Chapter 57. Interesting
Our arrival in the new location was accompanied by the same "pleasant" sensations as before, but I ignored them, excited about gaining a new element.
"He should be somewhere around here," Van Shi Tong said quietly, his voice carrying a hint of tension that made me drop my joyful demeanor and assess the surroundings.
The landscape lacked the natural beauty of untouched civilization. The soil was lifeless, with dead trees frozen in cartoonish poses. No life was evident, even in the air.
The best description for this place is "bad land," a term often used by experienced hunters and rangers in the human world when in the taiga or mountains. People usually died horribly here, or it was once a graveyard or battlefield.
"This time, I'll handle it myself. You just stay close," the spirit of knowledge hurried, his urgency making me reluctant to argue. Ever-positive Drya nervously turned her head, seemingly expecting trouble.
Nodding briefly to the serious spirit, he clung to my clothes with his talons and flew south, where the needed spirit awaited.
We couldn't miss him, especially with his striking appearance. He was a two-meter-tall sphere constantly changing color. Seeing us approach, the "Mimic" strangely trembled, and I don't think it was from fear.
Van Shi Tong could have killed him a thousand times, but he hesitated, as if waiting for or fearing something. And I was right. In less than a second, a black fog appeared from nowhere, making even my sources tremble. Overwhelming fear paralyzed me, and all my battle strategies—or rather, memories of being beaten by spirits in the virtual world—were forgotten. Van Shi Tong, with intense focus, created new layers of protection against the fog. It worked, but the fog easily eroded the barriers, revealing we'd encountered an ancient spirit... From hunters, we became the hunted.
"The little bird has grown up so much," a loud voice boomed from everywhere.
"Pavor," Van Shi Tong stated after deflecting the attack—or perhaps the spirit stopped attacking. The spirit of knowledge didn't seem surprised by his arrival—old "friends," I suppose. "This is the spirit of fear, born even before me, and he's incredibly persistent."
"Nice to see you too," a grotesque face emerged from the fog. His gaze fell on me, and I felt as if he examined me down to every atom or molecule. "An interesting specimen," the spirit's interest seemed to grow. "And you're still struggling?" he asked, as if needing conversation or delivering a villainous monologue.