Chapter 10: Into the Unknown

Orvyn tightened his grip on the spear, his knuckles white as he tried to steady his breath. The massive tree loomed before him, its long, glowing leaves swaying as if breathing. A thick vine surged downward from above, aiming to crush him. He sprang to the side just in time, as the vine struck the stone where he had stood with a loud crack, sending shards of rock flying. He retaliated lunging forward and driving his spear into the thick mass. The sharpened tip pierced halfway its tip sinking into the tough, bark-like flesh, and light blue liquid oozed from the wound.

At the same time, George launched a stream of fire at the vine, but the flames barely lasted two seconds before evaporating into nothing. The tree let out a low rumbling chuckle, its voice deep and ancient, carrying the weight of centuries.

"A splinter and a flicker of flame? You amuse me, little insects. Do you truly believe you can wound me? Preposterous."

Orvyn grit his teeth. The mockery burned more than the battle itself. They needed another approach. He dropped into a lower stance and whispered urgently to George. "We need to find the core. The vines move too much, but there must be a place where they don't. That's where the weakness is."

George bobbed in understanding, his surface glimmering like molten amber. Then... the next wave of vines came.

More of them lashed out from the walls and ceiling, striking with the force of falling trees. Orvyn ducked, barely avoiding a sweeping attack that tore through a stone pillar behind him. He leaped over a lower vine and rolled midair to avoid another strike aimed at his legs. As soon as his feet hit the ground, he countered, slashing the edge of his spear against a tendril, but it was like hacking at thick rope. It frayed but didn't sever completely.

George weaved between the strikes, using his gelatinous body to roll swiftly across the uneven terrain. When a vine coiled toward him, he leaped, bouncing off it like a springboard before releasing another burst of fire. It licked up the tendrils like a ravenous serpent, but again, somehow it fizzled before doing any real damage.

The tree chuckled again, his voice unbothered. "Ah, persistence. A noble trait, but a foolish one when against the inevitable. Amuse me more, insects. Show me how long you can scurry before you break."

Orvyn's breathing was ragged, but his mind remained sharp. His eyes flicked across the battlefield. The vines were everywhere, flailing, striking, reaching. But there had to be a pattern or a weak spot. He dodged another crushing blow, his boots sliding on the rocky surface as he regained balance. He cast a glance at George, who was rolling beneath a swinging vine, then propelling himself into the air to evade another.

Between each attack, Orvyn scanned the tree's massive form, searching. He narrowed his eyes—there! A small section near the base of the tree, unguarded. The vines flailed everywhere except that one spot.

His heart pounded as he dodged another lashing strike. He turned to George, subtly gesturing toward the area with his chin. The slime flickered in understanding, its surface rippling in anticipation. Now they just had to get close enough without getting crushed.

The fight was far from over.

His heart pounded as he dodged another lashing strike. He turned to George, subtly gesturing toward the area with his chin. The slime flickered in understanding, its surface rippling in anticipation. Now they just had to get close enough without getting crushed.

Orvyn bolted forward, weaving through the chaos with practiced agility. He leapt onto a vine just as it lunged for him using its momentum to propel himself forward. His feet barely touched the ground before he sprang again, hopping from vine to vine, feeling them shift beneath him as he moved with calculated precision. The moment he landed, he rolled forward, barely missing another attack that nearly took his head off. His breath came in sharp bursts, but he pressed on, forcing himself to keep moving, to get closer.

George mirrored his urgency, darting across the battlefield with liquid grace. The slime rolled under a thrashing vine, then propelled itself forward, using its body to absorb some of the impact when a tendril struck too close. With every move, he absorbed more silver lines, his glow intensifying. He had one shot—one chance to make this work.

The tree must have realized it, too.

"No... Stop. Do not do this."

