They decided to freeze the water and create a direct bridge to the island waiting for them at the center of the lake, despite the White Mage’s reluctance. The young man gritted his teeth as he cast minor Ice spells one after another until they reached the island. When he tried to negotiate a mana bottle for his work and the Time Conjure that had brought them victory before, Nicholas patted him on the shoulder.

“Stop being an ass. We’re all contributing. I bet you still have at least 70% of your MP bar.”

The White Mage clicked his tongue. “Whatever.”

The Monk was the last one to step onto firm land. Behind them, the ice bridge had begun to crack and break into dozens of chunks.

“This shouldn’t take us too long. This island seems to be tiny,” the Monk said, hands on his hips.

“And yet, it wouldn’t surprise me if this island is bigger than it looks,” the Cleric said quietly. “Just like this enormous swamp is inside the Turnground Stadium.”

The Field Medic let out an exasperated grunt. “That’s not how Echo Spheres work, you dumbass. You can’t create another Echo inside one.”

“The only way a place like this could hide a larger area would be if it goes underground,” the Druid added, prompting the others to grunt.

“Please don’t say that,” Nick said, exhaling. “It already feels like we’ve been here for days. The least we need is a freaking dungeon to explore.”

The six moved forward with caution. The Druid focused on using Life Check, while the others visually scanned their surroundings. “There’s nothing,” he informed quietly, eyes shut, while the Cleric guided his path.

“Not even the sound of insects…” the White Mage pointed out. “That only means something’s going to jump out of somewhere, right?”

“We’ll be prepared,” the Druid assured, swallowing hard. “As long as I concentrate, I can scan everything within a 300-foot radius. Nothing will catch us by surprise.”

“Doesn’t hurt to be careful,” the Mage said bitterly.

Despite being at the rear, the Field Medic noticed something before anyone else. “What’s that?” She pointed forward. “There’s a humanoid silhouette up ahead. Can you see it?”

The group looked in the indicated direction, quickly forming frowns.

“You’re right. What IS that?”

As they got closer, the Cleric let out a gasp. “Is she dead?”

“I don’t sense any life force nearby, so…” the Druid added.

Unsure of what they were seeing, they all froze in place until the White Mage, with a sigh, marched forward until touching the silhouette’s feet. “It’s a doll,” he informed aloud. “A person-sized wooden doll.”

“It looks quite real from here,” the Monk said, chuckling nervously.

The Mage then grabbed the doll’s right foot to turn it toward them. “Look. Behind all that hair, there isn’t a face.”

They studied the doll with apprehension. It was wearing a dirty robe, had medium-length hair, and the way it was hanging by the neck looked frighteningly realistic.

“Another proof that this freaking test is messed up,” the Mage said, exhaling. “Wait, no, I correct myself. Whoever designed this test is messed up.”

Keep quiet, Nicholas. Don’t let any hidden camera catch you cracking a smile…

“This is obviously a trap,” the Monk said, stepping forward and examining the doll with determination. He then jumped upward, cut the rope with his bare hand, making the doll fall, and crushed its head with a stomp.

“Why did you do that?” the Cleric asked with a shaky voice.

“It’s obvious that it would start moving as soon as we left it behind and sneak up on us.”

“Agreed,” the Mage said.

“Definitely,” the Medic seconded.

“Hugo is right. Let’s keep an eye out for any other dolls we might encounter,” the Druid said, closing his eyes again. “I’ll leave that part to you guys, okay? And let’s try to pick up the pace. I also want to return to reality as soon as possible.”

The group increased their speed, taking note of their surroundings. There was no need to look for threats in the distance, as the Druid had that covered, so they focused on anything with a human resemblance.

The Monk found a doll head sticking out of a tree and smashed it immediately. Nicholas saw an arm coming out of a bush, pulled it, and punched the head as soon as it became visible. The Medic asked if it was okay for her to use her rifle before shooting at the dolls sitting on branches or peeking out from the trees’ foliage.

“Is it okay for her to make so much noise?” the Cleric asked, wincing at another gunshot.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

“It’s obvious that these things are this place’s guardians,” the Monk said before smashing another doll’s head. “So let’s reduce their numbers as much as possible.”

“Stop saying ‘obvious’!” the Medic grunted.

“We’re quite a colorful team, aren’t we, guys?” Nicholas said, snickering, before lowering his voice. “Too bad only one of us can win.”

A silence followed, as if every single one of them was reminded of what was at stake. And they’re surely thinking: ‘We have to be careful of this one’ or ‘This guy is going to backstab us at any time.’

