Chapter 105 ‒ The Hollow Grove
Chapter 105 ‒ The Hollow Grove
The room felt impossibly still after Frank’s story, as if every beam and floorboard had stopped breathing altogether. Tyler sat slumped at the table, his hand resting on the crude wooden horse Anne had thrown at him earlier. Its gouged lines dug into his glove, each ridge echoing the ragged wounds of this place.
Tyler glanced down at his trembling hands, his fingers curling into fists.
I thought I’d seen the worst this world had to offer… but I was wrong.
He looked at the horse again. No matter how broken it is… someone still tries to shape it. Someone still tries to hold on.
He thought of Anne — her trembling hand carving clumsy shapes, her sharp words like thorns to keep him away, yet her eyes still darting toward the past she tried to bury. He thought of Frank, shoulders weighed down by guilt so heavy it bent him more than any physical wound.
They… they’re like me.
Tyler’s breath stuttered in his throat. Both of them watched the people they loved fall because of their choices… Just like I watched Milo—
The name pulsed in his mind, a knife twisted into a half-healed scar.
A heavy silence stretched, until Frank shifted in his seat, his weary eyes meeting Tyler’s.
“So, [Player]…” Frank’s voice was low, almost brittle. “Do you still believe that a Creator God exists? The one who took away our only hope of survival… who let our sanctuary be destroyed… who forced an innocent child to kill her own mother?”
Tyler’s breath caught. He felt the words crawl inside his skull like ice.
Frank leaned forward, his fingers tightening together. “I spent years believing someone would save us. That if I prayed hard enough, if I endured enough, someone up there would show mercy. But all I saw was death. My wife’s final scream… my daughter’s trembling hands as she burned her own mother alive… Tell me, where was God then? Watching? Laughing?”
Tyler stayed silent, the question echoing in the hollow of his chest.
Frank continued, his voice shaking. “If one wants things to change, he must make the changes himself. Believe in his own hands — not some distant phantom. But even that belief… it’s fading. When you watch your entire home turn into a graveyard, when you hear each cough echo like a funeral bell… You begin to lose even the last pieces of yourself.”
He glanced at the door Anne had stormed through earlier, a tremor passing through his shoulders. “I’ve wanted to give up so many times. Throw myself into a horde of Blightspawn, let them tear me apart… But I know Anne would follow me into death. That’s the only reason I still breathe.”
Tyler opened his mouth, but no words came out at first. Then slowly, his voice broke the silence.
“I… I understand.” His fingers curled tighter around the horse. “I had someone too. My brother, Milo. He died because of my actions. I… still see him every time I close my eyes.”
He hesitated, his voice dropping to a hoarse whisper. “I thought… if I collected the divine keys, defeated the Primordial Beasts, I could stand before the Creator God and ask for a wish… bring Milo back. I thought… I could fix it all.”
Frank watched him, eyes unreadable. Then he gave a soft, brittle laugh. “A wish-granting deity… perhaps we both chase ghosts. But if that is your path… I pray you find the strength to follow it to the end.”
He rose, patting Tyler’s shoulder lightly. “Stay tonight. Leave at dawn. The Blightspawns are stronger in daylight, but they gather to flames at night like moths. Move in the shadows tomorrow — it will be safer.”
This text was taken from NovelFire. Help the author by reading the original version there.
Tyler nodded faintly, his mind already drifting.
If there’s no Creator God… was I wasting time from the very start? Will I never see Milo again? Will I remain trapped here forever, a monster wearing a human mask?
He sank into the bed, exhaustion consuming him from the inside.
At some point, the darkness swallowed him. He drifted, caught between the warmth of old laughter and the cold howl of an empty world.
He thought of the keys he had gathered. Only one left. Then he could return to the world with Milo.
But… what about the people here? What about Anne? Frank? Don’t they deserve a happy ending too?
Somewhere between those tangled thoughts, sleep finally claimed him.
---
“Hey dumb idiot! Wake up!”
A sharp voice pierced the fog in Tyler’s skull. He jerked up, mind sluggish, the world spinning around him in jagged streaks. His vision cleared enough to see Anne’s face inches from his, eyes wide and frantic.
