The forest had reclaimed the scar.
Kapa stood at the edge of the crater where the otherworldly vessel had struck the earth. His black armor absorbed the light of the twin suns, making him appear as a shadow given form.
Behind him, four figures waited in silence.
His team. His hunters. Hand-picked by the Lady of the Tower for their skill, their loyalty, and their discretion.
"Spread out," Kapa commanded, his voice flat and emotionless. "Search for debris. Technology. Anything that doesn't belong to this world."
The four scattered, moving through the crater with practiced efficiency.
Kapa knelt at the center of the impact site.
The earth was scorched. Blackened. But...
Too clean.
His gauntleted hand pressed against the soil. He closed his eyes, extending his senses—a technique taught only to those who served the Tower.
Something was here. Something powerful. Something... wrong.
But the wrongness was fading. Dissipating like smoke.
Someone has been here.
Someone has taken what remained.
"Sir!"
One of his hunters approached—a lean man with sharp eyes and a scar across his jaw. Musa. The tracker.
"Report."
"The site has been cleared," Musa said, his tone careful. Professional. "No debris larger than a fist. No intact technology. Someone removed everything of value."
Kapa rose to his full height—nearly two meters of armored menace.
"How long ago?"
"Days. Maybe a week. The scorch marks are old, but the disturbance in the soil is recent. Someone came after the initial impact."
"Scavengers?"
Musa shook his head. "Too thorough. Too organized. Scavengers take what's valuable and leave the rest. This was... systematic. Like someone was covering tracks."
Kapa's eyes narrowed behind his helmet.
"Your assessment."
Musa hesitated. Then: "I think someone from another tower reached here before us."
Silence.
The other three hunters stopped their searching, turning to watch.
"Which tower?" Kapa's voice was cold as winter steel.
"Unknown. But the Lady said this area borders the Western Territories. If another power sensed the impact..."
He didn't need to finish.
The towers were many. The powers that ruled Sambala's regions did not always cooperate. And if one of them had claimed the otherworldly technology first...
Politics. Complications.
The Lady will not be pleased.
But Kapa was not one to give up easily.
"The creature that arrived in this vessel," he said. "Did it survive?"
Musa knelt, examining the ground more carefully.
"There are tracks. Faint. Leading away from the crater toward the forest." He pointed. "Humanoid. Bipedal. Lighter than average—either injured or not fully grown."
"And the direction?"
"Northwest. Toward the border settlements. Toward..."
Musa paused, pulling out a small map from his pack.
"...toward the region of Ura."
Kapa's helm turned northwest.
Ura. The Festival of Heroes was three days ago.
If the otherworldly creature reached that city...
"Pack up. We move northwest. Follow the trail while it still exists."
"Sir," one of the other hunters—a woman with twin blades—spoke up. "If the creature entered Ura during the Festival, it's likely dead. No one survives the hunt."
"Then we will find its corpse," Kapa said flatly. "And deliver proof to the Lady. Move."
The five figures melted into the forest, moving with the efficiency of predators.
And behind them, the empty crater lay silent—its secrets already stolen, its mysteries scattered to the winds.
The road was little more than a dirt path cutting through farmland and sparse forest.
Ethan, Roman, and Dimitri had been walking for two days, keeping away from main roads, avoiding settlements where questions might be asked.
They slept rough. Ate what Roman managed to scavenge or trade for in isolated farmsteads. Kept moving.
Always moving.
Roman walked ahead, surprisingly cheerful for a man who had nearly died days ago.
"You know what I'm going to do when we reach this village of yours, oldman?" he called back to Dimitri. "I'm going to find the nearest tavern, order the biggest meal they have, and sleep for three days straight."
"Millcrest doesn't have a tavern," Dimitri said.
Roman stopped walking. "What."
"It's a farming village. Small. Maybe two hundred people. They have a communal hall where they share meals, but no tavern."
"No tavern." Roman looked genuinely distressed. "What kind of village doesn't have a tavern?"
