Upon closer view, the bells were indeed infused into the flesh of these creatures. The cracks that formed along the human skin were fresh and red, which elicited a pained reaction from Vincent, despite not being injured himself.
The sight made Cal swallow, his eyes widening in horror and a similar pain. The sight looked agonizing and for a moment, Cal felt pity for whatever these creatures were. They looked human.
And the thought made him come up with a disturbing question. Were these beasts once humans? Was this some twisted and cruel fate that people succumbed to in the Forest?
Are these things born this way? The bells... Are they meant to be lodged into their flesh like this? What the hell is in this forest?
Cal began to assume a battle stance again, the same one he had always assumed, which was taught by his grandfather. His feet were shoulder-width apart in a diagonal form, knees slightly bent, a straight back, and weight distributed evenly. Apparently, this allowed for quick movement, lunging, and recovery.
So far, such a stance had served well.
A bell from one of the creatures rang and suddenly lunged forward with strength and speed that didn't befit a creature of such a mangled body. But it didn't matter. Cal saw it coming regardless.
With one breath, he stepped into the lunge, steel flashing in the midnight sky. The first of the bunch barely had time to register his presence before Cal's blade carved upward from hip to shoulder, a clean diagonal meant to cleave muscle and bone alike. The sword passed through cleanly with no resistance whatsoever, much like the stags from before.
The body parted and collapsed in two uneven halves, collapsing into the leaf-choked earth without the spray or resistance Cal expected.
He did not slow to question it.
Cal pivoted on the ball of his foot, stance tightening, blade already returning to guard. Another bell rang, which meant another member of the horde was staggering in as well. Cal heard it from the right, twisting his body as fast as he could. Its arm came down in a wide, uncoordinated swing. Cal met it halfway, steel striking flesh with a sharp crack as he deflected the limb aside and slid inside the creature's reach.
With a deep breath, he swung his sword effortlessly through the creature's torso. Then again, lower.
The second cut should have crippled it. Instead, the blade passed through an absence. There was no severed limb. No wound to follow. The flesh simply ended where something should have been.
Cal's eyes widened a touch, gritting his teeth before moving on.
He kept his feet light, never crossing them, always shifting his weight just enough to stay balanced. Each motion fed into the next — deflect, step, counter. His sword never strayed far from his centerline. Wide swings wasted time. Time meant bells. Another ring meant another target to switch to. Another slash delivered.
Except... so much of this didn't make sense.
When Cal looked down at one of the felled bodies, he noticed something off.
Cal's gaze flicked down only for an instant — just long enough to see what was wrong.
The place where his blade should have bitten deepest was not wounded.
It was absent.
The torso of the fallen creature didn't just end too cleanly, but rather it looked as if it never existed. As if the part that was cut through had never formed since the conception of these beings. No flesh, no blood, and no bone. And what's weirder was the lack of resistance.
Typically, when cutting through something with a sword, there should be resistance from friction, which is something Darius had taught Cal. That's why depending on the target, there should be a certain amount of force applied.
Every time I've used my sword... I feel like I was cutting through butter. The stags and now these things. Why is it so easy? This shouldn't be!
Cal's brow furrowed.
This shouldn't be possible.
He did not have time to dwell on it.
Another bell rang — closer this time — and Cal turned just in time to meet a lurching figure barreling toward him. Its movements were erratic, uneven, yet fast enough to be dangerous. He stepped aside as its grasping hands clawed through empty air, his sword flashing in a tight arc toward its shoulder.
The blade passed through.
Again.
No resistance. No tearing. No weight behind the strike. The limb simply ceased where it should have been, the rest of the body continuing forward for half a step before crumpling in on itself.
Cal sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth. Missing.
Not severed. Actually missing.
Another bell rang. Then another. The forest echoed with the sound, overlapping, dissonant, each chime urging something broken forward. Cal pushed the thought aside and moved, feet light, stance tightening as he slipped between two advancing forms. His sword flashed low, then high — efficient, controlled strikes meant to disable and kill.
Another humanoid ran towards Cal with a spine-chilling cry, its arm raised to attack. Cal changed his grip immediately due to the angle, and brought the sword down in a hard, decisive slash aimed straight for the bell embedded in its chest.
The blade struck true, yet something was wrong here too.
No clang. No ring when the metal of Cal's sword met the bell lodged in the creature's chest. The sword slid through the bell as if it weren't there at all.
Cal's eyes widened.
The creature staggered, then collapsed soundlessly at his feet, its bell resting in its ruined chest, unmarred and mute.
Silence pressed in around him, broken only by distant chimes and Vincent's uneven breathing somewhere behind him.
Cal spun, blade snapping back to guard as another one closed in. He parried its wild swing, stepped inside its reach, and cut it down with a clean diagonal strike. The body fell, incomplete as all the others.
But even as his body continued to move to defend himself and Vincent, his mind was racing elsewhere.
The bells... They aren't making any noise when my sword connects! What's going on?
Metal on metal — even a glancing blow — should have produced something. A vibration. A sound. Anything. But there had been nothing at all. His grip tightened on the hilt. As he moved, his gaze flicked briefly to the blade itself.
Clean.
Pristine.
No blood. No grime. No residue from the fight.
Just like then. The memory resurfaced in Cal's mind, sharp and unwelcome. The scavengers. Back on the road. The first time he had drawn his sword in earnest to protect Vincent. He remembered their fear, his own adrenaline, and how the sword felt in his hands as he cut them down.
