He was lost. Jean strayed too far away from Zarutha and was now stumbling through thick fog with tall ancient trees looming overhead; their branches forming a tangled canopy above. The air was heavy with mystery and mana, making it difficult to breathe for the young adventurer. Every sound seemed magnified in the eerie silence - the crunch of dried leaves underfoot and the distant rustle of unseen creatures. Jean regretted his exhaustion and cursed his body.
"Zarutha, are you there?" He looked all around him, shouting the delivery owl's name, but there was no response. The forest seemed to stretch on forever as paths led nowhere and looped back in circles. Jean's breathing felt heavier with each passing moment as he moved deeper into the mist.
Suddenly, a strange glow appeared ahead as soft blue lights danced between the trees. "Zarutha?" He called out their name once again, approaching cautiously with his hand resting on the hilt of his sheathed dagger.
The lights grew brighter, revealing a small clearing filled with tiny floating orbs of pure light. They swirled through the air, hovering above an unconscious man.
"Huh? Someone's hurt!" Widening his eyes, Jean wasted no time jogging toward the collapsed individual, crouching down to place his palm against their backside, but to his surprise, they seemed uninjured. "Hm? No wounds. A-Are they sleeping?" He lifted his brows in shock, yanking away his hand. "You have to be kidding me..."
All of a sudden, the blue lights departed from the clearing, leaving behind only whispers of otherworldly laughter.
Almost immediately, the unconscious individual opened their eyes and sat up, knocking Jean back.
"Wait, don't leave me, ladies! There are plenty more spots open for all of you!" Appearing as an elf with blonde hair, gold bracers, and a belt, including white and purple clothing, they were definitely someone of royalty.
Jean could only stare in disbelief, watching them stretch their hand toward the floating blue lights that left the area.
"I've never married a pixy before! I promise I can show you all a good time!" He stood up to watch them vanish in the fog as he clenched his fist in disappointment, lowering his head into a sigh. "I've failed once again."
"Uhm... sorry to bother you, sir- wait, those blue lights were pixies?" Jean looked up at Fhiron, confused, until it finally clicked. "You were trying to marry pixies?!"
The elf, finally noticing Jean, smirked with delight as he crossed his "Fwa ha ha! Indeed!" Lifting their head back, they laughed to the heavens with pride. "There is no one in this world who can resist my charm!"
Jean slowly stood up, dusting himself off with a look of concern. "Charm?" Heavily doubting the elf, the young adventurer tilted his head to the side with a skeptical grin.
"Indeed." The elf uncrossed their arms, walking forward to scout the area in front of them, despite the thick fog. "But that's besides the point. It seems my mana hasn't fully recovered, I have no choice but to stay here for a few more days."
"Eh?" Jean, startled, felt his heart sink. "Wait a minute, what do you mean, a few more days? Are you saying you've been here for almost a week?"
The elf grinned, facing the adventurer as he chuckled.
"Hardly, lad! I've only been here for four days in total."
Jean's worst fear came to life. He was now stuck in the forest and lost in the thick fog, which not only disrupted all five senses but changed them entirely.
"You can't be serious..."
The elf ambled toward a tree, leaning back into its bark before crossing their arms behind their head.
"I'm afraid not. This forest and its fog were created by a powerful Arcane Sigil that hides the Goliath Village; a place where sentient Golems roam after disbanding their master." Despite the elf's boisterous, cocky, and relaxed attitude, he was rather smart in the arts of the arcane. It surprised Jean at their change of demeanor.
"So that explains it..." Mumbled the adventurer, looking down in thought. "Golems want to live a life of peace, so I guess it makes sense. There must've been countless people who wandered this forest and died."
The elf nodded their head—his expression now mellow.
"Indeed, during my Dimensional transportation through the Bifrost, my coordinates were tampered with, and I ended up here." The elf closed their eyes as they lowered their head into a smirk. "I'm the Elf King, Fhiron, Ruler of Alfheim."
Jean's face flushed red with embarrassment as he realized the weight of his previous actions. Their casual demeanor completely disappeared and was immediately replaced by a mix of shock and guilt.
The elf's clothing, the symbol on his shoes, and the golden bracers and belt. He should've realized that this was the King of Elves much sooner.
"E-Elf King, Fhiron?! Crud...!" Their voice trembled slightly. "I had no idea you were King Fhiron. I apologize for my nonchalant behavior!" Jean suddenly bowed as sweat trailed down his forehead.
