Sweat dripped into my eyes as my horse pounded across the scorched earth, the wind a furnace against my face. My skull throbbed from too many hours in the sun, but the commander rode ahead—untouched, unreadable, like the heat dared not touch him.
After that quarrel, our journey resumed as usual. I hadn't managed to eat breakfast, but the fight had served one purpose—the bullying had lessened considerably. I had also moved up in the line, keeping within the commander's shadow, a far safer position.
The healer had tended to my swollen face, and I had tried to strike up a conversation with the commander, but he only responded with a stiff nod. No luck befriending him. Fine. I had bigger concerns. There were too many unanswered questions, and once I returned to the estate, I needed to start investigating.
I had learned a harsh but necessary lesson—bullying only lessens if you fight back. How foolish I had been to think ignoring it would make it stop. I shook my head at my own naivety and hurried the horse.
Days passed.
The journey was grueling—at least for me. It had been eleven days since we set out. We passed through quiet villages, bustling cities and encountered different kinds of people. Some nights, we lodged in a noble's estate, other nights in village inns, and sometimes, we camped out in the wastelands. The commander had planned everything meticulously, and we followed his schedule without deviation.
Ranald and Garrick had backed off for now, postponing their torment until we retrieved the relic. Edric, however, still shot daggers at me whenever I was near the commander.
From what I overheard among the warriors, we were set to reach Eldermoon Forest today. The moment I learned that, my heart had been pounding.
Finally.
I scanned the wasteland stretching endlessly in every direction. Traveling had been far more exhausting than I anticipated. In the game, all I had to do was click on the location icon, and the hero would instantly move to the forest. Reality, it seemed, was far less convenient. I let out a weary sigh and urged my horse forward.
An hour later, trees emerged on the horizon, breaking the monotony of the wasteland. Soon, we reached the forest's entrance—a wide, well-trodden path cleaved through the dense woodland. At the path's edge, two armored knights stood guard, their imposing presence radiating authority.
They were knights of the Empire.
Our commander approached them, handing over the Stormbane emblem. One of the knights inspected it, then gave a curt nod of approval. With that, we were granted passage.
The moment we stepped into the forest, the atmosphere shifted. The scorching sun vanished behind a thick shroud of dull, gray clouds. A sudden chill crept over my skin, like unseen fingers trailing down my spine. The air turned crisp and damp, the scent of decaying leaves thick enough to taste. I swallowed hard. This place wasn't just dark—it was watching.
Click. Clack.
The rhythmic sound of hooves echoed as we ventured deeper.
Mana was thick in the air, sinking into every tree, every stone, every living creature. The beasts that roamed these lands weren't just wild animals, they were monsters shaped by centuries of magic, creatures that had adapted to wield mana as naturally as breathing. But against the strongest knights of House Stormbane, these beasts were nothing more than minor annoyances.
The real threat wasn't something we could just cut down with a sword.
It was the formations.
Yes. Ancient magic formations and traps.
Centuries ago, when mana was at its peak, humanity waged war against the demonic beasts. But like all wars, once the demons were defeated, humans turned against each other. Alliances shattered overnight, noble houses rose and fell like autumn leaves, and power became the only currency that mattered.
One house stood at the center of it all—House Noctharis.
They weren't just another noble family. Noctharis had been warriors, magicians, pioneers who fought harder than anyone against the demons. Some even believed they had enough power to challenge the throne itself.
But power invites fear.
Their so-called allies, unwilling to let Noctharis rise any further, turned on them. They were accused of practicing demonic magic. Their banners burned, their lands seized, and Noctharis was driven to the edge of extinction.
With nowhere left to run, they fled into Eldermoon Forest.
To ensure they weren't followed, they laid down formations—traps infused with powerful magic, crafted to confuse, paralyze, and kill. The forest became their battleground, their final stand. And for a time, no one could break through their defenses.
But in the end, numbers won.
The last remnants of Noctharis were hunted down. The family that had once stood at the peak was wiped from history.
But their traps? Their relics? Those never disappeared. Even the strongest Magician at that time couldn't completely dismantle all the formations and traps.