And much like now, it was spotless then.
He never paid any mind to it then. With meeting Vincent, gathering the stolen ironstone, and having Vincent live with him in The Hollow Anvil, he had completely forgotten about the odd sight.
Creatures that should have been solid, mutilated bodies animated by ringing bells — and yet his sword treated them all the same.
As if they weren't entirely there.
A bell rang sharply to his left. Cal pivoted, barely bringing his blade up in time to deflect a blow that would have caved in his shoulder. The impact jarred his arm, the first true resistance he'd felt since the fight began.
He shoved the creature back and followed through with a slash that split it from collarbone to hip. It fell immediately.
Cal's breath came a little faster now, not from exertion, but from unease.
Am I even cutting these things?
He had no time to answer. As one more humanoid came in, Cal met it head-on, stepping into the strike and swinging with controlled force, aiming for the neck this time.
And as he did, he noticed it. For the briefest of moments, the sword glowed. A faint white light traced the length of the steel, gone almost as soon as it appeared. So fleeting he might have missed it entirely if he hadn't been watching for something to make sense of what was happening.
That light... It shone back home before Vincent and I left for the terminal! Wait... Are all of these effects a part of my Esoteric Art? Are they a part of Blightless Dominion? The disappearance of the flesh when I cut through them... My sword being stainless despite the amount of flesh I cut through... The light that glowed from the blade just now!
Are all of these aspects of Blightless Dominion? Parts of my... Esoteric Art?
The thing he still didn't understand. The thing that felt less like a tool and more like a question with no answer.
Was this because of it? Was his blade erasing something fundamental — not cutting flesh, but denying its existence altogether?
Another bell rang, snapping him back into motion.
Cal moved, instincts taking over as he cut down the advancing humanoid with a swift, efficient strike. The body fell apart as expected, unreal and incomplete.
Cal exhaled slowly, muscles coiled but no longer straining. The forest seemed to recoil from him, the air thick with the metallic scent of blood that never came. He adjusted his grip, turning slightly to check on Vincent.
That's when he missed it. Another ring sounded behind him again.
Not loud. Not frantic. Just close.
Too close.
Cal turned instinctively, but the movement was late. The beast was already there, its mangled form surging forward with a strength that belied its ruin. Its arm came down in a crooked arc, fingers clawing for his neck.
For the first time since the fight began, Cal felt genuine panic flash through his chest.
Then something massive struck the being from behind its head. The wet, concussive crack sounded throughout the forest, as the creature's head snapped violently to the side. The bell embedded in its chest gave a sharp, strangled ring before cutting off entirely as the form crumpled to the ground in a heap of broken limbs.
Cal staggered back a step, breath hitching as he brought his sword up on instinct. But the fight was over. The forest was quiet again.
Cal turned slowly.
Vincent stood a few paces behind him, chest heaving, both hands gripping a jagged chunk of stone nearly half his size. His arms trembled from the effort, knuckles white, his face pale beneath the grime and sweat. The rock slipped from his grasp and hit the ground with a dull thud.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The silence felt as if it stretched on for eternity. Then the realization of what just happened hit them both at once.
"You saved me there," Cal said.
Vincent swallowed hard. "I-I saw it behind you. You weren't turning, and I just-" He broke off, shaking his head. "I didn't think. I just moved."
Cal let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. The tension drained from his shoulders, replaced by something familiar and warm.
"Thank you for that," Cal responded quietly. "Really."
Vincent let out a shaky laugh, more breath than sound. "Didn't feel good."
Cal huffed softly, the corner of his mouth lifting in a faint, genuine smile. "It rarely does."
Vincent blinked at that, then nodded. His hands were still trembling, though he tried to hide it by clenching them at his sides.
Cal noticed anyway. "Are you sure you're fine? You've... seen a lot. I-"
"No, I get it," Vincent said quickly, shaking his head slowly. "This is just... survival. Right? We couldn't predict that we'd end up here, you know?"
Cal studied him for a second longer, searching for cracks in the resolve. He didn't push. Instead, he gave a single nod.
"Alright," he said. "Just stay close."
Vincent didn't argue.
They began moving again, stepping carefully through the churned leaves and fallen bodies, the bells now silent and still. The forest felt different without their ringing. It was a far cry from safety, but it was a form of respite for now.
The two walked for some time. Maybe ten or fifteen minutes had elapsed, which is when they noticed it.
A tree just off the path was coated in frost.
Thin veins of ice traced along the bark, creeping outward from the base as though the cold itself had taken root there. The leaves beneath it were brittle and white, crunching softly underfoot. Nearby, pale ash drifted lazily through the air, settling on branches and stone alike.
Cal slowed and Vincent noticed it immediately as well. "Cal... Is there something nearby?"
Cal closed his eyes, realizing that the tugging sensation behind his eyes was no longer there, and if his inference on what it meant was right, then that means there wasn't any danger nearby.
He opened them again and shook his head. "No," he said. "If there is, I can't feel it."
Vincent glanced at the frost, then at the drifting ash. "This wasn't you, was it?"
Cal frowned, studying the tree again. The ice and the ash melding together in a polarizing manner.
"No," he said after a moment. "It wasn't."
The two of them stood there for a second longer, the forest quiet around them, before continuing on toward the next runecarriage terminal — unaware of what the Mourning Forest had already marked in their passing.