Nathan focused on the road, hands clenched on the wheel, the van rumbling beneath them like a wild beast. Every bump, every jolt felt like the last.
In the back, Alice crouched lower and pulled the rear doors in—not fully shut, just slightly closer. She gripped the handle with one hand, her other still wrapped tightly around her machete.
"I'm not sure if this is strong enough to handle a hit from that thing..." she muttered, eyes locked behind them.
"Still—make sure to use it as your own defense, Alice," Harper said, doing the same, her knuckles pale.
They weren't going to let those doors be a weak spot—not if they could help it.
Harper glanced at Ivy, who was calmly clicking the final bullet into the Kar98k."Ivy, are you gonna use that gun now?"
Before Ivy could answer, Nathan—still locked in on the road—spoke up from the front."You sure you even know how to use it?"
Ivy didn't even blink.
"Yes. Now put your mind into driving."
That's when Nathan saw it.
Out through the windshield, towering against the black, shifting sky—
The Tree.
A monstrous landmark, just like Ivy had described on the map. But seeing it in person… it felt wrong. Alien.
"IVY!! LOOK HERE!!" Nathan yelled.
Ivy snapped to attention. She rushed to the front without a word—and then stopped cold.
Even she wasn't prepared for it.
The tree stretched upward—further than the clouds. Its bark was dark and rough, ribbed like overlapping scales. The trunk alone must have been wider than five cottages combined, and it split into endless twisting branches high above, forming a crooked crown in the sky.
Alice and Harper, still in the back, couldn't see it. All they could see was the monster in the distance—still closing in, still screaming—but smaller now, thanks to the ground they'd covered.
"What are you two looking at?!" Harper asked, frustrated.
Nathan couldn't take his eyes off the tree. "This thing... it's like a goddamn skyscraper made of bark."
Ivy swallowed, snapping herself back to focus. Her voice came out firm.
"Listen, Nathan."
"There's a cliff—probably 500 meters from here. You'll have to take a hard right turn right before it."
"A sharp one. If you miss it… we die."
She paused, locking eyes with him.
"But I trust you."
Nathan didn't respond. But his jaw tightened. He pressed harder on the pedal.
Ivy returned to the back with Alice and Harper, raising the rifle slightly, just in case. Her eyes darted to the monster again—farther now. Smaller. But still coming.
Still hunting.
Still alive.
Ivy rushed to the rear, rifle gripped tight, urgency pulsing in her veins.
Alice and Harper finally caught a glimpse of the towering tree ahead—its massive frame unmistakable against the black sky. The realization clicked immediately.
The landmark.
The signal.
Harper's breath hitched. She turned sharply to Ivy, her eyes wide, sweat trickling down her temple.
"HUH? There's a cliff ahead?!"
Her voice cracked slightly, edged with adrenaline and disbelief.
Alice, catching on just as fast, stepped closer.
"Wait—are you using the monster's speed to send it flying off the edge?!"
"Is that seriously the plan?"
Ivy didn't flinch. She nodded once.
"Yes. That's exactly the plan."
She raised the Kar98k, quickly checking the chamber again.
"If that fails—if it slows down or figures it out—we'll hold it off."
"This rifle should be enough to stagger it until we reach the exit."
"Where's the exit?" Alice asked, scanning the terrain.
Ivy's tone turned sharp and clear.
"South-east. Opposite side of the tree. Same ground we're on—right before the cliff starts to drop."
"We don't have to cross. We just have to survive long enough to reach it."
Harper blinked, processing. "And if the monster doesn't go off the cliff?"
Ivy met her eyes. "Then we make sure it doesn't follow us far enough to matter."
The van roared forward.
The crashing behind them—closer.
The sky—darker.
The tree—now looming just a few hundred meters ahead.
Nathan gripped the wheel, every muscle in his arms shaking slightly, awaiting Ivy's signal.
They were closing in.
The pounding. The crashing. The sick rhythm of the creature's charge filled the van like a death drum.
Behind them, its body carved through the trees, pulverized the road, and screamed with a rage that felt ancient.
Alice, Harper, and Ivy stared through the rear—numb with tension, watching that thing inch closer with every blink. Its peacock-like array of tentacles flared outward now, shadowing its bulbous body and twitching with anticipation.