"The kind that's too poor to support one," Dimitri replied dryly. "They grow grain. Tend livestock. Survive. Luxuries are rare."
Roman groaned. "I escaped a death hunt for this?"
Ethan walked in silence, his mind elsewhere.
[HOST VITALS MONITORING: BRAIN MUTATION PROGRESSION CONTINUES. ESTIMATED TIME TO CRITICAL PHASE: 4 DAYS, 7 HOURS.]
Still no symptoms?
[MINOR SENSORY FLUCTUATIONS DETECTED. ENHANCED HEARING REMAINS STABLE AT +7.3%. VISION PROCESSING EFFICIENCY INCREASED BY 3.1%. PAIN TOLERANCE ELEVATED BY UNKNOWN MARGIN.]
Are these permanent changes or temporary?
[INSUFFICIENT DATA. MUTATION REMAINS UNPREDICTABLE. ENHANCEMENTS MAY REVERSE OR ACCELERATE WITHOUT WARNING.]
So I'm either getting stronger or dying. And we won't know which until it happens.
[ACCURATE SUMMARY.]
Ethan's jaw tightened.
I need answers. I need help. I need—
"Ethan."
He looked up. Dimitri had fallen back to walk beside him.
"You've been quiet. More than usual."
"Just thinking."
"About what comes next?"
Ethan nodded slowly.
Dimitri was silent for a moment. Then:
"You're not from the Northern Kingdoms, are you?"
Ethan's heart skipped.
He knows? How could he—
"I don't mean recently," Dimitri continued. "I mean... you don't move like someone born to this world. You don't talk like it. The way you think—calculating, analyzing, like everything is a puzzle to solve."
He glanced at Ethan.
"Wherever you're from, it's very far away. Isn't it?"
Ethan considered lying.
Considered deflecting.
But Dimitri had earned better than that.
"Yes," he said quietly. "Very far away."
"And you can't go back."
"Not easily. Maybe not at all."
Dimitri nodded as if this confirmed something he'd suspected.
"Then you'll need to learn how to survive here. In this world. With its rules. Its powers."
He paused.
"Have you thought about the wizards?"
Ethan's attention sharpened.
"What about them?"
"You asked me once—in the cage—if wizards really ruled this world. I told you they hold power beyond kings and armies."
"I remember."
"But I never told you where they come from. How they're made."
Ethan slowed his pace, fully focused now.
"Tell me."
Dimitri took a breath.
"I'm not from Ura. Not even from the Northern Kingdoms originally. I was born in a small village far to the west. A place called Manila."
Roman, who had been eavesdropping, turned around and walked backward to listen.
"Manila sits at the edge of the known territories," Dimitri continued. "Beyond it lies the Wall."
"Wall?" Ethan asked.
"Not a wall built by hands. A wall of nature. A forest of giant trees—each one fifty meters wide, hundreds of meters tall. They grow so close together that their roots intertwine, their branches form a canopy that blocks out the sky."
[RECORDING ALL DETAILS. CROSS-REFERENCING WITH GEOGRAPHICAL DATA GATHERED DURING TRAVEL.]
"The Wall of Giants," Dimitri said. "That's what we call it. It stretches for thousands of kilometers, separating the northern territories from whatever lies beyond."
"And?" Ethan pressed.
"And every ten years, children from across the north come to Manila. Not slaves. Not criminals. Children. Those who have shown... potential."
"Potential for what?"
Dimitri's eyes grew distant.
"For magic."
The word hung in the air.
Roman whistled low. "You're talking about the Trials."
"You've heard of them?" Dimitri asked.
"Everyone's heard of them. Stories. Legends. Children who enter the Wall of Giants and never return. Or return as wizards, with power beyond mortal comprehension."
Dimitri nodded.
"The Trials happen at the Wall. Every ten years, like clockwork. But the timing is marked by something unmistakable."
He looked up at the violet sky above them.
"The sky above Manila turns red."
Ethan's focus sharpened. "Red?"
"Deep crimson. Like blood spilled across the heavens. But it only happens above Manila—above the Wall itself. Nowhere else in the world."
