196 Welcome to Foresthome
196 Welcome to Foresthome
“Shit yourself,” Cleavage spat.
I felt the command try to burrow into my nervous system, slick and invasive. I leaned hard into biokinesis and enhancer, clenching muscle and will alike. It worked. That was disgusting. Hypnosis weaponized in the most juvenile way possible.
“One try left,” I said evenly.
Baldy was already moving. His glowing arm came down in a brutal arc, heat rippling the air around it. Thermokinesis, most likely, tuned for close combat. It phased straight through me, leaving nothing but a surprised, almost offended look on his face.
Long hair raised both hands, fingers spreading as if he were about to snap or weave something together. Whatever he was winding up, I wasn’t interested in letting it finish. I shifted my grip and let my spear slither forward, its edge hovering at Baldy’s throat.
He froze.
Before anyone could breathe, a dark-haired boy stepped between us as if he had always been there. “Stop,” the boy said. “No more killing.”
My spear halted a hair’s breadth from Baldy’s neck. “That’s three strikes already,” I replied calmly. “One more, and his head goes bye-bye.”
I studied the boy. He looked young, maybe late teens, with dark hair that fell messily around sharp eyes. There was nothing flashy about him, no obvious power signature, and that alone made my skin prickle.
There was something about him. The way the three idiots froze, terror bleeding through their mental defenses, told me more than any introduction could. Worse, there was a familiarity there, like an old scar you forget about until it starts aching again.
Long hair sneered, though his voice wobbled. “You’re screwed now. We’ve got one of our strongest here.”
Baldy shouted, panic cracking his bravado. “Kill him! I don’t mind dying!”
“Okay,” I said, and phased the spear just enough to kiss Baldy’s spine.
“Wait,” the boy said quickly. “Let it go. Just this once. For old time’s sake.”
That made me pause.
Long hair turned on him, stunned. “How do you know this guy?”
“I’m curious too,” I added.
Baldy’s anxiety spiked so hard it was almost painful to sense. I leaned closer to his ear. “Don’t do anything funny,” I warned softly, “or you might just live long enough to tell people you survived Eclipse.”
Cleavage scoffed despite herself. “Edgy name. No way the SRC would’ve let you off with that.”
“You should put more respect on it,” the boy said calmly. “He’s the only person who’s ever defeated me in a direct confrontation.”
I looked at him fully then. “Who are you?”
Long hair swallowed and straightened, forcing pride into his voice. “This is the veteran cape who ruled the northern seas. The one the navy feared. The draconic terror himself.” He spread his hands. “The Sea Serpent.”
I barked a laugh. “I killed the Sea Serpent. What are you supposed to be, his son?”
Long hair’s mouth opened, then closed. No words came out.
The boy smiled faintly. “Science is a wonderful thing,” he said. “Turns out if even a piece of your brain survives, you can be put back together.” He met my eyes without flinching. “The Box was very helpful with that.”
The Sea Serpent had ridiculous regeneration ratings. That much was public record, even before I put him down. So, yes, it was possible. What unsettled me wasn’t that he was alive. Instead, it was that he remembered me at all. Even more unsettling was the lack of rage. I remembered carving through Seamark’s hierarchy, slaughtering his named capes until the ocean itself felt quieter. He had been a monster then, a leviathan capable of becoming an oriental dragon of sea and storm, growing stronger the deeper and wider the water around him stretched.
If he truly was the Sea Serpent reborn, then he wasn’t just dangerous. He could be useful. Especially when the Entity finally forced its way onto the board.
I studied him carefully. “How do I know you’re not lying?”
He lifted a finger and tapped his forehead. “First time we met, you shot me right here.”
Cleavage’s jaw dropped. “You survived the Great Serpent?”
I let the spear dissolve back into solidity and stepped away from Baldy’s throat. “Let’s reset, then.” I inclined my head slightly. “I’m Eclipse. I killed the Serpent. And a lot more people besides.”
I watched for a reaction, pushed the words like a blade meant to provoke. Qilin only shrugged.
“I remember you,” he said, almost casually. “But a lot of my memories are gone. Whatever the Box did to me… I’m not exactly who I used to be.”
“That figures,” I replied. “I absorbed the remnants of Seamark. Doesn’t mean the blood’s washed off. You lost all your named capes because of me.”
He laughed, soft and genuine. “I like that you don’t pretend otherwise.”
“Then you’re a better man than you were,” I said flatly.
He inclined his head. “I go by Qilin now. One of the three generals serving the Divine Forest King.”
I scoffed. “That’s way more embarrassing than Eclipse.”
Baldy jogged up behind him and thumped his glowing fist against his chest. “Firefist.”
Cleavage folded her arms, eyes sharp. “Whisperer.”
Long hair gave an awkward half-smile. “Snapshock. Or just Snap.”
“Nice to meet you all,” I said. “So what’s next?”
They exchanged looks. Doubt. Confusion. Calculation. It was obvious they’d come here with a purpose, either to put me down or see if I was worth keeping. After Boarhead, I suspected killing me had been the favored option.
Qilin exhaled slowly. “I’ll take responsibility for this call. Our numbers are already thinning. Fighting you would only make that worse.” He glanced at the others. “I’ve seen what he can do. If any of you still want to test him, you’re welcome to try.”
“I’d advise against it,” I added. “You’d die.”