Meanwhile, Fhiron's expression remained the same—his gaze now piercing through the apology.
"No worries, not many know of my appearance." His voice remained the same; however, seeing Jean bow was more than enough to change his attitude. "Though I consider bowing to be a sign of weakness, so raise your head, lad; you can show your respect by talking to me like any other common person."
Jean lifted his head with a shameful grin, standing to his feet.
"I see... then that's my apologies, I've just heard so many stories about you when I was a small child."
"Fwa ha ha!" Fhiron laughed to the heavens before leaning forward in curiosity. "Is that so? What kind of stories have you heard from Midgard!? I'm curious!"
Jean, tensing his body and caressing his upper arm, glanced to the side.
"Well... there are so many that I don't know where to start."
Fhiron departed from the tree, walking toward Jean before sitting down a few meters in front of him.
"Then choose your favorite story, lad! I'm eager to hear it. Humans, Dragons, and Orcs have made countless tales about me over the years, and I've never heard a single one." With an exuberant chuckle, Fhiron would lie back, crossing his arms behind his scalp. "Between me and you, this is my first time visiting Midgard."
Widening his eyes, Jean slowly sat back down, crisscross.
"Really? Why did you decide to finally visit all of a sudden?"
"For new spouses."
"Eh?!" Baffled by their firm response, the young adventurer started laughing. "Pwa ha ha! You're pulling my leg, aren't you?!"
Fhiron looked up into the foggy sky, grinning at their hysterical laughter.
"I'm afraid not, lad, I've grown bored of the elven women back in Alfheim, and I desire something new."
Still laughing at his previous comment, Fhiron said nothing more, which further proved he was telling the truth. Realizing this, Jean's expression contorted.
"You're serious... aren't you?"
"Afraid so." Said Fhiron, at ease.
"Erm... just how many wives do you have, exactly?" Jean asked, curious about their love life.
"I'm nearing 300 as of now, but they're all elven women. I've grown bored of the same old same old, and now I'm testing new waters."
"300 is a bit... excessive." Jean wasn't the type to judge, but with such a high number, he couldn't help but cringe.
"Fumu." Fhiron tittered. "It matters not, I'm waiting to hear the stories told about me in Midgard."
With an understanding nod, Jean looked up in thought.
"Well, let's see... my favorite story is when you managed to defeat Nokitera."
All of a sudden, the fog around them grew thicker. Distant howls of unknown creatures echoed through the trees. The forest floor became uneven and treacherous, littered with fallen branches and hidden roots; the landscape was changing.
"What's going on?" Jean stood up, pulling out his dagger while Fhiron remained calm and collected, lying on the ground.
The howls grew louder, closer - monstrous snarls and screeches sent chills down the young adventurer's spine.
"They're hunters of this forest created by the Golems to eat intruders. They're called Hexbeasts; powerful creatures made out of magic." Uttered Fhiron with his eyes closed.
Through the fog, Jean could see flickering shadows of many shapes and sizes moving between the trees.
"Hexbeasts? I thought they were only in the Bifrost!?"
The mist carried whispers of hungry beasts, their foul breaths visible as steam in the cold air. Jean could feel their eyes watching him from every direction.
"Nay. Hexbeasts can be created by an excessive amount of mana, which gives them life, forming a body, soul, and nucleus."
Suddenly, a massive shadow passed overhead as wings flapped wildly while the Hexbeast circled above. Its screech pierced through the thick and eerie atmosphere like thunder.
"They're about to attack!"
"If I were you, I'd use anti-magical barriers, lad."
Jean faced the nonchalant elf, widening his eyes in question.
"Touching those creatures is fatal. If you don't want mana cancer, I'd advise you to cast Gilfronta, the barrier spell."
"Gilfronta? Noted!"
Like all Hexbeasts—they're made purely out of mana—but too much mana is dangerous for anyone. Being exposed to high levels of mana can overload the mind, body, soul, and nucleus with unlimited information, causing long-term paralysis and, in most cases, death. This was called Mana Cancer.
In areas with high levels of mana, anti-magical barriers were a must, otherwise, magicians would obtain this magical disease and be unable to use magic again as their mana storage will be drained empty from the overload of information eroding their supply.
Jean was in serious trouble, but Fhiron remained calm.