[ANALYSIS: LOCALIZED ATMOSPHERIC PHENOMENON. GEOGRAPHIC LIMITATION SUGGESTS DIRECT MAGICAL SOURCE RATHER THAN GLOBAL EFFECT.]
"How long does it last?" Ethan asked.
"Three days," Dimitri said. "Three days of red sky. That is the window. Children who feel the calling—or who are brought by their families—must reach Manila and enter the Wall during those three days."
"And after?"
"After three days, the sky returns to violet. The Wall closes. And those who didn't enter must wait another ten years."
Roman frowned. "You said every ten years like clockwork. So when's the next one?"
Dimitri's expression grew thoughtful.
"The last Trial was ten years ago. I was already a slave by then—forty years into my captivity. I wasn't there to see it, but word spread even to the slave markets. The red sky had appeared again. Children were called."
He paused.
"Which means we're in the tenth year now. The red sky could appear any day."
Silence fell over the group.
Roman stopped walking. "Wait. Any day? As in... it could happen while we're standing here?"
"No," Dimitri shook his head. "The red sky only appears above Manila. We wouldn't see it from here. But if we were in Manila when it happened..."
He looked at Ethan.
"...you would have three days to enter the Wall."
[TIMELINE ANALYSIS: TEN-YEAR CYCLE. LAST OCCURRENCE: 10 YEARS AGO. CURRENT STATUS: TENTH YEAR. PROBABILITY OF EVENT WITHIN NEXT WEEKS/MONTHS: HIGH.]
"How do people know it's happening if they're not in Manila?" Ethan asked.
"The wizards send messengers," Dimitri explained. "When the red sky appears, riders go out across the Northern Kingdoms, announcing that the Trial has begun. They carry the news to every settlement, every city, every village where children with potential might be found."
"How long does that take?"
"Days. Sometimes a week. Depending on how far the messengers must travel."
Roman grimaced. "So by the time some poor family in a distant village hears the news, the three-day window could already be half over?"
"Exactly. Which is why most who attempt the Trial live near Manila already. Or why families who believe their children have potential move to the region years in advance."
Ethan processed this information.
The red sky appears only above Manila.
It lasts three days.
It could happen at any time during this tenth year.
If I'm not in Manila when it occurs, I could miss it entirely.
[STRATEGIC ASSESSMENT: OPTIMAL POSITION IS MANILA. WAITING THERE ENSURES IMMEDIATE ACCESS TO TRIAL WINDOW.]
Agreed.
"What causes it?" Ethan asked. "The red sky?"
Dimitri shrugged. "No one knows for certain. Some say it's the magic of the Wall itself, announcing its readiness. Others say it's the wizards on the other side, calling to those who would join them."
"And some say," Roman added, "that it's the blood of an ancient god who died creating the Wall, and every ten years the wound opens again."
Dimitri shot him a look. "That's a children's tale."
"So are wizards, to most people," Roman countered.
"Fair point."
Ethan looked at Dimitri.
"You were born in Manila. You must have seen it when you were young."
The old man nodded slowly.
"Once. When I was seven years old. I woke one morning and the sky was red. Not purple-red or pink-red. Red. Like someone had painted it with fresh blood."
His eyes grew distant.
"I was terrified. I thought something terrible was happening. But my mother took my hand and led me outside. The entire village had gathered in the central square, looking up at the sky."
He smiled faintly.
"She told me it was the most beautiful thing in the world. The sign that magic still lived. That wonder still existed."
"Were you tested?" Ethan asked. "Did you try to enter the Wall?"
Dimitri shook his head.
"I had no magical potential. The village elders could sense such things—a gift passed down through generations. They examined every child in Manila during the red sky, and I... I was ordinary."
He laughed without bitterness.
"My father was relieved. He wanted me to follow in his trade, not disappear into a magical forest. So I never entered the Wall. Never saw what lay beyond."
He looked at Ethan.
"But I always wondered."
