The grey light filtering through the dense canopy of the Valgothian Deepwood began to bleed into shades of bruised violet and faded orange. Dusk was not so much falling as it was seeping up from the forest floor, thickening the shadows beneath the ancient trees, blurring the edges of the world. The air grew cooler, carrying the damp scent of moss and imminent night. Strange, nocturnal sounds began to replace the daytime chorus – clicks and whistles from unseen insects, the distant, mournful hoot of some predatory bird, and unsettling rustles in the undergrowth that seemed to follow them just beyond the reach of their vision.
Gregor felt the change deep in his bones. Night in any forest was dangerous; night in the Valgothian Deepwood, bordering the accursed Tenebris Labyrinth, was a different beast entirely. His senses strained, peering into the deepening gloom, his hand never straying far from the hilt of his sword. Exhaustion pulled at him, a heavy cloak threatening to dull his reactions, but the primal fear of the encroaching darkness kept his adrenaline simmering.
Lyra and Renn huddled closer together, their brief respite at the spring forgotten. Every snap of a twig, every shifting shadow seemed to hold a potential threat. Lyra found herself unconsciously mimicking Renn's earlier habit, her hand often straying to the fabric of Saitama's cape, a bizarrely comforting anchor in the rising tide of anxiety. Renn, meanwhile, kept glancing back the way they'd come, as if expecting the horrors of the Labyrinth to crawl out of the fading light and reclaim them.
Only Saitama seemed unaffected by the transition. He continued his steady pace, though his earlier humming had ceased, replaced by an occasional sigh that sounded suspiciously like boredom.
"Man, it's getting dark," he observed, stating the obvious. He squinted at a cluster of fireflies blinking erratically in a nearby thicket. "Hey, look! Lights! Maybe that's the town? Or like, a motel?" He took a step towards them before Gregor quickly intercepted him.
"No, Saitama, those are just bugs," Gregor explained tiredly. "Glowworms. They don't sell food."
"Oh." Saitama's momentary flicker of interest died. "Bugs. Bummer." He looked around at the darkening forest. "This place really needs better street lighting. And maybe some signage. How's anyone supposed to find their way around?"
"Most people try to avoid finding their way around the Valgothian Deepwood, Saitama," Lyra said softly, her voice tight. "Especially after dark."
As if to punctuate her words, a new quality entered the silence. The background noises of the forest – the insect clicks, the rustling – seemed to abruptly cease. A heavy stillness descended, unnaturally profound. The shadows beneath the trees seemed to deepen further, pooling like ink, and within those pools, something began to stir. Not solid creatures, but patches of darkness detaching themselves from the ambient gloom, coalescing into wavering, vaguely humanoid shapes. They had no discernible features, just shifting silhouettes against the slightly less absolute darkness, their forms seeming to absorb the faint remaining light. Two, three, then five… six of them. They drifted forward silently, converging on the group from multiple directions.
"Shadow Stalkers," Gregor hissed, recognizing the menace instantly from old tales and warnings whispered by Labyrinth survivors. Creatures born of pure shadow, legend claimed, drawn to fear and despair, capable of draining life force with their chilling touch. He shoved Lyra and Renn behind him, raising his sword, its faint metallic gleam a pathetic defense against incorporeal horrors. "Stay back! Don't let them touch you!"
The Stalkers flowed forward, their movements silent and unnerving, like oil spilled across water. They ignored Gregor's defiant stance, their featureless forms drifting towards the more palpable fear emanating from Lyra and Renn. One reached out a tendril of pure darkness towards Lyra.
Gregor lunged, swinging his sword through the shadowy appendage. The blade passed through with almost no resistance, yet the tendril recoiled slightly, disrupted momentarily by the passage of mundane matter and the faint warding runes sometimes imbued in sword steel. But another Stalker flowed past him, its form flickering, almost phasing, as it reached for Renn.
Renn cried out, stumbling backward, tripping over a root. He fell hard, scrambling away as the shadow loomed over him.
