Kael would clench his fists, the temptation crawling under his skin. The power was there, locked away, and he could feel it pulsing like a second heartbeat. But he refused. The crystal wasn't an option. Using it would mean losing himself, and Kael couldn't allow that—not yet.

The solitude twisted his thoughts, making him question his own worth. Was he still a good person? Every time he killed a beast, he wondered if he was any different from the monsters he fought. He needed someone—anyone—to tell him he wasn't lost, that he was still worth something. But there was no one. Only The Voice, and it was far from reassuring.

"Good? What does it even mean to be good in this world?" The Voice laughed during one particularly quiet night. "You think sparing them would change anything? It's all survival now, Kael. You're like me, whether you admit it or not."

Kael hated how those words clung to him, how they made sense in a sick way. But he wasn't like The Voice. He couldn't be. He wouldn't sacrifice the people he cared about for power. But doubt lingered. If it came down to it—if it was life or death—would he?

Days turned into weeks, and Kael's thoughts became heavier, clouded by the constant isolation and the weight of his choices. Pragmatism took root in his mind. He wasn't fighting for some noble cause out here; he was fighting to survive. And survival, he realized, wasn't black and white. There was no room for morality when every day was a fight to stay alive.

The Voice sensed the shift in him. It grew quieter, less taunting, more contemplative.

"I know how it feels," The Voice murmured one evening as Kael sharpened his sword by the dying fire. "To question everything. To wonder if you've already lost your way."

Kael didn't respond, but his hand stilled on the blade. The Voice's tone wasn't mocking this time. It almost sounded… understanding.

"I had to make sacrifices too," The Voice continued. "I had to become something I never wanted to be. That's the price of power, of survival. But you're doing well, Kael. Better than I expected. Keep using the sword, for now. You're becoming stronger. But remember, the crystal is always there. And if you start to rely on it… I'll be there to take your life."

Kael's jaw clenched, the familiar anger flaring up, but there was something else. A small, twisted comfort in The Voice's words. The Voice knew him, maybe better than he knew himself. It was the only constant in his life, the only connection he had left to the outside world.

As Kael stood, sword in hand, he looked out at the darkened forest, the trees swaying gently in the breeze. His body had grown strong, his skills sharpened, but his mind felt heavy, filled with doubt. He wanted to believe he was still good. He wanted to believe he could return one day, that he wasn't too far gone.

Realize...

The forest had grown quieter over the months, its once overwhelming vastness now familiar to Kael. Every shadow, every rustle of leaves, felt like part of him. He no longer feared the beasts that prowled the underbrush or the threats that lurked in the darkness. He had become part of the wild, honed by isolation, his body stronger, his mind sharper. The months of solitude, surviving off the land, fighting both nature and the twisted creatures that lived here, had made him stronger—much stronger.

The forest had been his battleground, his training ground. Day after day, he fought, each swing of his sword, each victory carving away the doubt that had plagued him. Every time he resisted using the crystal's power, it was a triumph—a small defiance against The Voice that lived in his head, taunting him. He could feel the weight of the crystal on his side, its temptation always present, whispering of its potential, its strength. But Kael had learned that true power wasn't in the crystal—it was within himself.

He had felt it in his muscles as they hardened from days of swinging his sword at monstrous enemies. He had felt it in his lungs as they expanded to take in the wild air, his body enduring long, grueling hunts. His scars were his history now—each one a reminder that he had survived against impossible odds. He had become something more than a man running from his past.

And now, finally, the realization hit him—he was stronger than The Voice.

It started as a whisper in the back of his mind. Doubt that had once been his constant companion began to dissolve, replaced with something new. Confidence. He didn't need the crystal's power. He didn't need The Voice. He had fought beasts twice his size, creatures that would have torn him apart months ago. He had survived. No, he had thrived.

He was stronger than The Voice ever gave him credit for.

And more importantly, he was a good person.

It had taken time for him to admit that to himself. The weight of his past, the lives he'd left behind, the moral struggle of using the crystal's cursed power—they had burdened him for so long. But now, standing here in the forest, with the fresh scent of pine filling his lungs, he saw it clearly. The Voice had always tried to warp his sense of self, filling his head with pity, taunting him with his weakness.

But it was all a lie.

He could beat him.

