At dawn the next morning, Evelyn's eyelashes trembled lightly before she slowly opened her eyes.

  She raised a hand and rubbed her forehead, feeling a dull ache spreading through her temples. The battle with the Death Knight last night had consumed nearly all her magic, and the lingering necrotic energy had slightly eroded her body. Now, her head still felt clouded and heavy.

  She sat up and glanced down at her wounds. Every injured spot was covered with healing herbs, their magic still gently seeping into her skin, soothing the pain.

  The way the herbs had been applied was identical to how she had treated Ryan's wounds a few days earlier. Clearly, it was Ryan who had tended to her while she was unconscious.

  Evelyn instinctively checked her clothes. Everything was intact and properly worn; it seemed the herbs had been applied from the outside.

  She let out a quiet breath of relief, though a faint, indescribable emotion flickered in her heart—something she herself failed to notice.

  Just then, the ultimate ice sword hanging in the corner began to tremble violently, glowing with rapid flashes of light as if desperately trying to communicate something.

  Evelyn walked over, but the sword continued to quiver restlessly, unable to project a coherent image.

  With a helpless sigh, she shook her head and stored the sword away in her spatial ring.

  Even within the ring, the ultimate ice sword kept trembling soundlessly, as though frustrated at having failed to expose Ryan's actions.

  Turning around to change clothes, Evelyn's gaze fell on the small wooden table beside the bed. A rolled-up parchment lay there.

  She picked it up and unrolled it. A few lines of clumsy handwriting came into view:

  "Beautiful Evelyn, I'm heading out on an adventure, so don't miss me too much! From your adorable Ryan."

  Her fingertips brushed lightly across the inked letters, and she couldn't help but mutter inwardly, That fool still dares to wander off alone. He'll probably end up as a snack for the beasts before even leaving the Misty Forest.

  In her memory, Ryan was the type who would risk everything for a stranger. But in the world of magic, compassion often led to an early grave.

  "I should get moving too," Evelyn murmured as she rolled up the parchment. A trace of solemnity flashed in her eyes.

  She had originally planned to leave during the night, but just as she reached the village outskirts, the ground began to shake violently. Countless undead creatures had crawled out from the soil, their hollow wails echoing through the trees. Dark fog spread across the forest—revealing that the entire woodland was now shrouded by the undead.

  She had tried to force her way through, but there were simply too many of them. Every wave she defeated was replaced by another. In her weakened state, a prolonged battle was impossible. With no other choice, she had been forced to retreat back to the village.

  Evelyn walked to the window and pushed it open. The morning sunlight spilled in, washing over her skin with a gentle warmth that dispelled the remnants of necrotic energy within her.

  The sun had only just risen, and the mist still lingered among the trees. Ryan must not have left long ago.

  "It was only a brief companionship on the road. I doubt we'll ever cross paths again," she whispered to herself, turning away to put on her robe.

  After tidying her belongings, Evelyn stepped out of the wooden cabin. The villagers who saw her emerge paused their work and came forward to see her off.

  Though their time together had been short, they still remembered the woman who had once helped save their village.

  As Evelyn departed, the village gradually returned to its former calm. The hunting parties resumed their routine trips into the Misty Forest.

  Meanwhile, Ryan was hurrying along a forest trail, moving as fast as he could. Along the way, he passed several villages.

  Some were nothing but ruins—collapsed huts and rotting timbers that still carried the stench of decay.

  Others stood perfectly intact, yet completely deserted, a silent reminder of attacks by the undead.

  Ryan did not stop. After witnessing the horrors of the forest the night before, all he wanted was to leave this cursed, undead-infested region as soon as possible.

  During the past few days of travel, he had successfully advanced to a Third-tier Adept Mage, and the magic within his body had become denser and more stable.

  Suddenly, a black-scaled serpent over two meters long lunged out of the tall grass, baring its venomous fangs as it struck at him.

  Ryan's eyes turned cold. He sidestepped the attack and swung his blade in one swift motion."Die!"

  The blade flashed, slicing cleanly through the serpent's neck. Green blood sprayed across the ground.

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  The headless body writhed violently, but Ryan paid it no attention. After spending so much time in the Misty Forest, he had grown used to dealing with such low-level beasts.

  He stepped forward, used the tip of his blade to cut open the creature's abdomen, and retrieved a glowing serpent gall—a key ingredient for antidote potions, and something that, when eaten raw, could quickly restore magic.

  The bitter gall slid down his throat, making him grimace. He then scraped the scales off the carcass, removed the head and tail, and chewed on the raw meat as he walked.

  The serpent meat had a faint metallic tang, but it replenished his stamina. For Ryan, it was a rare and valuable meal.

  Once he finished eating, he felt his magic partially restored, though the lingering taste in his mouth was nauseating.

  He looked up at the sky and noticed that dusk was already approaching. He decided to find a nearby stream to wash up and rest, as well as refill his water supply.

  When he reached the riverbank, Ryan instinctively summoned his Grimoire interface:

  Magic Rank: Third-tier Adept Mage

  Mastered Spell: Chaosforge Arcana

  Items: None

  Magic Origin Value: 100

  He considered catching some fish for dinner but quickly dismissed the idea.

  He needed to get out of the forest before nightfall. If he ran into a large horde of undead, not even a Third-tier Adept Mage would make it out alive.

  Focusing his thoughts, Ryan circulated his magic. His body blurred into motion, turning into a fleeting afterimage as he sprinted through the trees. His speed was several times faster than when he had first left the village, the scenery whipping past in a blur of motion and rushing wind.

