Ape of the Wilds

The final door stood open, revealing a corridor that did not feel like a path forward, but a fall deeper into something that should have remained buried.

Kuro stood at the threshold, his claws flexed, his breath steady, but the weight in his chest did not fade.

The voice of the throne-bound figure still echoed in his mind:

"You are an echo that should not exist."

"And the jungle will come for you."

He did not understand what it meant.

But he understood what it felt like.

A truth that had not yet fully revealed itself—but was already hunting him.

And yet, he stepped forward.

Because he had no other choice.

Kota followed first, his steps light, calculated, his daggers still in his hands, though his grip had shifted—not the tightness of tension, but the looseness of acceptance.

He had seen enough now to know that nothing here would move like a normal enemy.

Sia followed next, her bow half-drawn, her gaze flicking to the walls, to the shifting symbols that pulsed faintly beneath the surface.

She was listening.

Not to footsteps or movement—but to the breath of the ruin itself.

Boru walked with a grunt, but even his usual arrogance had dimmed. "Every time we go deeper, it feels like something's laughing at us," he muttered.

Ruka exhaled through his nose. "Maybe it is."

Varek remained silent.

But his eyes were sharp. Watching. Waiting.

No one spoke of the names on the wall.

No one spoke of the visions Kuro had seen.

But the silence between them was heavier than words.

Because they all knew.

They were walking into something that was never meant to be found.

The corridor opened into another vast space, but this one was different.

There were no thrones here, no monoliths pulsing with lost power.

This was a graveyard.

Rows of stone slabs stood in perfect symmetry, stretching so far that even Kuro's eyes could not see the end.

Each was marked with symbols that had not yet faded.

And the air here was not still.

It breathed.

Not in sound.

Not in movement.

But in the way it pressed against them, like the weight of a thousand voices had been trapped here, waiting for someone to hear them.

Kuro moved forward, his fingers brushing against one of the stones.

And the moment he touched it—

A whisper filled the air.

Not a whisper of words.

A name.

A name he knew.

His own.

Kota cursed softly behind him. "Tell me that was just the wind."

It wasn't.

Sia's breath was steady, but her hand tightened on her bow. "They're speaking."

Not just Kuro's name now.

All of their names.

Kuro's fist curled, his instincts screaming, but he did not pull away.

Because this time, he wanted to hear it.

The whisper grew stronger, but the words did not form in his ears—

They formed in his mind.

"You were not supposed to return."

"And yet, you are here."

"Do you remember why?"

Kuro's head ached, the weight of the whispers pressing against his skull, but the words did not feel like an attack.

They felt like a question.

A question he could not yet answer.

So he asked one of his own.

"What happened here?"

The whispers hissed in response, and for a moment, he thought they would vanish, dissolve, fade back into the ruins.

But instead—

They showed him.

The ruins changed.

Not physically.

Not in space.

But in time.

Kuro was no longer standing in a graveyard of stone.

He was standing in the remnants of a battle that had been lost before it had begun.

The ground was littered with bodies, not of humans, not of Tzalik, but of Maw'Tanu.

Not like him.

Not like the wild ones who lived in the jungle now.

These had been more.

Their bodies were stronger, their movements still preserved in the flickering echoes of the past, warriors who had fought not with desperation, but with purpose.

And yet—

They had fallen.

Not to weapons.

Not to an invading army.

But to something within their own ranks.

Something that had turned against them.

The air shuddered, and Kuro saw them—

The ones who had changed.

Their bodies had twisted, their eyes had glowed with unnatural light, their forms stretching, breaking, becoming something they were never meant to be.

Not warriors.

Not hunters.

Revenants.

The same creatures he had fought above.

The same ones that had been created by the Tzalik.

Only this time, they were not failures.

They were perfect.

And they had ended an entire people.

Kuro staggered back, the vision breaking apart, the whispers fading into silence.

His breath was heavy.

His claws were shaking.

Because he knew now.

This ruin had not been sealed to keep people out.

It had been sealed to keep something inside.

And now, it was waking up again.

Kota's voice was sharp, pulling him back to the present. "Kuro."

Kuro turned—

And saw what he had missed.

At the far end of the hall, where the names on the stones had begun to fade, where the whispers had been quietest—

Something stood there.

Not a statue.

Not a guardian.

A figure.

Tall. Still. Watching.

And it was not alone.

The air shifted as the first step echoed through the chamber.

Not slow.

Not hesitant.

Purposeful.

And then the others moved.

Kuro didn't wait.

His body was already moving, his Duskrunner Claws flexing, his stance low, balanced, his instincts pushing him forward before his mind could catch up.

The whispers had warned him.

Now, it was time to see if he had listened.

The first Revenant moved, and the air shattered with its presence.

Not in sound.

Not in pressure.

But in the way the ruin itself seemed to bend to accommodate it, like the world had already accepted its existence, while Kuro and the others still had to fight to prove they belonged.

