Gunmage-Chapter 22: Fractured banquet

The walk was filled with tense silence. The sergeant couldn't walk on her own, so Ozan was forced to carry her. He did so reluctantly, disturbed by her current appearance.

We're all gonna die.

Nobody spoke, but the thought weighed heavily on all of them.

The path beneath their feet had appeared without them noticing.

The forest felt wrong. No leaves rustled as they passed, no twigs cracked underfoot. The air was thick, oppressive.

They had felt distant gazes upon entering, the weight of unseen entities lingering just long enough to send shivers down their spines—only to vanish as quickly as they had come.

A silence heavier than death pressed down on them.

Bioluminescent plants dimmed their unnatural glow. Tiny creatures, once scuttling through the undergrowth, now lay frozen in place.

Flowers—alien, intricate, with patterns none had ever seen—stood eerily still. It was as if the entire forest had held its breath, unwilling to provoke the host of people that had invaded its soil.

Then, at precisely 721 meters, the dense foliage parted to reveal a clearing. Tree stumps, arranged like crude stools and tables, bore intricate bowls woven from leaves—each filled with fruit that glowed with an otherworldly light.

They stared at the scene in astonishment.

The group hesitated, eyes darting around for a sign of a trap, but Lugh paid them no heed and immediately sat at a table, picking up a piece of fruit and chewing on it mechanically.

Lyra stirred in Ozan's arms and gestured to be put down. She stumbled forward, dropping onto a tree stump, her breath unsteady. Even so, her sharp eyes flicked across the clearing, assessing.

The fruit before her was larger, brighter than those she had scavenged on the outskirts. She took a test bite. Then another. Delicate juices spilled onto her lips, and for the first time since they had met her, an expression of relief crossed her face.

The four remaining men exchanged wary glances.

Ozan, muscles tensed, Aldric's lips pressed into a thin line. Dain, deep in thought, let his fingers twitch at his side. Emil—nervously—watched Lugh without blinking.

One, with feet-long nails and large, bushy, impossibly long hair, looked like a monster but acted human.

The other looked human but acted like... something else.

Then someone noticed.

Lyra—pale, feverish, on the brink of collapse just moments ago—was recovering. The sickly pallor faded and strength returned to her limbs. She no longer slumped over the table but sat upright, shoulders squared, fingers twitching as she tested her range of motion.

Those fruits

First Lieutenant Dain recalled a fairy tale, and he was the first to move forward. His hands reached for a leafy bowl—

"Didn't you say you weren't hungry?"

Lugh's voice was calm, but it sent a ripple through the group. He hadn't lifted his head once. Hadn't even looked at them.

Yet he knew.

Dain hesitated thinking up stories to tell, but his gut twisting in warning. Lying didn't really feel like an option.

"I'm not hungry"

He admitted.

"But I still want to eat."

"You're not hungry, but you still want to eat"

Lugh repeated the words under his breath, as if tasting them for meaning.

Then—

"Okay. You can eat."

Dain didn't need to be told twice. He grabbed a fruit and bit down.

The change was instantaneous. Strength flooded his limbs, pain draining from his body. His broken nose reset with an almost imperceptible shift. Wounds stitched themselves together, leaving nothing but clean, unblemished skin.

The others saw. And they moved.

Aldric was next, reaching forward with a shaking hand.

"I thought you said you weren't hungry"

Lugh asked again, his voice cool.

"Oh no, I was actually hungry"

Aldric blurted.

"I was just... scared."

Silence.

Heavy silence.

Lugh's posture changed. Slowly, he lifted his head, and for the first time, Aldric felt that gaze pin him in place.

"Scared?"

Lugh repeated. His voice was still neutral. Still light.

But it sent a chill down Aldric's spine.

"Scared of what? Why would you be scared?"

'Rest in peace'

The others thought in unison.

Dain stiffened. Emil inhaled sharply. Ozan took a half-step away, just in case. Lyra exhaled through her nose, muttering under her breath.

Aldric's throat went dry. Think. Think. THINK.

"When I first arrived,"

He rushed to say,

"There was another man with me. He ignored my warnings and walked into the forest alone. He never came back."

The words were true. But they weren't the whole truth.

Lugh stared for a second longer, then—

"Ah. I see."

He responded dryly before turning back to his food.

Aldric exhaled in relief. That was close.

The others had distanced themselves from him. Subtly. Instinctively. As if his stupidity might be contagious.

He offered a sheepish grin and snatched up a fruit.

Thus, a strange scene played out.

Six people were seated in eerie silence in the heart of an alien forest. Eating glowing fruit under the watch of unseen eyes.

Lyra, already finished, absentmindedly examined her hands. Her annoyingly long nails were becoming a hindrance. She used a dagger to trim them with quiet efficiency.

The Sergeant worked methodically, barely sparing the others a glance. The 4 men also ate quickly, as if compelled.

Lugh, however, was slow and deliberate. He chewed leisurely, savoring the taste, seemingly oblivious to the tension suffocating the clearing.

The group waited for him to finish. They had to. No one dared to speak. Even the sound of their breathing seemed a little too loud.

Then, finally, he stood.

Without a word, he walked to the edge of the clearing and raised a hand.

The world shuddered.

The vibrations rose in frequency, rippling outward like the surface of disturbed water. The pressure built. It was wrong, unnatural, crushing. Space itself seemed to protest.

SNAP.

A fracture appeared.

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A crack hung in the air, like glass, delicate and jagged, it left the 5 behind doubting their eyes.

More formed, webbing upwards and forward, splitting reality apart thread by thread, until—

CRACK!

Space shattered, and only a lightless doorway, a wound in existence itself, was left in its wake.

"Strength is insufficient to seize victory—"

The words vibrated in the air, shifting, warping, Lugh's voice morphed into something inhuman.

"Prove thyself... or be devoured."

After that—

Lugh collapsed.