Breathless

The forest seemed to breathe around them, thick mist swirling like something alive. Arata moved cautiously, each step heavy with exhaustion.

"Ah! Almost forgot," Daiki said, turning to Arata. His voice sounded distant, as if speaking from another world.

"Wanted to ask you something... been on my mind."

Arata eyed him curiously, the chill forest air sharpening the surrealness of their situation.

"Now that we know this isn't a dream, I've got questions too. Starting with—where are we? Shouldn't we be in a town?"

Daiki nodded eagerly, pointing at Arata.

"Exactly! That's what I thought! But that's not my question. What I wanna know is... do you remember how we died? Or who killed us?"

Arata lowered his head, squeezing his eyes shut as he scoured his memory for fragments—anything.

How did we die? I remember nothing. Not even our killer. Not how we got here.

Just darkness. A silent void. No body—just blackness turning to light, then blue sky. Then waking on a tree trunk.

Did anything happen before that? Was that my spawn point?

Though... now that I think about it... I saw something in that void. Or was it my imagination?

Yeah, probably just that... No way someone else was there.

"Hey!"

"Arata, you zoning out again?"

Daiki waved a hand in front of Arata's face, snapping him back.

"Ah, no... sorry. Was thinking about your question, but I got nothing. Just darkness, then light, then... here."

Daiki's face fell briefly—then twisted into shock.

"Wait, you didn't hear the god?"

Arata frowned.

"A god? You saw a god?"

"Not saw—heard. His voice came from everywhere. Had to be a god—the presence was overwhelming. What else could it be?"

Arata stroked his chin, gears turning. One question burned:

Why didn't I hear it?

"Daiki, what exactly did this 'god' say? Anything important?"

"Nah," Daiki shrugged. "Just listed all my life's failures, said something about punishment. Mocked me the whole time."

Arata's frown deepened.

"That... was a god? You sure? Doesn't sound like one."

"Obviously. What else?"

Silence. Arata processed this.

A god wouldn't do that. They'd isekai you, give you OP skills to beat the Demon King, save the world.

Maybe I'm being cliché, but since when do gods roast people?

"Honestly? Wish I could forget that whole thing. Not exactly pleasant."

"Right. But why did only you hear him? We died together. That's unfair."

Daiki sighed. Arata's persistence grated on him.

"Trust me, you're lucky. You'd be worse off than earlier."

Arata shot him a glare—which Daiki ignored.

He's right. Maybe not seeing it was for the best. Though bringing up my breakdown was uncalled for.

Before they could take another step—BOOM. The forest shook. Trees trembled; dead leaves rained down. Squirrel-like creatures screeched as they fled.

"You hear that?" Arata whispered.

"Who wouldn't? Probably heard it miles away."

Arata stood rigid, scanning for threats. Daiki froze—certain any movement would draw whatever lurked nearby.

"Nothing. Must've been an old tree falling," Arata said after a tense minute. "These trunks are huge—"

A wave of freezing air slammed into them. Arata crumpled to his knees.

The tranquil forest turned oppressive as black miasma coiled around them.

"What is this?!" Arata choked between coughs.

Can't breathe—where's it coming from?!

Eyes burning, he staggered up, sleeve pressed to his mouth. Visibility: zero. Only instinct guided him.

"Daiki! Where—?"

He collided with a shape—Daiki, writhing on the ground, clawing at his eyes.

"Use your sleeve, idiot! Don't inhale it!"

Arata dragged Daiki's arm over his nose and mouth.

"Can you walk?"

"Y-yeah—but I can't see! Where are you?!"

"Here. Grab my arm—don't let go."

They stumbled blindly. The "forest" was gone—just endless black and underbrush beneath their feet.

Arata's vision failed next. Eyes swollen shut, he ran anyway—crashed into trees, got up, kept going.

Can't stop. This is targeting us. There's gotta be—

"Fuck!" he spat.

With his last strength, he charged forward—

Collapsed.

The miasma thinned. Oxygen flooded their lungs. Vision returned in blurry patches.

Arata wiped his ruined eyes, stood on shaking legs.

"Daiki...?"

Daiki rose slower, face ashen. Voice raw:

"I'm... okay."

They sat gasping. The rumbling had stopped.

"We can't stay. That... wasn't natural," Arata panted.

Daiki didn't answer.

He was frozen.

Trembling. Face pure terror.

Arata followed his gaze—

His heart stopped.

Behind a massive tree stood a creature as tall as the trunk itself.

Arms like twisted bone, barely concealed by patchy black fur.

A skull for a face—deer-like, yellowed, hollow-eyed.

In those sockets: two scarlet embers, watching. Waiting.

The universal law made flesh: eat or be eaten.