Hill's consciousness returned in waves, each one growing stronger than the last, until he was finally able to open his eyes. When he did, he found himself not within that blood-stained arena, but inside an unknown tent structure.
He let out a groan, sitting up and bringing his hand to his head to nurse the ache. Then he let out a sudden gasp.
It wasn't because of any stabbing pain in his head—there wasn't any pain to begin with. It had more to do with the lack of pain within his chest. His hand traveled from the skin of his forehead down to his chest, pressing firmly against it as he felt his own heartbeat.
He could feel his bare skin and the frayed edges of the gaping hole in his shirt. Yet his chest, the same flesh that should have been obliterated by the plague beast's attack, was unblemished.
It was as if nothing had happened.
Looking down, his eyes confirmed what his fingers had realized. His body had been restored.
His heart, which shouldn't even be beating right now, began to drum a rapid beat. His breathing hastened and sweat began coating his skin.
What is the meaning of this? he asked himself, trembling as he stood.
His head bumped against the wooden tent pole, forcing him to remain hunched over. He looked ahead, seeing the opening of the tent before him.
Creeping toward it, he carefully parted the flaps and stuck his head outside.
Immediately, he felt something sharp press against the back of his neck. A gruff voice sounded above him. "Don't move just yet, earthling."
Hill froze, feeling the sharpness biting into his skin. Despite being unfamiliar with a situation like this, he knew it would be foolish to make any sudden movements.
"Okay, I-I won't," he whispered, his voice trembling. "What have I done?"
"Nothing at all. This is a security measure. You'll be released soon," the voice responded.
"Ah, I see." Hill replied. "For how long will I be here?"
"Until she arrives."
A vague answer indeed, but Hill felt that the gruff voice wasn't interested in any negotiation.
At least he wasn't in any immediate danger, though it was unfortunate to be restricted in such a hostile manner.
Looking ahead, his eyes traced the outlines of several other tents laid out over hard, mossy ground. If he had to give a rough estimate, there were probably fifty to sixty tents within his immediate vicinity.
But that wasn't taking into account the silhouettes of the other tents in the background. This camp was truly massive.
However, it was very unusual. The canvas of these tents seemed unorthodox. Indeed, they seemed more like improvised creations rather than proper tents. This was because of the veiny green fabric used as canvas. The veins in question were deep purple lines that emanated from a midrib of sorts, like an oversized leaf from some colossal tree.
These leaf-like canvases appeared to be thrown over wooden tent frames that seemed poorly built and lacked any visual stability.
The wood was also visually unique, like the canvas, with a muted purple color that appeared as if purple ink had seeped into birch wood.
Only when his eyes traveled upward did he understand why the wood was that strange color.
Surrounding the tents like an ominous wall was a forest full of massive purple-colored trees the likes of which Hill had never seen before. Their general size was so enormous that he couldn't even see their tops, which were shrouded in a thick layer of fog. He would have lifted his head upward to see more, but that would push his neck further against the sharp edge that was currently restraining him.
That wouldn't end well.
Instead, his eyes focused on the figures of humans moving throughout the campsite. When the owner of the gruff voice had called him an 'earthling,' he had initially believed that he was perhaps inside some sort of alien world.
Yet everyone here seemed human, and the human race was native to Earth.
They were all wearing human clothing as well. Even from a distance, Hill could recognize some of the clothing brands that the camp dwellers were wearing. They were from Earth, he was sure of it.
So why was I called an earthling like that? he wondered.
Feeling curious, he cleared his throat and spoke. "Why did you call me an 'earthling' as if you weren't from Earth? Aren't you an earthling as well?"
They didn't respond. He didn't even feel movement from the pressure on the back of his neck.
This is all so strange. Why isn't he responding to me?
The awkward silence continued for a short while. Some of the camp dwellers seemed to notice his predicament and even pointed and laughed. As a result, Hill felt like he was being played.
Thankfully, the approaching sound of footsteps finally caused the sharpness to withdraw from the back of his neck, and he let out a sigh of relief.
"Step out from the tent," the gruff voice ordered.
Hill obeyed, exiting the tent and turning to face his captors.
The black-haired man closest to him, dressed in sagging jeans paired with a skin-tight muscle shirt, seemed to be the owner of the gruff voice. In his hands was an ornate scimitar, and the sight of the weapon caused chills to shoot through his spine.
But this wasn't what bothered Hill most.
The man had a pale white skin tone, much like Hill, but he sported defined high cheekbones and a rugged nose. All of this, paired with his blue eyes, pointed to one thing.
He was a Peridian. A remnant of the empire that had been devastated by the devouring cloud and the monsters within.
More than ninety-nine percent of the Peridian ethnic group had been wiped out by the apocalypse. So seeing one standing before him was akin to seeing a ghost.
Hill kept his reaction visibly muted, though, turning to face the individual he had heard approaching.
