Chapter 18 – Silent Trails
The forest swallowed everything.
Steve walked a few steps behind Dagon, observing how every movement the man made was calculated. Each step tested the ground before fully shifting his weight, avoiding roots, branches, and loose stones with precision born from years of practice.
Keara followed close behind, breathing more heavily than the others. Her hands still trembled occasionally — remnants of mana exhaustion after healing so many wounded at the temple. She didn’t complain, but Steve noticed how she pressed her lips together when she thought no one was watching.
Jelím floated at the rear, a few centimeters above the ground. But not as high as before. The white mask remained cracked on the left side from the battle, revealing a small patch of pale cheek beneath.
No one spoke. Only the sound of footsteps — the creak of leather boots, the occasional rustle as someone pushed aside a branch, the controlled breathing of people who knew that noise attracted unwanted attention.
The light filtering through the dense canopy was greenish-gray, giving the forest an almost underwater quality. The trees here were larger than those near the temple. Their trunks were meters thick, covered in dark green moss that seemed to absorb sound.
From time to time, Steve noticed something glinting in the moss — small crystals embedded in the bark, pulsing with faint, rhythmic light.
Like heartbeats.
They walked for hours before Dagon finally raised his hand, signaling a stop.
“Water,” he said simply.
They moved a few more meters and found a stream. Not wide, but clear enough to see the rocky bottom.
“Rest. Fill your canteens. Five minutes.”
Steve knelt and pulled out his canteen. The water was icy when he submerged it. He filled it, sealed it, and took a long drink. It tasted mineral, but it was the best thing he’d had in days.
That’s when he heard it.
A rustle. Deliberate.
Dagon was already on his feet, hand on his sword. Jelím floated higher, fingers curling defensively. Keara stepped back, her hands beginning to glow.
Something emerged from the vegetation on the opposite bank.
About the size of a medium dog — but the shape was completely wrong. A long, segmented body covered in dark green chitinous plates. Six articulated legs ending in sharp claws. A triangular head dominated by horizontal mandibles.
And eyes.
Many eyes.
All focused on them.
“Water Crawler,” Dagon murmured. “Just one.”
The creature took a few steps forward, tilting its head like a bird studying prey. It stopped at the water’s edge. It didn’t attack. It only observed.
“Don’t move,” Jelím whispered. “They hunt by motion.”
Steve froze. The creature remained there, mandibles opening and closing with a scraping sound that made his skin crawl.
Then, abruptly, it turned and vanished into the undergrowth.
“Lucky,” Dagon said. “It wasn’t hungry.”
“Let’s move,” he ordered. “I don’t want to be here if more show up.”
They resumed marching.
An hour later, another creature attacked.
It came from above.
“DOWN!” Jelím shouted.
Everyone dove aside. The impact landed where they’d been seconds earlier — something heavy slammed into the ground.
Steve rolled, sword leaving its sheath on instinct.
It was vaguely humanoid. Two meters tall, gray-green skin, arms too long, ending in claws. But its head had no face.
Just a smooth surface.
The creature turned toward him. The smooth surface split open — like a grotesque flower, the skin peeled back into four fleshy petals, revealing a red interior filled with tentacles and a circular mouth lined with teeth.
“FALL BACK!” Dagon yelled, charging.
His sword cut in a brutal arc. The blade tore through skin, chitin, and something that shouldn’t exist inside a living body. The arm separated with a wet crack — not cleanly cut, but ripped apart.
No blood spilled.
Where the wound should have been, there was only emptiness.
Literal emptiness.
A black void that seemed to swallow light, warping the air around it.
And from inside that void…
Something whispered.
Not with sound.
Directly into the mind.
Steve felt a wave of violent nausea.
The severed arm hit the ground.
And kept moving.
Fingers twitching.
Opening.
Closing.
“Shit…” Steve muttered.
Jelím raised her hands and the creature froze midair — invisible bindings wrapping around its body.
“NOW!”
Dagon drove his sword straight through its chest. The thing convulsed violently, then collapsed.
“Stalker,” Keara said, nudging the body with her boot. “That one was young. Adults are bigger.”
Dagon wiped his blade. “Where there’s one, there are usually more. Let’s get out of here.”
They started moving again, but Steve stopped.
Something felt wrong.
The HUD flickered — not an error, but a warning:
[THREAT DETECTED: 87%]
[DIRECTION: NORTHEAST]
[DISTANCE: ~15M]
“Wait,” he said, his voice firmer than he expected.
The three turned to him.
“There’s something there,” he pointed toward the dense vegetation to the right.
“How do you know?” Jelím asked, her attention snapping to him.
Steve hesitated. “The system warned me.”
Dagon and Keara exchanged a quick glance. Jelím moved, floating silently toward the indicated spot.
Seconds later, something burst from the brush.
Another Stalker.
Bigger.
But Jelím was already ready. The creature froze mid-leap before it could reach them. Dagon pierced it with surgical precision.
When it was over, Dagon walked up to Steve and placed a heavy hand on his shoulder.
“Good job, kid.”
It wasn’t much.
But it was recognition.
For the first time, Steve felt like he had actually contributed.
A small victory.
But a real one.
More encounters followed. Something that resembled a wolf but had six eyes and a jaw split into three parts. A winged creature that observed them from the treetops before disappearing.
When they stopped again, Steve finally asked:
“Why is this forest so dangerous?”
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Keara answered gently:
“Because of magic. This forest formed over Ley Lines — magical energy currents. Several converge here. All that energy affects the creatures. Makes them stronger… stranger.”
“And that’s not all,” Dagon added. “Magic attracts beings from other places. And there are resources here — rare plants, crystals, herbs worth fortunes. That’s why adventurers risk coming in. But most never leave.”
