The Man Who Came From the Same Place

  The forest seemed to hold its breath.

  Steve walked a few steps ahead when he heard the voice behind him, too calm for that place.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  He didn’t turn his face. He kept his eyes forward, as if the conversation held no importance. But inside, his heart raced.

  Dagon stopped. The sound of footsteps ceased.

  “Are you sure about that?” he asked, in that drawn-out tone that always seemed to hide something.

  Steve clenched his teeth.

  “Don’t say things you don’t know.”

  There was a brief pause. Then a low laugh echoed among the trees.

  “Funny…” Dagon began circling around him. “Isn’t your mission to reach level 100?”

  A chill ran up Steve’s spine.

  “And how do you plan to do that,” Dagon continued, “without getting involved in trouble?”

  Steve stopped walking. It didn’t make sense. None of it made sense.

  He turned suddenly.

  “Who are you?”

  Dagon stopped in front of him. The sarcastic smile was there, intact, as if he had been waiting for that exact question.

  “Someone who came from the same place as you.”

  The world seemed to lose sound for a second.

  “From… the same place?” Steve murmured.

  Dagon pointed directly at him.

  “I found out when you passed out. Your HUD was visible.”

  Steve’s body stiffened.

  HUD.

  That wasn’t a common term in this world. It wasn’t something someone simply “discovered.”

  Dagon stepped back a few paces and sat calmly on a nearby rock, as if they were just swapping stories around a campfire.

  “And if my memory serves,” he continued, “you’re that kid they were shouting a strange name for. Nesin, wasn’t it?”

  Steve felt his blood boil.

  The empty void.

  The voices.

  The name echoing in nothingness.

  He clenched his fists.

  “Prove you’re not lying.”

  Dagon tilted his head slightly, keeping his calm smile.

  “I don’t need to prove anything more. I’ve already shown I know a lot about you.”

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  Silence spread again, heavy like an omen.

  Then Dagon spoke once more, now in a lower, more serious tone.

  “What really intrigues me is… what will happen to you if you don’t reach level 100 in time.”

  Steve swallowed hard.

  “You know the consequences,” Dagon added. “Don’t you?”

  Steve took a deep breath. No point in pretending.

  “I’ll die anyway,” he said bluntly. “And I know I won’t reach that level.”

  He raised his gaze to the sky, obscured by the dense canopy.

  “So, before I die… I want to live out at least one of my greatest wishes.”

  For a moment, Dagon’s smile vanished. Just for a moment.

  “And how do you plan to get out of this forest?” he asked.

  “I’ll find a way.”

  A heavy sound echoed behind them.

  Steve felt the ground vibrate.

  His body reacted before his mind. He turned slowly.

  Among the trees, a huge green-skinned lizard advanced. Its muscular body scraped against trunks, its eyes gleaming with pure hostility.

  Fear took hold.

  Steve tried to move, but his legs didn’t respond right away.

  Then—

  A blur passed him.

  Dagon was already running.

  The sword was drawn in one fluid motion. He accelerated, leapt, and in mid-air spun his body in a perfect somersault, passing over Steve.

  Time seemed to slow.

  Dagon dove through the air, gripping the sword with both hands.

  The strike came down with brutal force.

  The blade pierced the lizard’s skull. A dry crack echoed through the forest. The creature collapsed dead on the ground, kicking up dust and leaves.

  Steve spun around, his chest heaving rapidly.

  While Dagon delivered final blows to ensure the monster wouldn’t rise, he spoke without even looking at Steve:

  “Don’t be stubborn, kid. Alone in this forest… you won’t survive.”

  The words hit deeper than any blade.

  Steve gritted his teeth.

  Anger.

  Shame.

  An old, familiar feeling.

  Why do I always have to be helped?

  Why do I always depend on others?

  He closed his eyes for a second, swallowing it all.

  When he spoke again, his voice was steady.

  “I’ll go with you to the village.”

  Dagon stopped moving.

  “But afterward,” Steve continued, “you’ll help me get out of this forest.”

  Dagon calmly wiped the blade and sheathed it. The smile returned to his face.

  “Smart choice, kid.”

  Steve looked away, knowing that decision would change everything.

  The forest, silent once more, seemed to watch them.

  And for the first time since waking in that world, Steve felt he was no longer walking alone.

  Meanwhile, not far away, the rest of the group waited.

  Fog leaned against a tree, arms crossed, expression impatient.

