The Dark Forest had always been notorious in Wonder Path for its relentless hazards and twisted magic—a high-level area where only the bravest adventurers dared to tread. In Markus’s memory, the place teemed with cursed creatures, crawling undead, and foul miasma that clung to everything like a shadow. Yet here he was, advancing through a forest almost serene, with no lurking ghouls or monstrous abominations in sight. The path seemed less treacherous than he remembered, more akin to a place haunted by the memory of horrors than one actively seething with danger.
This eerie tranquility only fueled Markus’s frustration. He’d expected challenges, something that would let him flex his skills and test his new reality in battle. But as he approached the edge of the forest, Eldergrove came into view with little more than a handful of harmless creatures crossing his path, skittering into the shadows as he approached.
As the small village emerged through the trees, Markus dismounted his Nightmare and unsummoned it with a thought. He doubted a flaming skeletal horse would inspire trust in the townsfolk. The sight of him alone was intimidating enough; his figure, cloaked in dark armor with no shadow in sight, was bound to raise suspicion.
Eldergrove lay before him like a remnant of a simpler time—a quaint cluster of wood-and-stone cottages, their chimneys curling with smoke, and small fields bordered by wooden fences. Lanterns flickered on posts around the village, casting warm pools of light that seemed to push back the encroaching darkness of the forest. A handful of dark elves moved about, tending to chores or walking to and from the larger buildings, their forms huddled in the cold evening air.
Markus took a steadying breath and approached the village cautiously. He kept his pace deliberate, aiming to convey calm rather than aggression. Yet, as he drew closer, villagers began to pause, their eyes widening as they took in his imposing figure. Murmurs swept through the crowd like ripples in water, and a few even backed away, wary expressions etched on their faces.
The Eldergrove was a village primarily inhabited by Dark Elves, a race characterized by their dark hair, gray skin, and piercing red eyes. Unlike their Bright Elf counterparts, who radiated with mana, the Dark Elves thrived in miasma, drawing power from the dark energies that suffused their land.
“Who… who goes there?” called an older man, stepping forward from the crowd. He wore a modest tunic and trousers, a worn leather apron hanging around his waist, suggesting he was either a craftsman or an elder of the village.
Markus halted and inclined his head in a gesture that could almost be mistaken for a bow. “I mean no harm,” he said, his voice firm but measured. “I’m simply a traveler seeking information and perhaps a place to rest.”
The elder squinted, eyes narrowing on Markus’s armor and the faint dark aura that clung to him—a remnant of the [Dark Knight] skill. “You bear the mark of one who has… well, made a name in a darker world,” he said carefully. “We’re not accustomed to seeing strangers, much less one of your ilk.”
Markus repressed a sigh. Of course, his reputation as the Dark Knight carried weight even here, whether he wanted it to or not. “I’ve heard tales of Eldergrove,” he replied, sidestepping the man’s accusation. “It’s rare to find a settlement this deep in the Dark Forest. You all must be well-prepared to handle the dangers that lurk here.”
The elder nodded, some of his suspicion fading. “Aye, the forest may be treacherous, but we’ve learned to live with it. The creatures leave us be, mostly, and we have our own ways of keeping them at bay.” His gaze flicked briefly to a series of strange charms hanging from posts around the village—small trinkets woven with dried herbs and bones, crackling with faint magical energy. “But I won’t lie, stranger; your presence unsettles them,” he added, gesturing toward the nervous villagers behind him.
“Understood.” Markus raised his hands, palms open. “I only need a little information. I’m looking for a place called the Shrine of Awena. I was told it’s nearby, but I may have gotten turned around.”
The elder studied him for a long moment before nodding slowly. “Awena’s shrine lies deeper to the west, not far from the river. It’s said to be a place where life and death cross paths, though we rarely have reason to go near it.”
“Then you have my thanks.” Markus was about to turn when he hesitated, glancing back at the elder. “The date… I’ve been traveling so long I’ve lost track. What is the year?”
The elder frowned, bemused by the question. “It’s the year 487,” he replied, confirming what the lich had told him.
Good. The lich hadn’t lied, which reassured Markus. Additionally, he noticed the villagers looked visibly more relaxed after he’d asked them a series of mundane questions. There was no way he’d genuinely needed directions to the Shrine of Awena, considering he’d already been there. He merely wanted to set the villagers at ease, giving them time to warm up to his presence.
“Thank you,” Markus said, inclining his head once more. “And, one more thing—do you have any trouble that needs handling? Perhaps something only an… outsider could take care of?”
The elder’s gaze softened, a touch of relief mingling with the weariness on his face. “If you truly wish to help, stranger, we do have something amiss. There’s a sickness sweeping through the forest,” he said. “It started with the wildlife—small animals, harmless creatures. But now it’s reaching us, too. The healers are at a loss, and some say it’s a curse.”
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Markus’s interest sharpened. A sickness? That sounded suspiciously like the early symptoms of the undead plague he remembered from the game—a slow rot spreading from the edges of the Dark Forest. This village might be seeing the first signs of it.
“I’ll look into it,” Markus said, surprising himself with how quickly he agreed. Part of him had expected he’d be eager to press on and explore, but something about this place—and its people—had grounded him, rekindling an odd sense of duty. “But first, I’ll need to speak to one of your healers.”
The elder’s face eased into a tentative smile. “If you’re willing, then we’d be grateful. You’ll find Healer Liana in the large cottage by the well. She may have more to tell you.”
