Colm stood in place, scratching his head as he tried to figure out which way was north. He couldn't assume anything—there was no telling if this world's sun followed the same rules or if the breeze favored any direction. The thought of navigating in a completely foreign world made his head spin.

This whole time, he'd been wandering aimlessly, picking random directions and hoping for the best. There had been no rhyme or reason to his choices—just blind luck and stubborn determination. With a sigh, Colm shook his head. Navigating in a foreign world was an entirely different ball game, and he was playing without a rulebook.

"How the hell am I supposed to do this?" he muttered, scanning his surroundings. His eyes narrowed as he mulled over the problem, frustration creeping in—until a sudden thought struck him.

"Carver… start walking north."

The phantom turned silently to its left and began walking without hesitation.

Colm stared, dumbfounded for a moment, before breaking into incredulous laughter. "Holy shit! I can't believe that worked!" He pointed after Carver, still grinning like an idiot. "You better be walking north, or I'm screwed."

With his direction set, Colm took off. He ran at a steady, almost effortless pace—one he knew he could maintain for hours. Carver remained by his side, a silent guardian, while his other phantoms continued their constant vigilance, cutting down any undead that dared approach. Notifications flickered in his vision, chronicling the steady stream of enemies being felled, but Colm barely paid them any mind. Whether it was the strength of his enhanced body or his new race, he felt as though he could run forever. So, he pushed himself harder, picking up speed as the cursed forest blurred around him.

The endless expanse of trees whipped past a dark, monotonous stretch that seemed to have no end. Time felt like it melted away as the forest gradually brightened, the faintest rays of light piercing the veil of shadow and mist. Day must have come, but Colm didn't stop—he didn't need rest, food, or water. His new body, free from those limitations, pushed onward. One step after another. One thought on his mind: Find people.

The day blurred by as he kept this unrelenting pace. His legs moved as if on instinct, strong and tireless, while his mind remained focused. The undead came, but less often now. What had once been an endless onslaught dwindled, the encounters spaced by minutes instead of seconds. The surrounding forest seemed to reflect the change as the fog thinned and the air felt lighter. And the trees—they were growing less dense, as if he were approaching the forest's edge. More light broke through the branches, and for the first time, Colm felt hope spark in his chest.

Encouraged, he pressed on. The cursed forest slowly gave way to something new and the twisted, fog-covered trees fell behind him, and at last, he stepped into a wide, open clearing. The sight brought him to a halt.

Flatlands stretched out before him for miles—lush, sunlit, and free of the oppressive gloom. The fog was gone, replaced by a clear, endless sky. The sun shone down in full force, and Colm stood frozen, feeling its warmth on his skin. He tilted his head back, eyes closed, letting the golden rays bathe him in their glow.

"This feels incredible," he whispered, the words barely audible. A wide smile spread across his face—unrestrained and genuine, the smile he hadn't worn in a long, long time. For minutes, he simply stood there, basking in the sunlight as though it were healing him from the inside out. All the pain, the brushes with death, the endless challenges—all of it melted away in this single, perfect moment. It felt like everything he had endured had been worth it just for this.

I'm alive.

Colm didn't know how long he stood there, but he didn't care. In that moment, he was truly happy—a feeling he hadn't allowed himself to experience in years. For the first time in years, he felt peace.

Shaking off the euphoric feeling, Colm walked forward for a few minutes before turning around. He stared at the oppressive forest that had held him captive for so long, now observing it from a distance. The sight was striking. There was a clear, almost unnatural distinction between the vibrant life of the plains he now stood on and the cursed forest behind him. The trees stretched wide, an endless expanse of twisted branches and shadow, but they all halted at the same invisible line—as if the dead zone itself obeyed some unseen boundary, unable to spread further.

The stark contrast between the cursed forest and the vibrant plains unsettled him. It wasn't just a shift in scenery—it felt deliberate, an unmistakable divide between death and life. Inside that accursed forest, there had been nothing but the undead, devoid of any wildlife. But here… here, he could already see movement in the distance. Small, barely noticeable—perhaps a mouse or something similar.

His brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of it. This just raises more questions, he thought, shaking his head. Why is it like this? What caused such a stark divide?

Colm stood there, silently taking it in. His eyes traced the treeline, that dark wall of despair that had loomed over him for so long. It was strange seeing it like this, so distant and contained, yet knowing firsthand the horrors it held within. That place was a prison, he thought, one that almost broke me.

"I'm finally free," he whispered aloud, his voice carrying a mix of relief and bitterness. "I never want to go back there."

As he stood there, the wind swept gently across the plains, carrying with it the scent of open air and life. Colm turned his back on the treeline once more, his thoughts lingering. He may have escaped, but the forest's shadow still loomed in his mind.

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The Morvyn race really is incredible. I haven't needed sleep, food, or water, and I've been running at a fast pace for what had to have been an entire day since I've left the forest, Colm thought, glancing over at Carver as the phantom ran beside him. Lance and Robin maintained their usual patrol, their forms drifting effortlessly in a wide perimeter around him.