Then—
"GUYS!!"
Nathan's voice rang from the driver's seat, loud and clipped with panic.
"I CAN SEE THE CLIFF!"
Suddenly, the van shook violently—jolting to the side as Nathan eased off the gas.
The engine growled, tires screeched faintly, and Harper fell flat with a yelp.
"AH—shit!" she hissed, hitting the floor hard. Alice grabbed the metal rail, wobbling. Ivy slammed into the wall, barely keeping the map from tearing.
The van hadn't stopped. But Nathan had no choice but to slow it—just enough to make the upcoming sharp right turn.
The cliff was too close. The van was too heavy.
Ivy's eyes darted to the tree now looming beside them, the massive trunk blurring past.
That's when it happened.
A pulse of realization.
A sound—not from the van. Not from Nathan. Not from them.
A shift in the rhythm of destruction behind them.
No crash. No break. No tailspin.
Just… silence.
Ivy turned, peered out.
And her blood froze.
The monster had stopped running straight.
It was turning.
It figured it out.
Instead of charging mindlessly ahead, it had started to pivot, using its tentacles to curve its path—following the same trajectory as them. Avoiding the cliff entirely.
"No…" Ivy muttered, her voice dropping.
"No, no, no—dammit!"
"IT'S CHANGING DIRECTION?" Harper yelled from below, pushing herself back up.
"YES!" Ivy snapped. "It figured out what we were trying to do—it's going to TURN with us!"
Nathan glanced at the rearview, jaw tightening.
"What now?! You said the cliff was our play!"
Ivy's breath caught. The calculations—all wrong. Her strategy had been built on the assumption of mindless rage, brute force.
She hadn't accounted for this.
She froze mid-sentence.
Her eyes widened, voice cracking into something raw, fragile.
"Nathan... just—just RUSH!
"Step on it, now! GO!"
There was no plan anymore.
Just distance. Just escape.
Nathan didn't question it. The moment her voice broke like that, he understood.
"Hang on!" he barked, knuckles white around the steering wheel.
He slammed his foot down, and the van roared as it jolted forward—tires grinding against the worn, cracking asphalt.
They were right at the edge of the cliff now—a narrow bend where one wrong movement would send the whole van spiraling into oblivion. Dust and pebbles shot from under the tires, scattering into the air. Below them? An endless drop. Jagged rocks and shadows.
The right side of the van was inches from the cliff's lip.
Alice and Harper grabbed the interior rails, bracing themselves.
But Ivy wasn't looking at the cliff.
She was looking at the monster.
It wasn't behind them anymore—not entirely. It had shifted, repositioning, sliding closer along the side of the cliff trail. Long, muscular tentacles lashed out and slammed into the ground—beside them. Keeping pace. It wasn't just chasing now.
It was pressuring.
Trying to box them in.
Trying to slam into them from the left and force them off the road.
Alice saw it first—her voice sharp and panicked.
"IT'S ON OUR SIDE! IVY, IT'S MOVING—IT'S—!"
A thunderous CRACK rang out as one of the creature's tentacles slammed down into the dirt just a few meters from the van's left rear tire. Dust exploded upward.
"MOVE, MOVE!!" Harper screamed.
Nathan gritted his teeth, turning the wheel slightly, but not too much—he couldn't oversteer. One sharp move and they'd be flying.
The van rattled, suspension shrieking from the uneven cliffside road. Ivy stumbled as the rear swayed, catching herself against the door frame.
She glanced to the side—and saw it again.
The monster was keeping pace. Its tentacles weren't dragging anymore; they were striking, probing, testing the van's position. It was adapting with terrifying intelligence—like it knew they were one misstep away from death.
And it wanted to help.
It wanted to tip them over the edge.
"It's trying to ram us—!" Ivy shouted, now fully leaning out of the rear.
The wind whipped against her face, stinging her eyes. But she lifted the rifle anyway, raising it to her shoulder, hands trembling. She saw the monster's writhing bulk, still slightly behind, but curving inward—tracking, not just following.
She took aim—quick. No time to think.
BANG!
