Heir of the Fog

CHAPTER EIGHT

The Man in the Fog

Long sleeps were always so strange. I had so many dreams—dreams of that forest with the sun high in the sky, until those tentacles enveloped everything and the fog rushed in.

I dreamed of becoming part of District 98, of having a place to call my own, somewhere I could sleep at night behind real walls.

Above all, I dreamed of Elina, Jharim, and Meris.

Strangely, this time I also dreamed of Tarin, Hana, Cedric, and even Lessa. I sensed the same connection, a faint feeling of kinship. Only then did I realize that after this past year, I was beginning to see them as friends too—even Tarin, who had always watched me with a wary sort of suspicion.

I could not help wondering how long this particular long sleep would last.

Would they be worried about me?

They would, I felt certain of it.

How foolish I had been, thinking those beasts would not attack me simply because the fog itself did not specifically send them after me. They were creatures ruled by hunger, and if I knew anything, it was that hunger could force desperate acts. I could not fault them for that. They were only doing what was natural: searching for food.

When I finally awakened from that dream-laden state, I noticed the fog lingering all around me. My first impulse was to check my arm and my neck, relieved to find both intact. Every wound I had sustained was gone, just as always happened following my long sleeps.

"I wonder how long it has been this time," I murmured.

"Just a few days," came a raspy reply. For a moment, I believed the fog itself was speaking. When I turned, however, I saw a man in a green cloak, roughly Jharim's height, with a voice that sounded worn by time.

Another person here, in the fog?

The fog appeared somewhat more translucent than it had been when I first stepped in, so I could see past him. We seemed to occupy a shallow dip in the terrain, a small hill not too far away. The man sat on the ground, gazing toward tall buildings that loomed indistinctly in the distant fog.

Their silhouettes stood just visible through the haze. Behind us lay the abandoned trading region where the long sleep had overtaken me. This man, unlike the doglike beasts, did not appear hostile. Better still, he might hold answers I needed. My curiosity about my experiment surged again, prompting me to reach for my book. I found it next to me with my other belongings, all thankfully intact, though I did spot dried blood staining the outside of my bag—likely mine.

Opening the book, I began jotting down my observations:

Experiment: Checking the behavior of monsters in the fog toward people who are not hunted by the fog.

Test 1: Made myself known to three huge dog beasts.

Result: They were very hostile and forced me into a long sleep.

Conclusion: Even though the fog does not directly send them after me, I still need to hide or fight my way past them.

"What are you writing?" the man asked, keeping his gaze on the fog-shrouded buildings rather than turning toward me.

I walked over and showed him my notes.

For a few minutes, we both sat in that quiet hollow while he read not only my latest entry but also some earlier experiments and the notes I had made during Elina's classes. Before long, he handed the book back, and I tucked it into my bag again, careful not to smear the crusted blood.

"I see," he said. "You believed those beasts wouldn't attack you because this 'Fog' doesn't hunt you. But what exactly is this fog of yours?"

"What?" I blurted. "How can you not know? Everyone in the districts knows about it. You should too, since you're here in the fog right now."

"I assume by 'fog' you mean this?" the man answered, waving one hand. The swirling haze shifted and curled at his gesture, almost as though it were alive.

"You are… controlling the fog? How? Can you teach me?" My words spilled out before I could stop them, and I quickly scribbled a few notes about how effortlessly the fog obeyed his movements.

"So I am correct that this 'Fog' you keep mentioning is actually the substance surrounding us," he replied, sweeping his arm in a slow arc. The cloudy vapor churned in response. "But it is not a fog at all. It is merely condensed mana. Nothing more. It does not hunt people, nor does it send beasts after them."

Condensed mana? That was the force that empowered magic. Elina had told me the ancient people of Araksiun used mana in their spells, channeling it through specialized constructs and wards. Although most knowledge had vanished long ago, everyone understood that humans could not control mana directly. We were not "blessed" by it, not even the ancients. The most advanced of our ancestors had never found a workaround. All we managed was to create devices that harnessed mana—like the Dawnbreak Bow and the Obelisks. Yet here he was, manipulating mana as though it bent to his will, insisting that this "fog" was merely condensed mana. It defied everything I knew.

I caught myself daydreaming, staring off into space while the man kept his gaze on the horizon. He showed no sign of impatience, which was unusual. Most people would have pressed me to speak or gotten annoyed with my drifting attention.

"Sorry," I said at last, shaking my head to clear it. "It happens often, but I don't mean to be rude."

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He merely shrugged. "No worries. I could see in your eyes that you needed the time."

"Yes, it's just that… you've made things confusing," I admitted. "I was told we can't manipulate mana. That's what I've heard all my life."

"Ah, I see." The man in the green cloak nodded thoughtfully. "Well, if by 'we' you mean humans, then yes, you lack a core, and no creature can simply force the creation of one. Humans cannot manipulate mana the way I just did." He smiled. "But I, on the other hand, am not a human like you. I discovered long ago that many beings—like yourself—might be uneasy or even terrified if they saw my true form, so I prefer to adopt a shape that fits the conversation. In your case, I appear as another human."

"Wait, so you're… you're a beast of the fog too?" I blurted, alarmed. "Are you going to attack me?" The words tumbled from my mouth before I could stop them. I remembered he had said I had been in a long sleep for at least several days, so running now probably would not help.

To my astonishment, he broke into open laughter. "Hahaha! It's been quite a while since anyone was bold enough to say something like that to me." He grinned widely. "No, I'm not a beast of your 'Fog,' and again, what you call fog is condensed mana, nothing more. Besides, I believe I'm a bit more than a mindless beast, don't you agree?"

