The continent of Aris, though vast and filled with beings of unimaginable strength, was still infected by the Abyss and the demonic entities clawing their way into the mortal realm.
Tens of thousands of years had passed since the ancient apocalypse, but the corruption lingered like a festering wound.
And the reason the abyssal forces still held influence here?
The natives.
Humans, elves, beast kin, dwarves, dragons, vampires, shadow-borns and so many other races had once fought proudly for survival, yet within every group, there were always those who hungered for power.
Individuals who would sell their race, their soul, even their existence for a taste of forbidden strength.
Over generations, these traitors gathered into demonic cults, each worshiping a specific demon deity, each vying for dominance in the shadows.
For Will, who had read most of the novel in his past life, there was only one word to describe them -
A complete pain in the ass.
And unfortunately, he knew he wouldn't be able to avoid crossing paths with them. The protagonist inevitably got involved with multiple cults, often being targeted or manipulated, resulting in battles that shaped his journey.
Will, wanting to bind these influential characters early, understood he'd be dragged into the conflicts regardless.
But he didn't expect his first encounter with cult-related trouble to happen this soon.
He stood inside the same cave he had been cautious about earlier, after many attempt to provoke an imaginary beast out of the cave, Will had finally concluded that the cave was empty.
Right now his expression twisted in annoyance. In his hands was a tattered diary covered in demonic symbols, the pages brittle and stained with age.
How did he find it?
Simple. He had stumbled upon a corpse, a cultist long dead. Only bones and partially rotted clothing remained. Will had expected treasure, weapons, artifacts or something remotely useful.
Instead… he found what was basically a cultist's daily diary.
A diary.
Filled with personal as well as confidential information.
He flipped through the messy pages again, incredulous.
"Which fool writes sensitive cult secrets in a journal?" Will muttered.
The cultist, whoever he had been, hadn't expected such an untimely death. Nor that his secrets would be discovered by a random wandering 12-year-old.
According to the contents, the man had been quite high-ranking. He wrote about his daily life, mission logs, assassination plans, hidden bases, even the cult's next targets.
Will massaged his forehead.
Just what he needed dangerous but valuable information he didn't even want, now his plans would be influenced by this information.
it was good yet troublesome at the same time.
He crouched down again, examining the corpse more carefully. No broken bones. No signs of struggle. So it wasn't physical trauma. Which meant…
"Poison? Organ failure? Or… mental attack?"
The thought made his stomach twist.
He sat back and flipped to the last entry in the diary.
"I regret ever taking this mission. I regret it. To look beyond the veil is suicide. Now that thing won't stop hunting me down."
The final words.
Dated ten years ago.
Will's brows furrowed. "What veil? What thing? Why write it so cryptically?"
He waited for the system to offer commentary, but it stayed silent, unsettlingly silent.
Not helpful.
The diary offered no further clues. Not even the novel from his past life mentioned such an event. Whatever happened here, the cultist died afraid, hunted by something he didn't even dare to name.
Will sighed heavily and stored the diary in his inventory. Maybe it would be useful later. Maybe not. Either way, keeping it wasn't a bad idea.
Searching the corpse more thoroughly, he found a small black token engraved with a crimson rune.
"Identification token," he murmured. "Could be useful."
He tossed it into the inventory and stepped away.
His clothes were dirty and the blood scent still clung to him faintly, so he changed into fresh garments and splashed clean water on himself.
With the cave checked and nothing else found, he picked up a stick from the ground, gauged the sun's position, and determined the correct direction.
Without wasting time, Will resumed his journey.
***
The coming days tested his endurance. He rested very little, moving under the cover of night whenever possible.
Fortunately, this forest was only the outer perimeter. No magical beasts of high rank roamed here. Still, he encountered goblins and wild boars - both dangerous in their own right.
Thanks to the training his grandfather drilled into him from a young age, Will managed to survive. But he wasn't unscathed.
A wild boar had slammed into him during an ambush, sending agony searing through his abdomen. Though he ultimately killed it, the injury left him sore and stiff.
He pressed a hand to his side as he walked, breathing shallowly. The pain radiated with every step, but he didn't stop.
Couldn't stop.
With every mile he crossed, he felt a strange mixture of relief and determination. Surviving the forest, the goblins, the boar - it reminded him he was far stronger than any child his age. But he was also painfully reminded of his limits.
His vision blurred occasionally from exhaustion. His steps faltered. His throat felt dry and tight.
And then…
A faint outline appeared ahead.
Redstone Town.
A wave of assurance and relief spread to his heart, at least compared to the wilderness he would get to sleep here.
Will pushed himself forward, limping heavily. His legs trembled. His vision swayed. The world spun with every breath. The crossbow strapped to his back felt like a mountain weighing him down.
By the time he reached the city gate, he must have looked like a half-dead fugitive. The guards eyed him cautiously when they saw a ragged boy carrying a weapon.
One guard stepped forward. "Kid, state your—"
Will swayed.
And collapsed.
"Hey! Oi - he's passed out!"
"Get him inside!"
The guards rushed toward him, lifting his limp body from the dirt.
His consciousness flickered for a moment - just long enough to see himself being carried inside the town.
Then darkness overtook him completely.
.