Chapter 3 : The manhunt in the mist

This month had not hardened us. He had only taught us not to panic at the slightest noise in the trees. I held my sword better, Aria shot straighter, but none of these small victories changed the root of the problem: Albert had survived three years in this forest, and we were hunting them several weeks ahead of our own fear.

The last days of our first month in Mistmushroom unfolded at the same pace as the previous ones. Every morning, Brad taught me how to hold a blade without letting myself be carried by its weight; every afternoon, Briana corrected our postures, our slow reflexes and every mistake we repeated despite her warnings. Aria had a great celebration of her days with Born, bow in hand and fingers reddened by the string. When an arrow missed its target, it would start again with an almost outraged diligence, as if the dummy had made it his mission to humiliate it.

We still lived at Briana's house, ate with the villagers and knew enough about their habits that we no longer felt totally foreign, without feeling fully integrated. Every day we get closer to the moment when we go in search of Albert, down to the smallest details, such as the meals and the evening jokes.

Aria and I were talking much more than when we arrived. She also used to ask me to bring her her meal or prepare her change of clothes when she came back too tired from training. Well... I preferred to believe that fatigue made these demands explicit. The most important thing was his behavior with Born. At first, she almost always demanded that Briana stay close to them. Now she could spend hours alone with him, discuss an instruction and end up following it without her mistrust taking over again.

One morning, the sharp sound of wooden weapons clinking and Briana's voice woke me up from sleep before the light had even finished filtering through the curtains. I opened my eyes with the certainty that the night had been far too short. Aria was already up from the couch. Her bow had disappeared from the wall, and her blanket was neatly folded over the backrest, as if she wanted to leave a proof that she had gotten up before me.

I joined them on the practice field while I finished buckling up. This was what my mornings had been like for almost a month: exhausting exercises, pain in unexpected places, and the daily discovery that Brad was still finding a new way to bring me down. At that very moment, I missed my old routine terribly. A glass of orange juice and a brioche now seemed to me a particularly enviable existence.

Brad was waiting for me in the middle of the field, a wooden blade leaning against his shoulder. He was not cruel, only methodical. He tested my blind spots with the regularity of a metronome. Every time I thought I had understood a sequence, he modified it; Whenever I backed away too late, his weapon reminded me of the importance of this detail.

"On alert!" he shouted.

I got my lame one up. He attacked almost immediately. I parried his first blow, but his next move forced me to pivot too sharply. My shoe slipped and I was only able to stand up thanks to one false step.

"No!" cried Briana from the side of the pitch. "You're going to take all the setback like that. Don't forget to step back, Casimir! »

Brad didn't give me time to demonstrate. His blade struck mine and pushed me back half a step.

"You're tucking in your torso too early," he says without releasing the pressure. "The upper body only contracts at the end of the movement."

"It's your legs that have to take the hit, boy," Briana added. "If you lose your balance, the rest will follow."

"Show me again," I asked as I pulled away from him and put a hand on my knee to catch my breath.

He executes the movement more slowly. I followed his footsteps, tried to reproduce them, and then felt his blade strike mine again. This time, my heels, anchored to the ground, cushion the violence of the load.

"You start to understand," he admits. "But it's still not enough. Again. As many times as it takes. »

On the other side of the court, Born was training with Aria. I watch him between two attacks, unable to help myself. She was progressing visibly. The mobile dummies she had missed earlier this month were now taking almost all of her arrows, often before their trajectory even reached its peak.

"Aim for blind spots!" shouts Briana.

Aria spun and shot her arrow in one motion. The arrow is lodged under the dummy's shoulder. Unsatisfied with the accuracy of the shot, she lowered her bow and waited for Born to join her, while Brad agreed to give me a few seconds to catch my breath.

"According to the testimonies, the infection uses all its senses," Born explains in a serious tone. "Albert no longer controls his body. The parasite directs its movements. »

"Aim for the vital organs. One accurate shot will always be better than three superficial wounds. »

Aria examines the target before asking them where to strike first. Their discussion continued during the meal. His role would be decisive: his shots would disorient Albert and prevent him from focusing all his attention on me. Mine was simpler: catch her eye, hold on, and survive long enough for her to find an opening.

Basically, it suited me. I had always ended up being the one who was sent to the front lines, even when no one had asked me to.

In the afternoon, Briana drove us to the outskirts of Mistmushroom. The mist had cleared, and the golden spores floated between the giant mushrooms with serene slowness. Their diffuse light revealed a beauty that had eluded me in the first few days, when each shadow seemed to me to hide a creature ready to pounce on us.

Briana stops in a vast clearing. Between the trunks, one could distinguish in the distance the immense forms of two gates, one to the east and the other to the west, embedded in the walls that enclosed the territory.