This one was a brunette woman, wearing a flowing flower-petal dress that seemed to sparkle like diamonds. Her brown eyes appeared to be smiling, but the rest of her face was rigid and neutral. The strange facial expression caught Hill off guard, and he felt unsafe almost immediately.
"Greetings," the woman began, her voice smooth and fluttery. "It is a great pleasure to meet another survivor of the vicious soul plague and the ensuing soul trial."
She extended her hand, and Hill took it, shaking slowly as he stared into her eyes.
"My, such unique eyes!" she marveled, her own brown eyes sparkling in the dim lighting of the forest. "I've never seen such crimson before!" Her hand shot out, clutching Hill's chin and drawing him close to her face. "Indeed, they are real..."
"Wha—!?" Hill blurted, pulling backward out of reflex as a faint blush appeared on his pale face.
"Oh dear, I don't mean to tease," the woman giggled, a smile appearing on her face. "I was just making an observation."
"I-I see," Hill replied, wiping sweat from his brow. "May I ask a question?"
"Why of course!"
"Are you... an alien?"
The woman rolled her eyes as she looked to the gruff-voiced man. Then she burst into a hysterical fit of laughter, slapping her knees and all. "Technically, I am! Do you want to know why?" she finally managed, wiping her tears.
"Yeah... I'd like to know."
"It's because I'm an earthling residing on an alien world!"
Hill was physically jolted by the revelation, whipping around to look at his surroundings a second time.
"It... it can't be."
The strange trees, the awkward use of language, the strange events leading up to this moment...
It had to be an alien world. A different planet, similar to Earth but so different at the same time.
"But it can be," the woman said, her index finger twirling round and round as it moved toward Hill's face, before tapping against Hill's forehead repeatedly. "I suggest not thinking about it until much later. Such drastic changes are best digested in small increments."
"I see," Hill mumbled, still reeling from the information.
The woman laughed as she twirled around, gesturing for him to follow. "I'm glad you understand! Come now, we mustn't keep the old man waiting," she drawled, snapping her fingers twice.
Immediately, the gruff-voiced man grabbed Hill by the shoulder and pulled him along as they followed the woman. They walked through a well-trodden pathway in the center of the camp, passing various stations such as an outdoor kitchen, a wood shop, and even some disposal areas for trash.
The people who were milling about seemed to smile and wave at the woman in front, but looked away from the man in the back, while gazing at Hill with curiosity. Hill tried to smile back as best as he could, not eager to leave any negative impression.
Now that he was finally free of the scimitar's edge, he took this opportunity to look up at the sky. What he saw shocked him, for it didn't seem to be a sky at all. In fact, it appeared to be a ceiling.
He could see pointed rock tips emerging from the thick fog that layered the top. Along with the sharp points, Hill saw several glimmering yellow lights that seemed to blink due to the moving fog.
At one point, as they walked along, Hill saw a small gap open up in the fog. Through that gap, he observed that the glimmering light seemed to emerge from an orb that hung from a stalactite. Instantly he realized the true nature of this place.
This was an underground forest.
He didn't understand how this was all possible, and many things immediately made little sense to him.
First, if this place was underground, why was it so... hot? The atmosphere felt like that of a summer day, which was incredibly baffling to Hill.
Second, how was there so much plant life within this forest? How were these trees growing without sunlight? What was their source of energy?
Unable to think of an answer, he simply shook his head and marveled at the sights before him. He made sure to absorb as much as he possibly could. Perhaps his future understanding of the surroundings might prove useful.
Finally, they arrived at their destination: a large tent that seemed to surpass all the others in size, scale, and structure. The brunette woman opened the closed flaps and gestured for Hill to step inside. He gulped but obliged, gingerly stepping into the darkness within the tent.
The inside of the tent wasn't as large as the outside suggested. It was filled with stacks of wooden boxes and piles of what appeared to be clothing items. In the center of the tent, a makeshift table made out of the strange tent canvas and the wooden boxes could be seen.
There was also an old man.
He was scribbling furiously on what appeared to be some sort of plant pith that had been extended into a sheet. With one hand clasped against his forehead and the other moving to and fro across the sheet, the old man certainly appeared to be busy.
But when Hill stepped forward once more, the old man's head shot up faster than the blink of an eye. The movement was so fast and so sudden that it caused Hill to flinch violently and fall to the floor.
"Ah, I'm sorry," the old man began, his voice incredibly rich and textured. "I was so busy with mapping that I didn't notice you."
"It's quite all right," Hill replied, pushing himself to his feet. He stepped forward until he stood right in front of the table. "I... don't know why I'm here."
"What do you mean?" the old man asked.
Hill cleared his throat three times, gulped twice, and then continued. "Well, I mean, some brunette woman escorted me here without explanation. I don't really understand why I'm here... because of that."
The old man let out a long groan, clasping the upper bridge of his nose as he did so. "That Hurian girl never seems to understand what her job is, no matter how many times I explain it to her. No matter, I shall explain everything to you."
He placed a hand on his heart before extending it for a handshake. "My name is Edev Krugen. You may call me Krugen."