Shit…

Shit, shit, shit!

It wasn't supposed to go like this.

Exhausted, rasping breaths escaped his exceedingly dry throat, flowing through the chilling night air with a subtle noticeability. The temperatures ran low, and his stamina was regrettably reaching its humane limit. With straining muscles locking up, beads of sweat ran down his skin and dropped from his chin. He slumped in composure as he finally came to a halt, tired arms using his knees for support while he barely held himself up from the superficially tensing gravity around him. His legs shook uncontrollably from the strain, and eventually gave out forcing him to tumble on his behind when he met the ground. A stressed curse jeered from his lips, and he balled his fists in anger, yelling out in frustration over his failure. The boy's voice echoed through the forest scaring small animals and many applicants alike, and then fell silent afterwards.

Pasche looked upwards, eyes unfocused and losing coherence from fatigue. He'd been running for hours on end and midnight was approaching by the minute. His body trembled with inner fury and his teeth grinded tightly, desperately trying to keep another shout from leaving him. The fog had lifted only a little since night replaced the sun's light, and now the real dangers of Swindler's Swamp, also known as Numere Wetlands, was showing itself. He couldn't believe what he'd seen before running, and as frustrated as it made the boy, he had no choice in the matter if he didn't want to die. The sacrifice of his target had to be made, to ensure his safety for the future. But because of that fault he was at square one, with no possible leads for his next hunt. The very knowledge of that was enough for any applicant to give up, but Pasche wouldn't. He couldn't discontinue where he'd been forced to fail the year before.

But what could he do with only so many hours to spare?

His luck had seemingly run out…

Slamming his fist against the ground, he ignored the strike of pain that coursed through his limb up and to his shoulder. It broke through the gravel and crushed the soil beneath. He couldn't stop shaking from his enervation. If anyone were to see him as he was, they'd only assume the child had been scared shitless by one of the many beasts roaming throughout the terrain. He couldn't let it come to that assumption, he had to remain strong both mentally and physically… else he would be dead. He didn't want to recall how it happened, how he'd ended up like this in only five hours. At first his success was inevitable, but now… Pasche's mind blanked, compelling a block in front of the memory to keep him from mentally breaking down. Damn, he looked so frightened that it was shameful. He hated that weak composure he held and the known fact he couldn't stop visibly shaking. He despised it all…

"Keep it together," his voice trembled in each syllable.

As his breath began to steady, he swallowed acutely to try and hydrate his throat. Whilst his attention focused on on that, the block holding his memory back wasn't strong enough, and eventually broke with ease. They came pouring back and spread like wildfire through his head, making his breath hitch in anxiety. Pasche clutched the sides of his head precipitously and curled up further against the tree, pressing himself as hard as he could to it. The fragments flashed in front of his eyes and he heaved with building panic in his system. As they settled into place, he bit his tongue to keep a shameful noise back.

"I'm really screwing myself over," Pasche chuckled with a quiver in his tone as the realization of his situation came to light. He'd thought the phases were in his favour until now, but that wasn't the case. For him to be so delusional, so obnoxious about his abilities in this phase was a foolish approach for the Hunter Exam. It wasn't a game he could take blithely just because he'd attempted the previous year and may have gained only a hint of experience. Closing his eyes, he snickered lightheartedly. He was so tired from running, and mistakenly allowed slumber to take over his wavering conscience. "Shit…" he managed to whisper under his dulling breath, senses diminishing and turning cold.

Everything became motionless; the wind, the continuous sounds of insects, the rustling of leaves. It was a world of darkness, where light's existence was only a legend.


Wind brushed through maroon hair, and beautiful sapphire settled on the clear sky above swaying green grass. It reached up to knees length, and tickled bare skin on contact, earning the attention of its owner. The air held a minor chill, but was overlooked when he noticed the familiar clothing he wore. Where he was, and why he was wearing it eluded his blank thoughts. His body was considerably different than its current state; smaller and plumper to reveal he was still growing from being a baby. The attire was worn years ago in memory, a bagging dull green sweater that covered over most the skin on his hands, dark shorts and simple brown shoes. The scene was one that he remembered as well when the imagery became focused A time when everything shone brightly in his innocent world, negated of any corruption. It was gorgeous like a sparkling jewel and he couldn't find himself looking away from its beauty.

In his younger years, the child was without the scar under his left eye, the bandages leading up his arms and the trademark earring he constantly wore. It was dear to him, a treasure passed down to him in death of another. Without it dangling there he felt naked; lonely.