"As you now know, Mistmroom is surrounded by four walls," she reminded us. "The two large passages have not responded since Albert's infection."

"Blocked in what way?" I asked.

"We have already seen passages blocked when an enemy has settled in a territory. It looks like a quarantine, but no one here really understands all the rules that govern these passages. I am not going to present you with assumptions as certainties. »

"Some think they will reopen once the infection is eradicated," she continued, staring into the motionless buildings in the distance. "Me... I don't know what to believe anymore. It's been too long. »

I kept my eyes glued to the doors. The inhabitants expected foreigners to find another solution, not because they believed us to be invincible. I would now better understand the relief of the four men on the day of our arrival and, behind it, the fear they had tried to conceal.

We continued our exploration in silence. The mushrooms coiled between trees leaning in unlikely directions, and their luminous spores, clinging to the branches, resembled forgotten lanterns. The whole thing exuded a strange, almost beautiful melancholy, as if the territory had continued to live while waiting for someone to come and liberate it.

"Alright, young people," says Briana. "We're going back to training one last time today."

When we finally made our way back to the village, my legs began to protest seriously. The light between the trees had changed, lower now, and the airborne spores stood out more as the shadows spread over the forest.

Briana was walking a little in front of us. Aria and I followed her a few steps behind, much less talkative than on the way out.

The first houses will eventually appear between the trunks. Smoke was rising from some chimneys and some inhabitants were still going about their business outside, as if this day was nothing special.

I watched them continue to work, to cook, to talk to each other, while an entire territory of prisoners had been held for years. Maybe they had simply never known anything else.

"Once all of this is over... What will become of all these people? I asked, turning my head slightly towards Aria.

"I really feel like they're real people," she replied, looking at the village houses that were beginning to appear between the trees. "But that they have absolutely no awareness of where they are."

She took a few more steps before continuing:

"We have been fighting for almost a month, ready to risk our lives to save a village that may not even exist. And despite this, we are treated like criminals. Frankly, I don't understand anything. »

I had nothing to answer. His words stuck between my throat and my chest the whole walk.

The next day, Briana brought us together before dawn.

The fog was denser than usual, as if Mushroom was holding her breath. Born had rated Aria the night before. His verdict was delivered with the sobriety of a man who did not distribute compliments to reassure his students.

"You've made huge progress. It was impeccable. »

Aria had thanked him with a simple nod. That morning, I could see the pride she was trying to hide.

Briana stood in front of us, her back straight despite the fatigue of the last few weeks. Brad had chosen a heavy axe and light armor whose pieces clashed with each of his movements. Born would check the bolts stored in the quiver attached to his back, then the mechanism of his compact crossbow. Briana carried a short bow and a heavy dagger.

Before we left, she inspected the suit she had prepared for me. The thick fabric covered my arms, chest and neck to limit contact with the infection as much as possible. She tightened a fastener near my shoulder, then checked Aria's leather protectors. We each covered ourselves with a piece of cloth in our mouths, intended to retain some of the spores.

When she spoke, everyone fell silent.

"The time has come. We will defeat this infection that has taken away our chief, our friends and my brother. »

The word "we" made my heart beat faster before I even understood why. They carried all their weapons. Until then, I had thought that Aria and I would be the only ones who would have to face this thing.

"Why are you all equipped?" I asked, moving from their weapons to their faces. "I thought Aria and I were supposed to be the only ones facing him."

"Who do you think we are?" retorted Briana, staring at me as if I had just insulted her. "We're not going to let you do the dirty work alone. It is our territory that is at stake. »

His answer reassured me more than I wanted to admit.

We all left together. Brad's axe rested against his shoulder, and the pieces of his armor rattled with each step. Briana and Born held their weapons ready, their eyes constantly glued to the tree trunks and then to the ground. Aria walked to my right, her bow already in her hand, watching for the slightest movement in the mist.

"Ben, Bobby and the others stayed in the village," Briana explains. "If something happens to us, someone will have to be able to testify and defend those who remain."

"Don't say that," Aria replied. "We will succeed."

"I hope so."

After several hours of walking, the group stops in the undergrowth. The trees were more tortuous in this place and their trunks pressed against each other. Whitish marks appeared on the bark, as if something had burned them from the inside.

"We've arrived," Brad whispered. "The blanched mushrooms are there... But something is wrong. »

At the beginning of the trail, we had only seen a few, almost invisible. Now they covered the roots, the rocks and part of the trunks.

"It's as if he's erasing his tracks," Born whispered.

"Or to lure us into a trap," Brad corrected.

A breath ran through the forest. The spores changed direction at the same moment and glided into the depths of the territory, carried by a current that I could not feel.

