The forest swallowed everything.
Steve walked a few steps behind Dagon, watching how every movement the man made was calculated. Each step tested the ground before fully transferring weight, avoiding roots, branches and loose stones with precision born of years of practice.
Keara came right behind, breathing with more difficulty than the others. Her hands still trembled occasionally — remnants of mana exhaustion after healing so many wounded in the temple. She didn't complain, but Steve saw how she pressed her lips when she thought no one was looking.
Jelím floated at the rear, a few centimeters above the ground. But not as high as before. The white mask remained cracked on the left side since the battle, revealing only a piece of pale cheek underneath.
No one spoke. Only the sound of footsteps — the creak of boot leather, the occasional rustle when someone pushed aside a branch, the controlled breathing of people who knew that noise attracted unwanted attention.
The light filtering through the dense canopy was gray-green, giving the forest an almost underwater quality. The trees here were larger than those at the temple. The trunks were meters in diameter, covered in dark green moss that seemed to absorb sound.
Occasionally, Steve saw something gleam in the moss — small crystals embedded in the tree bark, pulsing with their own faint and rhythmic light. Like heartbeats.
They walked for hours before Dagon finally raised his hand, signaling a stop.
— Water — he said simply.
They crossed a few more meters and found a stream. Not wide, but with water clear enough to see the rocky bottom.
— Rest. Fill your canteens. Five minutes.
Steve knelt, taking out his canteen. The water was freezing when he plunged the container in. He filled it, capped it, drank a long sip. It tasted mineral, but was the best thing he'd tasted in days.
That's when he heard it. A rustle. Deliberate.
Dagon was already on his feet, hand on his sword. Jelím floated up, fingers curving defensively. Keara backed away, hands beginning to glow.
Something emerged from the vegetation on the opposite bank.
The size of a medium dog, but the shape was completely wrong. Long segmented body, covered in dark green chitinous plates. Six articulated legs ending in sharp claws. Triangular head dominated by horizontal mandibles.
And eyes. Many eyes. All focused on them.
— Water Crawler — Dagon murmured. — Just one.
The creature took a few steps, tilting its head like a bird studying prey. It stopped at the water's edge. Didn't attack. Just observed.
— Don't move — Jelím said quietly. — They hunt by movement.
Steve remained motionless. The creature stayed there, mandibles opening and closing in a scraping sound that made Steve's skin crawl.
Then, abruptly, it turned and disappeared.
— Lucky — Dagon said. — It wasn't hungry.
— Let's go — he ordered. — Don't want to be here if more show up.
---
They resumed the march. An hour later, another creature attacked.
The thing descended from above.
— STOP! — Jelím shouted.
Everyone threw themselves to the sides. The impact came where they had been a second before — something heavy hitting the ground.
Steve rolled, sword coming out of its sheath by instinct.
It was vaguely humanoid. Two meters tall, grayish-green skin, arms too long ending in claws. But the head had no face. Just a smooth surface.
The creature turned toward him. The smooth surface of the head opened. Like an obscene flower, the skin split into four fleshy petals, revealing red interior full of tentacles and circular mouth of teeth.
— BACK OFF! — Dagon shouted, running.
The sword cut in a brutal arc. The blade passed through skin, chitin and something that shouldn't exist inside a living body. The arm separated with a wet snap — not clean, but torn.
No blood gushed. Where there should be an open wound, there was only void. Literally. A black hole that seemed to suck the surrounding light, distorting the air.
And from inside that void... something whispered. Not in voice. Directly in the mind.
Steve felt explosive nausea.
The severed arm fell to the ground. And kept moving. The fingers contracting. Opening. Closing.
— Shit... — Steve murmured.
Jelím raised her hands and the creature froze in the air — invisible ropes tied to the body.
— NOW!
Dagon pierced its chest with the sword. The thing shuddered violently, then collapsed.
— Lurker — Keara said, touching the body with her boot. — This one was young. Adults are bigger.
Dagon cleaned his sword. — Where there's one, there's usually more. Let's get out of here.
They began to move, but Steve stopped. Something was wrong.
The HUD blinked — not in error, but in warning:
[THREAT DETECTED: 87%]
[DIRECTION: NORTHEAST]
[DISTANCE: ~15M]
— Wait — he said, voice coming out firmer than intended.
The three turned.
— There's something there — he pointed to the dense vegetation on the right.
— How do you know? — Jelím asked, attention focused on him.
Steve hesitated. — The system. It warned me.
Dagon and Keara exchanged a quick look. Jelím moved, floating silently toward the indicated point.
Seconds later, something flew from the vegetation. Another Lurker. Bigger.
But Jelím was already ready. The creature froze in the air before even reaching them. Dagon pierced it with surgical precision.
When it was over, Dagon walked to Steve. He placed a heavy hand on his shoulder.
— Good work, boy.
It wasn't much. But it was recognition. For the first time, Steve felt he had contributed. Small victory. But a real victory nonetheless.
---
More encounters followed. Something that looked like a wolf but had six eyes and a jaw divided into three parts. A winged creature that watched them from the trees before disappearing.
When they stopped again, Steve asked:
— Why is this forest so dangerous?
Keara responded gently:
— Because of magic. This forest was formed over Ley Lines — lines of magical force. Several converge here. All that energy affects the creatures. Makes them stronger, stranger.
