Chapter 29: Lost in the Realm of War

Kaius walked. And walked. And walked.

The battlefield stretched endlessly before him, an unforgiving wasteland of corpses, broken weapons, and the scent of rusted blood hanging thick in the air. His body ached—no, it screamed—with every step, but he couldn't stop. If he stopped, he wasn't sure if he'd ever move again.

It had been a week. A week of wandering. A week without answers. A week without a single familiar face.

His once-fine clothes were torn beyond recognition, the fabric stiff with dried blood and mud. His boots had long since lost their grip, slipping against the uneven ground, yet he kept moving. He had to. He didn't know why—maybe instinct, maybe hope, maybe sheer stubbornness.

But where was he going?

The green sky above felt unreal, like a dream he couldn't wake from. The battlefield itself was too quiet, as if the land itself was holding its breath. No new battles, no fresh corpses—only the aftermath. He had passed too many faces, frozen in death, their expressions twisted in pain, longing, rage. He had stopped looking at them after the first day.

Then, he saw it.

A small stone, half-buried in the dirt, catching the light in a way that made it seem out of place. A deep, eerie glow pulsed within it—not bright, but enough to make his breath hitch.

Something about it called to him.

Kaius crouched, fingers trembling as he brushed away the dirt. The stone was smooth, unnaturally so, and cool to the touch. As soon as his fingers closed around it, a strange sensation trickled up his arm, like static dancing along his skin. It wasn't painful, but it made his pulse stutter.

Then—whispers.

Not voices he could understand. Just faint murmurs at the edge of his hearing, like an ancient song carried by the wind. He swallowed hard, shaking his head. Maybe exhaustion was making him hallucinate. He stuffed the stone into his pocket and kept moving.

That was when he heard them.

Not the howls of battle. Not the eerie silence of the dead.

Voices. Living voices.

They were ahead of him, hidden behind a slope of shattered earth and broken ruins. Unlike the warriors he had encountered before, these voices weren't screaming in fury or agony. They were… calmer. Talking. Laughing, even.

His body tensed.

Not warriors. Not soldiers. Who were they?

Cautiously, he crept forward, his tired limbs barely obeying him. He needed to see. He needed to—

His foot slipped.

The world tilted. His stomach lurched. Before he could react, he was falling—his vision spun as he tumbled down the rocky slope, hitting the ground with a dull thud.

Pain shot through his ribs, knocking the breath from his lungs. He barely had a second to recover before shadows loomed over him.

Rough hands grabbed him, yanking him to his knees. He gasped as a splash of cold water hit his face, forcing him back to awareness. His vision cleared just enough to make out blurred shapes—figures standing around him, their forms blending with the dim light of the battlefield's eerie glow.

Bandits.

He didn't need to ask. He could see it in their ragged clothes, their mismatched weapons, the way they sized him up like a piece of meat.

"He's awake," one of them muttered, his voice scratchy and rough.

"Good. Tie him up with the others."

Kaius barely had time to breathe before they forced his hands behind his back, thick ropes biting into his wrists. A sharp tug, and he felt himself being linked to others. His head turned slightly—there were more captives. At least eight of them, all bound the same way, their faces a mix of exhaustion and quiet resignation.

Kaius swallowed hard, his throat dry.

Where were they taking them?

The bandits didn't speak much after that. With their prisoners secured, they began to move, forcing them forward with occasional shoves. Kaius struggled to keep up, his muscles screaming in protest. He clenched his teeth, refusing to stumble.

He didn't dare look up at the sky anymore.

Once, the sky had been his comfort—a vast, endless expanse he could always rely on. But here, in this unnatural realm, even the sky felt foreign. The colors were wrong. The stars shimmered like distant ghosts. Nothing about this place felt real.

And yet, he was trapped in it.

As the march continued, his thoughts drifted back to the stone in his pocket. Its presence felt heavier now, almost warm against his skin. He couldn't shake the feeling that taking it had changed something.

Or maybe… something had noticed.

He forced himself to stay silent, to listen, to wait.

Because if there was one thing he had learned in this strange realm, it was this—nothing happened without reason.

And whatever came next… he had to be ready