It made him feel like he was fretting over nothing, yet the sense of danger was so intense and unmistakable that he couldn't dismiss it as re paranoia from the constant battles or his mind playing tricks on him.
The feeling was too real, too sharp, to ignore.
"Tsk!" Sparrow clicked his tongue in frustration, his patience wearing thin.
Vulture and the others were waiting for him at the truck, and they still needed to search for their missing teammates.
Despite his irritation, Sparrow couldn't see a way out of this ss. The situation was only growing more complicated, and he was stuck in the middle of it.
'Why the hell am I so unlucky?!' Sparrow muttered to himself, a mix of self-doubt and disdain in his voice.
He couldn't help but realize how often trouble seed to find him on missions, as if he were so kind of magnet for it.
'Fuck, this isn't funny at all...' he muttered, though a touch of dark humor slipped into his thoughts. He forced himself to lighten up, hoping to shake off the heavy weight on his chest.
'Why can't I attract a little good luck for once? Maybe so love life, instead of all this damn trouble?'
After a while of finding nothing, Sparrow leaped from one branch to the next, seemingly continuing his journey back.
But in reality, he was trying to draw out whatever was following him.
His senses were on high alert, his eyes constantly scanning the surroundings.
Yet, with each movent, the heavier the feeling in his chest beca, the more his unease grew.
A sudden icy chill crept up his neck, forcing him to stop and spin around, only to find... nothing.
This was the first ti Sparrow had ever been this spooked.
'It isn't a ghost, is it?' he thought, his mind nearing the breaking point.
'Fuck... Is it playing with ? Or is it just enjoying watching its prey drown in fear before it finally shows itself?'
His expression darkened as his eyes darted back to the path he'd co from.
'When did it even start following ?' Sparrow thought with a twinge of self-reproach. 'I didn't notice until it was too late.'
He cursed under his breath, frustration building inside him.
If he had kept his mind sharp the entire ti, maybe he would have noticed the abnormality sooner. But his thoughts had been distracted, and now it was too late to turn back.
Yet, no matter how much he beat himself up or reprimanded himself, it wouldn't change anything.
It was also possible that even with his mind fully focused, he might not have detected this shadow so easily.
"Sparrow, over... What's taking you so long? The mutated cows might co back and catch our scent out here in the open," Vulture's voice crackled through the radio again.
This ti, it was clearer than before, signaling that Sparrow was getting closer to Vulture's position. A bead of cold sweat ford on Sparrow's forehead as the realization hit him.
He grabbed the radio and said, "You lead the team to the rendezvous point, I'll follow you guys." Sparrow deliberately avoided ntioning the location of their eting spot.
He was cautious—whatever was following him might possess enough intelligence to pick up on his words and track his teammates instead.
After all, it was far more efficient for the threat to follow the group than waste ti on a guarded Sparrow.
Vulture, picking up on the tension in Sparrow's voice and the words he'd chosen, imdiately sensed that sothing was off.
From their years of working together, Vulture knew Sparrow had likely found himself in a situation where returning to the main group would only put them at risk.
It was also clear that Sparrow hadn't identified the nature of the threat yet—if he had, he would've given more direct instructions or even co up with a plan to confront it together for a faster, more effective resolution.
Hearing the uncertainty in Sparrow's tone, Vulture imdiately understood that Sparrow wanted him to take charge and lead the team forward until his return.
Leaving the group without a strong leader would only put them at greater risk.
Knowing Sparrow as he did, Vulture also knew that Sparrow wouldn't feel at ease leaving his team in the hands of anyone else.
But with Vulture in command, he knew the team would be in capable hands.
Vulture was just as strong and competitive, ensuring everyone's survival—even if they ended up bruised, battered, or on the brink of death.
As long as they still had breath, it was enough, especially with the vial of blue liquid in their possession to pull them back from the edge of the underworld.
"Alright, be careful, and don't keep us waiting too long," Vulture said, his voice casual, but the unspoken threat in his tone was clear—he wouldn't forgive Sparrow if he didn't return.
"Okay," Sparrow replied, his voice barely above a whisper.
He couldn't find the right words.
Honestly, he felt like his life was hanging by a thread this ti. He couldn't even promise he'd make it back alive.
But hearing Vulture's words stirred sothing inside him—so strange mix of guilt, determination, and gratitude—as he slowly clipped the radio back to his belt.
With his heart pounding, he scanned the surroundings once more, every sense on high alert.
The soft rustle of leaves in the wind and the eerie creaking of the trees around him only heightened the tension.
Once again, Sparrow felt that icy shiver crawl up his neck, as though sothing was breathing down on him.
He recoiled instinctively, but, just like before, he found nothing.
Frustration surged within him, mingling with a cold, creeping fear that pulsed through his veins—death seed to be watching, waiting.
Sparrow hated that feeling.
He had faced death countless tis and never once allowed it to claim him without a fight.
He was the type to claw his way out of the grave, to battle the Grim Reaper with everything he had.
But this ti was different.
This ti, doubt gnawed at him. He had never felt so vulnerable, never been so unsure.
No matter how stacked the odds against him, he had always found a way to erge victorious.
Yet now, he felt cornered... trapped in a situation that even his will to survive couldn't fully grasp.
Sparrow's mind raced, trying to devise a way out of this nightmare.
He waited, listening intently, ensuring that Vulture and the others had left the area before making his move.
Once he was sure, he took off, running with everything he had.
Confronting an unknown threat was one of the most dangerous things to do—it was like stepping into the dark, not knowing where or how the danger would strike.
And with death's presence creeping closer, Sparrow realized that staying there would only increase the risk.
The longer he lingered, the stronger that oppressive sense of impending death beca.
Using his wind ability, Sparrow propelled himself forward, increasing his speed as the gusts pushed him onward.
However, the rush was not without its dangers.
Sotis, he stumbled on the branches, or sharp ends of twigs and leaves struck his face.
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