a hidden area emerges like a secret sanctuary of shadows and mysteries. Vines drape the towering trees, forming a dense canopy that casts an eerie twilight upon the ground below. Spider webs glisten with dewdrops, intricate traps waiting for unsuspecting prey. The howling winds whisper through the foliage, creating an unsettling symphony of rustling leaves and distant cries. Nocturnal creatures, hidden from daylight's gaze, unleash eerie screams that pierce the silence, a haunting reminder of the forest's hidden inhabitants.
Seated on a fallen log inhabited by an ant colony, a slender man exuded an air of calm. His sallow skin contrasted against the night's darkness, shrouded entirely in a simple black overcoat and a fedora-like hat. The lone exceptions were his round white-framed glasses, perched above his fatigued, dark eyes—evidence of sleep deprivation—and the faintly glowing cigarette resting on his lips.
In a barely audible voice, the man recited numbers in reverse, synchronizing his cadence with the rhythmic passage of seconds on an imaginary clock.
"2, 3, 4, 5, 6, and 0."
The rustling of foliage punctuated the conclusion of the countdown as a human figure emerged, his presence devoid of any acknowledgment toward the seated man. With an air of contempt, he spoke the other's name.
"Wanderer, what brings you to my territory?"
"Getting straight to the point, as always," the seated man responded calmly, almost playfully, to which the other retorted with a grab at his arm.
"No time for your games. What's your purpose on my land?"
"Among us all, you are undoubtedly the most detested, whether among kingdoms or organizations. Your recent actions have stirred the interests of King Banara... You're provoking these factions, especially your tribe, and your deeds might incite hostility against us all."
As the wanderer finished speaking, the other individual raised an eyebrow, responding,
"Guess what? We're not within Banara's borders. Since the kingdom I'm currently in is in a state of civil war, the only way to enter a neighboring kingdom beyond its borders is through war or internal treachery. However, I haven't been concerned with their hostilities or my tribe... What's unexpected here is that out of everyone, you're the one saying all this. Who would have thought the wanderer would take an interest in these matters?" He continued with a touch of mockery.
The wanderer rose from the fallen tree trunk, brushing wood shavings off his pale coat. "You're right. I'm not interested, and these aren't my words. They're a message from a friend who asked me to deliver it to you."
"So, why have you come? I doubt it's solely to deliver a message."
"Oh, you're correct. My purpose here is this." In an instant, the scene transformed. The wanderer, once distant, stood beside the other man. His hand lunged toward the man's neck, yet a quicker shadow intervened, positioning itself between them. Swiftly, he retracted his hand. Simultaneously, another shadow materialized from a hidden angle. He deftly sidestepped its trajectory, stepping back a few paces, assessing what had attacked him and thwarted him.
A black hand emerged like ink from the man's shadow, seemingly a part of him, thwarting his advance. It now coiled around him in a protective stance, accompanied by two other hands assuming defensive positions,
Meanwhile, the hand that had assaulted him emerged from the shadow of a nearby tree.
"What debt do I owe you that you attempt to kill me?" the man retorted angrily, his words laced with frustration.
The wanderer observed from the corners of his eyes that the man, despite his words, hadn't let down his guard. The night's darkness which shrouded this part of the forest, had deepened due to the proliferation of shadows everywhere. The black hands rose intertwining through the trees, conjuring an eerie tableau.
"Who said I even intend to kill you? And when did your hands gain this new ability?" The wanderer's response carried a touch of irony.
"How I despise your power, yet how I long for it," the man murmured.
"What a complicated romantic relationship we have. Now, why don't you attack me instead of engaging in a conversation?" The man responded calmly as his hands began to move. "Why destroy such a specimen with an incomprehensibly powerful ability? Instead, I prefer to confine you."
There was no further conversation after that as the previously stationary shadowy hands began to surge and twist everywhere, targeting the wanderer. They exceeded the capabilities of human hands, surpassing what could be achieved by a human hand While the wanderer swayed and evaded even the slightest touch from them, the hands moved with astonishing speed and wove through the trees without colliding with each other. They were attempting to approach and seize the elusive opponent that He didn't cease his movement between the hands and the trees,striving to get closer to the man who sent more hands whenever he tried to get closer prompting him to retreat.
For several minutes, the fierce exchange of attack and defense persisted between the adversaries. The man attempted to corner every avenue of evasion for the wanderer, yet the latter denied him such opportunities. Ultimately, the wanderer settled atop a tree branch while the man ceased his assault, shifting to a defensive stance.
"So, shall we continue the battle? The man who cannot be touched against the man who kills with a mere touch. Who will conclude the legend of the other?" mused the wanderer, drawing another puff from his cigar. Meanwhile, the man adjusted the sleeves of his attire and replied, "My legend has yet to incorporate the 'killing by touch' aspect, making me even more intrigued by your ability. Seeing the future? Profound wisdom? Enhanced mental faculties? Visualizing possibilities?Supernatural luck? Is your ability to leap distances connected, or is it a distinct skill? Curiosity is consuming me."
"It's not enjoyable to explain now. Excuse me, time is running late, and this battle will just prolong," the wanderer replied.
"Could you at least share the reason behind this attack?"
Descending from the branch, the wanderer retrieved their hat, placed it on their chest, and bowed slightly in farewell. "Just a minor experiment... Now, even though I don't care much about what's happening, you won't survive for long. Those who create too many enemies don't live long—neither yesterday, nor today, nor tomorrow."
With these words, the wanderer began to depart. The man refrained from exploiting the moment for an attack, instead receding from his shadows. He knew that an assault wouldn't prove useful. Instead, he too withdrew while muttering, "This is why I despise guests."
.
.
.
.
Cedric sighed once more as he saw the tree line thinning and the thatched roofs of the houses emerging in the distance. Unfortunately, he hadn't succeeded in finding another prey before sunset. Despite his bravado, he couldn't hide the anxiety within himself. He simply hoped that he could salvage his hunt, as he was already lagging behind his peers. If he failed, this would become his new shame.
He glanced back at Darius, who was dragging the large carcass behind him. Honestly, he hadn't expected such strength from this seemingly empty armor. It was a kind of power he had only seen in the grown men of his tribe, and all of this without visible muscles. He just wished that his decision wouldn't jeopardize his village or create conflict with his grandfather.
As they reached the last line of trees, he realized that his mental calculations had fallen short. In the distance stood an old man leaning on a wooden staff, flanked by two others holding bows aimed not at him, but rather at Darius.