Kuro reacted on instinct, his knuckles pressing into the stone, his body low, mobile, his muscles primed for the strike before his mind had even fully processed the threat.

Then—it was there.

Faster than it should have been.

Its form flickered, moving in a way that wasn't natural, wasn't just speed, but something else—something that didn't obey the rules of motion.

Its clawed hand lashed out, not like a warrior aiming to strike, but like a beast reaching to claim something that already belonged to it.

Kuro barely twisted in time, the claws grazing his ribs—a touch so close, so precise, that it felt less like he had dodged and more like the Revenant had let him go.

-30 HP (Glancing Strike!)

Kuro: 140/170 HP

The moment the Revenant's attack missed, Kuro countered, his claws flashing upward, aiming for its throat, its core, anything that might still register pain.

His strike connected.

But it did not stop moving.

The flesh beneath his claws was solid, but not firm, like pressing into something that was shifting between states of being.

Not liquid. Not bone.

Something in between.

Kota's daggers flashed from the side, aiming for the Revenant's exposed ribs. The blades sank deep—but the creature didn't flinch, didn't react, its empty eyes still locked onto Kuro.

Sia's arrow followed a breath later, striking its shoulder, but instead of piercing flesh, the shaft splintered on impact, the arrowhead vanishing into the unnatural mass beneath its skin.

Varek muttered something low, sharp, his spear adjusting mid-motion, aiming lower, for the knees.

This time, the Revenant reacted.

Its head snapped toward Varek, as if it had finally registered him as a problem.

Then—it moved again.

It didn't dash or leap.

It simply became somewhere else.

One moment, it was standing before Kuro.

The next—it was behind Varek, its claws already reaching for his throat.

Kuro moved before he could think, his body shifting instinctively, his momentum already carrying him into a side roll, his tail snapping out to hook the Revenant's ankle.

The impact was small, but enough.

Enough to make the thing hesitate—just for half a second.

And in that half-second—Boru struck.

The massive warrior's fist collided with the Revenant's side, a blow that could break bones, that had crushed human warriors in a single hit.

And for the first time—the Revenant stumbled.

Not because of force.

But because of what it was.

It had not been hit like that before.

And for something that had once been human, once been alive, once followed rules—

It did not know how to react.

Breaking the Illusion of Invulnerability

Kuro saw it.

The moment of hesitation, the tiny gap in understanding.

These things were not invincible.

They had been warriors once, but now they were something else.

Something built, not born.

And things that were built could be broken.

"Hit them harder," Kuro snarled, already moving again, already shifting his stance. "Make them remember what pain feels like."

Sia's next arrow struck lower, piercing through the Revenant's calf, where flesh still had to work like flesh.

Kota's blades cut deep, but angled, controlled, aimed for the places where movement had to still matter.

Boru didn't punch again.

He grabbed.

The Revenant jerked, trying to flicker away—but Boru's massive arms locked around it, holding it in place.

And Kuro took the opportunity.

He leapt forward, his claws digging into the Revenant's chest, his strength coiling, focusing—

And he ripped.

Tearing through the shifting layers of whatever was left of its body, digging past the unnatural form to whatever core still controlled it.

The Revenant let out a sound.

Not a scream.

Not a snarl.

Something worse.

A breath.

As if it had just remembered how to feel pain.

And then it collapsed into dust.

+100 XP (Revenant Defeated!)

Total XP: 260/700 XP

Kuro's breath was steady, his fists still clenched, his body ready for the next attack.

But none came.

Because the others—the ones that had been waiting in the shadows—

They had stopped moving.

The Revenants did not advance.

They did not retreat.

They simply stood.

Watching.

Not like hunters watching prey.

Not like warriors watching an enemy.

Like something considering a question that had never been asked before.

One of them tilted its head.

And in a voice that did not belong to it, in words that should not have been spoken—

It spoke.

"You remember."

Kuro froze.

Because it wasn't a statement.

It was a realization.

"You were not meant to remember."

The rest of the Revenants turned, not to attack, not to pursue.

But to leave.

One by one, they stepped back, vanishing into the darkness beyond the chamber, moving with purpose, with understanding.

Like they had seen enough.

Like this fight had not been about victory.

Like they had come to confirm something.

And now, they had their answer.

The last Revenant stood the longest, its hollow eyes locked onto Kuro.

"It is not yet time."

Then—it was gone.

Silence filled the chamber.

No one spoke.

Because no one knew what had just happened.

They had not won.

They had been measured.

Kota exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "I don't like this."

Sia lowered her bow. "They left. But not because they were afraid."

Varek's grip on his spear tightened. "Because they didn't need to fight."

Boru frowned. "So what now?"

Kuro didn't answer immediately.

Because the truth was—he didn't know.

But as he looked toward the darkness ahead, where the Revenants had disappeared, where the path deeper into the ruin still waited—

He knew they had to keep going.

Because whatever was waiting at the end of this—

It already knew he was coming.