[HOST. QUERY: DO YOU INTEND TO ATTEMPT TRIAL ENTRY?]
If the red sky appears while I'm in Manila? Yes.
[HOST POSSESSES NO CONFIRMED MAGICAL POTENTIAL. TRIAL ENTRANCE MAY REJECT YOU.]
Then I'll be rejected. But I have to try.
[UNDERSTOOD. RECOMMEND ACCELERATED TRAVEL TO MANILA TO MAXIMIZE PROBABILITY OF PRESENCE DURING RED SKY EVENT.]
"How far to Manila?" Ethan asked.
"One week on foot if we maintain steady pace," Dimitri said. "Six days if we push hard."
"Then we push hard."
Roman groaned. "Of course we do."
Dimitri studied Ethan's face.
"You're really going to try this. Enter the Trial."
"Yes."
"You realize the Trial doesn't care about desperation or need. It only cares about potential. If you don't have it—if the Wall doesn't recognize something in you—it will reject you. Or worse."
"Worse?"
Dimitri's expression darkened.
"The Wall of Giants is not passive. It tests. It challenges. Those without potential don't just fail—they sometimes don't come back at all."
Roman stopped walking.
"Wait. You're saying the forest eats people?"
"I'm saying the forest is alive. Aware. And it doesn't suffer fools or the unworthy."
He looked at Ethan.
"If you enter without potential, the Wall will know. And it will not be kind."
Ethan met his gaze without flinching.
"I've crossed a wormhole that should have disintegrated me. I've survived a hunt that ended three thousand others. I'm living with a mutation in my brain that might end me in four days."
He gestured at the violet sky above.
"If the Wall wants to test me, let it. I've been tested before."
Dimitri was silent for a long moment.
Then he smiled.
"You know what? I believe you might actually have a chance. You're insane enough. And if the Wall values anything, it's courage."
He extended his hand.
"I'll take you to Manila. To the Wall. And if the red sky appears while we're there..."
His smile widened.
"...I want to see what happens when you try to cross."
Ethan took his hand.
"Then let's not waste time."
They adjusted their path, angling northwest with new urgency.
Roman fell into step beside them, muttering about sore feet and insane companions, but he didn't suggest turning back.
[HOST. ADVISORY: MUTATION CRITICAL PHASE REMAINS 4 DAYS DISTANT. MANILA IS 6-7 DAYS TRAVEL. CRISIS WILL OCCUR BEFORE DESTINATION.]
I know.
[ADDITIONALLY: IF RED SKY PHENOMENON OCCURS BEFORE HOST ARRIVAL, THREE-DAY WINDOW MAY EXPIRE BEFORE HOST CAN PARTICIPATE.]
Then we move faster.
[HOST PHYSICAL CONDITION ALREADY STRAINED. EXCESSIVE EXERTION MAY ACCELERATE MUTATION.]
And sitting still will accomplish nothing. We go to Manila. We get there as fast as possible. Everything else is secondary.
[...UNDERSTOOD.]
They walked as the twin suns climbed higher.
Above them, the violet sky remained unchanged.
But far to the northwest, in a small village at the edge of the known world, the Wall of Giants waited.
Fifty-meter-wide trees. Hundreds of meters tall. Roots that went deeper than memory. Branches that touched the space between stars.
And somewhere beyond that Wall, in places where magic flowed like water and reality bent to will...
Wizards waited.
They had waited ten years.
They would wait ten more if necessary.
Time meant little to those who had transcended it.
But they could feel it—the approach of something new. Something other. Something that carried the scent of distant stars and impossible journeys.
The cycle was turning.
The tenth year was here.
And soon—very soon—the sky above Manila would bleed red once more.
Behind them, five hunters moved through the forest, following a trail that grew warmer with every passing hour.
Ahead, Manila waited at the edge of wonder.
And deep in Ethan's brain, the mutation continued its work, reshaping, restructuring, counting down.
Four days until crisis.
Six days until Manila.
The numbers didn't align.
They never did.
But Ethan had learned to make impossible choices.
And he would make another one soon.