“Wha—what’s going on?” he croaked, still half-dreaming.
Anne grabbed his hand in a painful grip. “Father is missing! Help me find him!” Her voice trembled with something rawer than anger — pure panic.
Tyler’s mind snapped into focus all at once. He stumbled as Anne yanked him to his feet, dragging him toward the door before he could even grab his cloak properly.
Outside, the settlement lay in cold, breathless ruin. Blightspawns roamed the street — pale, bark-skinned shapes crawling and stumbling between broken carts and cracked fences. Their hollow eyes shone faintly in the gloom.
Anne whipped around, her breath ragged. “Do you have anything to stun them or distract them?!”
Tyler frantically searched his skill list in his mind. [Lightning Bolt]… no, too lethal. He didn’t want to kill them after hearing Frank’s story.
Then his gaze fell on a different option.
“Can loud noises attract them?” he barked back.
“Yes, but why—?”
Tyler didn’t wait for her to finish. “Good. When I say run, you sprint. Don’t look back.”
“What?! Wait—!”
He dashed away, leaving Anne’s shout swallowed by the hush. He stopped at the middle of the wider street, heart pounding, eyes darting over dozens of shifting Blightspawn shapes.
[Activated Skill: Screech]
A deafening, high-pitched shriek cut through the air, rattling windows and echoing like a wailing alarm. Instantly, every Blightspawn’s head snapped toward him. Unlike the sluggish ones he’d fought before, these moved with terrifying speed, crashing over fences and skittering toward him like a living tide.
Tyler spun to face Anne’s direction. “Run!”
[Activated Skill: Ink Cloud]
A thick, dark mist burst outward from his feet. In that instant of confusion, he bolted, dashing around the thrashing limbs and lunging jaws. Anne, wide-eyed but resolute, darted into a side alley, her boots slamming against the stones.
They regrouped further down a narrow passage, breath tearing from their lungs. Anne dropped to her knees, clutching her side.
“You… you’re not as useless as I thought,” she spat between gasps.
Tyler wheezed, wiping sweat from his forehead. “You run fast for someone without [Sprint].”
Anne shot him a glare that was halfway to a smile but stopped short.
Tyler leaned against the wall, his chest still heaving. “Where would he go? Think!”
Anne swallowed hard, eyes flicking down. “Outside the settlement walls… there’s a river. Father sometimes goes there to collect lavender flowers. Maybe he went to restock.”
Tyler stood straight, calculating quickly. “We’ll never make it in time on foot. It’ll be dark before we even get there.”
He reached into his inventory and pulled out a battered, patched boat. The wood creaked ominously as he dropped it onto the ground.
Anne stared. “You… want us to take that… thing?”
Tyler climbed in, patting the side. “Get in. Unless you want to fight all those things by yourself.”
Anne hesitated, glaring at the rickety craft like it was a coiled snake. Finally, with a frustrated grunt, she climbed in, gripping the edges tightly.
As they set off, the river’s current carried them quickly. Water slapped the hull, bouncing them from rock to rock. Each time they jolted, Anne shrieked, her fingers digging into Tyler’s arm.
“Ow— watch the nails! You trying to shred my arm?!” Tyler yelled.
Anne’s teeth ground together. “Why did you have to bring such a pathetic excuse for a boat?!”
Tyler barked a laugh, even as they narrowly avoided another half-submerged log. “Hey, it’s not a luxury cruise!”
Anne buried her face in her sleeve, muttering curses into the fabric. Finally, the current eased, and a patch of dried grass and purple flowers came into view near the bank.
Tyler stepped out first, scanning for movement. His hand hovered over his sword. Nothing yet.
Anne climbed out, scanning the grove. Her eyes locked on a figure sitting hunched on a log among the lavender.
“Father?” she called softly, voice trembling.
The figure turned.
Tyler froze. The shape was familiar — Frank’s white coat, now stained dark. But his face… his eyes were pale and empty, skin ashen, rotten sap dripping from his slack jaw.
Anne’s hand flew to her mouth, knees buckling as she staggered forward.
Tyler drew his blades, but inside, something twisted — a pain deeper than any wound he’d felt before.