His body sprawled against the grass as he looked up at the towering trees.
There was no where to run and hide, but atleast he had made it out of the grey fog.
Still, this cannot be. I refuse to believe this.
Oren clawed at the ground, pushing his legs against it to rise.
Even when he finally staggered upright, his movements had grown sluggish.
his run turning was no longer leaps and strides, but a few futile steps forward here and there.
How had he been outsmarted?
No...
He was not outsmarted. This was his fault. It was because of his lack of remorse for his own life that he allowed himself to be captured.
Oren had noticed the fifth figure concealed within the tree's unnaturally long shadow. But doubting his own senses, he dismissed it as nothing more than a hallucination.
He gritted his teeth and put all his strength into walking hastily.
For some reason every thought, every desire felt potent and sharp. Oren could not help but feel as though his mind were a blade turned against him.
And now his own body was betraying him too.
Blood leaked from his neck onto the forest floor, in the short moments a river had soaked life out of the grass and flowers beneath him.
When the fog behind him finally cleared, the vermilion trail would make it easy to find him.
That archer. Oren grimaced.
Was he Enlightened as well?
He had seen Oren through the fog with ease.
His aim was ruthless and flawless.
The single crimson arrow had pierced his neck perfectly, wedged between his lungs, making breathing impossible.
His oxygen was low, and the world's gravity felt heavier than usual.
In this state, Oren could not help but think that he was truly going to die.
He was not worried, though. He knew he would survive because of his damned immortality.
Despite the grievous wounds, everything healed almost instantly. That did not stop the blood flowing from his neck, for some peculiar reason, the injury was taking longer to heal than usual.
Because the arrow was still protruding from his neck, when the wound finally healed, it mended grotesquely, pushing his flesh outward and swelling against his neck like an unpopped pimple.
Making Orens neck look comedic, despite being very gruesome.
He shivered, taking another measured step.
Now he truly did look like the damned demon they claimed him to be.
Stumbling again, Oren fell to the right and leaned against a tree.
The bark's embrace was cold yet calming.
Standing there, it felt as though the world around him froze.
This was a fleeting chance to rest.
No, I cannot rest now, Oren thought as he pushed off the tree.
I need to run. I need to get away from that archer, those people.
I cannot be captured here.
For some reason, his stubborn expression faltered. At that moment, Oren's longing for sleep felt overwhelming.
His senses slowly dulled, and then, his abyss golden eyes slowly shut.
Giving in to his desires, Oren allowed his battered body to slide against the trunk of a scarred tree.
He told himself, If I do not sleep, how will I find the strength to run from them?
...
Hours passed.
The mist thinned between the vibrant trees as the illusory grey fog faded, swept away by a wandering breeze.
Light shifted through the branches as dawn came, and the crimson sun hid from sight.
And yet, the sun did not care about the demon who came from nothing, and neither did the verdant forest.
But selvar did.
Deep within the great forest stood a young man.
His pale blonde hair was slightly overgrown, reaching his lower neck.
His soft grey eyes looked down at the tattered body beneath him, leaning against a marked tree.
Chuckling quietly, he exhaled slowly.
"It seems the Immortal Demon truly is immortal. Neither my blood nor my archery can kill him."
He pondered for a moment, his hair dancing in the wind.
"Then again, that is a good thing. I need him alive."
Looking at the Immortal Demon's swollen neck, the archer grimaced coldly.
"This look suits a demon. Quite a coincidence if I may say so myself. The Immortal Demon is a perfect name for this man... creature?"
Lying beneath the archer, Oren's back twitched against the tree.
Hearing the archer's strange words, he opened his eyes and froze.
The man before him was young and handsome, standing only slightly shorter than Oren's full height.
He had no wounds or scars and yet his skin was unusually pale, as if he had lossed a severe amount blood.
Is this me before I became the Immortal Demon? Did i look like this? Before the world forced me to change through hardship?
How bitter. How ironic.
Oren's thoughts were cold, for over centuries of living, his own face and body had become lined with scars.
His golden eyes had once shone with radiance, but now they were reduced to a dim gold, awfully voidlike in tone.
More importantly, the man held a bow.
A crimson bow, its string still loose, as though he had aggressively notched an arrow recently, for onw vicious and calculated strike.
Oren instinctively touched his neck, then winced as his fingers brushed the crimson arrow wedged within it.
The archer. That is him!
After that thought, Oren gripped the emerald dagger he had carefully placed inside his robe pocket and smiled at the archer.
"What a pleasure it is to meet you here, at this moment, after such a dreadful battle. This is fate, is it not? Our meeting is indeed fate, the meeting of the Immortal Demon and the archer."
Oren chuckled sarcastically. His words were purposely dramatic, meant to make the youth uneasy.
Meanwhile, Oren looked around thoughtfully, though his mind held nothing but concern and vigilance.
"Should you not be thinking about heading back? It is getting late."
The archer straightened his posture, lingered in thought for a moment, then smiled darkly and exhaled.
"Ah, yes. I think we—"
Before the archer could finish, Oren leaped from the ground, refreshed and full of energy from the short nap.