Saitama, who had been watching the shadows emerge with a slight frown, tilted his head. "Huh. More monsters? These ones are kinda… flat. Hard to see." He took a step towards the Stalker menacing Renn. "Hey! Leave him alone! Picking on the guy who fell down? Not cool."
The Shadow Stalker paused, its form wavering as it seemed to register Saitama's presence – not as a threat, perhaps, but as an unexpected variable. Its attention shifted towards the bald man radiating an utter lack of fear, a stark contrast to the delicious terror nearby. It flowed towards Saitama instead, its shadowy tendrils extending.
"You guys are really bad at introductions," Saitama commented as the shadow creature reached for him. He squinted, trying to get a better look at its indistinct form in the gloom. "Hard to punch something you can't really see properly…"
He paused, tapping his chin. "Need more light."
Then, instead of punching the Stalker, Saitama stomped his foot. One simple, downward stomp onto the mossy forest floor.
It wasn't a magical blast. It wasn't a summoned radiance. It was pure, unadulterated kinetic energy transfer on a localized, ludicrous scale.
FWOOM!
The impact wasn't loud, more of a deep, subterranean thump. But the effect was instantaneous. The ground beneath Saitama's boot didn't just shake; it momentarily compressed and then violently rebounded. A shockwave of pure force radiated outwards through the earth, pulverizing soil and small stones into dust. Simultaneously, the sheer friction and pressure generated by the impact ignited the very air and earth at the point of contact, creating an intense, blinding flash of white light that erupted from the ground like a miniature sun.
For a fraction of a second, the entire section of the Deepwood was illuminated with brilliance brighter than noon, erasing every shadow, revealing every detail of leaf, bark, and terrified face in stark, absolute clarity.
Caught in this unexpected, overwhelming flood of pure light and raw physical force, the Shadow Stalkers reacted instantaneously. Light was their antithesis, raw force their undoing. Their shadowy forms seemed to boil, to fray at the edges like burning cloth. They emitted silent, psychic screams of agony, their insubstantial bodies ripped apart not by heat, but by the sheer disruptive power of the flash and the ground shockwave.
Before the flash even faded, before the afterimage burned itself onto the retinas of Gregor, Lyra, and Renn, the Shadow Stalkers were gone. Not fled. Not dispersed. Simply… obliterated. Annihilated by an impromptu, ground-zero flashbang created by a man who just wanted a better look at them.
The light vanished as quickly as it appeared, plunging the forest back into an even deeper gloom, the eyes of the three escapees completely dazzled, spots dancing before them. The only evidence of what had just occurred was the lingering smell of ozone, a shallow, perfectly circular depression in the forest floor where Saitama had stomped, radiating faint heat, and the utter, profound silence of completely vanquished shadow monsters.
Saitama blinked, rubbing his eyes. "Whoa. Okay, maybe a bit too bright. Made my eyes water." He looked around at the empty forest, the Stalkers completely gone. "See? Told you I needed more light to see 'em. Guess they didn't like the flash. Kinda sensitive, huh?"
Gregor slowly lowered his sword, his arms trembling. He stared at the depression in the ground, then at Saitama, who was now peering at his boot as if checking for scorch marks. Lyra clung to Renn, both breathing heavily, trying to blink away the blinding afterimages. The swiftness, the sheer unexpectedness of the solution, the raw power casually deployed for mere illumination… it defied all reason.
"You… you stomped," Renn finally managed, his voice hoarse. "You stomped, and they… vanished."
"Pretty much," Saitama confirmed, apparently satisfied with his boot's condition. "Handy trick. Though it kicks up a lot of dust." He looked around again. "Well, that was weird. Anyway, it's properly dark now. Should we find somewhere to camp? Or keep walking? Walking sounds boring. Camping might have s'mores. Do you guys have s'mores?"
Gregor stared into the darkness where the Stalkers had been, then back at Saitama, who was now earnestly inquiring about marshmallow-and-chocolate treats. Camping. He wanted to camp. Here. In the Valgothian Deepwood, after being attacked by shadow creatures that were just annihilated by a foot-stomp. Gregor felt a hysterical giggle bubble up, which he quickly suppressed.