“And the cult’s temple?”
“Not just affected,” Jelím replied. “Fed by it. Those entities are ancient things trapped here. The magic keeps them bound. Or used to.”
Steve remembered the two figures facing each other.
Hello, sister.
They resumed walking, but Jelím didn’t move immediately. She kept watching Steve.
Keara noticed. “Something wrong?”
Jelím turned her mask. “He detected that Stalker before any of us.”
“The system warned him. You heard.”
“Yes. And don’t you find that strange? Broken systems don’t behave like that. They fail. But his… sometimes works perfectly. Better than ours.”
Jelím crossed her arms. “There’s a pattern. And patterns imply purpose. Maybe his system isn’t broken. Maybe it’s being rewritten. By something.”
“By Nessira?” Keara whispered.
“Maybe. Or something worse.”
Jelím began floating again, rejoining the group. But her unseen gaze remained fixed on Steve’s back.
---
The afternoon dragged on. Steve noticed how the group worked together without needing to speak.
Dagon drawing attention.
Jelím controlling.
Keara supporting.
When they stopped again, Steve couldn’t hold it in:
“Why did you come with me?”
The three looked at him.
“North. You could’ve gone with Finn. Why choose this?”
Dagon sighed, as if making a difficult decision.
“Because we know what you are, Steve.”
He raised his hand and tapped the air. A HUD appeared — not Steve’s. Another one. Blue. Stable.
NAME: Dagon Ashford
CLASS: Swordsman
LEVEL: ██████
HP: ██████████
STAMINA: ██████████
Keara did the same.
NAME: Keara Sunweaver
CLASS: Healer
LEVEL: ██████
HP: ██████████
MANA: ██████████
Jelím followed.
NAME: Jelím Voidwhisper
CLASS: Manipulator
LEVEL: ██████
HP: ██████████
MANA: ██████████
Steve stared, his mind struggling to process it.
“You’re…?”
“Players,” Dagon finished. “Like you. From the same world.”
“But… when?”
“I arrived three years ago. Keara, two and a half. Jelím, two.”
Three years.
The word echoed like a funeral bell.
“But Zeylor said 180 days…”
Dagon’s expression hardened.
“There are things you shouldn’t know yet. Just understand that we’re veterans. And we’re here for reasons we can’t explain.”
“But—”
“No. It’s because of Zeylor.”
The name came out like a curse.
“For your own good, don’t keep saying that name. When the time is right, we’ll tell you.”
Steve swallowed his frustration.
Three years.
Dagon had survived three years.
“Fine. I won’t ask anymore.”
“Thank you.”
“But… why are your levels hidden?” Steve pointed at the floating HUDs.
Dagon glanced at his obscured data.
“Because it’s better that you don’t know. Not yet.”
“Why?”
“Because when you do… you’ll understand exactly how impossible it is to leave this place. And I need you to keep your hope a little longer.”
A chill ran down Steve’s spine.
“You… can’t go back? Even at level 100?”
Dagon only looked at him.
He didn’t confirm.
He didn’t deny.
“Keep walking, Steve. And pray that when you reach level 100… things are different.”
---
When darkness fell, they made camp. Efficiently. Fire lit. They ate in silence.
Keara slept first. Then Jelím. Only Steve and Dagon remained awake.
After a few minutes, Dagon spoke:
“Come here, kid.”
They sat apart from the others.
“I need to tell you something. About your system. I’ve seen this before. Broken systems.”
He paused, choosing his words carefully.
“There was a girl. Two years ago. Nineteen years old. South African, like you.”
Steve felt his heart tighten.
“Her system was similar. Classes changed. Levels fluctuated. At first it was manageable. When the episodes happened, we restrained her.”
“Episodes?”
“Moments when she stopped being herself. The system took control. Attacked everything. Then she came back with no memory.”
Dagon snapped a twig slowly.
“But the episodes grew longer. More violent. Until one day… she didn’t come back.”
Silence.
“She attacked a village. Killed seventeen people. When we looked into her eyes… there was no one left. The system had consumed who she was.”
Steve felt sick.
“And you…?”
“We did what had to be done.”
It’s going to happen to me too.
“Why are you telling me this?”
“To prepare you. You’re still fighting. And as long as you fight, I’ll help you. But if the episodes start…”
“I’ll tell you.”
A lie.
Dagon studied him, not fully convinced, but accepting it.
“Get some rest. Tomorrow’s another long walk.”
He started to walk away.
“Oh — and Steve? What happened to her… the details… that’s a story for another day.”
---
Steve was left alone, staring into the darkness.
He tried to sleep.
Closed his eyes.
Darkness.
Then… not darkness.
A white plain. Endless.
And she was there.
Nessira.
Back turned. Hair flowing despite the lack of wind.
Steve tried to speak, but had no voice.
She tilted her head slightly. Not enough to reveal her face. Just enough for him to know:
She knew he was there.
Then she whispered — not with her mouth, but directly into his mind:
“173 days remain. Until you are mine.”
Steve jolted awake, sweating, gasping.
He looked around. Low fire. Everyone asleep. Everything normal.
But the HUD blinked differently:
[CONNECTION: 2%]
[FRAGMENT_001: STABLE]
[DAYS REMAINING: 173]
It had been 1% before he slept.
She’s growing inside me. And I can’t stop it.
He lay back down, staring at the invisible sky through the canopy.
And for the first time since arriving…
He wasn’t afraid of the world around him.
He was afraid of what he was becoming inside.
Steve is no longer just surviving.
He is being shaped.
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As always, thank you for reading.
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See you in the next one.
