid.
Not comfortable either.
Just… aware.
His body processed every small movement: his shoulders shifting to balance the shield, his calf muscles tightening as he lifted his foot from the damp ground, his hand adjusting the sword to avoid snagging on the leaves.
He moved without being told.
As if the body was trying to learn a new way of living.
Beyond two large trees, he stopped.
There was a patch of ground different in color from the rest.
Not large—just an oval about one meter wide.
Fewer leaves.
Flatter soil.
And in the center… one small object.
A feather.
Grayish brown.
Its tip broken cleanly, not from a bite.
Dio picked it up. The feather was light, almost weightless. But when he flipped it, part of it was darkened, as if scorched.
He narrowed his eyes, examining the tree beside it.
The bark bore a thin darker line running from the ground up to two meters. It did not resemble animal scratches, nor natural cracking.
More like… something hot passed too close.
Dio swallowed.
The air felt normal, but the ground told a different story.
He set the feather back down, not taking it.
The farther he walked, the more small details appeared—nothing dramatic, but enough to make him cautious.
A branch at knee height broken diagonally.
A thin strip of earth slightly pressed down.
Scraped patches of moss.
Not a direct threat.
But proof he wasn't alone.
He continued walking for some time. His breathing stayed steady. Sweat only began forming lightly at his temples as the journey grew longer. The shield started feeling like real extra weight, not just something he held.
When his feet reached a slightly more open area, he stopped.
A small beam of light fell from above, illuminating a patch of ground dryer than its surroundings. Dio approached, assessing whether the place was suitable to rest.
Not bad. The soil was firm. Not many roots. Enough space to stand and observe.
When he paused, he finally felt just how heavy his shield-carrying arm was.
Dio controlled his breathing.
Loosened his grip.
Relaxed his shoulders.
He wanted to sit, but he didn't drop himself carelessly. He looked around first, ensuring there were no small holes, no fresh tracks, no strange scents in the air.
He saw only standing trees, gently moving leaves, and dust drifting through the sunlight.
Safe… safe enough.
He lowered the shield.
Then sat.
His back felt the coolness of the ground. He closed his eyes briefly, letting his body adjust.
Forest sounds returned.
A single bird call in the distance.
A small twig falling onto dry leaves.
A soft insect hum to his left.
Nothing wrong.
Nothing too right either.
It made the forest feel alive… but not an enemy.
When he opened his eyes again, the light had shifted slightly.
He lifted his head, seeing the barely visible sky. The sun moved slowly—enough to remind him that time did not stop just because he was confused.
Dio drew a deep breath, then stood once more.
He lifted the shield.
Straightened the sword.
His steps returned to their earlier rhythm.
The forest stayed the same.
But he… was starting to learn how to follow.
He had not seen the city.
Had not seen the end of the forest.
Knew nothing about this world.
Yet his steps did not waver.
A small movement in the distance—soft, far, like something watching from behind the trees.
Dio did not search for the source.
He simply moved forward, aware that the forest was not truly silent… only full of eyes.
And he was just beginning his journey.