NOVEL NEXT Chapter 55 — The Forest
[06: 00: 18: 23]
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AKASHIC MIRROR | [ 日 ] [ 文 ] [ 无 ]
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DECK CARD [CREATION, SACRIFICE KNOWLEDGE SPELL]
[LEGENDARY]
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❂ This card has no active effect on its own.
❂ Sacrifice one deck card you have to the Akashic Mirror. That card is permanently transmuted into a [Pseudo-Legendary] version of itself—enhancing its effects, cost, and rarity.
❂ The transformed card is marked as an [Akashic-Echo], retaining its original name with a new sigil or subtitle. This transformation is irreversible; the sacrificed card is lost to the Mirror.
❂ The Mirror begins with [1 sacrifice slot]. Additional slots may be unlocked by offering [10 cards of each rarity] to the Mirror.
❂ "Even the weakest spell has a perfect form, hidden in the folds of time. The Mirror sees it. The Records keep it."
– Archivist Veyru, Keeper of the Fifth Reflection
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Cassian read the description. Then he reread it—this time more slowly, almost forgetting to breathe, lost in his thoughts. His hands trembled slightly, the implications flooding his mind. Any card which he liked he could convert into [Pseudo-Legendary].
Cassian wanted nothing more than to experiment with it right there and then, to toss in a card and see what came out glowing on the other side.
But he didn't.
I need to find my companions.
He clenched his fist slowly, gaze fixed on the legendary card, and with a flick of his wrist, it faded into him.
This wasn't something to rush. This... was going to change everything.
The only reason Cassian wasn't panicking or rushing to find the others was because his status screen still showed the companion tab. It would've been nice if Dr. Elira had registered as a companion too—but apparently, just joining his team hadn't been enough. There must have been some other conditions.
He sighed and dragged a hand back through his hair.
Or rather—tried to.
Cassian froze mid-motion. His hand met nothing but the smooth, bare surface of his scalp.
"NO No No! What the hell…"
Both hands shot up, frantically feeling for anything—strands, stubble, even fuzz. Nothing. He was completely bald.
His fists clenched as he stood there, breathing hard, trying not to lose what was left of his composure. His clothes being vaporized was one thing—he could live with that. But his hair?
"Oh C'mon," he muttered bitterly under his breath.
Worst, Dorian would never let this go.
Cassian groaned, covering his face with one hand, and shook his head. With a weary sigh, he centered himself, closed his eyes, and chanted dryly in his head:
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"Such is the price of power. Powerful men are often bald"
Turning toward the Behemoth, Cassian noticed a tattered cloth sash still hanging loosely around its massive neck. Grinning, he extended his arm and gave a quick, unmistakable hand gesture—hand it over.
He could've sworn the Behemoth's yellow eyes twitched.
For a long, silent moment, the two locked eyes in a slow, staring standoff. Eventually—perhaps in resignation, or maybe just pity—the Behemoth gave a low huff and unhooked the bloodstained sash with a claw, tossing it toward him.
Cassian caught it and grimaced as he wrapped the ragged cloth around his waist. It smelled like iron and soot and regret, but at least his balls weren't swinging in the breeze anymore.
"Thank you, buddy," he said, voice dry as dust. "Knew I could count on you."
He climbed onto his summon's broad back, giving its armored shoulder a pat. "Alright, big guy. Let's go up."
…
[06:00:04:12]
The climb was painful and awkward, every movement scraping his raw skin or pulling at some sore, unseen muscle. What felt like an hour turned out to be barely fifteen minutes, but eventually, Cassian reached the surface.
What greeted him was devastation.
For miles in every direction, the landscape had been scoured clean. The facility was gone—utterly erased. What little remained of the surrounding forest had been reduced to scorched stumps and blackened ash. The blast hadn't just destroyed the place—it had unmade it.
Cassian squinted into the haze, recalling Dorian's instructions. "If we're separated, head northeast of the facility."
Simple advice. With one complication.
"Right," Cassian muttered. "Where exactly is northeast... when there's nothing left to point the way?"
He turned to his summon. "That's your job now, buddy. Figure it out."
The summon shifted its weight, then confidently started moving to the left.
Cassian raised a brow. "That better be northeast," he said, draping himself along the creature's spine. "Let's go find the others."
…
Dorian was having the worst day since the moment Cassian had rescued him.
Elira was dead.
But there was no time to grieve. He had to stay strong—for the kids. They hadn't spoken a word since the blast. Not even a whimper. Just clung to his clothes in eerie silence, their small fists bunching into the fabric like it was the last solid thing in the world.
Dorian's heart clenched at the sight of them. They'd spent too long down in that godforsaken facility, endured too much. And he would've been a fool to think they didn't understand what had happened. Elira must have spoken to them before everything went to hell.
Cassian, where the fuck are you?
Dorian was missing Cassian so much, that he remembered him saying that he was only seventeen. And yet, he never came off as a child. Not once. There was something about the way he moved, the way he led—it spoke of battle-hardened instinct, of scars too deep for his years. Dorian saw a kindred spirit in him.
Dorian saw a kindred spirit, and he was also a natural leader; even if those decisions had been outright stupid, sometimes he had the capabilities to back them.
Gods, Dorian hoped he would find them fast.
…
And just then Dorian stopped cold as he heard some noises. In one smooth motion, he crouched low, arms sweeping around the children and clamping gently over their mouths. He pulled them in close, pressing all three of them into the shadow of the twisted, blackened trunk beside them. They didn't make a sound—thank the gods—but he could feel them trembling against his chest.
Then he heard it again. Snarling. The click of claws against the earth. Breathing—loud, labored, wet.
A low growl split the silence like a blade.
Four shapes stalked into view from between the shattered remains of the forest. Hounds—but not like any he'd seen before. Their skin was pitch-black and cracked like cooled magma, glowing with molten veins beneath. The fire flickered in their empty eye sockets, and their mouths foamed with embers and smoke.
Hellhounds.
God damn demons! Why now… shit, the blast must have drawn them.
Cold sweat traced a path down his temple, stinging the cuts on his face. His mind worked in overdrive—he couldn't outrun them carrying two kids, and he didn't have a weapon that could guarantee a kill before they raised the alarm.
One of the hounds peeled away from the others, sniffing at the earth with its flame-laced snout. It circled closer. Too close.
Dorian's breath caught in his throat as the beast padded within arm's reach of their hiding place. The searing heat of it made the bark behind him feel like it might combust. He stared down the hound's glowing ribs, one hand still over Mara's mouth, the other gripping Lian close. If the dog turned, if it caught a whiff of them—
A sharp bark broke through the silence. Another hound, back near the clearing, called out with an impatient growl. The one near them twitched an ear, turned its head, and then loped away to rejoin its pack.
Dorian didn't move. Not yet. He waited, counting the seconds, even after the hellhounds had melted back into the smoke-hung distance. Only when the scent of sulfur began to fade did he release the breath he'd been holding, shoulders sagging as he finally dared to exhale.
That was close…
The children were shaking in his arms.
"It's okay," he whispered, voice hoarse. "It's over. We're okay."
But the look on Mara's face made his stomach sink. Her eyes were wide—not with leftover fear, but with new, rising horror.
He turned.
And came face-to-face with something worse.
A larger hellhound stood barely five feet away, silent and still as death. It hadn't come with the others. Its flames burned hotter, its eyes a deep, almost intelligent crimson. Its jaws parted slowly, revealing teeth like red-hot blades. Viscous, glowing saliva dripped from its mouth and hissed when it touched the ash-covered ground.
It didn't growl. It didn't snarl.
It just stared.
Fuck!
And then it bared its teeth.
...