The Chase

Chapter 6: The Chase

The forest blurred around them as Sakuchi, Telemon, and Number 8 sprinted through the trees, breath ragged, legs burning with exhaustion telemon even limping from the damage she took earlier. They had just barely escaped Xalor, their bodies battered and their minds reeling from the fight. But even as they ran, a gnawing feeling of dread crept over them. They weren't safe—not yet.

"We need to keep moving," Sakuchi grunted through clenched teeth, the pain in his body almost overwhelming. His Aura felt erratic, dangerously close to backfiring again. He couldn't afford to slow down, but every step felt like it was draining his very life force. The others—Telemon, Number 8—they were in no better condition.

Telemon's breath came in sharp gasps. "I can't… We can't keep running forever," she said, her voice strained.

Sakuchi's gaze shot around the dense trees, but there was nothing in sight. No signs of pursuit, no sounds of anyone following them. Still, his instincts screamed that danger was coming—he could feel it in his bones.

Suddenly, the forest around them grew unnervingly still. The weight in the air thickened, like the calm before a storm. And then, without warning, a voice shattered the silence.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" The voice was low, almost playful, but with a cutting edge that made every nerve in Sakuchi's body flare. It was a voice laced with malicious intent.

Sakuchi's heart skipped a beat. He spun around, eyes scanning the trees. He saw nothing, heard nothing—but then—

A flash of movement, too quick to track, and a figure emerged from the shadows.

A woman, tall and imposing, with long, dark purple hair that rippled like a wave behind her. Her black eyes gleamed with a predatory glint, and her lips twisted into a wicked smile.

"Well, this is quite the surprise," the woman purred. "I didn't expect you to be so… resourceful. But I suppose I'll have to finish what Xalor started."

Sakuchi's blood ran cold. They had just escaped Xalor's grasp, and now another threat emerged from the depths of the woods. His instincts were telling him to flee, but there was nowhere to run. His Aura was still unstable, and he could already feel the creeping pressure of something malevolent wrapping around him.

"Who the hell are you?" Number 8 growled, his body coiled like a spring, ready to strike.

The woman's smile only widened. "I'm someone who's very interested in your little friend here." She nodded toward Sakuchi. "Sakuchi, isn't it? I've heard… so much about you."

Sakuchi's chest tightened. He didn't know who she was, but her knowing his name only confirmed the threat. He was certain that whatever this woman's interest in him was, it wasn't good.

Before anyone could respond, the woman's eyes flicked toward Sakuchi, and then—

A sharp, piercing pain shot through his body. His Aura reacted violently, a backfire of energy that he hadn't been prepared for. It felt like an explosion inside him—his own power turning against him.

"W-What—" Sakuchi gasped, staggering back, but it was too late. His Aura was infected, poisoned. His breathing hitched as his body began to tremble uncontrollably. Every inch of him felt like it was on fire, but cold, biting flames instead of warmth.

Telemon's eyes widened in horror. "No!" She lunged toward Sakuchi, but the woman—Lilia—moved faster.

"Poison Magic," Lilia cooed, her voice almost delighted. "It's a simple thing, really. A little gift to your Aura. A gift that should burn you from the inside out."

Sakuchi's vision blurred as his body began to fail him. His knees buckled, and he collapsed onto the ground, gasping for breath.

Telemon's face was pale, her fists clenched in fury. "You—bitch—!"

But before she could move, Lilia raised a hand. "Careful now. I'm not interested in you." Her smile grew wider. "At least, not yet."

Number 8's eyes darted between the woman and Sakuchi, his mind working quickly. He could see the danger in Lilia's poison magic, and he knew they couldn't afford to stand still. "We need to move. Now."

With precision born from years of training, Number 8 moved without hesitation. He darted to the side, throwing a handful of small, sharpened blades at Lilia to distract her. The blades hit the ground near her feet, but it was enough of a distraction to give him the opening he needed.

"Telemon, get him out of here!" Number 8 commanded, his voice low but firm.

Telemon didn't hesitate, grabbing Sakuchi's arm and pulling him away, but she wasn't strong enough to carry him. His Aura was wrecked, his body a dead weight as they stumbled into moist earth hidden under the cover of trees.

the burning sensation still rippling through Sakuchi's body. Poison. He could feel the effects taking hold—his Aura destabilized, running wild within him like an untamed beast. His legs shook beneath him, threatening to give way as he staggered forward, barely able to stay upright.