Firefist scowled, fists clenching. He didn’t look convinced. There was grief there, buried under anger. I guessed Boarhead had meant something to him.
“I’m sorry for that,” I said, and meant it, at least a little. “I didn’t know.”
It didn’t help. I hadn’t expected it to.
“I want in,” I continued. “Familiar faces matter. Especially here.”
Whisperer shot Firefist a look. “Ease up.”
Snap nodded slowly. “He’s not wrong. Another strong fighter might keep us alive.”
I looked back at Qilin. “So tell me,” I said. “Why do you need one?”
I could think of only one reason they would need a strong fighter. An enemy. And if there was an enemy, then there were factions. That tracked disturbingly well with everything I had seen so far. If prisoners like me were being dumped into this place repeatedly, stripped of their full strength and forced to adapt, the outcome was inevitable. A lawless world where only the strongest endured. From there, things could branch in only two ways: fractured groups constantly at war, or a dominant force imposing order through violence.
I wondered which side Qilin stood on.
“We’ll talk on the way,” Qilin said.
He turned and started deeper into the forest, not bothering to check if I followed. I did. Firefist and the others fell in behind us, forming a loose perimeter without thinking about it. It was probably the work of habit.
“I’m still new here, though not as much as you,” Qilin continued as we walked. “I managed to carve out a place for me here, and I’d like it to stay that way. Mostly because I can fight.” He glanced back at me. “If it were you, I don’t think you’d struggle.”
“I don’t plan on staying,” I replied. “I’m breaking out.”
Snap let out a sharp laugh. “You should give up on that idea immediately.”
Whisperer nodded. “The most recent attempt was a researcher-type cape. Built a rocket ship from scrap and stolen tech.” She smirked. “He came right back. Turns out leaving isn’t that simple.”
I tilted my head and looked up at the sky. LOCKWORLD loomed there, flat and massive, like a brand burned into reality itself. No sun. No stars. Just that word watching everything.
Warden had called it a planet and a dimension. I still wasn’t sure which part disturbed me more.
Qilin broke the silence. “There are four major factions here. Foresthome. Urbanites. Candyland. And the Kingdom.”
“Candyland?” I echoed.
Snap shrugged. “Don’t ask.”
“Our group belongs to Foresthome,” Qilin continued. “The Divine Forest King sits at the center of it.”
I frowned. “What about the power cap?”
They all looked at me.
“What?” I asked.
Firefist blinked. “Most capes don’t realize their powers are capped. When they do, they panic. Or spiral.”
Whisperer added, “Everyone here was dangerous on the outside. High-rated. Monsters, by normal standards.” She shook her head. “Having that kind of power suddenly suppressed messes people up.”
“I’ve been through it before,” I said. “Different world. Same lesson.”
That seemed to earn a few thoughtful looks.
The forest thinned as we moved forward, rough ground giving way to trampled paths. Soon, the trees opened into wide plains dotted with tall wooden buildings. They were crude but sturdy, built for function over aesthetics, like something out of a rural settlement. People moved between them openly. They were armed and alert, but not panicked.
A village.
Qilin spread his arms slightly. “Welcome to Foresthome,” he said. “The village hidden in the leaf.”
Foresthome felt… lived in.
That was the first thing that struck me. Not the fortifications, not the armed patrols, not even the way people watched strangers with quiet calculation. It was the sense of continuity. Buildings weren’t temporary shelters thrown together by desperate inmates. Instead, they were repaired, expanded, and decorated. Paths were worn smooth by years of footsteps. Smoke rose from cookfires in an orderly way, not the chaotic haze of a refugee camp. This place had routines, customs, and a future people were planning for, even in a prison masquerading as a world.
Which meant someone had made stability here. And stability always came at a price.
As we walked through the village, a small body suddenly collided with my leg.
“Ah—!”
A child stumbled back, eyes wide with terror. She couldn’t have been older than six. Before I could even react, a woman came running, breathless, pulling the girl close.
“I’m so sorry,” the woman said quickly, bowing her head. “She wasn’t looking where she was going. Please—”
The child peeked out from behind her mother, trembling.
“It’s fine,” Qilin said calmly before I could speak. “Really.”
The woman hesitated, then nodded rapidly. “Thank you. Thank you.” She guided the child away, casting one last nervous glance over her shoulder before disappearing into the crowd.
I watched them go.
They were mundanes. No power signatures. No psychic noise. No distortion in my senses. Just people.
“Most of them are mundanes,” Qilin said, following my gaze. “No powers. Or powers too weak to matter.”
“That’s unexpected,” I said.
“This village was founded by the earliest generations of prisoners,” Qilin replied. “Back when Lockworld was… rougher. Over time, mundanes were born here. Kids grew up here. For them, this isn’t a prison. It’s home.”
That sat poorly in my chest.
Qilin turned to the others. “You three go rest. I’ll bring him to the King.”
Firefist looked like he wanted to argue, but Whisperer gave him a look and Snap clapped him on the shoulder.
“Don’t start a war without us,” Snap said lightly.
“I’ll try,” I replied.
They peeled off into the village, leaving Qilin and me walking alone toward a larger structure near the center. It was taller, reinforced, and unmistakably important.
I glanced at him. “So,” I said, “what’s the King like?”
Qilin smiled faintly. “Quite an amenable person,” he answered. “Just don’t mention about breaking out of Lockworld, you hear me?”