The first shot rang out. It clipped the edge of one of the monster's tentacles, forcing it to recoil with a shriek. But another came from a different angle.
BANG!BANG!
She fired two more, not even sure if she hit anything vital. It wasn't about killing—it was about stalling. About buying seconds.
The van jerked again as Nathan sped forward, the tires squealing against loose rock.
"How far?!" he shouted.
"I DON'T KNOW!" Ivy yelled back. "Just keep going—keep hugging the cliff until I say!"
Another slam.
This time, the entire left side of the van shook violently as a tentacle smashed down beside them, carving a crater into the cliff's edge.
Harper and Alice both screamed, clutching anything they could grab as the van swerved again, almost tipping—
But Nathan held it.
The engine growled.
The speed increased.
And still the monster kept pressing.
Still closing in.
And now, the cliffside stretch was narrowing.
Soon there'd be no room to dodge.
Ivy chambered another round.
The hunt was no longer about running.
It was about surviving under pressure.
And praying the exit came before the fall.
Ivy braced herself against the swaying van, shoulders tense, heart racing.
The monster wasn't letting up.
Tentacles kept slamming down, shockwaves rumbling through the tires. The van rocked dangerously at every strike. It was only a matter of time before one of those hits connected hard enough to end it.
She gritted her teeth, aimed again.
The rifle was shaking in her hands now, her shoulder sore from the recoil, her body numb from the weight of fear. But she had to keep shooting.
She had to buy them time.
BANG!
Another shot cracked out. Missed—just grazed the fleshy bulk of a tentacle. No reaction.
BANG!
Second shot—closer. It caught something just below the spherical body, but the creature didn't even flinch.
"Come on, COME ON—!" Ivy muttered, pulling the bolt back again.
She narrowed her eyes, shifting slightly to the side to get a better angle. And that's when she saw it—the center. That sick, round mass of flesh, swollen and twitching... and scattered across its surface—the eyes.
Human-shaped eyes. Wide. Unblinking. Twitching with every movement.
Ivy gasped sharply.
"That's it..."
She held her breath, steadied her arms, lined up the sights—
BANG!
This one landed.
The shot drilled straight into one of those eyes.
The creature screamed—a deep, gurgling, otherworldly wail that echoed through the cliffs and rattled the van's frame.
"YOU HIT IT!" Alice yelled over the howl, watching the monster twitch and recoil.
The entire mass of it staggered backward. Tentacles lashed wildly, not at them—but into the cliff wall. It was blinded, disoriented, hurt. Slowing down rapidly, its movement chaotic.
Nathan didn't waste a second.
"HOLD ON!" he shouted, yanking the wheel to the left.
The van screeched as it veered away from the cliff's edge, shifting onto a wider, safer stretch of the road.
Dust burst from under the tires as they finally gained some breathing room. The view beside them shifted from endless void to thick tree lines, scattered fences, old street lamps. Still eerie. Still surreal.
But no longer suicidal.
Harper let out a long, shaking exhale as she slumped to the floor of the van.
"Jesus Christ..."
Alice leaned her head back against the doorframe, letting out a dry, broken laugh. "She actually hit it..."
Ivy didn't speak. She just stared down the sights a second longer, making sure the monster wasn't gaining again.
It wasn't.
The thing was still in the distance—slowing, seething, recovering from the shot.She'd bought them time.
Finally, she lowered the rifle.
Nathan drove now with steadier hands. Still fast, but controlled. The van hummed as it sped along the smoother road, the tires no longer slipping at every bump.
Time passed.
They didn't speak for a while. Just the sound of wind, engine, and their collective heartbeat filling the air.
Minutes felt like hours.
But finally—after nearly ten minutes of tense, blessed driving—
They saw it.
A tall iron archway rising from the mist. A crooked metal gate, glowing faintly blue. Symbols pulsed along its frame, almost humming.
"The exit..." Ivy whispered.
Nathan's eyes widened.
"That's it?"
Alice and Harper both leaned forward, heads poking out as they stared, blinking in disbelief.
"We're actually—"
Harper didn't finish her sentence.
Because none of them were ready to believe it just yet.
But there it was.
Right in front of them.
The way out.
The van screeched to a halt just before the gate.
