Chapter 19: Trapped

  Gaia World, Day 9 After the Shattering

  The forest hall welcomed Pawel back as the last light of dusk faded. The stream gurgled softly nearby, its clear water a reassuring constant. He dropped the heavy deer hind legs near the fire pit—the meat still warm, slick with blood, carrying the metallic tang of fresh kill mixed with the earthy scent of disturbed soil.

  Snack hopped excitedly from its perch on the backpack branch, cooing and tilting its head at the haul. Pawel managed a tired chuckle and reached out to scratch the bird’s head, but Snack hopped away, sending a sharp pulse of indignation through their bond.

  Pawel glanced critically at his greasy, bloodied hands and his torn, stained clothes. He sniffed himself audibly.

  “Yeah, you’re right—I need a bath.”

  He built the fire quickly. Dry branches crackled as flames caught, releasing resinous smoke that drifted upward. Then he skinned and portioned one hind leg with his bone knife and hatchet, skewering chunks on sharpened sticks to roast.

  Only then did he pick up his trusty hammer—now painted in shades of red and brown from all the gore it had seen—and head to the pond for a bath. He thought again about how quickly he was running out of usable clothes; nearly everything he owned was torn and hopelessly stained.

  Later, with his belly full and the immediate hunger sated, Pawel sat cross-legged by the embers. The day’s exertions lingered: the gash on his side had scabbed but still pulled, and his ribs were bruised from the deer’s antler rake.

  He closed his eyes and slipped easily into meditation after days of practice. Various mana flows pulsed around him—from the trees, the stream, the grass—steady and vibrant. Deeper still, thick, unmoving brownish earth mana lay below. The anomaly’s distant orange wires probed faintly; he had grown accustomed to them, knowing they respected his will not to connect—whatever that truly meant.

  He directed his internal energy—now sparse, leftovers from recent tadpole kills—toward regeneration. Warmth spread, seeping into torn skin and bruised muscle, mending tissues. It wasn’t instant or effortless; it took sustained focus, like guiding a reluctant current.

  By the time fatigue pulled him toward sleep, the wound felt fully closed—only faint tenderness remained, and even that faded as he drifted off. Snack nestled nearby on the ground, its small verdant aura a comforting presence.

  Sleep came deep at first, the forest’s nocturnal sounds—distant rustles, an owl’s hoot, the stream’s murmur—fading into the background.

  Then, hours into the night, a thunderous crack split the air, followed by rolling rumbles that vibrated through the ground and into Pawel’s bones. He jolted awake, heart hammering, and grabbed his weapon instinctively.

  It was the anomaly expanding again. Loud snaps like fracturing ice or shattering stone echoed from its direction. Purple mist now glowed faintly in the dark, and the cracks stretched so far in both directions they disappeared under the horizon, rising so high into the sky they would probably interfere with airplanes.

  Snack stirred, cooing uneasily and pressing closer. Pawel sent a reassuring pulse through their link—safe, stay close—trying to give his friend peace of mind he himself did not feel.

  He shifted into mana sight to observe the turmoil. New faint colors flickered from the cracks, flowing away as if pushed by invisible currents: hints of sickly browns mixing with other unfamiliar colors and textures.

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  “Getting crowded here,” he muttered, pulse racing.

  The expansion felt more menacing with each occurrence, like the world itself was closing in. He stayed alert for a while, hammer ready, but no immediate spawns reached the hall. Eventually exhaustion won, and he settled back into uneasy rest.

  Dawn broke gray and golden through the canopy. Pawel woke stiff but healed—the side gash now smooth skin, bruises reduced to dull aches.

  He drank deeply from the bottle, its cool, mineral taste refreshing. He still wished for the luxury of morning coffee. Then he roasted more venison for breakfast, sharing again with Snack.

  Sated, Pawel turned his thoughts to the vine from the previous day. The predatory plant haunted him. One he could perhaps ignore, but if they multiplied or spread, he had no reliable way of dealing with this enemy. A direct approach was suicide; one wrong step meant immobilization like the deer.

  He paced the clearing, considering options. “Spear’s too short for safe pokes. Burning it would work, but gathering and hauling enough firewood would be laborious. And if it’s a monster, would that method even give me a reward?”

  An idea formed: use the vine’s own mechanics against it. Drop heavy branches or logs onto the outer tendrils from a safe distance. They would trigger, twist around the wood, and pull it in—temporarily immobilizing those vines. That could clear a path or create enough distraction to close the gap and strike the core with his hammer.

  Risky, but better than starting uncontrolled fires in the forest. He’d need sturdy branches, carried or dragged carefully.

