Twig ran through the forest, moving at a blistering pace, branches whipping past as he searched for any sign of civilization — a village, a road, anything.
"Damn it…" he muttered between breaths. "I've been running for over an hour, faster than a horse, and there's still nothing!"
He glanced upward and decided to climb. In a few agile leaps, he reached the canopy. From the treetops, he scanned the horizon — but even from up there, there was no smoke, no lights, no walls. Nothing but an endless green sea.
Then, something strange caught his eye. Far in the distance, faint translucent shapes hovered in the air — glowing geometric figures, floating above the forest.
"What in the world…?"
"System what is that?"
[Ding!]
"Host, those distant markers represent the locations of Aron and Jenny. You are still in a party."
"Oh, I see," Twig said. "At least I won't get lost now. Thanks."
He looked west. "If that direction leads back to the inn, then I'll head the other way. Maybe I can reach Riverrun before nightfall."
He took off again, racing westward — but the forest stretched endlessly, trees blurring into each other as hours passed. The light filtering through the canopy dimmed little by little, and soon, the shadows of dusk began to swallow the path.
His hopes of finding another living soul began to fade.
Leaping from branch to branch, he finally stopped atop a tall oak, breathing hard.
"Alright, looks like I'm camping here tonight," he sighed. "Guess the stars will be my blanket."
But then — in the distance — a faint column of smoke rose into the sky.
"What's that? A campfire?"
Excitement flickered in his chest. He sprinted across the treetops toward it, silent and swift. Soon, the flicker of flames and the sound of shouting reached his ears.
Below, in a small clearing, a caravan was under attack. A group of bandits surrounded two wagons, torchlight glinting off drawn blades.
Twig crouched on a branch, assessing the situation. His first instinct was to leap into the fray — but that would expose him too much. These weren't monsters; they were people. Interfering openly could draw unnecessary attention.
He needed a disguise.
In seconds, he opened his inventory, equipping a ragged collection of robes and fabrics in mismatched colors. Over his face, he pulled a grotesque Goblin Mask — a drop from one of his earlier dungeons runs — and adorned his head with feathers and from his inventory that dropped from the same mobs. The result was… unsettling. Strange. Almost demonic.
But effective.
POV: Geisel, a traveling merchant
The day had started early.
We packed camp at dawn and took to the road again — two wagons, one full of cloth, the other of spices and tools. Nothing too valuable, but enough to make a profit in Riverrun. Apparently, enough to attract thieves as well.
It was near dusk when they struck.
They came fast — no warning, no shouts, no demands. Just chaos.
Our hired swords — the so-called "sellswords" — rushed to defend us, but they were outnumbered. I, having no skill in combat, hid inside the wagon and prayed to the Seven.
Within minutes, it was clear: we were doomed.
And then… the sound came.
A scream — not human, not beastly — something in between.
Everyone froze. Bandits and merchants alike stopped mid-motion, staring into the darkness.
I looked up, trembling. "By the gods… what is that?"
At the top of a tall tree, a silhouette loomed — thin, inhuman, holding a spear in one hand.
A bandit threw a torch upward to see. The light caught it for an instant — a creature draped in tattered, multicolored robes, its face hidden by a monstrous mask. Feathers and bones clattered in its hair.
It didn't look human.
Then the scream came again, sharper, almost metallic.
Before we could react, the figure leapt — impossibly fast — landing on a bandit with a crushing impact. The man didn't even have time to scream; his skull caved under the force.
The creature moved through the camp like a wildfire — weaving between men and blades, untouchable. Every swing missed. Every strike met only air.
"What in the hells is that thing?!" one of the bandits shouted.
The answer came in the form of death.
A bandit hurled his axe. The figure spun its spear, slapping the weapon out of the air — and before the axe could hit the ground, it snatched it mid-fall and hurled it back.
The blade split the man's skull with a sickening crack.
Then, the masked being slammed the spear into the ground.
A burst of flame erupted outward — raw, unnatural fire that ignited the grass and the men around it. Screams filled the clearing as the blaze consumed the attackers.
When the flames dimmed, the spear's tip still burned, glowing red-hot.
One of the remaining archers, shaking with fear, released an arrow. The figure caught it mid-flight — inches from its mask.
He loosed another; it caught that one too, letting the first drop casually. Before a third could fly, the creature hurled its flaming spear like a thunderbolt.
The weapon pierced through the man's chest, pinning him to a tree — and then, he ignited.
A second later, the spear ripped itself free, flying back to its master's hand, trailed by a swirl of sparks.
The archer's corpse fell, nothing left but ash.
Those few bandits still alive dropped their weapons and ran screaming into the woods.
The thing didn't chase them — not visibly, at least. It screamed again and jumped over the tree tops vanishing from my vision.
But moments later, from deep in the forest, we heard it — the screams. One by one, the cries of men dying in the dark.
Then silence.
The air grew heavy.
And then, a voice — deep, distorted, echoing from above us — rolled through the clearing like thunder.
"You saw nothing. You heard nothing."
"I am Gi Nattak, Spirit of Fire. This time, I have spared you."
"But if you dare shed blood on my sacred ground again…"
The voice broke into a mad, echoing laughter that seemed to come from everywhere.
"Hya Kya Kya Kya!"
The forest burned red for a heartbeat — then fell still.
No one spoke. Some merchants dropped to their knees. Others simply wept. The remaining guards looked at each other, hollow-eyed, as if one wrong word could summon the monster back.
Gi Nattak… I thought, frozen. It has a name. And it speaks like a man. Gods help us…
POV: Twig
High above the clearing, perched on a branch, Twig sat motionless — the mask still on, the night wind brushing past.
He exhaled slowly. "Well, that worked. System was right — bandits give zero EXP."
He looked down at the survivors below. "At least they're alive. And terrified. That should make things easier."
Adjusting the feathers on his shoulder, he muttered, "Alright, 'Spirit of Fire'... that should buy me some misdirection."
He took off the mask and stashed it away, replacing it with his travel cloak. "Now the plan is to follow them. They seem to be merchants; they're bound to keep traveling — and that'll take me to a place I need to complete my quest."
He crouched low among the leaves, watching the camp settle into uneasy silence.
When dawn broke, the caravan wasted no time. They packed hurriedly, loaded their wagons, and took to the road — every step cautious, every glance thrown nervously toward the trees. The fear was thick enough to taste.
Every so often, they'd look upward — half-expecting the masked spirit to drop from the canopy again.
Unbeknownst to them, he was still up there — shadowing them silently, leaping from branch to branch high above.
He followed for half a day before the horizon finally changed.
There — faint but unmistakable — the outline of a city: ancient walls, tall watchtowers, slanted rooftops and chimney smoke.
A city.
Twig's heart lifted. "Finally…"
He overtook the caravan easily, racing ahead through the trees until he reached the city's edge.
Finding a secluded spot, he dropped down from the canopy, straightened his cloak, and swapped back into clean travel clothes.
He brushed dirt from his gloves, took a deep breath, and looked ahead.
"This place seems to be Riverrun," he said softly. "Alright, let's see if I can pull this off."
And with that, he stepped onto the beaten road and walked toward the city gates — the second true human settlement he'd seen since arriving in this world.