— And it's not just that — Dagon added. — Magic attracts creatures from other places. And there are resources — rare plants, crystals, herbs worth fortunes. That's why adventurers risk entering. But most never leave.
— And the cult temple?
— Not just affected — Jelím responded. — Fed by it. Those entities are ancient things imprisoned here. Magic keeps them trapped. Or kept.
Steve remembered the two figures facing each other. "Hello, sister."
They resumed the march, but Jelím didn't move immediately. She stood watching Steve.
Keara noticed. — Any problem?
Jelím turned her mask. — He detected that Lurker before any of us.
— The system warned him. You heard.
— Yes. And don't you find it strange? Broken systems don't work like that. They fail. But his... sometimes works perfectly. Better than ours.
Jelím crossed her arms. — There's a pattern. And patterns mean purpose. Maybe his system isn't broken. Maybe it's being rewritten. By something.
— By the Nessira? — Keara whispered.
— Maybe. Or by something worse.
Jelím began to float again, catching up to the group. But her invisible eyes remained fixed on Steve's back.
---
The afternoon advanced. Steve noticed how the group worked together without needing to speak. Dagon drawing attention. Jelím controlling. Keara supporting.
When they stopped again, Steve couldn't hold back:
— Why did you come with me?
All three looked at him.
— North. You could have gone with Finn. Why did you choose to come to this?
Dagon sighed, as if he had made a difficult decision.
— Because we know what you are, Steve.
Dagon raised his hand. Clicked in the air. And then a HUD appeared. Not Steve's — another. Bright blue. Stable.
NAME: Dagon Ashford
CLASS: Swordsman
LEVEL: ██████
HP: ██████████
STAMINA: ██████████
Keara did the same. Another HUD appeared.
NAME: Keara Sunweaver
CLASS: Healer
LEVEL: ██████
HP: ██████████
MANA: ██████████
Jelím. Delicate movement.
NAME: Jelím Voidwhisper
CLASS: Manipulator
LEVEL: ██████
HP: ██████████
MANA: ██████████
Steve looked from one to another, brain trying to process.
— You... are...
— Players — Dagon completed. — Like you. We came from the same world.
— But... when?
— I arrived three years ago. Keara, two and a half years. Jelím, two years.
Three years. The word echoed like a funeral bell.
— But Zeylor said 180 days...
Dagon's expression hardened.
— There are things you shouldn't know now. Just know that we're veterans. We're here for reasons we can't explain.
— But—
— No. It's because of Zeylor.
The name came out like a curse.
— For your own good, don't keep mentioning that name. When the time is right, we'll tell you.
Steve swallowed his frustration. Three years. Dagon survived three years.
— Okay. I won't ask anymore.
— Thank you.
— But... why are the levels and stats hidden? — Steve pointed to the HUDs still floating.
Dagon looked at his own covered data.
— Because it's better you don't know. Not yet.
— Why?
— Because when you know... you'll understand exactly how impossible it is to get out of here. And I need you to keep hope a little longer.
Steve felt cold run down his spine.
— You... can't go back? Even reaching level 100?
Dagon just stared at him. Didn't confirm. Didn't deny.
— Keep walking, Steve. And pray that when you reach 100, things are different.
---
When darkness fell, they camped. Set up with efficiency. Fire lit. Ate in silence.
Keara slept first. Jelím too. Steve and Dagon remained.
Minutes later, Dagon spoke:
— Come here, boy.
They sat apart.
— I need to tell you something. About your system. I've seen this before. Broken systems.
He stopped, choosing words.
— There was one. Two years ago. Girl. Nineteen years old. South African like you.
Steve felt his heart tighten.
— Her system was similar. Changed classes. Levels fluctuated. At first it was manageable. When the episodes came, we contained her.
— Episodes?
— Moments where she stopped being herself. The system took control. Attacked everything. Then came back with no memory.
Dagon slowly broke a twig.
— But the episodes got longer. More violent. Until one day she didn't come back.
Silence.
— She attacked a village. Killed seventeen people. When we looked in her eyes... there was no one left. The system had consumed who she was.
Steve felt nausea.
— And you...?
— Did what we had to do.
It's going to happen to me too.
— Why are you telling me this?
— To prepare you. You're still fighting. And while you fight, I'll help you. But if the episodes start...
— I'll tell you.
Lie.
Dagon studied him, not completely believing, but accepting.
— Rest. Tomorrow has more walking.
He began to walk away.
— Oh, and Steve? What happened to her... the details... that's for another story, boy.
---
Steve was alone. Looking at the darkness.
He tried to sleep. Closed his eyes.
Darkness. Then... not darkness.
A white plain. Infinite.
And she was there. The Nessira. Back turned. Hair undulating even without wind.
Steve tried to speak, but had no voice.
She turned her head slightly. Not enough to see the face. Just enough for him to know: she knew he was there.
Then she whispered — not with mouth, but directly in the mind:
"173 days left. Until you are mine."
Steve woke with a start. Sweating. Gasping.
He looked around. Low fire. Everyone sleeping. Everything normal.
But the HUD blinked differently:
[CONNECTION: 2%]
[FRAGMENT_001: STABLE]
[REMAINING DAYS: 173]
It had been 1% before sleeping.
She's growing inside me. And I can't stop it.
He lay down again. Looking at the invisible sky through the canopy.
And for the first time since arriving...
He was afraid not of the world around him.
But of what he was becoming inside.