Markus nodded, offering one last reassuring glance before making his way to the healer’s dwelling.
Markus walked purposefully through the small village of Eldergrove, the quiet murmurs of the villagers drifting behind him as he made his way to the healer’s cottage by the well. The quaintness of the place stood in stark contrast to the threat he’d just learned about—a sickness creeping in from the edges of the Dark Forest. The elder’s description rang a familiar, ominous bell in Markus’s mind: it sounded eerily similar to the beginning stages of the undead plague, a scourge he remembered all too well from his former life… because of how big of an event it was.
He arrived at the cottage and took a moment to steady himself. It was a modest structure, with herbs hanging from the doorway and the faint scent of healing potions drifting through the air. When he knocked, the door opened to reveal a young dark elf woman with keen eyes, her hands marked by the telltale stains of a healer’s craft.
“You must be Healer Liana,” Markus said, giving a polite nod.
The healer returned his greeting with a slight bow of her head, her gaze flickering over his dark armor and the faint aura that clung to him. “Yes, I am,” she replied, her voice steady. “And you’re the stranger offering help?”
Word sure traveled fast…
“I am. Markus,” he introduced himself. “I’ve heard about the sickness plaguing the forest and affecting some of your people. I’m here to investigate—and if possible, to put an end to it.”
Liana’s face softened with a mix of relief and apprehension. “Thank you, Markus. We’ve done what we can, but the illness resists our remedies. It started with animals and quickly spread. We fear it may soon reach the children if it hasn’t already.” She paused, glancing around to ensure no villagers were nearby. “Some say it’s a curse. I don’t know what to believe.”
Markus listened carefully, feeling complicated as of the moment. This world might have been a game once, but now it felt all too real. “Take me to the most recent cases,” he said. “I’ll do everything I can.”
Liana led the way.
Her dark hair flowed freely, cascading down her shoulders, while her pale lips contrasted sharply against her gray skin. She donned a revealing white vestment that clung to her form, exposing ample cleavage through the deep slit of her chest. Her outfit left much of her legs bare, a practical choice for a magic caster. In this world, many magic users opted for minimal clothing, believing that the more skin they exposed to the atmosphere, the quicker their mana regeneration would be. For Dark Elves like Liana, whose veins pulsed with miasma, this was even more crucial—they needed every advantage they could get to absorb the ambient energy.
Markus couldn’t shake the feeling that she was more than just a healer. Her confident stride and the way her eyes flicked around, assessing the world around her, hinted at a deeper, more complex role. Markus’s instincts urged him to be cautious; in this unfamiliar reality, he could no longer rely on his knowledge of the game’s storyline. The dynamics of friendship and enmity that he had taken for granted in his previous life as a player were murky here.
Moreover, his meta-knowledge wasn’t exactly up to par…
In the game, he had reveled in PVP battles, focused on dominating opponents rather than engaging with the narrative.
“Are you certain you want to venture deeper into the forest?” Liana asked, glancing back at Markus. Her voice was smooth but carried an edge of caution. “It can be dangerous, especially for someone unfamiliar with its paths.”
Markus nodded, almost impatiently. “I can handle it. But first… I need to see the bodies. Like I said, take me to the recent cases, and then I will decide how I could help.”
A flicker of interest crossed Liana's features, perhaps sensing the sincerity in his tone. “Then let us proceed, but stay close. The creatures that dwell within are more restless than usual. Moreover, prepare your mind… for what you are about to see.”
With that, they pressed deeper into the forest, leaving the safety of the village behind. The tall, twisted trees loomed overhead, their gnarled branches intertwining to form a canopy that blocked out the sunlight. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and decay, and an uneasy silence enveloped them, broken only by the occasional rustle of unseen creatures.
As they walked, Markus felt the weight of the forest pressing in around him, a living entity with its own secrets and dangers. He recalled tales from the game about this place—stories of brave adventurers who had been swallowed by its depths, never to return. He couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched, but he kept his focus on Liana, trusting her knowledge of the terrain.
After what felt like an eternity, they arrived at a pit nestled within the forest’s heart. A grim sight met Markus’s eyes: a collection of corpses lay haphazardly piled in the center, their lifeless forms twisted and contorted in unnatural ways. Black tar pooled around them, slowly oozing into the earth, seeping like a dark poison into the ground.
The air grew heavy with a palpable sense of dread.
Wails of low-level wraiths echoed from the pit, their mournful cries weaving through the air like a haunting melody. It was a sound that sent chills racing down Markus’s spine—a reminder of the souls lost to the darkness of this forest. He took a step closer, drawn by a mix of curiosity and urgency, his heart pounding in his chest.
“What happened here?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper as he tried to comprehend the scene before him.
Liana stepped forward, her expression grim. “These are the victims of the restless creatures. We’ve seen an increase in their attacks lately, and I fear something has disturbed the balance of the forest. The wraiths are not the only ones affected—there are whispers of more sinister beings stirring in the shadows.”
“Is that so?” Markus intoned apathetically, his gaze fixed on the gruesome scene before him.
Liana shot him a look of disbelief and disappointment. “That’s rather unfeeling of you… these people died from the mere touch of the undead that roamed the forest. Some have perished from an excess of miasma in their veins. I lied to the villagers about it being a sickness or a curse out of fear that panic would spread. Dying from miasma was an unheard-of thing… after all… If they learn of this, they’d surely panic and perhaps make reckless choices.”