Gaia's voice was calm, but the weight of her words carried a chilling finality. "I am the chosen one of the god of death," she said, her voice low and steady, as though the phrase itself wasn't just a title but an undeniable truth. Her aura pulsed with dark energy, wrapping around her like a cloak, the air growing heavier with each word.
She let that statement hang in the air for a moment, letting the implications settle. The god of death.
Gaia hovered down, and when her platform reached step height, she stepped down and stood on the same ground as they did.
Fang didn't flinch as Gaia approached. His eyes didn't waver either. If anything, there was a flicker of something beneath the surface—recognition. Not of her, but of what she represented.
"I know who your patron is," Fang said calmly. "Osborne."
That name seemed to pulse in the air, like a drumbeat only the forest could hear. Gaia's eyes narrowed slightly, not in hostility but in sharpened interest.
"I met him," Fang continued. "Briefly. On the old battlefield, west of here. That place was soaked in death magic, so I meditated there. And then, he came to me."
That earned a reaction. Gaia tilted her head slightly, the curiosity no longer veiled. Her aura intensified as her mana flared even louder.
"You stood in his presence and lived?" she asked, her voice quieter now. Less performative. More real. "He doesn't reveal himself lightly."
"I didn't ask for it," Fang said. "He gave me a vision."
He paused. "I listened."
Gaia hovered in silence for a few beats longer. Then the darkness around her shifted.
less pressing, less cold. Her posture remained queenly, but the weight of it eased. Slightly.
"You're not lying," she said softly, more to herself than to him. "He chose to speak to you. That means something."
"I don't know what it means yet," Fang replied. "But I know I walked away changed."
Gaia's gaze drifted toward the treeline where the rabbits had disappeared, then back to Fang. "You're using his magic," she said. "The tendrils. The soulcraft."
Fang gave a single nod. "Not blindly."
"No," Gaia agreed. "Not blindly. But recklessly, perhaps."
Then her expression changed—a flicker of amusement, sharp and cold. "Perhaps that's why he's interested in you."
"Well then," she said, folding her arms. "I suppose you're not a trespasser after all. Not in the eyes of Osborne."
A pause.
"But you're still in my forest. And power or not, I don't share territory lightly."
Fang didn't blink. "Then tell me your terms."
Gaia smiled again. This time, the edge in her smile didn't feel like a threat—it felt like the beginning of something else.
"Let's walk," she said. "If living after death is the reason we're all here, let's see if we can find common ground."
Isgram, who had remained silent since Gaia's claim, snorted and stepped forward, his boot crunching against the dirt.
"If you're dealing with Fang," he said, his fist flaming ever hotter than before, making both Fang and Gaia sweat, "then you're dealing with me."
Gaia turned, her expression unreadable.
Isgram met her gaze head-on. "I'm part of this, whatever this is."
His eyes burned—not with hostility, but with absolute clarity. "You don't get one without the other."
Gaia regarded him for a long second. Then, a faint nod.
"Noted."
She turned back to Fang, the smallest trace of amusement tugging at her lips. "You surround yourself with interesting allies."
Fang shrugged. "We find each other."
"Let's walk then," Gaia repeated. "All of us."
And with that, she turned, her obsidian platform gliding forward into the shadowed trees.
Fang followed. Isgram fell in beside him, hand still warm with leftover flame. The shadow rabbits slunk into the underbrush, never far behind.
But three figures walked the path in silence: a dwarf with smoke on his sleeves, a pale young man with glowing threads of mana trailing behind him, and a demoness who floated inches above the earth on a blade of obsidian.
Gaia drifted beside them, her presence neither hostile nor welcoming. Her voice was smooth but edged with an old sharpness.
"You're calm for someone who's met a demon in the woods," she said, tone teasing but curious. "Most just scream or beg. You? You stroll beside me like this is routine."
Fang didn't break stride. His gaze swept forward, scanning through the underbrush.
"Compared to what I've seen? You're almost relaxing."
A rare smile curled Gaia's lips. "You've seen Osborne, so I am not surprised."
She stopped. The disc beneath her feet hovered a little higher, crackling faintly with dark energy. "And what did you learn from death itself?"
"That no one's coming to save us."
Behind them, Isgram let out a grunt. He crossed his arms, the scent of ash still clinging to his beard.
"Damn right. That's why we build our own damn shelter."
Fang stepped slightly ahead, just enough to meet Gaia's eyes.
"I'm building something here. Not a hideout. Not a lair. A haven."
Gaia tilted her head. "For rabbits and dirt farmers?"
"For chosen ones."
The wind held still. Not a single leaf moved.
Fang spoke again, voice calm but unyielding.
"We're hunted. Feared. The kingdoms treat chosen ones like armageddon prophecies. Screw that. I'm not a tool. I'm not a prophecy. I'm me."
Isgram took a step forward, the fire in his veins still simmering under his skin.
"And I'm not a dwarf. Not to them. Not anymore. They made that clear when they burned my name out of their books. My only identity is being a chosen one. And so is yours."
Fang turned back to Gaia.
"This forest is unclaimed for all I know. I want it to be a sanctuary. For people like us. No thrones. No chains. Just the space to grow. Learn. Fight. Whatever we want."
Isgram's eyes flared with embers.
"Think of it this way—we've already been exiled by every place that ever mattered. Might as well build one that does matter."
Gaia said nothing. But the shadows around her grew still, listening.
And the forest, for the first time in centuries, didn't whisper back.
Gaia stopped.
The earth beneath her shuddered. Stones cracked in half, and jagged spires of metal burst from the soil in a ring—sharp, gleaming, hostile. Her obsidian platform dissolved into dust as the ground beneath her churned like something alive.
"You think this place is safe?" she snapped. Her voice didn't rise, but it hit harder than any scream. "You think your dream will stop the chains when they come dragging behind royal boots and temple banners?"
Her fists clenched. Iron dust sparked across her knuckles. Roots twisted out of the dirt, writhing like serpents before slamming back into the earth. Even the trees leaned away from her.
Fang stood still. Silent.
"They'll burn this forest to ash and salt it afterward just to make sure we never rise. They always do. This is the second hideout I've found this month—the first, they made vanish. Erased." Her voice cracked. Just enough to show the truth behind the steel. "And when they find this one... You think you'll protect us all?"
Silence.
Then Isgram stepped forward.
"Not anger," he said flatly. "Fear."
Gaia turned to him, eyes flaring. "What?"
"You're scared," Isgram said, voice hard as hammered iron. "You've been alone so long, you forgot what hope sounds like. So now you attack it."
His tone sharpened. "But it's fear."
The metal around Gaia twitched—but didn't strike.
"I know fear when I see it," Isgram went on. "I've lived it. You're not lashing out because you don't believe in the dream. You're lashing out because you do. And you're terrified to lose it."
He stepped closer. His flame didn't rise—but his words burned hotter than any fire.
"We all are."
Gaia didn't respond. The metal spires slowly sank. The tremors softened, but didn't disappear.
Fang exhaled, steady.
"Then stay," he said. "Help us make it real."
Gaia's mouth opened, voice quieter now. "But it's too dangerous. If they hear we've grouped up, they'll—"
Isgram raised his hand. And with his other, he gently placed it on her shoulder.
Gaia froze. She didn't flinch—but something in her eyes shifted. The fury faded. What was left looked like a scared girl.
Isgram smiled—not wide, not cocky. Just real.
"I'd rather die trying," he said. "We got a second chance at life. Let's make it count."
The wind moved through the clearing again.
And this time, Gaia didn't fight it.