Aria froze at my side, her hand already on the strap of her bow, while Born raised his arm to order us not to move. His gaze swept the yellow mist that filtered between the trunks.

"Wait," he said in a barely audible voice.

The white mushrooms were gone. The path, the stones and the trunks had returned to their normal appearance, as if no trace had ever existed.

"He saw us," Briana said.

A shrill whistle on my left. I didn't have time to warn anyone. A tentacle popped up behind Briana and pierced her left forearm.

"Briana!" I shouted.

His cry was brief. A whitish tint spread around the wound. She tore a strap from her belt, squeezed it over her elbow, and leaned her arm against a stump.

I understood what she was going to do when she took out her dagger.

The blade falls. The first blow was insufficient. Briana recommends not giving anyone time to stop it. Her movements were not at all frenetic: she had considered this possibility long before that morning, and knew what a second of hesitation would cost her. His forearm sank into the moss, the tentacle still clinging.

Born kicked the member away before it contracted again. Brad threw himself on his knees next to Briana and squeezed the stump with a piece of cloth torn from his sleeve. Blood soaked the fabric. She remained on her knees, her face bloodless, but her voice broke the silence.

"To your posts!" ordered Briana despite her gasping breath.

Born fixed the bandage above his elbow, then wedged it against the stump. She could no longer hold her bow, and the spilled blood reminded her that every second counted. His gaze continued to follow the forest with undiminished precision.

Brad was the first to act. He goes around the area to the left, his axe held low. When a tentacle shot towards him, he dived forward, let it pass over his back, and climbed back up his return trajectory.

"Born, now!" shouts Brad, not taking his eyes off the mist.

Born already had his crossbow on his shoulder, sheltered behind a tree. He looked for an angle between the trunks, changed his support to avoid a branch and pulled despite the narrowness of the opening. The tile ricocheted off a whitish outgrowth before disappearing into the ferns.

"Aria, his head!" he shouted as he reloaded.

The string of his bow cracked.

The arrow hits its target. The roar that followed was in no way a sign of a human cry. It vibrated in my chest, halfway between the scream of a man and the tearing of a tree.

Albert emerged completely from the fog. For a second, the scene reminds me of a sequence from a horror game.

He was no longer the man the villagers had spoken of. His body was colonized from head to toe. Mushrooms grew through his skin, as if his chair were just a support. His shoulders, arms and arm could have disappeared under whitish growths. His skin had taken on the color of rotten wood and his white eyes no longer bore the slightest trace of recognition. Tentacles shot out of its back and sides, waving in all directions, like things trying to cling to without knowing what.

"Casimir, go away!" shouted Born behind us, his voice drowned out by the din of the forest.

I took off. My blade hit his jaw. The shock went through my shoulder, as if I had hit a root wrapped in skin. I stepped back and mechanically checked that the sword had held.

"Well done, boy!" shouts Briana from the top of the stump.

The air reeked of the rotting chair, the mushrooms and a chemical substance that clung to the back of the throat. The cloths that covered our faces retained the worst of the spores, but not the smell.

A tentacle shot out at me from the right. I saw it too late.

"Don't worry! We're here! Brad shouted after slicing it with an axe, his voice including the creature's hiss.

I took advantage of this brief respite to catch my breath. As long as his attention remained focused on me, their plan could still work.

"Now that he's targeting you, the plan can begin," he added, already looking for the next attack.

I distanced myself, moving away from Aria as planned. Albert would follow me. Its tentacles carved furrows in the damp earth. Brad tried to go around him on the left, Born reloaded while moving, and Aria waited for the trees to give her a clear line of fire.

It wasn't like a training session. Nothing was. And yet, we are holding on.

"Aria, the cloud!" yelled Born as he reloaded his weapon.

The string of his bow cracked again. An arrow lodged near the cloud of Albert. The creature staggered, its tentacles struck the void, then it stood up with the slowness of a body that absorbs pain without understanding it.

Its empty pitches swept across the clearing. He changes his target.

Albert turns to Aria with unprecedented speed. Born pounced for the interceptor. A tentacle pushed him back before he could raise his crossbow and threw him to the ground, several meters away.

I measured the distance. Too long. I wouldn't make it in time.

"Aria, get down!" shouts Briana.

She obeyed. The tentacle flew over it and tore branches from its back. Aria rolls around in the ferns, retrieves her bow and gets up on her knees.

Brad was there. He parried the second attack with the handle of his axe, deflected it, and stepped back to cushion the shock. Another tentacle grazed his forearm. His leather sleeve tore, but his skin remained intact.

"Shit," he whispers.