The realization hit him like a flash of lightning. If The Voice was so omnipotent, if he truly held power over Kael's fate, why hadn't he taken the crystal already? Why whisper threats and promises? Why linger in Kael's mind like a parasite instead of crushing him outright?

The answer was clear.

The Voice needed the crystal too.

Kael stopped mid-stride, his hand brushing against the pouch where the crystal rested. His mind raced. The Voice wanted the crystals for himself, but why? If he already had ultimate power, why would he covet something weaker than what he possessed?

The answer was simple: He didn't have anything stronger.

"Fuck you, Voice," Kael growled under his breath, the fire of defiance surging in his veins. "I guess I was truly an idiot for believing you. You're just a weak bastard who wants to use me."

The forest seemed to hold its breath as Kael spoke the words aloud. For the first time, he felt truly liberated from The Voice's constant presence. His heart thundered in his chest, not from fear, but from the exhilaration of realizing the truth.

He turned, his feet moving with a newfound purpose. The village. He could go back. He had left to protect them, to keep them safe from the dangers he carried, but now he understood—he was no danger to them. He was in control, not The Voice. He would walk back to that village, not as the fearful, uncertain man who had fled, but as someone who had overcome the trials of the forest. He had faced monsters, both physical and within his own mind, and he had emerged stronger.

As he strode through the trees, the Voice, for once, was silent. But it wouldn't last long.

Suddenly, a low chuckle echoed in his head, the familiar sinister tone creeping back into his thoughts. "W-w-what?" The Voice stammered at first, disbelief tainting its words. "You think you've figured it out, Kael? You think you're stronger than me?"

The chuckle grew louder, morphing into a deep, menacing laugh. Kael's steps didn't falter, but he could feel the weight of The Voice pressing on his mind, like a dark cloud beginning to form on the horizon. "Oh, Kael. You truly are amusing," The Voice said, a twisted glee coloring its words. "You think you're free because you've grown stronger? You think your little epiphany changes anything?"

Kael's grip on his sword tightened, but he didn't slow his pace. The village was still far, but each step brought him closer. Closer to the people he'd left behind. Closer to the life he thought he couldn't have.

"I guess I was wrong about you," The Voice continued, its tone shifting from mockery to something almost… admiring. "I didn't think you had it in you to survive this long. You've grown, Kael. You've become quite the warrior."

Kael's lips tightened into a grim smile. The Voice's praise meant nothing to him now. He wasn't the scared, unsure boy he had been when this all started. He was stronger. Stronger than The Voice had ever anticipated.

"And yet," The Voice hissed, its dark tone returning, "you still need me. You may have grown stronger with your sword, Kael, but don't think for a second that you can win without the crystal's power. You can fight all you want, but you will fall. Eventually."

Kael stopped, the trees around him swaying in the wind, the air heavy with tension. He could feel The Voice looming in his mind, watching him, waiting for his response. Slowly, deliberately, Kael reached into his pouch and pulled out the crystal. Its surface shimmered in the faint light filtering through the canopy, a dangerous beauty, its power thrumming beneath his fingertips.

"I don't need it," Kael said, his voice steady, filled with newfound conviction. "Not anymore."

He lifted his gaze to the horizon, where the edge of the village lay hidden beyond the trees. He was going back. He would face whatever awaited him, not as the man who fled, but as the warrior he had become.

The Voice, for the first time, was silent.

Then, after a long pause, it spoke again—its tone different. Darker. Colder.

"Maybe you've gotten stronger, Kael," The Voice said, almost in a whisper, "but don't think for a second I'll let you go that easily. Keep using the crystal's power, and I'll be waiting for you. And when you start to rely on it… when you give in, even for a moment..."

Kael could almost feel the smile curling in the darkness of his mind.

"I'll take everything from you."

Kael's heart pounded, but he felt no fear. Not anymore. He was ready. He would fight, not just for himself, but for the people he had left behind. He would confront The Voice, and when the time came, he would face him without hesitation.

The crystal flickered in his hand, its power calling to him, but he only tightened his grip on his sword.

With a final breath, Kael whispered to himself, "I'm coming back."

And he walked forward, into the unknown, the shadow of The Voice still lurking behind him, but no longer controlling him. The forest thinned as he neared the village, the next chapter of his journey unfolding.