The ancient voice, once amused and condescending, now carried the first traces of unease. The vines became wilder, more desperate. They lashed out with reckless abandon, as they no longer struck with calculated precision but flailing violently in an attempt to stop them. One nearly crushed Orvyn's shoulder, but he twisted at just the last moment, feeling the rush of wind as it missed. He slid beneath another vine and pushed off the ground, landing in a sprint toward the unguarded spot.

George gathered every last bit of energy, his form pulsating with barely contained power. The silver lines surged into him, coalescing into a massive ball of flame. He trembled from the strain, his body flickering as he held it together.

"I will not allow this!" The tree roared, the ground trembling with its fury.

A colossal vine crashed down between Orvyn and George, but the boy had already anticipated it. He vaulted over the vine, landing hard on the other side. Without hesitation, George released the fireball.

It streaked through the cavern like a shooting star, aimed directly at the unguarded spot. The vines tried to stop the fireball from hitting the bark rushing from all sides, the tree howled in fury, trying to withdraw its roots, trying to protect itself—but it was too late.

BOOM.

The explosion rocked the cavern. A wave of searing heat and light erupted outward, the force so powerful it sent Orvyn stumbling back. Smoke curled upward, filling the air with the acrid scent of scorched wood. The ground beneath them rumbled as debris fell from the ceiling.

Orvyn clenched his spear. This was his chance. This was his opportunity to end this fight and maybe—just maybe—find a way home. He dashed forward, ignoring the sting of smoke in his eyes, and drove his spear into the smoldering spot.

For a split second, he thought he had won. The tip sank in, but then—it kept going, sliding through empty space. His heart dropped. It wasn't the core. It was just wood.

Before he could react, a vine slammed into his side with crushing force. A short, pained gasp escaped his lips as he was flung across the cavern, his body scraping against the rough ground. He groaned, agony flooding his limbs.

"Orvin!" George's voice rang with panic.

The tree let out a slow, condescending laugh, deeper than before. "Did you truly believe I would leave my core so exposed? Naïve little creature. So pure and yet so ignorant. You have only just begun to understand suffering and I will take my sweet time. Let us see how much more you can endure."

The vines crept toward Orvyn, coiling and ready to strike. He struggled to lift himself, but his limbs felt heavy, pain dulling his movements. Just as they neared, George flung himself between them, flames bursting wildly from his body. The fire seared the vines, holding them at bay, even if only for a moment.

Orvyn forced himself to breathe, to think. They weren't finished yet. Not until the fight was truly over.

Orvyn panted heavily, his body aching from the relentless battle. He frantically searched for an escape, his eyes darting toward the cave's entrance. Hope surged in his chest. Until he saw it. Thick, gnarled vines had completely sealed the way out, twisting together like a living barricade. There was no escape.

His heart pounded as realization struck. The silver lines—the tree's life force—they were strongest in the crystals. And its core had to be massive. If he could find it, then maybe he could end this.

Gritting his teeth, Orvyn forced himself to focus. He blocked out the chaos around him, ignoring the stinging pain in his limbs and the suffocating weight of exhaustion. The silver lines pulsed faintly across the monstrous tree's bark, flickering through its body like veins. He had to find where they were most concentrated.

Meanwhile, George fought desperately, dodging the tree's relentless onslaught. The slime twisted and bounced, its gelatinous body barely avoiding the crushing force of the massive vines. Flames burst from his form, flickering brightly, but they did little to deter the ancient monster.

The tree let out a deep, rumbling chuckle. "Amuse me further," it said in its ageless, wise tone, as if enjoying the struggle.

Orvyn clenched his fists, scanning every inch of the tree. His vision sharpened, his instincts screaming for him to look deeper. And then—there. A cluster of silver lines curved together at the center of its massive trunk, forming a glowing sphere. That had to be it. The core.

"George! I found it!" Orvyn shouted, his voice raw with urgency.

"I—I can't hold on much longer," the slime wheezed, his glow flickering weakly.

