Early in the morning, they left the main town and headed toward the Wailing Forest. With every step forward, the signs of human civilization slowly vanished. Stone roads crumbled into dirt paths, distant farmhouses disappeared, and even the air grew heavier, as if the world itself were warning them to turn back. From deep within the forest came distorted screams neither fully animal nor entirely human. Ray stiffened. He moved between Ziva and Cato, gripping Cato's clothes tightly. Lowering his voice, he whispered, "Why are we even going through this forest?" Cato didn't slow his steps. His gaze remained fixed ahead as he replied calmly, "Because this is the only path that leads to the edge of this world. Every other road ends in imprisonment." They traveled until dusk, exhaustion weighing heavily on their bodies. When night finally fell, they decided to rest beneath the roots of a massive ancient tree, its branches stretching across the sky like skeletal arms.
"I'll take the first watch," Horus said. One by one, they lay down to rest.
Midnight came quietly. Too quietly.
Suddenly, a sharp pain tore through Horus's left arm. Blood sprayed as a translucent figure emerged from the darkness, its form flickering like mist under moonlight. Horus staggered back, clutching his arm. The creature tilted its head, disappointment etched across its ghostly face. "You are too weak," it sneered, its voice echoing unnaturally. "Not even worthy of a human—" Horus didn't let it finish. With a roar, he lunged forward and brought his blade down in a powerful downward slash. The Yaksha sidestepped effortlessly. A flash. Another burning pain ripped through Horus's arm as a second wound opened, deeper than the first. The noise woke the others. Ray's eyes widened as he saw the translucent creature hovering above Horus. Instinctively, Cato pulled Ziva behind him. Without wasting another moment, he nocked three arrows. They shot forward like streaks of light. The Yaksha laughed softly and twisted its body midair, dodging every arrow with inhuman grace. The forest echoed with its laughter. And the night grew even darker. The Yaksha drifted backward, its translucent body flickering like a dying flame. Its laughter faded into a low, mocking hum. "So slow," it said. "So fragile." Horus clenched his teeth. Blood dripped from his arm, soaking into the forest floor. Pain screamed through his nerves, yet his grip on the sword tightened instead of loosening. "Ray—Ziva," Cato said sharply without looking back. "Don't move."
The Yaksha vanished. In the same instant, Horus felt killing intent crash down on him from behind. He twisted—too late. A sharp force slammed into his back, sending him crashing into the trunk of the ancient tree. The impact knocked the air from his lungs, his vision blurring. The Yaksha reappeared a few steps away, its claws dripping with faint, glowing blood. "You should have died quietly," it whispered. Before it could strike again, the wind shifted. Cato drew another arrow, but this time he didn't release it. Instead, he closed his eyes. The forest stirred. Leaves rustled though there was no breeze. A faint pressure filled the air as the arrowhead began to glow with pale blue light.
Ray noticed it first. "The wind…" The Yaksha's expression changed. It lunged toward Cato. Ray moved instantly. He grabbed a fallen branch and hurled it at the spirit. For a fraction of a second, the Yaksha turned. That was enough.
"Now," Cato said calmly. He released the arrow. It didn't fly—it vanished, carried by a violent current that tore through the forest. The Yaksha barely had time to react before the arrow pierced straight through its chest. The creature let out a shrill scream as cracks of light spread across its form. It staggered backward, clutching its chest. Horus forced himself up. He stepped forward, sword trembling in his hand. The Yaksha stared at him, eyes filled not with rage, but disbelief. "You are still standing?" it hissed. Horus raised his blade. "I don't need to be strong," he said hoarsely. "Just strong enough." He swung. This time, the Yaksha couldn't dodge. The blade passed through its neck in a clean arc. The creature let out one final wail as its form shattered into pale light—too clean, too quiet, as if the forest itself refused to relax. The light dissolved unnaturally fast, leaving behind a lingering, mocking presence.
Silence returned to the forest. Horus dropped to one knee, blood pooling beneath him. Ray rushed forward. "Horus!"
Ziva followed, her hands shaking. Cato lowered his bow slowly, his eyes scanning the darkness. "That wasn't a normal Yaksha," he said quietly. "Something like that shouldn't be this far from the border." Ray swallowed. "Then why was it here?" Cato didn't answer.
Laughter echoed from the darkness. Slow. Mocking. Applauding. From the shadows, the Yaksha stepped forward, clapping his hands as if he had just finished watching a grand performance. He prayed himself for his amazing dying acting skills.
His presence alone made the air feel heavier. In an instant, the atmosphere turned hostile. Before anyone could react, the Yaksha moved. He vanished—then reappeared. A dull impact rang out as one body after another collapsed, struck down before they could even raise their guard. Horus twisted at the last possible moment. The strike grazed past him, missing by mere inches. The Yaksha halted and slowly turned his head, eyes narrowing as they locked onto Horus. A faint smile tugged at his lips.
"Oh?" he murmured. "You dodged." For the first time, the Yaksha looked impressed.
He vanished again and again, his movements so erratic that Horus couldn't land a single clean strike. Every swing met empty air, while the Yaksha's claws found their mark without fail. Slashes rained down relentlessly, carving into flesh. Blood spilled from Horus's arms, legs, and back, staining the ground beneath him.
At last, Horus dropped to one knee. Even then, he didn't release his sword. His grip tightened until his knuckles turned white. The blade trembled—then slowly changed color. With a sudden burst of speed, Horus launched himself forward. The Yaksha's eyes widened slightly as he barely evaded the first strike. Then another came. And another. The slashes followed in rapid succession, leaving the Yaksha no opening to counter, no moment to breathe. For the first time, he was forced completely on the defensive. Just as Horus closed the final distance— His body went limp. The sword slipped from his hand, clattering to the ground as Horus collapsed, unconscious. "So he lost consciousness…" the Yaksha muttered. "What a way to ruin the mood." His expression darkened. He raised his hand. Arcane symbols burned into the air. A pale green spear screamed through the darkness toward them.