"Pasche…"

The latter broadened his eyes when a charming tone hit his ears. It was unmistakably feminine, grown up and caring for his name. It couldn't be…

"Pasche, you'll be left behind."

Immediately Pasche turned to the basis of the voice… and stopped like a toy that ran out of batteries. He was completely frozen in place, his young face full of shaken expression; of mixed emotions that quite easily tore his facade. The person standing only metres from the youth was one he'd never expected to see again. It grounded his defences into nothing and he felt his legs give way to his shock. His body hit the soft grass and his mouth left hanging open, a shuddering breath being all that escaped his trembling form. For years he'd held back so many emotions all at once, but upon the image bestowed in that scene it all came tumbling back.

There in the open field spreading as far as the eye could see, a woman strode through the lush greenery. An indefinitely warm smile played on her lips, and her teal eyes trained on the boy emotionally broken by her appearance. Wavy, mid-length maroon hair followed in her stead, with a side fringe to hide only a portion of her right eye. An idle strand came down the side of her face that reached to her chest, and the same earring Pasche wore now belonged to her, however worn on both ears. Her lashes were long, gorgeous in length with flawless pale skin to highlight her features. The simplicity of the attire was much like Pasche's; a baby-pink short-sleeved shirt with a rounded collar, dark jeans running down to her ankles and a pair of ink-black strapped heels.

She was absolutely stunning to look at in the eyes of any man, but the child knew her for another title. One he dared to stutter from his quivering lips in a youth's call.

"Mother."

His recognition made her smile grow, "Pasche… do you remember our favourite saying?"

The child slowly nodded in response. Of course he remembered. It was his sole motivation to keep moving forward.

"Always do your best," his voice crackled in hesitance, "What you plant now, you will harvest later."

It was a common saying among farmers of NGL, one that Pasche and his family also used when times got rough for them during a difficult ingathering. Every world held truth to it, and for years the boy told himself this.

"That's right," his mother loitered in the same spot, as if she was frozen in place by an unknown force. The soft breeze blowing around them tussled her maroon hair and clothes, but she remained like a statue. Suddenly she stepped towards her son, eyes trained on his, calm and full of utter sincerity. "Don't give up, ok?" her voice cheered Pasche on, lacing with hope for his success in the future. Coming within a metre of him, she knelt down to his height, and softly wrapped her arms around his small body.

"I love you, my strong little boy."

Pasche slowly diverted his gaze to his mother, hands too startled to move and return to warm embrace. They shook by his side, and before he could move she pulled away. And like that, while his voice struggled to escape from his throat, she began to disperse and become one with the field around them.

"W-Wait… mother!" the child called.

His voice fell on deaf ears and he furrowed his brows in disbelief. A feeling of anguish took hold of him and he instantly began to scramble to his fading mother. "Wait, don't leave me again! Please!" No matter how far he reached, it was inevitable and he fell to the ground. Withers of lush grass brushed against his skin, and an indulgent hiccup escaped him as she disappeared. Tears streamed down that smooth complexion that was his own, blue orbs glazing in sadness and cheeks rosy red. Age was a mere falsity in his dream, and he forgot the future he currently resided in. The world was lonely, with him its only resident and endless thoughts to keep him preoccupied. Anger developed from that loneliness, and it bloomed into focused wrath. No matter the world, dream or reality; he was always horrifyingly alone.


Pasche's eyes snapped open and he jolted from where he lay, hysterically gasping for breath. His eyes were watering, threatening to slip down his face. His vision distorted into twirls of incoherence, and he felt like he was going to bring up his food. Something was wrong—it wasn't his dream that was found odd, but something in the air.

His eyes darted about, noticing now that the fog elevated during his sleep and was replaced by a somewhat purple mist. Purple mist…

Purple mist?

'Toxins!' The applicant instantly covered his mouth, eyes widening when he recognized what was around him. And he just took multiple breaths of that before he did!

'Shit! I need to get out of here, and quick!' Gathering the single strap bag, Pasche pushed himself off the ground and ran from where he was, keeping a bandaged hand desperately covering his mouth. How much did he take in? Was it poisonous; if so was it fast acting or slow? Would it kill him eventually, or did it act as a neutralizer? So many ideas raced through his mind. Although he'd only woken a few minutes ago he was wide awake, alert to the point his senses were high strung at the slightest of movements.

