#23. DXCVI (1)
Having left headquarters in Suyeon's hands, I faced the ancient poplar cluster in Utah once more on April 2nd. It had been a year and three months since my last encounter with the Trembling Giant, and in that time, it had expanded its territory to nearly 2,700 acres. Compared to my first glimpse, it had swollen more than twenty-fivefold. The fog-shrouded perimeter evoked a landscape from another world entirely. Visibility was less than ten meters even on a clear day, choked by massive clumps of white pollen drifting like snowflakes. More precisely, they were seed fluff carrying the giant's progeny, but visually, they resembled pollen. Whenever wind stirred from the forest, these damp clusters surged in towering waves, rippling like dozens of layered curtains.
Reproduction was life's primal directive.
"Burn humanity's enemy!" Burn it, burn it! Faint chants from protesters drifted from the direction of the military base. Even at this distance, amplified speakers carried the echoes. While some rallied for a holy war to decide humanity's fate, others knelt before the Trembling Giant in prayer. Researchers, environmentalists, ragged hippies, pseudoscientific cults bordering on the occult, tourists, Chinese Taoists who crossed the Pacific to gather "nature's qi," dark-skinned shamans with jaundiced eyes, government-contracted Awakened ability users—hunters and pathfinders—all mingled here. The boundary zone had devolved into a chaotic bazaar of every manner of fool, far more crowded than two years prior. No special measures were needed; the surveillance overload from my rivals alone made it a perfect cover.
"Hello there. Are you a pilgrim of the forest too?"
A man I encountered on the path to the woods greeted me with a smile. He was with a boy who looked like his son—the resemblance was unmistakable. The kid seemed mid-teens. I opted for a neutral response.
"Eh, just here to sightsee."
With so many humans prowling the area, any footpath to the forest guaranteed chance encounters like this. At least this route had fewer people, and they'd shown up.
"I see. First time here?"
He should've just said "Have a good day" and passed by, but since we were headed the same way, he seemed eager for company. Backpackers chatting up strangers was common, regardless of nationality or race—safety in numbers, after all.
Annoying.
To avoid suspicion, I didn't ignore him coldly or hurry off. Instead, I kept my replies bland and unremarkable.
"First time since this whole area changed, you could say."
"Not here for the forest's baptism, then?"
"Baptism?"
"You know, the rumors. Pilgrims walking the paths around the giant's woods sometimes get chosen by the forest and experience miracles. Folks call it the forest's baptism. Some claim superpowers; others say incurable diseases vanished…."
"Yeah, rings a bell now that you mention it."
I'd regretted engaging, but it was his insecurity seeking validation. The pale boy trailing silently behind his dad reeked of terminal illness. His blood teemed with excessive leukocytes, erythrocytes, and platelets—leukemia, the slow killer.
Leukemia was curable. Logically, they should've sought a hospital, not miracles. But…
This is America. For most, it's better to die untreated than bankrupt yourself.
Medical bills topped bankruptcy causes here. Leukemia treatment easily hit eight figures—beyond most families. Desperate, they'd pinned faint hopes on rumors.
Those "miracles" were likely survivors of mana exposure awakening as ability users. Survivor bias tainted every tale; the dead stayed silent.
To extend time with his son, this nameless father should've turned home immediately. Tiny Immortal Cancer lumps already nested in the boy's organs. Conversely, the father showed signs of an opening soul circuit—not from a day or two in the fog, but from persistent, misguided strolls.
"Oh, already here."
My companion halted before a warning sign shrouded in mist.
DANGER. NO ENTRY. This is a No-go zone with restricted law enforcement.
As of sign installation (12.27.20), forest boundary is 1 mile from current position.
Barbed wire stretched endlessly behind it, but blanket-draped crossings rendered it meaningless. Why bother with grand walls? The relentlessly expanding giant would swallow them soon enough. Two years back, they'd dug trenches to contain it—all buried under its kingdom now.
Fanatics might luck into safe paths like moths to flame.
Surveillance across the vast perimeter was impossible. Fog crippled patrols, drones or not. The government merely feigned control for plausible deniability.
Eyeing a printer-made "Pilgrim's Guide Map to the Giant's Forest," the man turned to me, face etched with worry.
"Planning to go further in?"
"Yeah. You?"
"Hmm."
His brow furrowed. The map marked a "battle site" nearby: where "Apostles of the Giant God" fanatics ambushed pathfinders entering the woods. Some blamed forest mana corruption. To the naive, it screamed curse—ghostly souls wandering the mist, or so the rumors went.
"Well, I'll be off then."
"W-wait."
Hesitant, he grabbed my arm as I shrugged him off. Truly irritating.
Kill them both and toss the bodies in the woods?
Disguised or not, I obsessed over clean traces. In this visibility-choked haze, clinging nuisances tempted erasure. Especially one concealing a firearm.
I understood. Local security sucked; wild Awakened lurked. A dad with a kid needed self-defense. A well-maintained Colt revolver—solid choice, if aged.
Suppressing irrational impulse, I faced him. Adrenaline spiked mildly—tension, not aggression.
"Anything else?"
"Just us for a sec…."
Stepping five meters from his son, he whispered awkwardly, smile strained.
"Uh, got any food to spare? Even a little?"
"…Food?"
"Yeah. Times are tight…. Food prices are insane, you know? I can skip meals or chew Immortal Cancer chunks, but starving my kid… it's hell as a father. Sorry to beg."
"…."
I had rations—for a three-day solo scout. Extras were for combat calorie boosts. No waste.
But… Father, huh.
Gazing at his fawning grin, I flipped a mental coin and indulged uncharacteristic whimsy.
"Sure."
"Really?!"
I set down my bulletproof violin case—guns and ammo inside. Then my backpack, deliberately unzipping the food compartment wide. To flaunt the cash rolls crammed in the voids—escape fund for emergencies.
"Here."
A 500-gram compressed ration pack: full daily calories, vitamins, minerals for an adult male. The beggar took it with trembling hands. Staring into his quivering eyes, I probed.
"You look unwell. You okay?"
"N-no, I'm fine. Truly grateful for your kindness…."
Sympathetic nerves fired wildly; sweat beaded his flushed forehead. Dry mouth—he licked lips repeatedly. Ragged breaths signaled deepening conflict.
Repacking, I bid farewell again.
"This is where we part."
"Yes."
"Go on. Your son's waiting."
"…."
"More business with me?"
"Well…."
After a pause, eyes squeezed shut then open, he forced a grin.
"No, nothing. Thank you. May God's grace be with you."
He fled in hasty steps. I watched the father lead his sick son into the mist.
Lucky bastard.
Interest gone, I vaulted the wire with a light leap. More humans inside, so my path zigzagged circuitously to the woods.
Time to deploy my mana field.
Low-tier ability users nearby wouldn't distinguish my dominance from the giant's—or a grand magus's. They'd just sense the forest's field waver.
My max radius was under half ideal conditions, shrinking near the edge. The immense pressure on my field, the output gap defying circuit precision, confirmed it.
Good call coming alone.
Preliminary aerial recon via light aircraft—as a mundane tourist—revealed the giant activating thirty percent of its soul-etched circuit. The heavenly flows from above were breathtaking. That mere fraction turned its woods into a demonic realm surpassing the Amazon: telekinesis, ignition, luminescence, discharge, life incantations, material dominion beyond water, spatial refraction. Public scout data alone crowned it the world's apex natural Awakened—worthy of godhood.
Even with my knowledge and power, I couldn't guarantee my subordinates' survival deep inside this breathing abyss.