  The sun slowly dipped below the horizon, staining the clouds with a fiery red glow that looked like a sky ablaze.

  But just as Ryan burst out of the dense woodland, he froze in shock. The forest ended abruptly at the edge of a massive cliff.

  The cliff rose high into the clouds, its top shrouded in mist. Below it churned dark storm clouds, pulsing occasionally with waves of raw magical energy—proof that something dangerous lurked within.

  "Damn it! A cliff?!" Ryan cursed aloud.

  He glanced at the fading light. The last traces of sunset were vanishing fast, and a sense of urgency surged within him. Once night fell, undead creatures were bound to appear around the cliffside.

  Fortunately, he still carried the undead greatsword. Taking a deep breath, Ryan dashed to the cliff's edge and jammed his sword into a crack in the rock, trying to climb upward using the blade for leverage.

  But after scaling only a few meters, he realized this method was far too slow. With his current stamina, there was no chance he would reach the top before dark.

  "Wait… the Basic Flight Spell!" Ryan suddenly remembered the most elementary flight magic.

  As a Third-tier Adept Mage, his magic was barely sufficient to manipulate a weapon in midair for a short time. But perhaps he could use the undead greatsword's own buoyant energy to rise upward.

  He leapt onto a protruding rock ledge, gripped the sword tightly, and began chanting the flight incantation.

  Wind-element energy swirled around the greatsword, lifting it off the ground with a faint hum.

  Ryan stepped onto the blade and tried to guide it upward—but after ascending barely ten meters, he realized the speed was painfully slow.

  Ryan grabbed the undead greatsword beneath his feet, driving the blade deep into a crevice in the cliff face while his right hand clutched a protruding rock.

  He took a deep breath, and at the instant he pulled the greatsword out, he forcefully shoved upward with his right hand. Using the reaction force, his entire body surged toward the top of the cliff.

  Each time he gained some height, he repeated the sequence of planting the sword, leveraging it, and thrusting upward. The clang of blade against rock echoed through the night wind.

  On the other side of the cliff, Evelyn had also stopped at the edge, her eyes wide with astonishment. While making her way along the forest perimeter, she had discovered that the entire area was surrounded by a circular cliff, leaving no visible way out.

  "How could it be a closed cliff?" Evelyn murmured to herself, and then retrieved her ultimate ice sword.

  With a graceful leap, she landed steadily on the sword's blade. Her ascent was extremely fast, far easier than Ryan's brute force climb on the other side.

  The sun had completely dipped below the horizon, and the night sky was full of stars. The cold moonlight bathed the cliff, outlining the steep rock face.

  Evelyn lightly tapped the tip of her foot on the ultimate ice sword, taking a single step to land on the ground at the top of the cliff. The sword automatically flew back into her hand. She looked around and realized she had entered a closed area encircled by cliffs.

  Suddenly, the sound of cracking came from below the cliff. Several bone hands imbued with death energy reached out from the rock crevices. They clawed frantically at the rock walls but could not penetrate the mist-shrouded area, struggling futilely halfway up the cliff.

  Evelyn observed the scene and murmured thoughtfully,"It seems that a necromantic curse is placed beneath the cliff. Only certain areas can spawn these creatures."

  Meanwhile, Ryan faced the most perilous situation since he began climbing. Bone hands continuously emerged from the rock. Some tried to grab his ankles, while others pushed half-formed skeletons out of the rocks, swinging their claws at him.

  Ryan could only maintain his climbing rhythm while furiously swinging the undead greatsword. Some bone hands were shattered outright, and some skeletons were uprooted entirely and flung into the black mist below the cliff.

  "Almost there! Just a little more!" Ryan looked up, seeing the outline of the cliff top clearly. A few more meters and he could step onto level ground.

  At that moment, he suddenly felt violent tremors beneath his feet, as if something was about to break through the rock.

  Ryan instinctively dodged to the side, and almost at the same time, a dark figure burst from the cliff wall.

  It was an undead knight riding a skeletal horse, its hollow eye sockets burning with eerie green flames. The greatsword in its hand was still speckled with fresh rock debris, clearly emerging from a necrotic nest inside the cliff.

  "Get down!" Ryan spat at the passing undead knight, swinging his blade toward the skeletal horse's leg bones.

  The knight lost balance, and the skeletal horse let out a hoarse roar as it tumbled with its rider toward the cliff below.

  Ryan exhaled in relief, but when he looked down, he froze completely. The undead knight, which should have fallen, was controlling the skeletal horse. Its hooves pressed tightly against the rock, climbing upward as if walking on flat ground.

  The scraping of the horse's hooves against the rock rang sharply, yet it showed no sign of descending.

  "Is this even possible?" Ryan widened his eyes in shock. Even for undead creatures in the magical world, defying gravity seemed impossible.

  There was no time to dwell on it. The undead knight had already caught up, swinging the greatsword imbued with death energy at Ryan's back once more.

  Panicked, Ryan accelerated his climb. For the final time, he plunged the undead greatsword into the rock, driving upward with all his strength. His body shot toward the cliff top like a projectile.

  Just as his feet were about to touch solid ground, the knight's greatsword followed closely, the sharp blade scraping along his pants and shaving off a small piece of fabric.

  Ryan landed, heart racing, and immediately turned, stepping on the undead greatsword to activate his basic flight magic. Suspended in midair, he kept a vigilant eye on the pursuing undead knight.