  With a plan set, he shouldered his pack (Snack perched securely), gripped his hammer, and headed back toward the glade where the deer had fallen. The forest thinned slightly, the air warming with morning sun and carrying mossy, floral scents.

  After an hour’s cautious trek—eyes on the ground for any new spawns—he reached the area. The anomaly had grown overnight; its purple-cracked wall loomed larger, the mist denser and reaching farther. Sideways expansion was unmistakable—many kilometers wide now. Pawel paused on a rise, unease twisting in his gut.

  “This is getting scary.” Thoughts of fleeing crossed his mind—moving farther from the cracks and setting up camp elsewhere—but venturing blindly into unknown territory risked worse threats.

  Natural predators could be far deadlier than clay tadpoles. Against a bear, he would have no chance—not yet.

  He scanned the horizon opposite the original anomaly. His breath caught. Another set of cracks fractured the distant sky there, purple shapes swirling upward in a new thunder-like formation. Now his problem wasn’t just the expansion of one anomaly, but two emerging on opposing sides.

  Dread settled heavily. “They’re… boxing me in.”

  The scale hit him: tens of kilometers apart at least—potentially hundreds. Together, they might eventually form a vast arena or containment zone, with anomaly-spawned threats multiplying inside while escape routes closed. Even running now felt futile—he’d be trapped between growing walls of reality-fracturing mist and whatever horrors they birthed.

  “No escaping this. Have to adapt. Get stronger.”

  Pushing down the fear, Pawel pressed on to the vine site.

  The glade appeared much as before: the deer’s carcass had somehow been dragged closer to the plant. Something new moved there—a larger animal, perhaps a wild boar or similar sturdy forest creature, now trapped. It had likely been drawn by the deer’s scent and, while feasting, stepped into the outer tendrils. Dozens of vines now twisted tightly around its legs, body, and neck, thorns embedded deep, immobilizing it completely.

  The animal thrashed weakly, grunting in distress, blood trickling, but the hold was unbreakable.

  Pawel approached cautiously from the side, hammer ready, eyes on the ground.

  “Yeah… if these things start growing around my camp, I’ll be in serious trouble.”

  The new victim’s thrashing had already done much of what he’d planned to achieve by throwing branches—most of the vines were occupied binding the prey.

  Closer now, still wary, he studied the animal.

  It was a stocky, warthog-like beast the size of a large dog, with a robust grayish-brown body covered in coarse, sparse bristles and a bristly mane running along its arched back. What set it apart from a normal pig were its teeth—elongated, sharp canines and serrated molars adapted for tearing carrion, now flecked with dried blood and bits of flesh from the deer.

  Dozens of thorny vines coiled tightly around its short, powerful legs, torso, and throat. The thorns had torn its tough hide in dozens of places, leaving ragged gashes oozing dark blood. The beast lay exhausted, sides heaving weakly, its breath coming in strained, wheezing gasps—half-strangled by the constricting vines around its neck. It could only twitch feebly, eyes half-lidded in defeat, too drained to struggle further.

  Pawel shifted into mana sight. The pig had a faint green aura typical of animals; the vine still showed a sickly, twisted brown aura with an orange wire filament stretching back toward the main anomaly.

  He approached carefully, raised the hammer high, and brought it down hard on the bulbous pod—once, twice. Spikes gouged deep; yellow ichor sprayed. The vine convulsed, tendrils tightening on the trapped animal in final spasms before going slack.

  He jumped back, creating safe distance, and watched.

  There was no point killing the beast—he had plenty of meat for now.

  The vines began dissolving, but no purple mist appeared this time. Instead, the entire plant—including the bound vines—dissolved into a thick brown mist, earthy and heavy-scented (or perhaps another impression from his mana sense mistaken for smell).

  The mist didn’t flow into Pawel or dissipate widely like usual. It coalesced rapidly, shrinking and hardening into a small point where the core of the plant had been—hidden from normal sight.

  Once the entire mass concentrated, the orange-wire filament detached from that point and began slithering around like a snake, probing for a new connection.

  Pawel brushed it aside as always, and it backed away obediently.

  The freed animal staggered up weakly and fled into the undergrowth. Pawel watched it go, then approached the hole in the ground where the plant had been.

  In it lay a nail-sized brown crystal, gleaming dully like polished stone or compressed earth. It looked exactly the same in mana sight and normal vision. It gave off the same impression as the plant’s mana had just more concentrated.

  “Okay… that’s new,” he murmured, pondering whether it was safe to touch.