Albert began to transform. Its tentacles multiplied, faster and more unpredictably, as if the parasite had understood that it was in danger of losing and was consuming all it had left. Né was looking for a crossbow son in the grass. Brad covered for Aria without being able to defend himself on all sides. Briana, leaning against the stump, continued to follow the movements and point out the openings she spotted.

The charged monster of the new Aria.

A spear pierced his chest. The shock threw him backwards and immobilized him for a moment.

A silhouette appeared in the mist. I didn't recognize that voice. Briana, however, froze before the man was even fully visible.

"I thought I recognized your voice, sister."

When she managed to speak, her voice no longer recalled the one who had led us since the beginning of the fight.

"It's not... It's not possible. Bikao... Are you alive? »

He still held his spear. His face was hollowed out by long solitude, his clothes torn in several places, but he was alive.

"I'll explain later. It's not over. »

Albert snatched the spear from his chest as if it were only a thorn. The damp noise made Born recoil. Bikao dived to the side before the first tentacle reached him, rolled through the grass, and came back up already in motion. The attacks passed within inches of him. He knew their trajectories, or had dodged them so often that he didn't need to think about them anymore.

"Young girl!" he cried. "You'll put a bullet in his head when I tell you!"

"Understood!" replied Aria, raising her bow.

The tentacles tightened around Albert before expanding again along shorter trajectories. The parasite no longer tried to repel us. He wanted to hit someone as quickly as possible.

Under the violence of the attacks, the entire coordination collapsed. Born had retrieved his crossbow, but all the angles closed before he could fire. No sooner had he raised his weapon than a tentacle fell on him, forcing him to look away. Brad covered for Aria, with his axe slung over his shoulder, unable to defend multiple fronts at once. Bikao stepped back to go around Albert, but his heel caught a root and he lost his balance.

Aria Banda Sons Bow. However, no arrow comes out. For a moment, her legs remained frozen despite Albert's pressure.

Everything seems to slow down around me. Aria stepped back, bow raised in her hands. Bikao tried to get up. Born couldn't shoot without risking hitting her, and Brad was on the wrong side.

I had no chance of making it in time, but my legs weren't weakening. A few weeks earlier, faced with the groin injury, I would have simply interposed myself between her and the danger. This time, I strained my ears to hear his voice.

"Left!" shouted Aria, her voice piercing the din. "Go under the tentacle and don't stop!"

I obeyed.

One of the tentacles shot out towards my shoulder. He deviated from his trajectory when he should have hit me head-on. My foot slipped through the mud, then hit a root strong enough to propel me forward again.

Albert hesitates at the same moment. Barely a movement, less than a step, but at the worst possible time for him. My arm was too short and the angle was bad. I shouldn't have been able to reach it.

"Now!" shouts Bikao.

Aria shot her arrow. It lodged itself in Albert's skull and forced his head to lower straight at me.

The blade of my bastard sword pierced his temple.

Albert remains standing for a few seconds, a tentacle still raised towards Aria. Then he fell back, without strength. The others followed, one by one, before his body collapsed into the mud.

He did not move.

Silence returns to Mushroom. Not the silence of waiting, but the silence that follows.

I kept my hands crisp on the handle, my knees shaking and my throat knotted. My blade was still stuck in the skull of the man who had been Albert, but I couldn't believe the fight had stopped. The tentacle had failed me. The root had held firm. Albert had wobbled just when I needed him, and Aria's arrow had placed his skull within reach of my blade. Too many things had aligned for me to know if we had been good or just lucky.

Briana arrives with Brad's help. She thrust her dagger into a growth on Albert's neck and waited.

No reaction.

"We're safe now," she said. "He is dead."

Two rumblings were heard in the distance, one after the other.

To the east and west, the large doors open slowly. Their mechanisms made the whole forest vibrate, and the rumble rose from the ground to my legs.

I stood still, my knuckles bloodied and my breath short.

Then Aria hit me.

She threw herself against me, her arms encircling my back and her hands gripping my suit. Her body trembled slightly and she did not try to hide it.

"Thank you. Thank you so much. »

Her fingers clenched on the fabric, as if she had just remembered that everyone could see us. And yet, she did not disengage.

It took me a few seconds to raise my arms before closing them around her, with the awkwardness of someone who is not used to this kind of closeness.

"Do you remember? That night, I told you that I would train to make you feel safe by my side. »

My voice came out lower than I had intended.

"When I saw you in danger... I felt like I didn't keep my promise. »

"You're really an idiot," she whispered against me, keeping her hands clinging to my suit.

But she didn't let go of me.

In the distance, the two doors continued to open. Mistmroom was recovering passages that had been closed for far too long, and we had done so in just one month.

I didn't know if what I was feeling was more of pride or relief at having been lucky.

Probably both.