Izak adjusted the makeshift shelter one last time before stepping out into the morning light. His first objective was clear: find the glade, then make his way to the river. The woman’s words from his dream echoed in his mind: Follow the river upstream. Find the ruins. Whether it had been a hallucination or something more, he couldn’t ignore it. Even if it meant nothing, the survival advice he remembered—that rivers often lead to civilization—made it the logical path forward. The forest looked entirely different in the light of day. The oppressive and eerie atmosphere of the night had lifted, replaced by an almost serene beauty. Droplets of water fell intermittently from the leaves high above, glistening like tiny jewels before disappearing into the mossy undergrowth. Everything seemed alive and vibrant. The grass beneath his boots was wet with dew, and as he looked closer, he noticed moss and mushrooms blanketing the ground and tree trunks, thriving in the dim light that barely filtered through the canopy. Izak walked slowly, taking in the details of his surroundings. Despite his precarious situation, he couldn’t help but admire the strange beauty of the forest. Was it his love for nature and woodlands, or was it the sheer otherworldliness of this place? He couldn’t decide. One thing was certain, though—this wasn’t Earth. The thought settled heavily in his mind, but he pushed it aside for now. Survival came first. He had been walking for only a few minutes when a faint sound reached his ears. It was unmistakably the sound of flowing water. “Must be the river,” he muttered to himself. He hesitated for a moment, considering his options. The glade shouldn't be too far, but its small size made it easy to miss, especially in this dense forest. The sound of the river, on the other hand, was a reliable guide. It seemed safer to head directly toward the water. Making up his mind, Izak turned left, toward the sound of the river. The noise grew louder with each step, a steady, rushing cadence that broke the forest’s stillness. Within ten minutes, he emerged from the trees and stood at the edge of a wide river. It was at least ten meters across, its dark water churning and rushing with a powerful current. The canopy above was so thick that even here, along the riverbank, the sky was barely visible. The forest’s dominance extended even to the water’s edge, with moss-covered roots snaking into the river and tall trees standing sentinel on both sides. Izak crouched by the riverbank, observing the water carefully. It appeared to be deep and was fast-moving, making it impossible to cross here. Thirst gnawed at him, but the dark water gave him pause. Was it safe to drink? He extended a hand and touched the surface. But the moment his fingers broke the water, a sudden force clamped around his ankle and yanked hard, dragging him toward the river. A head emerged from the water, followed by a figure in leather armor that clung to his ankle with an iron grip. Izak’s heart raced as he kicked and pushed himself back, managing to slide a few centimeters away, just enough to avoid being dragged into the water but fell back on his butt. The figure—what appeared to be a soldier—tightened its hold. With a groaning effort, it reached out a second hand, grabbed a nearby root, and hauled itself partially out of the water. Mud and water cascaded off the armor, revealing worn leather plates and a gaunt face marked with exhaustion and pain. Izak froze as the figure, still gripping his ankle, began crawling closer. The soldier’s other hand, now free of the root, trembling but determined, grabbed the hilt of a sword strapped to his side. As he unsheathed the weapon, the blade glinted faintly in the dim light before it swung directly toward Izak's head. Instinct took over. Izak jerked his head back just in time, the blade slicing the air inches from his face. Some of his long hair lost. Still sitting on the muddy ground, he kicked frantically at the soldier with his free leg. His torn sneaker landed on the soldier’s shoulder, causing the sword to fall to the ground, but the soldier’s grip on his ankle remained firm. Adrenaline surging, Izak rolled to the side, his hand fumbling for the weapon that now lay near his feet. With a desperate cry, he grabbed the sword and drove its tip into the soldier’s back as the man lay flat on his stomach after missing his swing. He pushed with all his strength, the blade easily piercing the leather armor. The soldier groaned in pain, his grip faltering slightly, but he didn’t let go. With a final, determined shove, Izak forced the blade through the man’s back. The soldier let out a guttural sound before falling completely silent. Izak stumbled back, panting and wide-eyed, his hands trembling as he released the sword’s hilt. He stared at the figure, his mind racing. “What the hell was that?” Izak shouted, his voice echoing across the riverbank. The soldier lay still, his battered armor and broken body a stark reminder of the violence that had just unfolded. Izak’s heart pounded as he tried to process what had just happened, but his thoughts were interrupted by the urgency of survival. Panting, with adrenaline coursing through his veins, Izak’s mind raced. He had just killed someone, but he didn’t feel much about it. Kill or be killed. There was no time to dwell on it. The presence of the soldier raised more urgent questions. If there was one soldier, there could be others. And the torn armor suggested a battlefield might not be far away. The dense vegetation around him muffled all sounds, making it impossible to tell if anyone else was nearby. Izak decided it was time to move, and this time, silently. The armor was too damaged to be of any use, but the sword was a no-brainer. He picked it up, gripping it tightly. His thoughts briefly drifted to how surreal all of this felt. Waking up in a glade, being attacked by a