So far the mist didn't affect his nerves or other bodily functions, but he was skeptical. Quickly, he moved faster to escape the toxin filled area and get to a safer location. There he could examine himself to see if it perhaps changed or damaged the appeared of whatever breathed it in. That assumption was highly unlikely, but in this case anything went. It could even render him blind, or slowly dehydrate him until death. The fact he didn't know made him anxious. It would make anyone like that.

An unknown object got in the way of Pasche's path, and he mistakenly tripped over it. Tumbling to the ground, his hand accidentally broke away from his mouth leaving him exposed. A hiss left his lips and he noticed too late that he just wasted half of his remaining breath. Quickly he covered his mouth once again, muttering inaudibly about his mistake. When he looked behind to observe what he tripped over, the maroon haired child found it to be a leg. The leg of a man, more so, unconscious with said limb revealed out of the bush where the body was occupied. It was another applicant like him, but he didn't have time to spare right now, and resisted the urge to investigate.

'Damn, damn, damn! I hardly have any more breath.'

He thought loudly, toeless boots scrunching the leaves on the ground as he swiftly made his way in the forest to a clearer destination. The toxic mists began to lift from his sight, but it wasn't enough. Pasche felt his lungs burn for the need of oxygen, but he refused to give them that luxury at the cost it would kill him. Along the way, he noticed two other examinees on the ground, which raised his alertness on the situation.

Everything went downhill following the timeline he miraculously captured his target; the man-faced ape. With blood dripping from their hanging, and possibly broken jaw, Pasche took the opportunity to tie them up and restrict any form of movement. The idea was plausible because they weren't physically strong, but he hadn't expected what came after. What came from the fog was a creature that left him no choice but to retreat into the deeper part of the Numere Wetlands. His mentality screamed for him to run, but his capabilities led him to believe he could fight and win. No, that wasn't the case. He would have died by its claws for his recklessness. When he hesitated in battle, that's when his anxieties rose to the surface. What transpired afterwards was difficult to voice, for the reason he would have sounded like a coward who lost every fight in his life.

The magical beasts of the Swindler's Swamp ate his target in front of the boy and then charged after Pasche while he was left revolted by its actions. He narrowly missed being trapped by the creature and escaped, running for hours until the child's body couldn't hold out any longer. And now again, he was running for his life under new circumstances.

But it didn't last long.

Out of breath, Pasche couldn't hold the strain in his lungs. He gasped, panicking enough that he inhaled the mist in front of him and stumbled by mistake. No, it wasn't by mistake… he abruptly lost the feelings in his legs and could no longer stand. He rolled across the ground for a metre, but felt his body in the air suddenly, only to look down and find he fell off a cliff. As quickly as he could, Pasche flung his arm up and grabbed a tight hold of the edge, grunting when his body slammed into the rocks beneath the soil. Despite the pain he had more pressing matters to attend to. The boy felt his legs go numb while he ran, and only in that instant did he recognize what the mist's affects were.

It paralysed whoever breathed it in, while creatures gathered and ultimately preyed on their bodies.

The paralysis coursed through his body in erratic patterns, to his hips, face, and neck. Sapphire orbs gazed at the impending second those bandaged hands became numb and unable to move. And when they did, he inwardly yelled for his body to move as he so desired. To no avail did it listen, and his grip on the edge loosened.

That's when it happened; the second result of the toxins.

Suddenly he saw doubles of everything. They became incoherent to his vision, and Pasche attempted to shake his head and clear it. However the paralysis kept him still, with no control over his limbs. The hand gripping the cliff was becoming weak, and he knew if he fell now, he would die. He had to keep on moving though... he needed to pass this phase, to become a Hunter and then fulfill his goal.

Black dots gradually came into his vision, swarming from the corners and clouding what used to be a forest and obscure night sky. When darkness enveloped his senses, his vigorous eyes became blank, void of life. Anything that signified he had a soul of his own. Pasche's body slacked, and the hand holding onto his survival let go, plunging him into the depths of an endless abyss below. In that moment he lost consciousness, with the gales of wind lashing at his ears and curling around his form, he remembered one thing.

A voice.

The same voice that travelled through the maze, helping him reach the end. But it did not speak his name, nor did it help this time.

It merely hummed in the form of sweet entertainment.


Sorry for the delays.

My writing isn't all that good right now, and it's been causing a problem for my motivation as well. But I wonder how Pasche if going to survive...

Will he?

See you next chapter. ;)