"Yes, you certainly are," I said warily. "But it's strange. You just admitted you're not human, and I've been attacked by beasts in this place. I can't help feeling uneasy."

"I understand," he replied. "Even with your unique condition, I wouldn't advise letting yourself get devoured. Though I suspect you might eventually recover, but it would likely take years if you were eaten whole." He gestured with one hand, and my eyes followed, landing on three massive creatures sprawled on the ground nearby.

I realized with a jolt they were the same three beasts that had mauled me before I lapsed into my long sleep. There they lay, dead, yet no visible wounds scarred their bodies.

"You… you saved me?" I managed, my voice hushed. "Why would you do that? I don't have any artifact or anything to repay you."

He gave a small shake of his head. "I did kill what you call 'beasts of the fog,' yes, but I wouldn't say I saved you. I happened to be here and noticed someone get his neck torn apart but not die. Your kind is usually far more fragile. Well, I suppose you did die… yet I've never before seen your race come back from actual death."

Dying?

I had only gone into a long sleep.

"I was just stuck in a long sleep," I insisted. "I wasn't really dead. But thank you for dealing with them. I wouldn't like to remain in a long sleep for years, as you mentioned."

"Long sleep?" He rubbed his chin, frowning. "That's a new concept to me. No, I'm pretty sure you died. These long sleeps… do they happen often?"

"They happen when the cold gets too bad," I explained, "or when the hunger becomes too intense, or if something beats me into unconsciousness, like these beasts did."

"I see…" He regarded me with a trace of concern etched on his face. "Well, it's a remarkable ability, but you'd be wise not to let it happen often. One risks losing the mind altogether in such a limbo."

"It's not as though I choose it," I retorted, frustration creeping into my tone. "I don't really have a way to stop it. And I understand I owe you for killing those beasts, but could you at least explain what you mean by condensed mana? Maybe answer a few questions about my experiments? You clearly know much more than I do."

He shrugged, as if dismissing the notion that I owed him anything. "Yes, there may be something we can do about these long sleeps… but not right now." He exhaled slowly. "As for condensed mana, I doubt it would be truly helpful for you to understand the deeper mechanics. I've read your notes on the 'fog.' However, I can tell you why you're safe out here while others of your kind are attacked on sight."

"You can?" My heart gave a hopeful lurch. "That would be incredible. If I figure out how to help others walk outside the ward the way I do, the Chainrunners wouldn't have to keep dashing and fighting constantly."

He let out a short, ironic laugh. "I said I'd tell you the reason, not that it would necessarily help. It's fairly simple, really."

He began discussing mana in a calm, reflective tone, casting occasional glances at the dead beasts nearby. He explained how humans evolved in an environment with very low mana concentrations. Now, the world had become so inundated with mana that it rivaled or surpassed many 'greater worlds.' He claimed to be a being from one of those higher realms, drawn here by the vast mana supply—though that abundance also attracted creatures less pleasant than himself.

Furthermore, he said, the reason humans are attacked is corruption. Since we possess no internal core and cannot create one, once we leave the ward and face large amounts of mana, we begin to be corrupted by it, altering us in unimaginable ways. Any being with a core can sense corruption taking hold, and they unite, sometimes even enemies or mindless beasts, to destroy the corrupted one before it becomes too risky.

Much of the terror caused by mana is rooted in that corruption. It can spread to other beings, and though most die from it, the rare survivors evolve into terrifying threats that break everything around them.

Hence, whenever a human leaves the ward, they invite this corruption; creatures within the fog sense it like a beacon and attack, compelled to eradicate it as swiftly as possible. The "fog," or condensed mana, does not control them directly. It is simply that the corruption reveals itself to everything out there.

In my case, however, it is not that I'm unaffected by corruption, I am as human as anyone. Yet apparently, I "cannot be more corrupt" than I already am.

Corruption has covered me completely but has also stabilized. Because I am not actively getting worse, other creatures cannot sense me as a threat. They don't detect any ongoing corruption, so they feel no urge to hunt me. I do not stand out from the other fog-dwelling beings.

"Wait," I interrupted, trying to piece it together. "I recall that the first time I left the district, they didn't assault me immediately, but they did eventually. So it wasn't like they attacked me the moment I set foot outside the ward."

He nodded, as though expecting the question. "I'll be completely honest with you, I'm very old. Far older than you could guess. And in all that time, I've never seen corruption stabilize in a living being. I assume it's connected to your peculiar condition, some ability to adapt, or perhaps the corruption fused with the condition itself, becoming part of your existence. I can't be certain, but from my experience hunting many corrupted beasts, I have no doubt you are corrupted."

A chill ran through me at the idea of hidden corruption among the Chainrunners. They left and returned to the district regularly, probably carrying traces of this "mana corruption" within them. Could that spawn new threats right inside District 98?

"This is far more information than I expected," I admitted. "But what about the people who leave the district and come back? Are they going to change into something dangerous?" Even as I spoke, I wrote notes in my book, imagining how Elina might react to these revelations. She would likely be thrilled by the research, but furious at how I obtained it.

He seemed to sense the intensity of my note-taking. A flicker of caution showed on his face, as though he weighed how much more to share.

"If those travelers stay too long outside the ward, yes, they might become a danger," he said. "But the ward itself purges corruption when they return quickly enough. That's part of what makes the Obelisks so fascinating. I haven't seen anything like them in all my wanderings. It's actually why I'm here."

He gazed off toward the district's distant shape. The hush in the air felt charged with an odd tension.

"I am planning to take that Obelisk of yours…"