The forest stretched far deeper and denser than Aren had initially expected. More than an hour had passed since he had clawed his way out of that suffocating underground pod and ventured into this unfamiliar wilderness. His footsteps crunched on dry leaves and cracked twigs, his breath coming in slow, deliberate gasps as he moved forward.
Glancing up, he spotted the sun still hanging high in the sky, its pale light filtering through the thick canopy. By rough estimate, he figured he had about five hours left before darkness would fall—and with the coming night came cold, danger, and uncertainty. Finding shelter was no longer optional; it was a matter of survival.
Despite the steady ache in his muscles and the persistent weariness that tugged at his limbs, Aren felt a growing rhythm to his movements. His body, though still fragile and unfamiliar, was beginning to adapt to its limits. He caught his reflection in a small puddle beside the path—a boy's face stared back at him. Younger. Weaker.
He swallowed hard. Based on his voice and stature, he guessed that somehow his body had regressed to a fourteen-year-old version of himself, physically at least. It was a strange anomaly, but a known trait of House Valoria to age more slowly than others—perhaps a blessing, or perhaps a curse in this moment.
"Can you scan for anything nearby? Any clues—paths, water sources, signs of life?" Aren asked aloud, voice hoarse but tinged with determination.
[NEGATIVE. My functionalities are limited by the hardware capacity of the SENTINEL. I can scan only within a radius of ten meters.]
Aren let out a soft sigh. "Alright. Then we'll have to do this the old-fashioned way. We need water first. Then maybe trails or any signs of passage—footprints, broken branches, anything. Something that could lead us to other people."
His mind drifted to memories of his father, King Drake, a man known not just for ruling but for his tales of exploration and survival. His father had taught him invaluable lessons about the wild—how to find water, how to track, how to endure. Though Aren had never faced such dire straits before, the echo of those lessons gave him a small spark of hope.
"Do you know how long I was sleeping? Or why I was in that pod in the first place?" he asked, his voice softer now, touched with a hint of vulnerability.
[DATA LOST. Unfortunately, all information regarding the duration of your time inside the pod has been corrupted. However, I can provide general information about the pod's functions.]
Aren frowned. "Well, I suppose that's better than nothing. Go ahead—explain the pod's purpose."
A faint white light pulsed gently from the SENTINEL on his wrist, signaling the system was retrieving data.
[The Pod Zero-One is an advanced incubator, designed to nurture, enhance, and evolve its occupant beyond natural limitations. It monitors health parameters continuously and provides all necessary sustenance, ensuring survival while protecting against external threats and pathogens.]
His brow furrowed. "Enhance and evolve? That doesn't sound like what happened to me. I'm weak, skinny, I can't even summon my emblem."
[The pod's enhancement sequence was interrupted by external factors—specifically, the earthquake and the rock that breached its chamber.]
Aren's eyes widened in realization. "The earthquake! That piece of rock—it must have triggered the pod to eject me."
[Correct. The system determined that ejecting the occupant was the safest course of action to preserve life.]
"So that explains why the pod couldn't sustain me. I'm on my own now—have to feed and care for myself."
[Affirmative. But rest assured, Your Majesty, VALORIA remains available to assist you in any way.]
Aren exhaled slowly, frustration gnawing at him. "And the rejuvenation… was it caused by the pod? Why do I look like this? Who put me there?"
[DATA LOST.]
The loss of information weighed heavily on him. No answers, just gaps and silence.
He shook his head and turned his focus back to the forest floor, scanning carefully to avoid stepping into one of the many fissures tearing through the ground. He needed to find something—anything—that could guide him.
Then, suddenly, he spotted it.
Bingo.
Ahead of him, a cluster of trees had been neatly cut down. The marks on the trunks were too clean and precise to be natural; someone had used a tool. More telling was the absence of the felled trunks—they had clearly been carried away.
"Someone lives here," Aren muttered, hope flickering. "Or at least, someone's been passing through."
He scanned for the widest gap between the standing trees—a possible pathway large enough to transport those logs. Spotting it, he stepped forward with renewed purpose, carefully threading through the undergrowth as his SENTINEL scanned along the way.
[FOOTPRINTS DETECTED.]
The system's voice was calm, mechanical, but reassuring. An arrow appeared, pointing to the forest floor. The prints were large, adult male shoes. Fresh. Recent. This place wasn't abandoned.
Following the trail cautiously, Aren pressed on, mindful of every sound. After another thirty minutes of trekking through uneven ground and thick brambles, the trees began to thin, revealing the outline of a small cabin nestled among the forest's edge.
The wooden structure was modest but sturdy. Glass windows glinted faintly in the fading sunlight, and the door hung slightly ajar. Despite the earthquake's fury, the cabin stood unscathed, though fallen trees littered the surrounding area.
Aren's eyes darted to the tools scattered outside—axes, saws, and woodcutting implements. Whoever lived here knew the forest well.
"Is anyone inside?" he asked the SENTINEL.
[NEGATIVE. The area is inhabited but currently unoccupied.]
Steeling himself, Aren stepped inside. The interior was humble, almost spartan. Chairs lay scattered, a small kitchen occupied one corner, and a narrow bed sat beside a cold fireplace. An old rug, worn but clean, covered part of the wooden floor.
The bed's size suggested it was made for a single occupant.
The kitchen showed signs of recent activity—fresh vegetables sat in a bowl, and a pot simmered gently with what looked like soup. Nearby, a jar of juice caught the light. Someone was definitely here not long ago.
Aren swallowed his pride. Hunger gnawed at his stomach like a beast. Without hesitation, he lifted the pot, dipping a spoonful and tasting the warm broth.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, "but it's an emergency."
He ate slowly, forcing himself to savor each bite, conscious of the need to conserve energy. The flavors were simple, earthy—comforting in their way.
The juice was sweet and cool, revitalizing his parched throat. As he ate, his heavy eyelids began to droop, the exhaustion finally catching up with him.
Damn, this body… it still felt fragile,it felt too unfamiliar and weak to carry him much further tonight.
He needed rest.
"I should be safe here for the night," he murmured, pulling a threadbare blanket over his shoulders. "VALORIA, keep your systems on alert. Wake me if there's any danger."
As he lay back down, warmth slowly spreading through his limbs, a part of him ached to wake up in the palace again—strong, whole, surrounded by familiar faces and golden light.
But deep inside, he knew the road ahead was long. This was only the beginning.