Telemon was practically dragging him, her grip firm on his arm, but her face was pale with fear and exhaustion. "Hold on, Sakuchi," she murmured, though the tremor in her voice betrayed her panic. "Just… a little further."

Sakuchi barely heard her. His thoughts were clouded, his body nearly unresponsive. Every step felt like a battle, but he couldn't afford to let his guard down—not after everything they'd been through.

Number 8, his pace far quicker, moved ahead of them, scanning the surroundings with practiced precision. His eyes were alert, constantly checking the darkening woods, watching for any sign of pursuit.

"Keep moving," he ordered, his voice sharp. "We can't stay exposed out here."

They pushed through the thick underbrush, barely able to hear their own footfalls over the pounding in their chests. But soon, they came upon a massive hollow tree—its great trunk wide and deep enough to hide the three of them.

Number 8 was the first to duck inside, followed by Telemon, who helped support Sakuchi as they crawled in. The inside was cramped and smelled faintly of moss, but it offered shelter, something they desperately needed.

As they settled into the hollow, the sense of danger receded, but only slightly. The silence of the tree's refuge was deafening. Still, it didn't last long.

Telemon shifted uncomfortably, glancing at Sakuchi, who had collapsed against the tree's side, his breath shallow. His normally vibrant purple flame, the one that made him stand out even among the Awakened Ones, was now a flickering, sickly hue. It sent a sharp pang of worry through her chest.

"You need to rest," she said softly, trying to force calm into her voice. "You've been poisoned—this… this is bad, Sakuchi."

He barely responded, his head tipped back against the rough bark, eyes unfocused. His lips were parted in a quiet rasp of pain. "I know… I know," he whispered, though the words were strained. His voice cracked, and for a moment, it almost seemed like he was about to fall unconscious again.

Telemon's hands shook as she hovered over him. She didn't know what to do—didn't know how to help him. Her mind was racing. There had to be something she could do to stabilize him, something they could use. But nothing came to mind.

Meanwhile, Number 8 stood near the entrance, his back to the hollow's opening, eyes scanning the surroundings. "We're not safe yet," he said, his tone unreadable. "Lilia's not going to stop. Not with the way she was eyeing him." He paused, turning slightly toward the others. "We're going to need to get moving soon. The others won't be far behind."

"Right…" Telemon muttered. Her gaze flicked to Sakuchi. "But… we can't move him like this. He can barely stand."

Number 8's eyes softened for a brief moment before he nodded grimly. "We'll have to wait until he can get back on his feet." He took a deep breath. "Just make sure he doesn't pass out completely. I'll keep watch."

As Number 8 turned his attention back to the outside, Telemon sat down beside Sakuchi, her body pressed against the rough bark of the tree. She could feel the heat radiating from his skin, but it wasn't the heat she knew. It was unnatural. Like something was eating away at him from the inside.

A pang of guilt twisted in her chest. If only she could have been faster. If only she hadn't been so weak when they needed her most. The thought gnawed at her.

Sakuchi's faint voice cut through the silence. "Telemon… don't blame yourself."

Her breath caught in her throat. "I… I don't—"

"You didn't do anything wrong," he interrupted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm the one who couldn't keep my guard up. I… I'm sorry."

She reached out instinctively, her hand brushing against his. "Don't apologize. You're not the only one who's been through hell." Her voice cracked, and for a moment, she was silent. "We all are. But we're still here. We're still alive."

Sakuchi gave her a faint, pained smile, though it did little to ease her worries. His eyes fluttered shut again, his body slumping slightly against the tree as he succumbed to exhaustion.

A few long moments passed, filled with the sounds of strained breathing, the whisper of the wind outside, and the tension in the air that refused to let go. Eventually, Telemon's gaze flicked up to Number 8, whose posture was as rigid as ever, eyes narrowed on the darkness beyond.

"We're not going to be able to stay here long," he murmured, his voice cutting through the stillness. "I'll scout ahead. I know we're all in no shape to fight, but we can't stay hidden forever."

"Be careful," Telemon warned, but Number 8 was already preparing to leave the hollow. With a final glance over his shoulder, he slipped into the shadows.

Once alone, the weight of their situation settled over them again. They had narrowly escaped one threat, but the path ahead promised more dangers, more obstacles, and more enemies. They could only hope the rest of their team had fared better.

