The forest had started to thin.
After hours of cautious travel, trudging through uneven terrain and the twisted hush of magic-soaked woods, I could feel the world opening up. Sunlight broke through the treetops in golden shafts, and the canopy above grew less tangled. The quiet around us had changed too—less oppressive. Less like something watching.
Lina walked ahead, ever-quiet, her silver-gray hair catching the light in strands that glinted like steel thread. Her staff tapped the earth with steady rhythm, and despite the brutal pace she set, she hadn't so much as broken a sweat. My shirt, on the other hand, was soaked through, sticking to every sore muscle like a second skin.
I hadn't said much since the fight.
The Verdant Stalkers. My first real test. I'd survived, but barely. My hands were still sore from smashing bark-bone and vine muscle. My ribs ached where claws had raked across them. I could still feel the weight of the Alpha's body slamming into me, its breath hot and fetid in my face.
But more than anything, I could feel it.
The slow pulse of something ancient and silent beneath my skin. A beat not my own. The dragon inside me.
"You walk heavy," Lina said suddenly, not looking back.
I blinked, surprised she'd broken the silence.
"I'm not used to… fights like that," I muttered. "I wasn't trained for it. Just survived it."
She didn't respond at first. Just kept walking.
Then: "You're alive. That's what matters."
A pause.
"But you let them flank you. You moved like someone who's never fought to the death"
"That obvious, huh?"
"To me? Yes."
We walked a while longer before the trees finally gave way to something else.
A clearing. Not wide—but worn smooth by generations of travelers. Beyond it, the forest dipped into a shallow valley, and there, nestled between slopes and mist-wrapped trees, I saw it.
Pinebarrow.
Wooden fences rose in irregular arcs, shaped from living trees bent inward to form a perimeter. Smoke curled from stone chimneys. Colorful flags hung between rooftops. It wasn't large—maybe fifty homes, max—but there was movement. Life.
Something in my chest unclenched.
But then the earth shook.
Just a tremor at first. Enough to make the leaves shiver and birds scatter. Then again—harder. Louder.
Trees to our right cracked, and something huge barreled through them like paper.
It was the size of a truck. A creature of stone and sinew. A bear—but wrong. Its fur was slate and shale, and its limbs moved with thunderous weight. Moss clung to its joints like armor. Its eyes were glowing hollows of molten amber.
[System Alert – Hostile Detected]
Species: Rock Bear
Level: 15
Classification: High-tier Guardian Beast
I didn't even bother reaching for my gauntlets.
This was way beyond me.
The bear let out a roar—deep, earthshaking—and charged directly toward us.
I froze. My legs simply locked.
But Lina didn't.
She stepped forward without hesitation, staff rising fluidly into both hands. Her expression was unchanged. Calm. Focused.
"Stay behind me," she said.
I stumbled back as the bear crashed into the clearing, its paws slamming deep craters into the earth.
And Lina moved.
She planted her feet, raised her staff skyward, and spoke.
"Veilbreaker: Seventh Current."
The air around her shifted. The ground rippled outward like a drop had fallen into still water. Blue light surged up her arms and through her staff, which glowed like liquid moonlight.
Then she brought it down.
Not hard. Not fast.
Just… deliberately.
The moment her staff struck the ground, the air snapped.
Water burst from beneath the soil itself—no warning, no buildup—just an instant torrent, a spear of pressure and cutting current that exploded upward from below the bear.
It didn't roar. Didn't move.
It simply just vanished in the blast.
The water slammed through its body, carving a hole the size of a wagon wheel straight through its chest and lifting the several-ton beast off its feet. Bits of stone and bone flew in all directions. The trees behind it shattered.
By the time the water dissipated into mist, the bear was a heap of rubble and wet fur, green blood dripping from where its chest was destroyed blood.
My jaw hung open.
Lina turned, brushing a fleck of dirt off her robe.
"…How strong are you?" I asked, voice quiet.
She looked at me for a moment, considering.
"Strong enough," she said. "So shut up and Keep walking."
And that was the end of it.
—
Pinebarrow's gates opened as we approached.
Two guards in leather-and-hide armor raised their spears at first—but relaxed the moment they saw her. One of them even smiled.
"Warden Lina! You're back early!"
Warden?
She gave them a nod. "Lower the gate. He's with me."
The guards looked me over—rough, bloody, still carrying the scent of bark and sap and sweat—but didn't object. Just stepped aside and opened the woven gate, letting us through.
We crossed into the village—and immediately, I was surrounded by motion.
Children.
At least five of them ran up, yelling and laughing. A girl with puffy twin buns clung to Lina's leg. A boy with missing front teeth pointed at her staff. Another tugged at her sleeve.
"Lina, did you bring anything back?"
"Did you find another crystal stag?!"
"Did you fight anything?!"
Lina knelt slightly and ruffled the hair of the nearest one.
"No crystal stags this time," she said. "But we ran into trouble. This one helped."
All their heads turned to me.
They looked… fascinated. And confused.
"Who's he?" one of them asked.
"He looks weird," another whispered.
I smiled awkwardly and gave a small wave. "Hey."
The kids stared like I'd grown antlers.
One of the younger ones finally asked, "is he staying ?"
Lina stood up. "That's not your concern."
Then, turning to me, she nodded toward a nearby building—a long, low hall with thick beams and runic etchings above the door.
"Come on. You'll need rest. And someone needs to look at that shoulder."
