Tobi awoke, disoriented and confused. His entire body screamed in agony, but he simply stood, tentatively readjusting his mask as he stretched; each movement was excruciating. Still, that didn't matter.
Where am I?
He looked around. Still in the dark expanse of the maze. But… they had been running before. What had happened?
A grunt caught his attention. He turned toward the sound and saw Amias slumped against the moose, which glowed faintly, even in the darkness, casting a soft blue light that hummed as the moose gazed at him with those eyes, which held knowledge far beyond even the hunter's own.
The boy's eyes shone a deathly grey.He didn't breathe. No heartbeat. No blinking.He was no better than a corpse.
But Tobi knew he was alive.
Even as his own body screamed with hunger and thirst, he got up, glancing at the boy. Why him, of all people? Why was he unconscious or in a state of... something? Tobi couldn't remember what had happened, but something had changed. The boy was stronger than before. Much stronger. Compared to the day prior, the difference was vast. He looked like a statue of a god, taller and more muscular, his glowing eyes radiating something unnatural.
Amias... what happened to you?
The thought came and went, brief but curious, as he observed the impossible growth. It didn't make sense, not in just one day if it had only been one day. How long had it been?
Still, he shrugged it off as his body gnawed at itself from within.
He was exhausted. He needed nutrition.
Tobi gave the moose a simple nod before descending into the dark cavity of the maze, his hand burning with fire to light his way. He hadn't eaten or drunk anything in what felt like forever. He walked slowly, head swaying, dizziness pulling at his balance as he moved. His eyes scanned the empty spaces for any sign of sustenance.
Eventually, he stumbled across a puddle of dark water. He collapsed beside it, his body barely able to move. Pressing his burning hand into the liquid, he boiled it until steam rose. Then he drank despite the pain. It burned terribly down his throat, but he drank anyway. He had to. He needed to live. To walk again.
Besides, flames no longer hurt him.
He would survive, even if the pain didn't go away.
The water tasted like water should, though it had a strange, thick texture, like porridge rather than liquid. Still, it sustained him.
After a few moments, he rose again even as the pain persisted.
Now he needed actual food. That was the tricky part.
He searched for hours, desperate to find anything, any form of nourishment. Time stretched endlessly in this dark, desolate place, which now felt devoid of life. Once, it had seemed to brim with colossals that littered the maze. But now?
Nothing.
Not even the stupid angler was in sight.
His mind was a haze, obscured as if he were in fog.
He couldn't even think clearly anymore. His stomach ached and rumbled terribly, the pain spiking like a knife lodged deep inside, twisting further as he stood once more. Even the sea above him seemed empty, devoid of life, as if taunting him that there was no solution to his starving stomach. The agony grew unbearable, yet he kept walking. Pain was something he had long forgotten, but even he knew he was reaching the point of no return. Death loomed just over his shoulder.
If Death were to die to death, how pathetic would that be?
If this lasted any longer, he would starve. But he refused. He looked at his unburnt arm, and a manic grin formed behind his smiling mask as a wicked idea bloomed in his head.
He returned now with one arm less, replaced with a stump, which should have bled but was now ashen black and cauterized. As he walked back, now sane once more, he heard screaming and immediately broke into a run.
He came upon Amias.
The boy was crying, gritting his teeth, and holding himself as if trying to stay grounded. There was no enemy; the only threat to him was himself. Amias screamed in terror, raw and absolute dread. His body had adapted to trauma, but not to pain. He was still just a boy.
Now the hunter understood. Why Amias had been unconscious. Whatever had happened while Tobi was gone… the trauma had been so great it forced the boy into this state of dissociative rest. His body didn't need rest, but his consciousness did.
The moose, glowing softly beneath him, looked on with worry.
Tobi did too.
The hunter wanted to comfort the boy, but he, of all people, wasn't exactly an expert at confronting himself, let alone others. He looked at Amias. He wanted to offer something. Anything.
So, slowly, he reached out and rested a hand on the boy's shoulder.
Amias still cried, still shook, still trembled but the hunter kept his hand there, hoping, maybe, it helped. Even just a little.
He looked at the boy. All he could offer was to be there to listen, once he had woken up.
Tobi, of all people, wasn't good at affection in the traditional sense. But he would try.
Until then, he'd stay here. Maybe set up a fire to warm the cold cavern. Maybe go hunting. So he wouldn't have to resort to other measures in hope of finding sustenance.