GTS Syndrome Vol 2 Ch 3: Eyes Of The Corrupted!

It'd been about three days since we left the Emerald Forest behind, and honestly? I was already missing the trees. Not the giant bugs or the weird pollen storms, but the way the trees at least felt like they could hide you. Like there were places a guy my size could duck into and not be stomped into a thin paste.

Now? That safety was long gone.

I sat on Penelope's shoulder, legs dangling over the edge of her sleeve while the wind whipped through my hair. Below us stretched an endless maze of stone—wide, weathered paths weaving in and out of each other, forming their own crooked web across the cracked earth. No trees. No cover. Just stone passages and open sky. It was like the world got tired of being green and decided to be angry and beige instead.

Penelope looked totally at peace, like she was out for a casual hike and not trudging across what I was mentally calling the "Backbreaker Badlands."

I leaned a little closer to her neck, raising my voice over the wind. "How much longer till we get there?"

She turned her head slightly, smiling without breaking stride. "Five more days until we reach the edge of the Thallura Wastes. That's where the entrance to Zaeram is."

Five. More. Days.

Great.

I slouched back against her shoulder, muttering under my breath. "What a lovely vacation."

Penelope didn't hear that—or she pretended not to. Probably for the best.

I stared down at the cracked ground far below, watching the stone trails twist and fade into the horizon. And I couldn't stop thinking about where we were going.

Zaeram. A giantess city.

A giantess city.

It sounded like the punchline to a really bad joke. A place where men—if they were allowed at all—were footstools, playthings, or worse. No rights. No safety. No chance of being seen as anything other than something to be owned. A nightmare made real. And I was heading straight into it.

Willingly.

Or... sort of willingly.

I looked over at Penelope's face. She was humming to herself, some happy little tune I didn't recognize, eyes scanning the horizon like she couldn't wait to be home. Her cheeks were pink from the sun, her smile soft and relaxed.

She looked... genuinely excited.

And that scared the crap out of me.

Because yeah, she'd protected me so far. Yeah, she'd fed me, kept me safe, even laughed at my dumb jokes sometimes. But I saw her three days ago. I saw what was behind that smile when the wrong words pushed the wrong buttons.

That red madness. That glow.

Was I really safe with her?

Could she really protect me from a whole city of her kind?

And—more importantly—could she protect me from herself?

I didn't have answers. Just questions, and a sword handle that still didn't work.

So I did what I always do when things get too heavy to think about: I leaned back against the warm fabric of Penelope's shirt, crossed my arms, and muttered into the wind.

"Yeah. This is definitely a terrible idea."

Penelope slowed her steps until she came to a halt, her giant shadow stretching long over the cracked stone path. She glanced down at me with that usual sunny grin and said, "I'm gonna grab us some food. You'll be okay here, right?"

Before I could even answer, she was already kneeling down, cupping her hands gently around me. With the kind of careful touch you usually reserved for baby birds or priceless antiques, she set me down onto the rough ground.

I looked up—and up—and up—at her as she started piling a bunch of dry tree trunks together like she was setting up for some ancient ritual. A minute later, she struck two massive rocks together, and whoomph!

Instant bonfire.

And not just any bonfire. No, Penelope had created a towering inferno of snapping, roaring flames, the kind of fire that would've made any normal campfire sit down and cry out of shame. The trunks cracked and popped under the sheer heat of it all, lighting up the clearing with this angry orange glow that made everything look like it was melting.

"There!" she said cheerily, brushing her hands together. "That'll keep you warm!"

"Warm," I muttered, shielding my face from the heat that felt like it was trying to cook me alive. "Yeah. Totally not gonna end up extra crispy."

With a little wave and a smile, Penelope turned and headed into the rocky lands, her form disappearing as the distance grew and the rocks began to equal her impressive height. The thudding of her footsteps faded, leaving me alone with nothing but the screaming fire and the whistling wind.

I sat down near the edge of the fire—close enough to feel the warmth, but far enough not to, you know, combust—and stared into the flames.

And like always, the fire made me think about home.

About Endsby.

About the little half-collapsed cabin with the moss on the roof. About the rusted weather vane that squeaked when the wind got bad. About the nights I spent with my brother near a tiny, struggling campfire, roasting mushrooms and laughing about nothing at all.

I bit the inside of my cheek. Hard.

Don't think about it, Braden. That life's gone.

I was just starting to force the memories down when I heard it.

A wail.

A high, screeching, unnatural cry that cut through the forest like a jagged knife.

I stood up so fast I nearly tripped over myself, turning to look toward the dark woods. The sound echoed again—louder this time, closer.

"Shit," I breathed, heart hammering.

I knew that sound. I'd heard it too many times in too many nightmares.

"Corrupted," I whispered, my voice barely audible over the crackling of the fire.

My gut twisted into a knot. The kind of knot you can't ever really untangle. The kind that screams run even though your legs won't move.

The wailing kept coming, louder, growing by the second, bouncing off the rocks and few trees that where left standing  like some kind of sick chorus.

I gritted my teeth and yanked my pack open, digging deep until my fingers wrapped around the hilt of something familiar and solid.

I pulled it free.

An emerald-green blade gleamed in the firelight, pulsing faintly like it had a heartbeat of its own.

One of the few things I'd been allowed to keep when I fled Endsby. One of the few things that still made me feel like I had a fighting chance.

I gave the blade a quick twirl, feeling the comforting weight of it settle in my hand.

I glanced toward the forest, where the darkness seemed thicker now. Thicker and closer.

"Great," I muttered. "What a damn pain."

Because tonight?

Tonight was about to get real messy.