I followed her, still reeling—not just from the fight, or the magic, or the village—but from the sheer, sudden warmth of it all.
I'd come to this world under fire and blood and fear.
But for the first time, walking through Pinebarrow's quiet streets, with children still whispering behind us and Lina striding ahead like some legend carved in bone and silver…
I felt like maybe—just maybe—I had a place in it.
Even if I had to fight to earn it.
The village smelled like pine, smoke, and damp earth. Not unpleasant—just raw. Real. People moved between small stone houses and crooked wood huts, carrying baskets of herbs, guiding livestock, or tending to plants . The village felt old, like it had been here long before me and would keep going long after.
Lina led us toward the longhouse she'd pointed at earlier. It sat close to the center of the village, its walls made from some kind of treated bark and bone-colored wood. Runic lines spiraled up the support beams, faintly pulsing like a heartbeat.
Before we reached the door, it opened.
Out stepped a woman—tall, broad-shouldered, with skin the color of burnished copper and short black curls tucked beneath a wrapped headband. She wore reinforced leather over a dark undershirt, a cloak hanging loose over one shoulder, and a curved blade strapped to her hip. Her presence stopped me cold—there was something about her posture, her gaze, that said commanding without needing to try.
Her gray eyes—same as Lina's—swept over us. Then she smirked.
The woman looked at me next, eyebrows lifting. "And this would be…?"
"Mark," Lina said. "Found him in deep in the forest looking lost so I helped him.
Her expression didn't change, but her eyes narrowed slightly. She stepped forward, offering me a hand.
"I'm Lillian. Warden of Pinebarrow." Her grip was firm—callused palm, steady pressure. "And cousin to the lunatic here ."
"Mark," I said. "Uh… new around here."
"That much is obvious." She studied me a moment longer, then let go. "You look like you've been dragged backwards through a thorn maze."
I gave a small, tired laugh. "Pretty sure I was."
Lina pushed the door open and nodded toward the interior. "We're wasting time. He needs treatment."
Lillian stepped aside and motioned for me to enter. "We've got healers, but don't expect miracles. If you've got open wounds, they'll patch you. If it's internal bleeding or spiritual damage, you're better off sleeping it off unless you want a full cleanse."
The longhouse interior was warm—lit by blue fire in a central hearth and rows of glowing crystals embedded in the walls. A few villagers looked up as we entered, murmured greetings to Lillian, then returned to their work. A set of thick furs was rolled out in a corner, clearly meant as a resting place.
I slumped down onto it with a groan. Every muscle screamed.
A healer arrived—older man, hunched slightly, hands glowing soft green as he examined my shoulder and thigh. No words, just silent professionalism. I hissed as he pressed into a bruise, but stayed still.
Lina leaned against the wall. Lillian remained near the hearth, arms crossed.
After a while, the healer nodded and moved on, muttering something about avoiding infection and letting the body do the rest.
Lillian spoke again.
"So. A stranger pops up in the forest, beats down forest stalkers, and doesn't flinch when Lina kills a guardian bear."
She raised an eyebrow. "What's your story, Mark?"
I hesitated. My mind flashed back to the blue screen, the system messages, the fall through that blinding light.
"I don't really know," I said slowly. "Not yet."
"You're lucky," she said. "The last person who wandered in from the woods died before they could say a word. You at least get a bed."
"And a meal," Lina added, finally sitting on the edge of the bench beside the hearth. "He's not useless."
"High praise," Lillian said, smirking.
There was a beat of silence. Just the crackle of the hearth.
Then I said, quietly, "I know I made mistakes."
Lina looked up.
"Back there," I continued. "With the stalkers. I was… reckless. Got clawed up. Let one of them bite into me. I panicked. Moved too slow. I thought my strength would be enough, but it wasn't."
"No," Lina said. "It wasn't."
That stung. But she didn't say it cruelly—just matter-of-fact.
"You moved like someone who's never had to fight to survive. You threw your weight around without knowing your own balance. You didn't check your surroundings. You got lucky."
Lillian whistled low. "She's going easy on you."
I looked down at my hands. They still shook slightly. Not from fear. From strain.
"But you're alive," Lina said. "Which means you get to learn. You don't run from that. You fight smarter next time."
I looked up, meeting her gaze. She wasn't cold now. Just… direct. Honest.
"I will," I said.
Another pause.
Then Lillian chuckled. "He's got that stupid look you had when you were fifteen."
"What look?" Lina asked, deadpan.
"The one that says, 'I'm gonna throw myself into every death trap I see and somehow crawl out of it with a new scar and a bigger stick.'"
Lina didn't smile—but her silence was telling.
I leaned back against the furs, exhaustion catching up to me.
"…what Was that beast?" I asked after a while.
Lillian snorted. "That was a juvenile Rock Bear. Fully grown, they can level small keeps."
My eyes widened.
"Yeah," Lillian said, glancing at Lina. "She's been strong since we were kids. But that staff of hers? It's older than the village. Nobody else's been able to make it do what she can. Whatever she says , the forest listens."
That stuck with me.
The forest listens.
I closed my eyes and let the heat of the fire soak into my bones.
"I want to learn how to fight like that," I muttered.
"You'd better," Lina said. "The next beast you meet might not wait for me to save you."
And with that, they let me rest.
Later, when night fell, I drifted in and out of sleep beneath the roof of a village I didn't belong to, surrounded by people who didn't know me—but didn't push me away either.