The forest bloomed into focus.
Where there had been shadow, there were now textures, edges, and layers. Trees stood in full detail—bark peeled and cracked in strips, moss curled along roots, insects crawled across leaves. The canopy above shimmered with thin lines of webbing or dust that hadn’t been visible seconds ago.
It wasn’t just visibility. It was clarity. Contrast. The world no longer looked black and gray—it looked alive, rendered in crisp gradients of pale green.
Swift slowly turned his head, taking it in. The helmet had no noise, hum, or warmth. It felt passive, but the results were better than any NVG he’d ever used. No blooming, no loss in depth perception, and a wider field of view than he could’ve hoped for.
He raised the mask.
The world dropped into darkness again. It wasn’t gradual—it was a hard transition that made his pupils stutter. He winced, blinking into the shadows. For a moment, it was worse than before. Disorienting.
He brought the mask back down. Night vision was still active. Everything returned.
He raised it again—dark. Then down—light. His eyes struggled to keep up. After a few tests, he mentally deactivated the blessing with a quiet thought and tried again. This time, no difference. It was like flipping a breaker.
Swift smiled slightly. Then frowned.
He removed the helmet, turning it in his hands. From the outside, it looked the same. He slipped his hand inside the visor area, trying to see if it still lit up like daylight while off his head—but as soon as the seal broke, the blessing deactivated.
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Smart.
Still, he needed to see what it looked like from the outside while active. He pulled his latrine kit back out and retrieved the small metal mirror inside. After an exhale, he put the helmet back on, turned the night vision back on using his imaginary side-switch, and held the mirror up.
His breath caught.
The glass visor had turned completely matte black. It blended with the mask perfectly, smooth and non-reflective. But at eye level, there were two narrow slits, barely noticeable at first glance. He leaned in. They gave off a soft green glow, like deep grass under running water.
The glow was faint. Too faint to draw attention in the dark. But up close, it was unmistakable.
Swift lowered the mirror slowly.
It was magic, engineering and the impossible logic of this world colliding.
He weighed the pros and cons in his head. On one hand, the visual advantage was massive. On the other, the glowing slits could give away his position—at close range, maybe during CQB or while hiding in dense brush. The matte faceplate helped, but it was a risk he’d need to account for. The duration of the blessing was also an unknown, but a trait he will have to discover at another time. Hopefully long enough to finish a fight.
He deactivated the night vision and took the helmet off, wrapping it again in the cloth. He waited for his eyes to adjust, another thing he needed to account for.
Swift returned the helmet and latrine kit to his backpack. He lay Excalibur beside him, rolled down the top half of his flight suit to sleep more comfortably, and climbed back into the bivy sack, buttoning it up without rush.
Were there shooting stars in this world?
A blink.
And it was morning.
Dawn cast long rays between the trees. Around him, the camp was waking up. Fire pits rekindled. Metal clinked. Voices low and tired.
Carlos approached, standing over him with a bullet twirling in his fingers.
“You going to sleep through breakfast?”
Swift sat up, rubbing a hand through his hair. “Nothing happened last night?”
Carlos shrugged. “Just a guy taking a dump in the woods.”
Swift grinned, nodded once, and started packing his gear.
The cycle repeated. Camp at night, watch shifts, moving at daybreak. No more strange sounds, no new visitors from the dark. Just woods, dirt roads, and long wagon trails.
Four days passed like that—until they reached their first town.
Or what was left of one.
