Odyssey Of Survival

The kingsmen moved swiftly, working with the efficiency and discipline expected of those who served under a ruler. Within minutes, three tents had been set up—one grand and elaborate for the king, another large one for his personal guards, and a smaller, less refined one designated for the hunters. The difference in status was clear in the way the tents were made; while the king's tent was adorned with golden embroidery and fine materials, the hunters' shelter was simple, its fabric stretched just enough to provide some cover from the cold night.

Once everything was in place, the king finally emerged from his carriage. His robes shimmered under the flickering torchlight, a stark contrast to the dust-covered men who had walked beside his carriage for five grueling days. He looked at them with a composed expression, his hands clasped behind his back as he surveyed the scene.

"Tonight is for rest," he announced, his voice smooth but carrying an undertone of authority that left no room for debate. "Tomorrow, we will discuss the true purpose of our gathering."

The men nodded, offering tired bows before quickly retreating to their tents. Fatigue weighed on their bodies, and none of them hesitated to collapse onto the rough fabric laid out as makeshift bedding. The moment their heads touched the ground, sleep claimed them without resistance.

Nate, however, did not join them.

He wasn't as exhausted as the rest. His body was strong, resilient, conditioned for endurance beyond normal human limits. Even after days of walking, he felt no strain, no heaviness in his limbs. While the others surrendered to their exhaustion, he sat at the entrance of the hunters' tent, his eyes fixed on the restless glow of the campfires.

This was the perfect time to move.

Under the cover of darkness, when everyone was too drained to notice anything unusual, he could explore without drawing attention.

Rising to his feet, he slipped through the narrow gap between the tents, his movements fluid and silent. The camp stretched before him, a network of dimly lit paths weaving between the various tents. The fires crackled softly in the distance, their light casting long shadows that danced across the fabric walls.

Nate's gaze flickered from tent to tent as he passed. He wasn't sure what he was searching for—answers, maybe, or just a sense of understanding about what was happening here. Either way, the best way to gather information was to see things for himself.

The guards stationed throughout the camp watched him carefully, their expressions unreadable but their eyes sharp with suspicion.

It amused him.

They looked at him as if he was some lost traveler, a simple hunter who had wandered too far from his tent. If they knew the truth—if they understood just how effortlessly he could cut through every single one of them without so much as breaking a sweat—they wouldn't be staring.

They'd be running.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he continued forward, weaving through the camp with an unhurried stride.

Then, something caught his eye.

At the far end of the camp, beyond the scattered rows of tents and supply stations, there was an area that stood apart from the rest. A perimeter of heavily armed guards surrounded it, their presence noticeably more rigid and alert compared to the others. Unlike the casual watchfulness of the regular camp sentries, these men stood in perfect formation, their stances unwavering.

It was a restricted area.

Nate slowed his steps as he approached, his expression neutral. He didn't intend to cause trouble—not yet, at least—but he was curious. Whatever they were guarding had to be important.

Before he could get too close, one of the guards stepped forward, raising a hand to stop him.

"You can't go any further," the man stated, his voice firm but lacking hostility.

Nate studied him for a moment, his gaze calm. Then, with a slight furrow of his brow, he gave a small nod and turned away without argument. There was no need to draw unnecessary attention to himself.

The guard watched him for a few seconds before nodding in approval, likely assuming Nate was just another exhausted traveler who had accidentally wandered too far.

But Nate had no intention of letting this go.

He walked back toward the main camp, his expression unreadable, until he reached a secluded spot where no one could see him.

Then, his eyes sparked with lightning.

A sharp crackle of energy surged through his body as he activated his speed, and in an instant, everything around him slowed.

The guards who had been standing at their posts—watchful, alert—suddenly seemed frozen in place. The one who had stopped him mere seconds ago was mid-step, his foot barely touching the ground as he turned back toward his position. The torch flames that flickered in the distance stretched unnaturally, their movements sluggish in the warped perception of time.

It wasn't that Nate had frozen them.

It was simply that he was moving too fast for the world to keep up.

Taking advantage of his speed, he blurred forward, slipping past the perimeter without so much as a whisper of sound.

None of the guards reacted.

To them, nothing had happened.

As far as their perception went, Nate had simply walked away like any other weary traveler.

But in reality, he had already disappeared beyond the restricted threshold, stepping into the unknown.

And whatever was hidden inside that area… he was about to find out.

He moved carefully through the restricted area, his steps soundless against the dry, packed earth beneath his feet. He knew he couldn't afford to be seen, but as he continued forward, something became increasingly strange—there was nobody here.

The guards outside had been stationed as if protecting something crucial, yet the inside of the restricted area was completely empty. No tents, no supplies, no signs of any important figures or artifacts. Just an eerie, unsettling silence that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

What the hell were they guarding?

His sharp eyes scanned the area, searching for anything that might explain this strange emptiness. That was when he saw it.

At first, it looked like a dark pit in the ground—an abyss swallowing all light within its depths. But as he stepped closer, he realized it wasn't just a hole. There were steps. Rough, uneven stone steps spiraling downward into the darkness, disappearing into an unknown depth.

He narrowed his eyes.

This was it.

This was what they were hiding.

He raised his right hand slightly, his fingers twitching as a small flame flickered to life in his palm. The fire burned dimly—just enough to illuminate his immediate surroundings without drawing too much attention. He had no idea what was waiting for him down there, and he wasn't about to make himself a glowing target in the darkness.

Taking a slow breath, he began his descent.

The air grew colder as he traveled deeper, the weight of the earth pressing in from all sides. The stone steps were old, cracked, and uneven, making his footing treacherous. His flame barely illuminated more than a few feet ahead, but the deeper he went, the stronger a strange sensation settled in his chest—like something ancient was stirring beneath the ground.

Minutes passed, but the stairs seemed endless, winding deeper into the abyss with no sign of an ending. The silence was absolute. Even his own footsteps sounded muffled as if the darkness itself was swallowing all sound.

Then, at last, he reached the bottom.

What stretched before him was not just an ordinary cavern. It was something more.

A tunnel.

Massive and stretching far beyond his vision, its walls lined with something that made his breath catch. He stepped closer, bringing his flame near, and his eyes widened.

Niyx.

The walls of the tunnel were embedded with the same mineral Zoro had been mining on the island—the same mineral that had proven to be powerful, and mysterious. He reached out, brushing his fingers against one of the crystals, feeling the faint hum of energy pulsing beneath its surface.

How?

How was Niyx here, in the past?

He had assumed it was something unique to the island, something connected to Zoro's plans. But if it existed here—so far back in history—then it was far older than he had thought.

Far more important than he had realized.

His flame burned brighter as he stepped fully into the tunnel, the glow reflecting off the countless shards of Niyx embedded in the walls. A faint, almost imperceptible hum filled the air, like the tunnel itself was alive, breathing, watching.

A new sense of urgency settled in his chest.

Whatever was down here… he needed to find out.

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