Kenzo's victory over the Young Shoot was not a complete victory, not even a comfortable one. It was a victory torn from the jaws of defeat, paid for with his blood, his bones, and his sanity. As he ran toward the next tree, every part of his body screamed at him to rest. His muscles trembled as if they were burning from the inside, his head was still shaken, battered, twisted by the side effects of [Serpent], and his vision blurred intermittently, dark spots appearing and disappearing in rhythm with his heartbeat. In spite of all that, he kept running. Because he had no choice.
The positive side of that fight was the armor he had gained, along with the Corrupted Prana he had been able to ingest, a new force, deep and rooted within him like never before. However, he noticed something else too, a subtle, disturbing, and strangely familiar sensation. – « I really feel like I can almost sense where the other Void Creatures are… faintly, but I can feel it. Did my Corrupted Prana increase? Or is it just because I devoured the Young Shoot's heart… » That question would have to wait: for now, the only thing that mattered was the tree.
As he ran, the sky was already beginning to darken again, exactly like on the previous days, and he was still only halfway to his goal. Kenzo accelerated as much as his battered body allowed. With his broken spear in hand, he moved through the forest like a hunted animal, every stride becoming a torment. His legs threatened to give out with every impact, and his wheezing breath grew irregular and painful. But what made that run truly terrifying was the fog.
That cursed fog, silent, thick, relentless. It was not behind him: it came from the north, from the very place where he had been chained. A white mass was slowly descending toward the south, while also advancing eastward as if trying to cut off his path. As he ran, Kenzo could see on his left flank a broad bank of mist creeping diagonally between the trees. It crawled close to the ground, its tendrils lifting like fingers trying to seize anything they touched. Its progress was slow but constant, methodical, calculated, almost alive.
His spear served as support whenever he stumbled over a root. The wind rose in sudden bursts, making the leaves tremble, and the trees groaned beneath the gusts as though they sensed the threat approaching from the north. Kenzo ran through the mud, leaping over roots that jutted from the ground like traps. The landscape blurred past, but every tree looked the same to him, every shadow resembled a creature ready to pounce, and every crack made him tighten his grip on his spear. The fog was gaining ground from the north, advancing toward him from the left, spreading like a vast white tide seeking to block his path eastward. He could clearly see the pale line sliding between the trunks. It moved slowly, but it widened, as if trying to wrap around him.
Kenzo felt his heart hammering against his ribs. If he tripped, if he hesitated, the fog would fall on him. His wounds hindered him, his breath was failing, his mind spun beneath exhaustion and pain. But he kept running, still running, because that tree was his only chance to survive, his only height from which to escape the white tide descending from the north, his only refuge in a Fragment that seemed intent on closing its jaws around him. His steps grew heavier, his vision wavered, the silhouettes around him shimmered like mirages, and fatigue crushed him in wave after wave.
Then, at last, he saw it: the tree. A giant, a colossus of wood and life piercing through the canopy. When he reached its base, Kenzo felt a surge of relief flood his battered body, but the pain returned at once to remind him that nothing had yet been won. He did not hesitate: he placed a hand against the bark, drove in his spear, and began the climb. This time, it came more easily. His method was simple, brutal, repetitive: plant the spear, pull, climb… Like a desperate machine.
By the time he reached around one hundred meters, the cold, the fatigue, and his injuries caught up with him violently. His breath came out icy, his fingers trembled so badly he could barely maintain his grip. He still had around twenty meters left before reaching the first branch. Twenty meters only, but in his condition it felt like a mountain. The wind was growing stronger, pushing against him, and his bark armor vibrated beneath the gusts. He had to give everything just to stay focused and not fall. – « If I use [Serpent], I'll pass out… I can feel it… I'll have to manage without it… »
He kept climbing, his arms screaming, his legs trembling, his vision flickering. But at last he reached the branch: a gigantic branch, wide enough to park two trucks side by side, a true road suspended in the void. He hauled himself onto it almost by crawling and lay there for a few seconds, breathless.
Just below him, the fog arrived. Exactly like at the previous trunk, it reached the same height. Kenzo sighed. – « I just hope there aren't any spiders in this tree… »
The past two days, he had spent them on an eighty-meter trunk whose whole surface had been visible. Here, in a tree probably two or three times larger, what could there be? What kind of creatures lived at such heights? He shuddered. – « I'm going to wait a bit before sleeping… I should try to see if the fire lights up again. »
Time passed, night fell, and the forest became a gulf of shadows and silence. A few minutes later, a red point appeared, this time a little farther away. – « It's moving away… I need to try to catch up to it as fast as possible. »
He inhaled deeply. – « At least… it reappeared. And not in the same place… So it has to be someone. And probably someone strong enough to light a fire this casually. »
He kept staring at the red point, gripping his spear tightly. The branch vibrated faintly beneath the wind, and the night was freezing. In the end, exhaustion caught up with him: his eyes closed, his body let go, and he fell asleep almost instantly.