Silence poured in like cold water. The engine hissed, then died with a final stuttering groan. Smoke trickled faintly from beneath the hood. They had made it.
Nathan slumped forward in his seat, his forehead nearly hitting the wheel. His hands trembled violently, stiff with tension. It took real effort to pry them off the steering wheel. He winced as his fingers cracked—frozen into position from the sheer pressure he'd kept on them.
"God..." he muttered, rubbing his palms together. "My legs are cramping up."
He opened the door slowly, one foot stumbling out. His right leg twitched violently the moment he tried to move—his calf locking up from the nonstop pressure he'd put on the pedal.
Behind him, Harper let out a long breath, her head tilted back against the van wall.
"We're alive..." she whispered, almost like she didn't believe it.
The others exited too. Ivy stepped out, rifle still slung in her hand, her face blank with exhaustion. Alice followed, her expression forcedly bright.
They stepped onto the dirt road—an eerie stretch of forest road with barely any trees. Just dry earth, cracked asphalt, and a cold, gray sky above. The kind of place that looked unfinished. Empty. Out of place.
And then, in front of them—the exit.
A massive iron gate, glowing faintly blue. It was surrounded by stone pillars and embedded deep in the dirt, like it had always been there… and yet clearly didn't belong. It looked ancient. Unmoving. Silent.
And it was chained shut.
Thick iron chains ran across the gate, some wound around the pillars, others looped through large locks that glowed faintly with some kind of power.
Nathan stared at it, blinking.
Then, without a word, he turned and grabbed the chain cutter from the back of the van.
"So this is why they gave us this damn thing," he muttered, walking to the gate.
He began to cut through the chains—clink, snap, clink—each link giving way with a hard crack of effort. The tool strained in his hand, his muscles burning. Sweat dripped down his temple. Alice and Harper watched silently.
"Seriously though," Alice said, trying to inject some humor, "that shot? Ivy, you destroyed that thing's eye. You bought us the time we needed."
Harper nodded, still catching her breath. "Dead center. Not even joking—I think I stopped breathing when you fired."
Ivy gave a faint nod. Her lips curved upward, but it wasn't a smile. Her eyes were distant, haunted.
She hadn't let go of the rifle.
"Lucky," she said softly. "I was just lucky."
"No," Nathan added through gritted teeth, snapping the final chain, "You were good."
With a final clang, the last lock hit the dirt. The chains slipped loose and dropped away. The iron gate rumbled, glowing brighter for a second, and then slowly creaked open.
But what waited beyond wasn't just light.
Embedded into the ground just behind the gate were four metallic bands—each about the size of a wrist, laid out perfectly in a semicircle.
Ivy stepped forward immediately, her eyes narrowing.
"Bands of Conjunction," she muttered.
The others moved closer.
They all recognized them instantly.
They'd seen them before—in the Tower. When they first entered this cursed dimension, there had been rules carved into the walls, engraved with symbols and warnings.
One rule had explained this exactly:
"Those who enter a phase through this tower's teleportation system shall be granted a Band of Conjunction. This artifact serves a singular purpose—to ensure you and your chosen partners remain together. Upon receiving the band, a drop of your blood must be placed upon it. This act will forge a connection, binding you and those who share their blood upon the same band. As long as you wear it, you will never be separated. No matter how many transitions occur—you will remain in the same phase as those bound to you."
Nathan exhaled slowly, staring down at the bands.
"So… this is it."
"If we do this," Harper said, "we're stuck together from here on out."
Alice raised an eyebrow. "Is that really so bad?"
No one answered.
They were all exhausted. Wrecked. Ivy's hands still shook. Nathan's body still ached. Harper's chest rose and fell in ragged breaths. Even Alice's smile faded the longer she stared at the glowing rings.
Ivy stepped forward.
She pulled her knife from her belt and sliced her palm lightly. Blood welled up and dripped onto the first band.
It glowed.
"One."
Nathan followed.
Then Harper.
Then Alice.
Each drop of blood lit the bands one by one—binding them, linking them. No longer separate survivors in random hellscapes.
Now, they were a team—locked in for the next phase, whatever it may be.
The portal in the gate shimmered to life.
And without another word…
They stepped through.