He had lost track of time since leaving the cursed forest—had it been nearly a full day? Maybe more. He frowned, scanning the endless horizon ahead. The land stretched out in an unbroken expanse, rolling plains extending as far as the eye could see.

This world is massive, he thought. I must have run the length of my entire home state by now—if not more. Yet, it had been nothing but open fields, a vast emptiness broken only by brief glimpses of life. Strange creatures flickered at the edges of his vision as he sped past, but he hadn't stopped to investigate.

North was his focus.

After another relentless day, Colm finally slowed as a shimmering pond came into view. Its waters gleamed under the light, peaceful and inviting. He came to a halt, catching his breath and taking in the sight before him. The pond was teeming with life. Birds flitted between trees, small creatures moved in the tall grasses, and the water rippled as animals gathered to drink.

Colm sat down on the grass, a sense of calm washing over him. For the first time in what felt like forever, he truly saw the world around him. Life was everywhere. Vibrant, diverse, and so unlike the death-filled void of the cursed forest. "Wow… this is really something," he murmured, smiling softly. "There's so much life here. It's such a stark contrast." His hope brightened like the rays of sun warming his skin. This world isn't just death. That's a relief.

As his eyes roamed, a nearby movement caught his attention—a small, fox-like creature crouched by the water's edge. Its red fur shimmered with an almost ethereal glow. The sight was oddly comforting. "That's just a fox," he said, chuckling softly. "Or, knowing this place, it's probably something ridiculous like a fire fox." Curious, he activated Analyze.

Chimefox (Level 20)

Colm blinked in surprise. "Huh. It is a fox, I wonder why it's called a Chimefox? It's actually pretty high level." He scratched his chin, thinking. "That thing could probably wipe out a dozen undead without breaking a sweat. Levels here are weird, though. They feel arbitrary."

He sat back, watching as more creatures approached the pond over the next few hours. It was like a peaceful oasis, a truce among animals where all life came to drink. There were creatures both familiar and foreign, each stranger than the last. A Brackenthrorn, resembling a deer, stood at the edge of the water. With bark-like skin, and its twisted antlers looked more like roots than bone. Then there was a Duskcoon, larger than any raccoon he'd ever seen, with glowing eyes and a menacing aura that set it apart from its Earthly counterpart.

A pack of Windtails appeared next that looked eerily like coyotes, moving in coordinated bursts of speed, their movements fluid as if the wind itself propelled them forward. But the one that truly caught Colm's attention was a towering creature at the far end of the pond.

It looked like a giraffe, but tufts of fluffy fur spiraled around its body, encircling it in a way that made it look like a cloud drifting through the plains. Colm gawked. "No way. That thing is real. It's like a cloud giraffe."

Unable to resist, he activated Stealth and approached it. The creature—a Cloudstrider, as Analyze later revealed—was lying down, its gentle presence radiating tranquility. Colm crouched low, inching closer until he could finally run a hand through its fur. His fingers sank into the impossibly soft fluff, a grin spreading across his face. "This is the softest thing I've ever touched," he whispered in awe.

The Cloudstrider didn't seem to mind his presence, content to bask in the moment. Colm's smile grew. "I swear, if I can ever tame a beast, I'm coming back for one of you." He sat there for what felt like hours, petting the creature, his mind clear and at peace for the first time in what felt like an eternity. "It's been so long since I've touched something that didn't attack me," he muttered, watching as the Cloudstrider slowly rose to its feet, ready to move on, and walked away.

As it drifted away into the horizon, Colm felt an unexpected pang of sadness. He watched until it disappeared; the moment lingering like a warm memory. With a sigh, he stood and turned back to Carver. "Alright, break's over. Carver—head north."

The phantom immediately turned to its left and began marching forward. Colm couldn't help but grin. That's still the most convenient thing ever.

For another day, Colm kept up his pace, running tirelessly across the vast plains. His phantoms remained vigilant, dispatching the occasional undead that strayed into their path. The landscape was endless, the sun arching above him as he pushed forward, fueled by the hope of finding people—anyone—out here.

Then, in the distance, something broke the horizon. A structure.

Colm squinted, slowing his steps. As he ran closer, the blurry shapes took form. His heart leapt in his chest. "Is that a town?" he whispered, eyes widening. He pushed forward, his pace quickening with every step. The outline of a massive stone wall became clear, surrounding the town like a fortress. Above it, rooftops and towering spires peaked into the sky.

A gasp escaped his lips. "Holy shit," he muttered, his voice full of wonder. "It's a city. A real city."

He broke into a full sprint, his phantoms keeping pace as his excitement boiled over. The wall loomed larger as he neared, and he could make out figures moving along its perimeter. Guards, maybe? Colm couldn't tell, but he didn't care.

"People!" he yelled, his voice echoing across the plains. He turned to his phantoms, a wide grin splitting his face. "Holy shit, you guys—we found people!"

He barreled toward the wall, skimming its perimeter until he found the gate. His heart pounded in his chest, adrenaline and disbelief coursing through him. Colm came to a stop, breathless, staring up at the towering structure with a wide, unrestrained grin plastered across his face.

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