Orvyn's pulse quickened. He had to act fast. "I have a plan, but I don't know if it'll work," he admitted. "We don't have time to think. You need to gather everything you have left and create the biggest fireball you can."

George hesitated for only a moment before nodding. He began drawing in the silver lines, his body swelling as he absorbed more and more energy. The light surrounding him intensified, turning blindingly bright. A massive fireball began to form above him, radiating heat like a miniature sun.

The tree's amusement vanished. It stiffened, sensing the overwhelming energy gat hering against it. "IMPOSSIBLE," it roared. "HOW COULD A MERE CREATURE HOLD THIS MUCH MANA?"

But Orvyn wasn't finished. He had to match George's power. Summoning every ounce of his remaining strength, he drew in the silver lines—not just through his hands, but through his entire body. The energy coursed through him like a storm, converging into his right arm. A single, enormous crystal shard formed in front of him, shimmering with a sharp, deadly brilliance.

George shot first.

"NOOOOOOOOO!" The tree bellowed, fear cracking through its voice. It frantically gathered its vines, weaving a barrier around its core, desperate to protect itself. But it was too late. The fireball crashed into the vines with a deafening roar, vaporizing them instantly. Flames seared through its bark, burning through centuries of untouched wood, and for the first time, the ancient being screamed in agony.

The core was exposed.

Orvyn didn't hesitate. He hurled the crystal shard with everything he had. It cut through the air, streaking toward the brilliant blue sphere pulsing within the tree's trunk.

A sharp, ringing clang echoed through the cavern as the shard struck its target. Cracks splintered across the core's surface, spreading like lightning through glass. The tree let out a final, ear-splitting wail.

A massive shockwave erupted outward, shaking the entire cavern. The force sent Orvyn stumbling backward, his breath ripped from his lungs. The ground trembled violently as the tree's form began to collapse in on itself, its own energy turning against it.

The air shifted. A powerful vacuum formed, sucking everything inward—leaves, vines, debris—pulling them toward the imploding core. Orvyn's ears popped as the pressure intensified. He saw George rolling uncontrollably toward the vortex.

"No!" With one desperate leap, Orvyn lunged forward, grabbing George and anchoring himself to a jagged rock. He clenched his teeth, holding on with every ounce of strength left in his battered body.

Then—silence.

The pull ceased. The tree was gone. And in its place, a swirling portal formed.

The portal shimmered like liquid glass. Its surface rippling as if caught between two realities. It pulsed with deep purple hues, lined with faint traces of silver and blue, twisting and warping in unpredictable patterns. The very sight of it sent a chill down Orvyn's spine.

He exhaled shakily, turning to George. "We did it," he whispered, a disbelieving smile forming. "We did it again. We won."

But George did not respond.

Orvyn's heart dropped. The slime's body, once vibrant and full of life, was now dull and lifeless. His core—once a solid, brilliant gem—was cracked, split in two.

"No… No, no, no…" Orvyn's voice broke as he gently lowered George onto the ground. His fingers trembled as he touched the fractured core, willing it to mend, to heal. But nothing happened.

Tears welled in his eyes, blurring his vision. "You were supposed to be safe," he choked out. "I was supposed to protect you… not the other way around."

The weight of loss pressed down on him, crushing and absolute. He had lost before. He had lost so much. And now, George—his friend, his light in the darkness—was gone too.

He wept, silent tears falling onto the slime's lifeless form. The cavern was eerily still, as if mourning with him.

But as grief threatened to consume him, a thought surfaced. George wouldn't want him to give up. He wouldn't want him to blame himself.

Sniffing back his tears, Orvyn wiped his face. He didn't know what lay ahead. But he had to keep moving. He had to survive.

With one final glance at his fallen friend, he turned to the portal.

His fingers brushed against its surface, and immediately, his hand began to vanish into the swirling void. The sensation was cold yet weightless, as if the universe itself was pulling him forward.

He closed his eyes. "What more do I have to lose?"

And with that, he stepped into the unknown.