Rain fell as if the sky had gone mad.
It did not drizzle. It did not pour. It attacked.
Sheets of rain crashed down from above, tearing through the thick canopy of the forest and hammering the earth below until the ground became a churning swamp of mud, shattered leaves, and broken branches. Thunder rolled endlessly, so close that the air itself vibrated, while lightning split the heavens again and again, briefly illuminating a forest that looked less like nature and more like a battlefield.
A woman ran.
Her breath came in harsh, broken gasps, each inhale burning like fire scraping her lungs. Her boots sank into the mud with every step, threatening to drag her down, yet she forced her legs to move faster, harder, farther.
Blood soaked her clothes.
Some of it was fresh, steaming where rain struck scorched flesh. Some had already dried, cracking against her skin as she moved. She could no longer tell where one wound ended and another began.
In her arms—
She carried a child.
Small. Fragile. Wrapped tightly in a soaked blanket, clinging to her with instinctive terror. Tiny fingers dug into her clothes as if letting go meant vanishing forever.
The child's face was pressed against her chest. He couldn't see the forest, couldn't see the shadows closing in—but he felt them. His body trembled violently every time thunder roared, every time something moved behind them.
And something was moving.
"STOP RIGHT THERE!"
The shout ripped through the storm like a blade.
The woman's eyes narrowed.
Behind her, shadows surged between the trees.
They were not ordinary pursuers. Their movements were wrong—too smooth, too fast. They leaped from trunk to trunk, slid across the ground like living darkness, and appeared where they should not have been.
Cloaks snapped violently in the wind. Faces remained hidden beneath hoods, but their voices were clear—cold, sharp, filled with killing intent.
"Don't let her escape!"
"She's wounded! Press her!"
The forest itself seemed to turn against her.
Branches whipped across her face, tearing skin. Roots rose from the mud like traps, snagging at her boots. Rain streamed into her eyes, blurring her vision, stealing her breath.
Her footing slipped.
For a heartbeat, her balance faltered.
That was enough.
The air screamed.
A fireball tore through the rain, turning droplets into steam as it slammed into her side.
Pain exploded.
Her body was thrown sideways, flesh burning as blood sprayed across the mud. Her shoulder shattered against a tree trunk, bark exploding outward as she crashed to the ground.
The child cried out.
That sound tore through her like a blade.
Her teeth clenched so hard she tasted blood. She swallowed the scream rising in her throat and forced her body to move.
She twisted mid-fall.
Her back took the rest of the blast.
Agony carved deep into her spine. Her vision went white. Her arms shook violently—but they never loosened.
The child was untouched.
She hit the ground hard, rolling through mud and leaves, then planted one foot and stood.
Still—
She ran.
Her steps changed.
What had been wild, desperate movement sharpened into something terrifyingly precise.
Fast footwork.
Her feet struck the ground in rapid, controlled patterns—short steps, sudden pivots, bursts of acceleration that defied logic. She didn't simply run through the forest; she wove through it.
Left—twist—slide.
Right—push—leap.
She skimmed past trees by inches, slid under snapping branches, and leapt fallen trunks without losing momentum. Her body moved as if it remembered something her mind had long forgotten.
"She's using footwork!"
"Damn it—cut her off!"
A blade of condensed heat sliced through the air beside her head, severing a massive tree behind her. It crashed down with a deafening roar, blocking the path she had just taken.
She didn't look back.
She couldn't.
Another attack came from the side.
She sensed it—pressure building, heat rising.
Her feet slammed into the mud in a sharp sequence. She twisted hard, her body slipping sideways just as the blast tore through where she had been standing.
Heat grazed her shoulder.
Flesh burned.
Blood flowed.
"She won't last much longer!"
A figure dropped directly ahead of her, boots slamming into the mud as he raised his hand.
"End it—NOW!"
She reacted instantly.
Her feet moved before thought.
Left—right—twist—launch.
She slipped past him at the exact moment a massive blast detonated behind her. The shockwave hurled her forward, ripping the air from her lungs as she crashed through undergrowth and slammed into the ground.
Her vision blurred violently.
Her legs screamed.
She pushed herself up anyway.
The child began to cry louder now, his fear breaking free.
Her heart clenched.
Her strength was fading. Her steps were growing heavier. Her body trembled with every movement.
Still, she did not slow.
Another blast struck her leg.
She staggered.
Another sliced across her back.
She nearly fell.
Every attack she couldn't avoid, she chose where it landed—shoulder, back, side—never letting a single strike reach the child.
"After her!"
"She's heading for the ancient tree!"
Realization crept into the assassins' voices.
"No—don't let her reach it!"
They unleashed everything.
Fire. Pressure. Screaming heat.
The forest exploded around her.
Trees shattered. Earth tore open. Steam and smoke filled the air.
She ran through it all.
Her vision darkened. Her breathing turned shallow. Her legs trembled violently, threatening to give out at any moment.
The child sobbed.
She lowered her head slightly.
Her lips trembled.
She forced them upward.
A smile bloomed on her face—gentle, warm, unwavering.
She rocked the child slightly as she ran, shielding him completely.
"It's okay," her expression promised.
"I'm still here."
The forest suddenly opened.
At the end of the path stood a massive ancient tree, its trunk so wide it felt like a wall carved by time itself. Deep grooves lined its bark, faintly glowing as if alive. At its base was a hollow, and within it swirled an unnatural light—soft, pulsing, bending rain and shadow alike.
A portal.
An old man stood beside it.
His posture was bent with age, his robes soaked through, yet his eyes were sharp—unnaturally clear, burning with urgency.
"You're late," he said calmly.
"I know," she replied softly.
Her steps slowed.
Each movement felt heavier than the last. Pain flooded her body now that she had reached the end.
With trembling arms, she placed the child into the old man's grasp.
Her fingers lingered.
Reluctant.
Desperate.
She kissed the child's forehead.
Warmth spread through her chest.
She sprinkled something faintly glowing over him. The light melted into his skin, and his crying softened, fading into silence as sleep claimed him.
Behind her—
"DON'T LET THEM ENTER!"
The assassins burst from the trees, unleashing their final attacks.
The world shook.
The old man turned and stepped into the hollow, carrying the child forward.
As the portal swallowed them, the child forced his heavy eyelids open one last time.
He saw his mother standing alone before the great tree.
Rain poured over her broken body.
Her smile never faded.
Then—
A deafening explosion tore through the forest.
The sound erased the world.
Darkness swallowed everything.
Luo Yi woke up screaming.
His body jolted upright violently, breath tearing from his chest as a cry escaped before he could stop it. His heart pounded like it was trying to tear free, sweat soaking his clothes despite the cold air.
Again.
Always again.
Tears streamed down his face as he gasped for breath, fists clenched tightly in the thin blanket.
"I'm sick of this…" he whispered hoarsely.
The dim ceiling of the orphanage stared back at him. Rows of narrow beds stretched into darkness. Soft breathing filled the room. Rain tapped against the windows outside, echoing the nightmare too closely.
Ten years old.
And the dream never changed.
Anger surged through him.
He slammed his fist into the mattress.
"Why won't it stop?!"
The rain continued to fall.
And the nightmare refused to fade.