  “Where’s that old man?” he grumbled. “We’re wasting too much time already.”

  Finn, sitting on an exposed root, kept his gaze fixed in the direction Dagon had gone.

  “We’ll wait a little longer,” he replied seriously. “He doesn’t usually delay without reason.”

  Nearby, Jelim toyed idly. The abandoned weapons of the enemy soldiers floated in the air, spinning slowly in circles above her head, reflecting the scant light filtering through the canopy.

  Fog turned his face, irritated.

  “Hey, you there.”

  Jelim didn’t respond.

  “Don’t you see you’re wasting mana for nothing?” he continued, raising his voice. “Using magic like that with no enemies around is stupid.”

  Jelim remained silent for a few seconds. Then she turned her head slightly toward him. Even with the mask covering her face, the disdain was evident.

  “It’s my mana,” she replied coldly. “None of your business.”

  She returned her attention to the floating weapons, as if Fog didn’t exist.

  “Hey!” Fog shouted. “Two-face, didn’t you just hear me?!”

  No response.

  Fog huffed, kicking a stone on the ground, while Finn sighed deeply, trying to keep the group under control.

  Then Keara frowned.

  She stood, watching the forest intently.

  “Look…” she said, voice alert. “They’re coming back.”

  Two shadows emerged among the trees.

  Finn stood immediately.

  Dagon walked ahead, with his usual calm stride. Behind him, Steve followed in silence, expression closed, steps slower.

  When they drew near, Dagon spoke directly:

  “We can continue now. Steve agreed to come with us.”

  The group reacted with restrained surprise.

  Finn walked up to Steve, stopping in front of him. His gaze was serious, but something different lingered—regret.

  “Thank you for deciding to help us,” he said. “And… sorry about the punch earlier. I didn’t try to understand what you’ve been through.”

  Steve looked away.

  “No need to apologize,” he replied, brushing past him. “That’s normal in my life.”

  The words hung in the air.

  Finn watched Steve walk away, a weight forming in his chest. He took a deep breath, straightened up, and spoke to the group:

  “Let’s go. We can’t waste any more time.”

  The group resumed walking.

  The forest seemed to change as they advanced. The trees grew more twisted, the air heavier. The silence, more unsettling.

  During the trek, Keara approached Steve, walking beside him.

  “Thanks for your help,” she said with a gentle smile.

  Steve nodded slightly.

  “What did that idiot say to you back there?” she asked curiously.

  Steve let out a short, almost bitter smile.

  “He showed me I’m weak.”

  Keara paused for a moment, surprised, but soon resumed her pace.

  “Weakness isn’t asking for help,” she said. “It’s pretending you don’t need anyone.”

  Steve didn’t respond.

  After a few minutes, he broke the silence:

  “How long have you all known each other?”

  Keara thought for a bit before answering.

  “Dagon, Jelim, and I met right here in the forest. Finn and Fog… we ran into them while trying to get out of here.”

  “And where did you come from?” Steve asked.

  Keara hesitated.

  Her expression changed.

  “From a place very far from here.”

  Steve realized he wouldn’t get more than that.

  They kept walking.

  After a while, Finn turned back.

  “Steve, which way now?”

  Steve stopped, scanning the surroundings. Something inside him reacted, like an ancient instinct.

  “To the right,” he answered. “After that… we’ll reach the village in a few steps.”

  The group followed the direction.

  They curved between dense trees, crossed a stretch of low vegetation, and after a few minutes, the forest began to open.

  The buildings appeared.

  Or rather… what remained of them.

  The Death Cult village was there.

  But something was wrong.

  Very wrong.

  No voices.

  No movement.

  No one.

  The wooden houses stood too intact for a recently attacked village. No signs of battle. No bodies. No fires lit.

  The wind blew through the empty streets, producing a hollow, unsettling sound.

  Steve felt a shiver run down his spine.

  “This…” he murmured. “Doesn’t make sense.”

  Finn advanced a few steps, hand near his sword.

  “Where is everyone?”

  Fog frowned.

  “I don’t like this.”

  Jelim stopped in the middle of the street, looking around in absolute silence.

  Keara felt her stomach turn.

  Dagon, for his part, remained still, observing the village with calculated attention.

  “Get ready,” he said. “A place like this doesn’t stay empty without reason.”

  Steve felt his heart race.

  That feeling…

  It was worse than fear.

  It was the certainty that something was watching them.

  And that this too-silent village was far from abandoned.