?"No one goes beyond this point."

  ?Deep within the forest, past the scattered remnants of ancient folk houses, lay the infinite ruins of a buried city. Would breaking into the dwellings reveal the truth? Or was he forced to dive into that ocean-like abyss of relics?

  ?Radiation: None. Hydrogen sulfide and other toxins: Undetected.

  ?Regardless, he could not abandon his comrades, who lay withered in their tent. Driven by youthful recklessness, they had stumbled into this "land-locked trench," only to be paralyzed by crushing headaches, vertigo, and nausea.

  ?Yet, why was the Doctor the only one who could still move?

  ?The answer came with the sudden rain. The Doctor noticed the drainage was different only where he had spent hours measuring data. He dug. Beneath the surface lay caches of carbon filler—vastly more permeable than the stubborn clay layers surrounding them.

  ?How had he missed it until now?

  ?Through narrowed eyes, he saw it: a perfect, symmetrical circle. A clear man-made construct. Someone, long ago, must have realized the truth and filled this void with charcoal.

  ?The realization snapped him into action. He began transporting his comrades one by one, sprinting back and forth across the 500-meter span. With the strength of a man possessed, breaking the limits of human exertion to defy nature itself, his shadow darted through the dark—swift, uncompromising, like a beast.

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  ?Finally, they were safe. As his consciousness returned, he stood dazed. What have I done?

  ?Within the hour, the change took hold.

  ?The Doctor sorted through the photos. The three witnesses claimed the aurora in the shots looked more beautiful than the reality. It was a memento he had risked his life to capture—a kaleidoscope of colors no paint could ever replicate. It captured a moment of cynical hope, a belief that his friends would endure.

  ?Perhaps he was simply entranced. He believed in a night where one could drift into a world of romance without needing to dream. That shutter was pressed just five seconds before the gravity of their situation took hold.

  ?Then, before he could scan the files, the 440Hz alarm shrieked—a signal reserved only for bears, wolves, or landmines. He grabbed his gear: deterrent spray, a survival knife, a bulletproof vest.

  ?It was then that he lost his grip on composure.

  ?A full moon hung low on the horizon, burning. As if tethered to its glow, every muscle in his body tightened until they could repel a thousand needles. Veins pulsed; his legs grew swift. The sleepless battle had begun.

  ?His legs moved with such primal speed that consciousness itself seemed to fade, and before they knew it, he was sprinting—carrying all three of them as if he bore no weight at all. The three survivors would forever remember that sight: the Doctor, with one slung over his shoulder and two gripped in his arms. In that moment, he looked, with chilling precision, like a beast. Yet, in a strange twist of nature, the beast was the one protecting the humans.

  ?An hour after reaching their destination, the three had recovered with miraculous vigor and settled in to camp for the night. They had abandoned their tents, realizing instinctively that in this place, they were finally safe.