And as they rested there, waiting to regroup, there was nothing but silence. The forest felt both claustrophobic and vast, the world outside their hollow tree waiting for the inevitable next move.

For two long days, they stayed there, hidden from the world outside. Sakuchi's condition remained critical, his Aura still unstable from the poison Lilia had inflicted on him. His body burned with feverish heat one moment, only to feel freezing cold the next. Every breath he took was shallow, every movement slow and labored.

Telemon stayed by his side, unable to do anything more than offer what comfort she could. She kept her gaze on him, her hand brushing against his when it seemed like he was drifting away. It wasn't much, but it was all she could offer. The thought of leaving him alone while she searched for the others was unbearable.

Number 8 had been on high alert since the moment they'd entered the hollow tree. His sharp instincts and experience as a former shinobi were what had kept them alive, but even he knew their time here was running out. Lilia wasn't the only danger lurking out there, and they couldn't afford to wait much longer.

The silence in the hollow was suffocating. Every sound outside seemed amplified—each crack of a branch, every whisper of the wind felt like a harbinger of something worse. And every time a shift in the forest caught their attention, Telemon's heart would skip a beat, her gaze snapping to the opening of the hollow.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Number 8 returned, his form slipping into the hollow with quiet precision. He didn't say anything at first. He just crouched down near the entrance and scanned the area.

Telemon's heart lifted at the sight of him. "Did you find them?"

He nodded, but the look in his eyes was cautious. "I did. They shot up a flare—a signal we agreed on. They're waiting for us. But it's going to take some time to get to them."

"We don't have much time," she replied, her voice heavy with the weight of the situation. She looked at Sakuchi again, who was still unconscious, his breathing uneven. "Sakuchi… we can't leave him behind."

"We won't," Number 8 assured her, his tone firm. "But we need to move quickly. We can't stay here any longer. There's a chance that Lilia is still searching for us. If she picks up our trail, we'll have even more trouble getting to the others."

Telemon looked down at Sakuchi, her heart heavy with indecision. "I know," she whispered. She gently adjusted his position, trying to make him more comfortable, but it was clear that even that small action drained her. The weight of their situation was pressing on her, the fear of not being able to protect him, not being able to do enough.

Number 8 straightened up and began preparing himself for the journey ahead. "I'll carry him if I have to," he said, his voice low but resolute. "But we need to move fast. Can you help him walk?"

Telemon bit her lip, glancing at Sakuchi once more. She wasn't sure how much longer he could last, but she didn't want to leave him behind. "I can help," she said, though there was doubt in her voice.

The moment of silence that followed was filled with unspoken tension. They were all worn out, physically and emotionally. But they couldn't afford to rest for long.

Number 8 took a step toward the entrance of the hollow, peering outside. "The others won't be far. We need to move before the night falls. If they're still alive, we'll find them. But right now, our priority is survival."

Telemon nodded. She helped Sakuchi to his feet, though it was slow going. He groaned softly, his head lolling to the side, but he was awake, barely conscious. His eyes fluttered open, meeting hers for a brief moment.

"Telemon," he rasped, his voice hoarse and weak. "I'm… sorry."

She squeezed his hand, shaking her head. "Don't apologize. We're in this together, remember?"

Sakuchi managed a faint, pained smile before his eyes closed again. He leaned heavily on her, but he was still alive—still with her.

With Number 8 leading the way, the trio set off into the forest once more, their steps cautious but determined. The weight of their journey wasn't just physical anymore—it was emotional, too. They were all carrying their burdens, their guilt, their fears, and the uncertainty of what lay ahead.

The forest felt different now, as if it were closing in on them. The quiet was oppressive, and every rustle in the trees sent their hearts racing. They moved through the dense underbrush, staying low and silent, but even then, it felt like the darkness itself was hunting them.

As they trudged forward, they finally reached a clearing, and in the distance, they saw the familiar glow of a magic flare—a signal only their group would recognize.

"We're close," Number 8 murmured. "But we still need to be careful."

Telemon nodded, her mind focused on one thing: getting to the others, reuniting the team, and making sure they all survived whatever the world threw at them next.

But in the back of her mind, she knew they weren't out of danger yet. And every step forward felt like they were only inching closer to an even darker, more treacherous fate.