“Take her by force.”
The moment I heard those words, my body moved. Before I could even think, my legs were in motion.
I ran. Turning my back on the Observers, I bolted toward the rear exit at full speed.
Behind me, a voice rang out.
“Don’t let her escape.”
It was the Observer’s voice—low, flat, and devoid of emotion. Yet, I could feel the presence of pursuit closing in.
The villagers moved. They threw themselves in front of the Observers, blocking their path.
“Go!”
A young man’s voice shouted.
“Hurry! Run!”
A woman’s voice followed.
I didn’t have a second to look back. I just ran.
The wooden gate of the back exit came into view. It was open. Someone had opened it for me.
I dove through the gate. Behind me, I heard screams—the voices of the villagers. But I couldn't stop. If I stopped, it was over.
I plunged into the forest. I wove through the trees at a breakneck pace. Branches scratched at my face. Roots threatened to trip me. Still, I didn’t slow down.
The scent of damp earth stung my nostrils. Leaves heavy with morning dew slapped against my arms, scattering cold droplets with every strike. The world was dark. The canopy of trees blotted out the sky, making it feel as though I were running through a deep twilight despite it being morning.
The drawstring pouch at my waist swung. The Shrine God and the Vacant Lot God were trembling inside.
“…Run.”
I heard the Shrine God’s voice, faint and whispery.
“…Don’t stop.”
The presence was still behind me, stalking. I couldn’t hear footsteps, but I knew. A cold gaze was piercing my back. The Observers were coming.
I darted between the trunks. There was no path, only narrow animal trails. It was dim; even though the sun was up, the forest held onto the shadows. I leaped over gnarled roots. I ducked under low-hanging boughs.
My breath started to give out. My legs felt like lead. My body felt heavy. But I couldn't stop.
“…Just a little further.”
The voice of the Vacant Lot God.
“…Almost there.”
I pressed a hand against a tree trunk to pivot. The mossy bark felt coarse against my palm. The ground was soft with fallen leaves and mulch; my feet sank with every step, sapping my strength. I could feel my stamina bleeding away.
Up ahead, I saw a drop-off. A small cliff—a ledge of about three meters. If I could get down there, I might lose them.
I reached the edge. I looked down at the slope, a mess of rocks and slick moss. The only way was down.
I took a step. In that instant, my foot slipped on the moss.
My body hung in the air.
I was falling. The rocks rushed up to meet me. Impact.
A jolt of agony. I hit my left arm. I hit my forehead. Pain flared through my entire body.
“...Gh!”
No voice came out. The pain was so sharp I couldn't breathe.
I lay sprawled on the ground, unable to move. I looked up at the sky. A few slivers of light filtered through the gaps in the branches.
“…Stand up.”
I heard the Shrine God’s voice.
“…Quickly, stand up.”
The Vacant Lot God joined in.
My forehead felt hot. I touched it with my hand. It was red. Blood. It was trickling down from the wound.
My left arm throbbed. It moved, but it hurt. I was covered in bruises. And yet—
Behind me, that presence was drawing closer. A cold, biting sensation. The mark of the Observers. They were still following.
“…Live.”
The gods’ voices overlapped.
“…Run.”
“…Stand up.”
I forced myself onto my feet. My body screamed in protest, but I could stand. I could run. I could still run.
Blood started to get into my eye. I wiped it away. My vision was blurred. Even so, I forced my legs to move.
I ran. Ignoring the pain, I ran. Bleeding, I ran.
Deeper into the woods. Further into the dark. To get away from the Observers.
How long did I run? My legs buckled again and again. Multiple times, I thought I would collapse. Still, I kept going.
Eventually, the presence began to thin. The cold gaze receded into the distance. Had the Observers given up the chase? Or had they simply lost my trail?
The wind blowing through the trees chilled my sweat-soaked skin. The smell of blood hung heavy around me. The metallic taste of it filled my mouth.
I didn't know for sure. But the sensation of being hunted was fading.
My legs finally stopped. I was at my limit.
I leaned against a tree. My breathing was ragged. Everything ached. Blood was still flowing from my forehead.
I checked the pouch. The Shrine God and the Vacant Lot God were safe. They were shaking, but they were there.
“…It’s okay.”
The Shrine God’s voice was hoarse.
“…We’re still here.”
“…We’re with you.”
I clutched the pouch tight. The gods were still with me. I had escaped. I was still alive. But my body had reached its breaking point. The bleeding wouldn't stop. The pain wouldn't recede. At this rate, I wouldn't be able to move much longer.
The forest stretched on endlessly. I didn't know where I was. I didn't know where to go.
There was only one thing I knew for certain. If I stopped, it was over. If I didn't keep moving, the Observers would catch me.
I pushed myself away from the tree. Staggering, I took a single step forward. Without even wiping away the blood that continued to fall, I simply kept walking, deeper and deeper into the heart of the forest.