"I… I don't think camping is wise, Saitama," Gregor said, trying to keep his voice steady. "We should keep moving. Put distance between us and… whatever else is out here."
"Aw," Saitama sounded genuinely disappointed. "No s'mores then. Fine. More walking." He sighed dramatically and started trudging southeast again, into the now almost total darkness.
Gregor exchanged a look with Lyra and Renn. They were exhausted, terrified, and lost. But they were alive, thanks to the baffling bald man currently complaining about the lack of snacks. With a deep breath, Gregor forced his aching muscles to obey and followed, Lyra and Renn close behind, plunging deeper into the perilous night.
A mile behind, Kristoph's team arrived at the scene near the spring just as the last vestiges of the Whisperwillow's ethereal energy signature dissipated completely. Elara frowned, analyzing the lingering faint disturbance.
"Something was here, Commander," she reported. "Ethereal. Powerful. It utilized some form of rapid bio-crystallization." She indicated the small, frozen frogs, now barely visible in the twilight. "Those poor creatures…" She then scanned the area where Saitama had confronted it. "The entity is gone now. Completely. But there was a massive surge of… kinetic force? Directed upwards. And a strange disruption pattern, almost like… torn ether?"
Kristoph examined the scene, noting the clear signs of Saitama's group pausing at the spring. "He encountered another hostile entity. And dealt with it." He looked up at the ragged hole torn through the canopy far above. "Dealt with it forcefully."
Zenon, scouting ahead, signaled back. "Track continues, Commander. Unchanged. He barely broke stride after whatever happened here." He paused, sniffing the air as they moved on. "Night falls fast. Tracking will become significantly more difficult."
They pressed on, the forest growing darker with each step. The faint sounds Saitama's group made were long gone, swallowed by the distance and the encroaching night. Elara had to use more potent, albeit still subtle, light spells to allow Zenon to follow the trail.
Suddenly, a faint tremor ran through the ground beneath their feet, accompanied by a deep thump echoing from somewhere ahead. Moments later, a brief, impossibly bright flash illuminated the entire forest from the direction they were heading, stark white against the deep gloom, before vanishing instantly.
The three knights froze, instantly on guard, weapons ready.
"What was that?!" Kristoph demanded, peering into the darkness.
Elara's eyes were wide, her staff humming as she analyzed the surge. "A massive energy release, Commander! Not magical in origin… pure physical force! Localized ground impact, generating intense light and heat through friction and compression! The signature… it matches the Tempest!"
Zenon sniffed the air. "Ozone. Strong. And… dissipated shadow magic? A lot of it, instantly neutralized."
Kristoph lowered his sword slightly, connecting the pieces. The flash. The ground impact. The neutralized shadow magic. Saitama. "He encountered something else. Shadow creatures, perhaps? And dealt with them… by stomping?" The absurdity was becoming almost predictable.
"The sheer power output required for such an effect…" Elara whispered, sounding awed and terrified. "It's astronomical. To generate light that bright, force that strong, from a simple physical impact…"
"He is a walking contradiction," Kristoph stated grimly. "A being of unimaginable power acting with baffling simplicity." He pushed forward again. "Move. Whatever he fought, he won. We need to see the aftermath."
They arrived minutes later at the site of the obliterated Shadow Stalkers. The circular depression in the ground still radiated a faint warmth. The smell of ozone was thick. Elara confirmed the complete annihilation of multiple shadow entities. There was no struggle, no prolonged battle. Just presence, stomp, absence.
Zenon examined the tracks leading away. "They continue southeast. No hesitation after the… event."
Kristoph stared into the deep darkness that had now fully consumed the forest. Tracking Saitama was like tracking a hurricane by observing the bewildered debris left in its wake. Night had fallen, the forest was alive with unseen dangers, and their quarry was casually rewriting the laws of physics with every step, completely unaware, simply wanting a snack.
"Stay alert," Kristoph ordered, his voice tight. "Night has fallen. And we are still far behind."