soldier in medieval armor—it all reminded him of the LitRPG novels he loved reading. He let out a stressed laugh. “How can I think about this in a situation like that?” he muttered. “Still, I wish a blue screen would just pop up in front of me. That would make things easier. How crazy have I become?” Snapping himself out of his thoughts, Izak kicked the soldier’s body into the river. It would be better hidden there in case someone came around. Sword in hand, he started moving upstream, staying in the shade of the trees. He didn’t want to risk being seen. The forest was dense, forcing him to weave around moss-covered boulders, fallen trees, and shallow pools of water. The day grew warmer, and Izak found himself longing for clean clothes and a shower. Thankfully, apart from a few squirrels darting through the underbrush, he didn’t encounter anything else. Hours passed, and the constant hiking began to take its toll. His stomach grumbled loudly, a reminder that he hadn’t eaten since the bland meal on the plane. The forest offered plenty of mushrooms and berries, but he had no idea if they were edible. Thirst was becoming an even bigger problem. He needed water, but the rushing river beside him wasn’t an option; the dark water and the memory of the soldier it had carried made it untrustworthy. “I need to find her,” he thought, desperation setting in. “The woman from the dream. The demon. Whoever she is.” Exhausted and weakening, Izak pushed on, his pace slowing with every step. Just as despair began to creep in, he saw it: a small, broken tower half-hidden from sight by a massive tree. The ruins. Relief surged through him. “This must be it,” he whispered, gripping the sword tightly. Renewed by the sight, he made his way toward the tower, ready for whatever lay ahead. Izak carefully walked around the broken structure, his eyes scanning for any signs of life. The tower was weathered and crumbling, its stones damp and slick with moss, climbing vines twisting up like veins of a long-forgotten giant. There were no windows visible, and the entrance seemed to have long since collapsed. “There’s no way I can get inside,” Izak mumbled, frustration creeping into his voice. Perhaps the entryway was buried entirely under centuries of debris. A sudden, sharp caw startled him, cutting through the stillness. He turned toward the sound. A large crow, bigger than any he’d ever seen, perched on a mossy boulder surrounded by thick bushes. Its dark eyes fixed on him, unblinking, as though it were judging him. Izak hesitated but decided to approach. The crow didn’t move, even as he stepped closer. Then, with a sharp caw, it jumped onto a low branch of a nearby bush, its gaze still locked on him, almost as if beckoning him to follow. Izak’s brow furrowed, but he couldn’t shake the strange feeling that the crow wanted to show him something. Moving cautiously, he followed its lead. When he was just two steps away, he finally saw it—an opening in the boulder, cleverly hidden behind the thick bushes. Shocked, Izak stared at the crow, which flapped its wings once and cawed again before disappearing into the forest canopy. “Was that bird actually helping me?” he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. The thought lingered, both absurd and unsettling, but something about the crow's behavior gnawed at him. Its actions felt deliberate, almost purposeful, as if it carried a strange intelligence that defied reason. Regardless, the discovery was undeniable. With two swift swings of his sword, he cut away the dense foliage obstructing the entrance. The opening was small, barely large enough for him to crawl through, but it was his only way forward. Dropping to his knees, Izak began to crawl inside. Darkness swallowed him almost immediately. The air was damp, carrying a faint metallic tang, and his shallow breaths echoed softly off the rough walls. His hands felt along the rough, uneven walls as he moved blindly forward. The tunnel was narrow, just wide enough for him to stretch his arms and touch both sides. The incline steepened as he progressed, forcing him to brace himself to avoid slipping. Each movement sent chills down his spine. The oppressive dark pressed against him, and the thought of unseen critters scuttling along the damp walls made his skin crawl. After what felt like an eternity, faint shadows began to flicker ahead of him. The dim, shifting light came from deeper within, and as he continued, the tunnel gradually widened. Soon, he was able to stand, though he moved cautiously, holding his sword with both hands. The flickering light grew stronger, and Izak found himself stepping into a circular cavern. The walls were lined with sconces holding flames that burned a deep, otherworldly red, casting strange, shifting shadows that danced across the stone. The cavern’s centerpiece was a pool of what looked like glowing crimson liquid. And in the center of that pool, sitting with her legs bent to the side like a model in a painting, was the woman from his dream. Her scarlet eyes locked onto his, burning through the dim light with an intensity that made his chest tighten. A faint, knowing smile curved her lips, and the air in the cavern seemed to hum faintly, as if her presence alone commanded it. “Here you are,” she said, her voice soft but carrying an undeniable power. Izak froze, his breath caught in his chest. Everything felt like a déjà vu, and only now did it come rushing back to him. He had dreamed of this exact moment many times as a child—him standing in this room, facing this intriguing demon or whatever she was. Fear drained from his body, and for the first time since waking up in the glade, he felt… secure. Safe? “You’ve come a long way,” she continued, her voice rich with warmth but laced with an unmistakable sorrow. “But the real journey… is only just beginning.”

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