He still felt mentally and physically exhausted from the fight and the months he had spent travelling to the Fourth Mountain, yet he still possessed the skill of an Enlightened.
With it, Oren pushed the archer back, catching him off guard.
His right hand clenched the emerald dagger and drew it from his pocket.
Slipping behind the unprepared archer, Oren's arm swiftly wrapped around his slender neck, lifting the dagger to his throat.
Oren felt his body press against the archer's crooked bow, but he did not care.
If he had heard correctly, the archer had said we.
There was no we, becuase Oren would not be captured so easily.
Truthfully, it was Oren's fault for resting in this treacherous place.
Oren's brows rose in confusion as the archer suddenly lifted his arms up, and inhaled through his nose.
With an sincere breath he spoke.
"I surrender."
He whispered somberly, "I know I cannot win a battle against an immortal."
The archer pondered, then laughed bitterly and added, without concern in his voice, "My name is Selvar, an Enlightened Archer of the grey fog."
Oren pressed the blade closer to his throat, making Selvar's eyes widen.
Selvar continued quickly, a faint grin played on his face.
"I come from a distant village near the Fog of Everdream. I did not come to harm you, but to speak."
The rumours from a dozen years ago seemed true.
Everdream really was surrounded by fog. That also explained how the Enlightened's roles were tied to mist.
It was born within the great haze of Everdream. Therefore, the fog there must be an area where the world's energy was abundant.
If only he could find it.
But he could not waste time. If Oren went into the fog, he would be vulnerable, especially if there were more people like Selvar.
Oren chuckled from behind Selvar, staring down at him coldly.
"Have you not harmed me already? Did you not put this arrow in my neck, then come here to hunt me like a cursed beast?"
Selvar's grey eyes darkened at Oren's frigid words.
"I did shoot you."
Selvar could not help but chuckle.
"But I harmed you to fool those miscreants. Those deceitful people who do not come from Everdream, yet dare to claim they protect it.
That was my short term goal after all. To let them betray your deal, then betray them and flee with the Immortal Demon."
Flee with me?
Oren froze briefly but the archer continued.
"You, however, have apparently visited many places, like Rosain, Emperois, and Riverdam, and many more. Though the stories they tell are gruesome and vicious, naming the faults of the Immortal Demon, you must have your reasons."
Selvar's gaze sharpened slightly.
"Reasons I choose to believe in, at least. Why would someone travel for months to a distant city simply to cause harm?"
Oren listened, a smile tugged at his lips even as his brows furrowed in deep contemplation.
The two vital pieces of information the archer had carelessly revealed only deepened his concern.
Becuase that meantthe adversaries were not from Everdream? And the tales about me go further back then I had expected!
If they were not from Everdream, one of the largest and most revered villages of the fourth mountain, then where had they obtained their information?
And how do people know so much about me?
Did the ambushers truly come to Everdream to capture him?
Or was it a coincidence?
Oren relaxed his grip around the archer's neck, then released him and pushed him away.
In the brief silence, Oren inspected the man's serene expression.
The archer, on the other hand, felt immense relief at being released from the Immortal Demon's hold.
He had not followed him to harm him, but to form an alliance.
That was why he had willingly allowed himself to be vulnerable and held in a chokehold.
Still, if the demon attacked after his plea, he would have to retaliate.
Selvar could not risk being injured.
Oren spoke first, wiping the dry blood from the corner of his lips with his thumb.
Would he be able to control this youth so easily?
Looking back to were the blood trailed, Oren asked.
"You come from the Fog. If I am correct, that is how you could somewhat see in that fog, and it is also why your accuracy did not falter under the grey mist of the erol."
Selvar nodded with a faint smile.
"Yes, it is indeed because I grew up in the fog, and partially because I am a trained hunter."
He looked at Oren, then at the arrow in his neck, and said in a somber tone,"But before we speak further, I must ask... what is your name? And did you truly come to Everdream with peace in mind?"
Oren hesitated, his gaze lowering for a moment before he answered in a calm yet unhinged tone.
"Peace? No… not the kind you are thinking of. I came here seeking a peace of sorts. But a man called the Immortal Demon does not walk into a city and bring serenity with him."
His lips curved faintly, though there was no warmth in it.
"Despite coming to Everdream with peace in mind, my presence there will only disturb it. That is why I walk this arduous journey alone....
But Selvar, if you truly cared about the safety of the people, you would have tried to kill me before the ambushers."
Oren watched Selvar's expression carefully, noticing no change he shortly added.
"I do not mind though. And For your other question, my name is Xeyren, the Immortal Demon."
"Xeyren," Selvar laughed.
"This name suits a demon, does it not? Even if i did allow my emotions to take over me, i would not be so foolish to fight an Immortal. And If it is true that you come in peace, then I will humbly escort you through Everdream."
After hearing selvar words and watching him for a while, Oren did not know if the archer was lying or not.
Am I being deceived?
Oren shook his head as he raised his voice slightly.
"Escort? No, you are mistaken Selvar."
Oren relaxed his posture as he continued, "Selvar, you will not merely escort me. You and I share the same idea. We both betrayed those foolish humans.
We both questioned what they wanted and desired. Because of that, we are no different from two apples on a tree.
They never fall far from one another."