Years passed, and rumors spread—whispers of hidden treasure, relics of untold power buried deep within the forest. Greedy merchants, rogue knights, mercenaries—many tried to claim those treasures. Few ever returned.
The empire had enough and issued a decree —only noble families of high standing were permitted to enter the forest. Just like that, the common folk were locked out, and the nobles ensured they would be the only ones who could reap whatever riches remained.
I exhaled, my grip tightening around my reins.
This forest wasn't just a place filled with mana beasts. It was a cursed land, a tomb for the ambitious.
I glanced at the trees ahead, my mind racing.
In World of Estroma, there were multiple ways to reach the Deathsong Amulet, each path riddled with random traps. In the game, I had memorized the safest route. A path that, if followed correctly, would lead straight to the relic with minimal danger.
But as I looked at the path stretching before us, my stomach twisted.
This wasn't the same path I took in the game.
Of course.
It was foolish to expect this world to follow the exact same script. This wasn't a game anymore.
I let out a slow breath. It doesn't matter. I still had some knowledge—enough to navigate through most of these traps.
I turned my gaze toward the warriors surrounding me.
They were tense, their hands resting on the hilts of their weapons, eyes sharp and scanning for threats.
And then there was Evan.
While everyone else had a serious expression, his was… different. A smirk played on his lips, his eyes burning with something close to excitement.
Selene sat atop her horse, her gaze fixed on the darkened path ahead.Her carriage had been left behind—the forest's terrain was too unpredictable for it to pass through.
Behind her, two female warriors rode in silence, their hands resting lightly on their weapons. Edric led the group, his eyes scanning the shifting shadows between the trees.
As if sensing my stare, she immediately turned towards me, our eyes met.
For a moment, neither of us spoke. Then I looked away. Facing forward once more.
Whatever lay ahead, we will face it soon.
The relics. The formations. The unknown.
I had no idea what was going to happen next.
But one thing was certain—turning back wasn't an option.
As we moved forward, the trees grew denser, their towering forms pressing in around us, and the path narrowed to little more than a winding trail through the undergrowth. The knights instinctively shifted their positions, forming a protective formation around Selene with well-practiced precision.
As the last traces of daylight faded, the true nature of the Eldermoon Forest began to reveal itself. The wind carried an eerie chill, whispering through the trees like distant voices, while the relentless chorus of insects grew deafening, their shrill hum making my ears ring. The howls and growls of unseen beasts layered over the night's symphony, reminding us that this place belonged to something far older and wilder than us.
The Commander soon gave the order to set up camp. We moved toward higher ground, settling near a river. Some knights scaled the trees, their silhouettes blending into the dense canopy as they kept watch. Others secured the perimeter, their hands never straying far from their blades. A few kindled a fire, its flickering glow barely piercing the oppressive darkness.
Our rations, provided by the noble household where we had stayed the night before, would sustain us for now, but the journey ahead was uncertain.
I retreated to my tent, settling onto the firm ground beneath me. So far, our journey has been uneventful. No beasts, no monsters. In Eldermoon Forest, silence and ease were unnatural, and that unease gnawed at me.
Beside me, the middle-aged healer adjusted his position, settling into the limited space of the tent. Since there wasn't much room for individual tents, the knights had set up larger ones to accommodate three to four people. The healer girl was with Selene in another tent. Out here, where medical aid was scarce, healers were the most precious members of our squad. Whether young or old, their presence could mean the difference between survival and death.
As I closed my eyes, the distant murmurs of the forest blended with the crackling of the campfire. The knights outside moved in practiced shifts, their armor faintly clinking as they patrolled the perimeter.
Then, amidst the usual forest noises, I heard it—a rustling, too close, too deliberate. Footsteps hurried outside the tent, followed by sharp whispers and sudden shouts. My body tensed. Something was wrong.
Suddenly, a strange sensation crawled up my legs. It was subtle at first—like a phantom touch—but then it spread.
Cold. Slithering. Moving.
I stiffened. My breath turned shallow.
I looked down—nothing. But I could feel them.
Something smooth and sinuous coiled around my ankles, tightening ever so slightly. Another brushed against my calf, its unseen form gliding over my skin.
I swallowed hard.
I couldn't see it.
But it was there.