After days of fights, drills, and slow, steady growth, Atem moved with the kind of quiet confidence that only comes from surviving more than you feared. The cave no longer felt like a trap; it felt like a training ground. He found the door at last—a hulking slab of rusted iron set into the stone like an old wound. Moss braided the hinges; the lock looked stubborn as a rumor.
"Finally," he breathed.
He turned to the empty air where his summons had stood. "Dark Magician. Kuriboh — return to the Deck."
The Dark Magician inclined his staff in a single graceful bow. Kuriboh made a small, indignant noise and then folded into the lattice of Atem's spirit deck like a soft puff being drawn into a pocket. The sudden hush where they had been made Atem feel a small tug of loneliness and a larger sense of readiness.
He crouched near the door and listened. Voices carried faintly through the iron—three sets of steps and low words. The Oracle slipped into his thoughts before he could speak.
<
Atem's eyes made a calm slit. He melted his aura inward, folding the hum of power tight and low until it was like a candle under a cup. The act felt like pulling a cloak around his shoulders: deliberate, slow, precise. The air around him cooled as the hum of magic that had clung to the cave since Veldora's presence dimmed. He tucked himself behind a huge boulder just inside the threshold and became stone.
The door creaked. Light slipped and sighed. The three entered.
First came the elf — tall and lithe, hair braided back, wearing tight leather and a quiver at her hip. She moved with the economy of someone who never wasted breath; her eyes, when she swept them over the interior, were all business and sharp green curiosity. Atem learned her name a breath later when she spoke softly to the others.
"Eren," she said. "Stay close."
Behind her, heavy steps and a weathered face: Gido, wide-shouldered, hands that looked used to rope and rough wood. He inspected footprints, nudged a fallen stone with the toe of his boot, and moved like a man who trusted the land more than lamps.
Last was the talker: Kaval. A thinner figure with a short rune-staff and a quick, nervous energy. He fussed with something at his wrist, muttered a syllable, and the air near his palm shivered like heat.
Atem watched, every muscle still. The elf lit a small lantern; the beam washed dim and warm across the rust. Then, in one neat, practiced motion, Kaval spoke bright and low and wove his hands through a little pattern. The lamplight blurred and then vanished. The three figures shimmered like mirages, and then—gone. Invisible.
Atem felt the small, admiring smile he kept behind his mouth. He leaned his head back slightly and let the Oracle hear the thought.
<
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He watched them for a few heartbeats more. Through the invisible shapes he could hear Eren's voice, low and clear: "let us hurry and find the seal, i dnt want tp die in a place like this."
Gido's grunt: yes this place gives me the creeps"."
Kaval's quieter murmur: "Fuze wants proof let us hurry, this cave is bound to have multiple dangerous monsters..."
They moved deeper into the cave, delicate as ghosts. Their steps left no echo. Atem kept himself still until their noises faded, until the heavy door sighed closed behind them with a metal moan that sounded oddly final.
When he judged it safe, he breathed. His lungs opened and the first real air in days rushed in like a small blessing. He stepped out from behind the rock and into sunlight.
The forest hit him all at once. It was enormous—columns of oak and pine, trunks as thick as towers; leaves braided the sky into living lattice. The smell was green and sharp and full: moss, damp earth, resin, and a thousand tiny growing things. A gull-squeak of a bird called somewhere high above. The sky was a clear, unashamed blue, and sunlight slanted through the leaves in golden knives that cut the last of the cave's chill from his skin.
He inhaled until his ribs felt like bellows. For the first time since he had been torn from his past life, Atem tasted unfiltered air—no dust of arcane binding, no stale cave-metal—only the bright, living scent of trees.
He moved forward slowly, fingers brushing fern-tip and bark. Sunlight warmed the storm-scale tucked to his chest. A small thread of Veldora's presence hummed there, content and patient, not roaring but alive. Atem stilled to listen to it for a heartbeat and then let the world come back.
In the distance, the forest breathed on: a squirrel rustled, a far stream glinted, a breeze made leaves whisper secret things. Atem allowed himself a private, small smile. He had trained, he had grown, and now he had a path into a far larger world. He shouldered his cloak, tightened the straps over the warm scale, and set his face toward the trees.
Atem walked slowly through the forest, the sound of leaves crunching under his boots. His eyes darted to every detail—sunlight filtering through thick canopies, the faint rustle of unseen creatures, and the way the wind carried the raw density of magicules across the air.
Inside his mind, the calm, steady voice of the Oracle of Eternity spoke:
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Atem's golden eyes narrowed as he took in her words. "So this Jura Forest truly is what Veldora said… a world where strength determines survival."
<
Atem stopped for a moment, placing a hand on a large mossy tree. His mind traced back to the duel fields of his old world, where each move carried weight, where his monsters were more than just cards. Here, that feeling was magnified—every step could lead to battle, every breath a test of survival.
"Intelligent monsters," Atem muttered under his breath, almost to himself. "That means negotiations might be possible… alliances even. But it also means betrayal could be as sharp as any blade."
The Oracle's tone softened, almost like a whisper of caution:
<
Atem exhaled, his breath steady but heavy with thought. "Then I will use both my strength and my spirit. Just as I once commanded loyalty through trust and battle, I will do the same here. But first…" He glanced upward, the light glinting in his eyes. "I must understand this world fully, so that when I do face its rulers… I will not falter."
For a moment, silence hung between them, broken only by the distant cry of a bird-like creature echoing through the forest.
The Oracle then spoke again, her tone factual yet tinged with curiosity:
<
Atem's lips curved into a small, confident smile. "For now find the nearest intelligent settlement."