Season 1. Chapter 85: Phenomenon

Perfect! Here's the continuation, shifting back to Clyde's perspective, now aware of the phenomena surrounding him:

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Chapter 22: The World Slips

Clyde paused mid-step, one polished dress shoe sinking slightly into the moss.

He hadn't seen the sky change, but he felt it. The air had turned dense like syrup, the kind that slid across skin and thought alike. His breath came out in a pale mist now, even though it was midsummer. Crickets chirped as if nothing was wrong, but he knew.

Time had slipped.

He adjusted his crooked top hat, his mismatched red and blue eyes scanning the woods. "Wasn't it... just afternoon?"

Basil, the moss-hatted druid, didn't respond immediately. He was kneeling at the base of a large, ancient root, whispering to a patch of bioluminescent clover. Only after a moment did he murmur without looking up:

"Time bends when demons walk the forest. You know this."

Clyde nodded slowly. "Yeah. I just hoped I wasn't the one bending it."

Basil glanced up now. "You're not."

That made Clyde swallow. He clutched the edge of his coat, glancing over his shoulder, his nerves tingling in a way only someone born into a strange life could understand.

When you're a demon, even a half-sane, medium-blue-ranked one like Clyde, the universe doesn't always behave around you. And when another demon is near? Things spiral.

His hands trembled. He remembered the list—how it had been drilled into him by darker forces long before he ever wandered into this forest:

Confusion Effects. Names rearranged. Memories slightly off. The same tree seen twice in opposite directions.

Mandela Loops. Walking a circle without realizing, trails you never took becoming familiar.

Lost Time. Entire hours gone in seconds, stars switching places mid-sentence.

Doppelganger Phenomena. Seeing yourself walking beside you... when you never moved.

Spontaneous Freezing. Your limbs stiffen for no reason, like something is pulling heat away from your bones.

Absolute Zero Drops. Instant cold snaps. Localized frost on your skin even when you're surrounded by greenery.

Whimsical Weather. A single cloud raining in reverse. A tree blooming with snow. Fog shaped like faces.

And all of it—all of it—could be symptoms of a demon's proximity.

"I ranked medium blue," Clyde muttered to himself, trying to focus. "That's around three-thousand. I'm stable. I'm in control."

His ranking wasn't low by any means. A Blue Rank was the realm of professionals—mages, travelers, elementalists. He was right near Oliver's level. But stability? That wasn't a stat he could rely on when the wrong kind of demon drew near.

He wasn't sure if it was trailing him… or guiding him.

Basil stood finally. "The forest is no longer passive. The presence near you is agitating the balance."

"…You think it's hunting me?"

"No. It's watching." Basil turned, his moss hat sagging as he gave Clyde a cryptic, slanted smile. "Or perhaps waiting."

Clyde shivered. "That's not comforting."

"No," Basil said simply. "It's not."

A sudden breeze rushed through the trees. Leaves spiraled upward instead of falling, twisting like reversed film.

Clyde looked up slowly, red and blue irises reflecting a thousand unnatural shadows. "Someone's coming."

Basil nodded toward the west. "A three individual of Travelers, one is a druid guide."

Clyde hesitated. "Do I lead them to this?"

Basil tilted his head. "That is not a druid's choice."

Clyde looked at his hands. Pale. Gloved. Demon-touched.

He adjusted his hat again. "…Then I guess I'll go meet them halfway."

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Chapter: Threads Through the Unknown

Night had arrived unnaturally.

But Zack didn't flinch.

Where the average soul would falter under such eerie shifts—where the moon rose without a sunset and the cold carried the scent of a fractured reality—Zack moved deliberately.

He walked at the front, calm and silent, a cloak of shadow trailing behind him like mist clinging to his boots.

His hand flicked in the air—

And the darkness responded.

Invisible threads, made from a substance that didn't exist in normal light, stretched from his fingers. He wove them through the air like a puppeteer moving the limbs of a blind world. They wrapped around hanging branches that shouldn't be there. They pulled away creeping vines that tried to mislead the group.

Zack didn't see the threads.

He knew where they were.

This was his element: not darkness, but the truth within it. The kind of shadow that revealed things—not hid them.

Behind him, Oliver followed carefully.

Every few feet, the earth shifted underfoot, but he kept balance. A vine nearly tripped him, but Zack sliced it with a thread before it touched his boot.

Oliver glanced up. "Thanks."

Zack only nodded, his voice a whisper in the night. "This forest is being rewritten while we walk. Stay aware of what feels wrong… not just what looks wrong."

Oliver's earth-sense helped. He could feel when roots were too fresh, when the ground had aged overnight. It told him what memory could not.

At the rear, Fern walked with her fingers trailing across the leaves.

She murmured to plants that shivered in fear, offered them Vita like honey, and soothed the woodland that had been disturbed by demon presence. Her green aura pulsed low, comforting, like a lantern left near a frightened child.

She paused to whisper to a wilting tree, brow furrowing. "Even the forest is confused. It doesn't know what time it is anymore."

Somewhere far ahead, something laughed with Clyde's voice.

But Zack knew better.

That wasn't Clyde.

He tightened the invisible threads in his hands and pushed forward.

The trees parted.

The way ahead wasn't safe. But it was open.

Together, the trio advanced—

A shadow-weaver, a grounded scholar, and a forest-born healer—

Moving like needles threading through a torn world, chasing the seams of a demon's ripple in time.

And somewhere, the real Clyde was waiting…

Surrounded by something that did not want him found.

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