But it’s okay if they’re aware of me, because that means they will also be aware of the others. He-he.

As they marched, the forest grew denser. Even the path of white stones was starting to be obscured by grass. The further they advanced, the more dolls silently mocked them. Hundreds of humanoid faces with no discernible features stared at them blindly. The participants did their best to destroy every single one of them as a coordinated team until they finally saw a light.

The Cleric let out a sigh of relief. “Oh, god, thank you! For a moment, I thought we’d get lost!”

White rocks signaled a path again, leading to an enormous pale tree. They could even see that its foliage seemed to extend over most of the island. Tall fire torches surrounded it in a circular formation. As they stepped into what seemed to be a place of worship, they found a man-sized crack in the tree’s trunk. Its interior was obscured, but an altar would not look out of place there.

“Do you feel anything? Any bosses nearby?” the Medic asked the Druid, who shook his head.

“No. We’re finally at a point of interest, and yet, I feel nothing. Which is even more suspicious… Or is it just me?”

“Nope. Something is definitely lurking nearby,” the Mage said. “Definitely.”

“Agreed. This quietness isn’t normal. Do they think we’re stupid?” the Medic seconded.

“Anyway, let’s see what’s inside,” Nicholas said, striding toward the tree. “We’ll deal with whatever it triggers.”

The Monk rushed to block his path. “Let’s assess the situation first. We’re all convinced this is a trap, but we shouldn’t just fall into it blindly.”

“Activate it now, activate it a minute later. What’s the difference?” Nicholas shrugged, taking another step, but the Monk pushed him from the chest.

“Seriously. Back off.”

“If he wants to go first, let him,” the Medic said, annoyed. “It’s his funeral.”

Hearing that, the Monk studied Nicholas’ smirk and spoke contemptuously. “Is that what you want? Are you sure you’d be able to handle whatever’s inside?”

“You wouldn’t?” Nicholas retorted. “You’re the one specializing in close combat, aren’t you?”

“He’s playing with you,” the Mage said aloud. “Don’t fall for it.”

The Monk snickered. “The two of us then. After you.”

Nicholas smiled and entered first. There were no sounds inside aside from their footsteps.

“Well? Are you going to do something about this darkness or not?” the Monk asked demandingly.

Nicholas cast, “Minor Fire Crafting, Flarelight.”

A ball of luminescent white light appeared from Nicholas’ palm, revealing a 16-foot wide round chamber and a lone figure sitting on a throne sculpted from the tree’s wood, wearing an embellished lace long-sleeved white dress. Its head hung down, covered by a sheer veil. If they had not encountered hundreds of human-shaped dolls on their way there, they might have mistaken that figure for a user’s corpse.

“So? What’s inside?” the Mage asked aloud.

“Another doll,” the Monk replied without taking his eyes off it. “What do you guys think? Is this a boss?”

“It’s obviously a boss! Why would they hide it here if it wasn’t? Get ready, everyone!”

“But why isn’t it moving?” the Monk muttered, strolling forward. “It’s holding something. Could it be a clue?”

“Careful there, chumps,” Nicholas warned.

“I fucking know,” the Monk grunted. “You think I’m—”

A sudden gleaming trail pierced the space between them. The Monk fell on his back as the mysterious figure rose, revealing a longsword that had materialized in its right hand. It took a moment for Nicholas to realize that this enemy was dressed as a bride.

This isn’t creepy at all!

Nicholas dodged a long curve aimed at his neck, and the tip of the longsword scarred the wall behind him. Okay, I’ll admit it, I clearly overstepped my limits now!

Meanwhile, the Monk crawled out of the chamber, profusely bleeding.

“Heal him!” the Medic yelled at the Cleric. She then turned to the White Mage. “Get a spell ready!”

“When did you become our boss?” he muttered while channeling mana.

They then heard the Druid moan behind them. “It’s so strange, guys…” he began, his lower lip trembling. “If I weren’t seeing this with my own eyes, I’d say there was no enemy in front of us!”

“What?” The Medic frowned as she pulled out a shotgun from behind her coat. “Are you saying you can’t detect that thing?”

“And neither any of these,” the Druid said, looking behind him as the sound of rustling leaves and footsteps crunching on the ground reached them. They then looked in despair as a horde of broken and beheaded dolls slowly marched at them.

Inside the chamber, Nicholas avoided death for the tenth time, only getting a mild cut on his cheek contrasting the deep cuts now adorning the walls. “I’m getting tired of this!” he cried, his face soaked in sweat before closing his eyes and channeling.

Unique Skill…

An inner lock opened within him.

He then infused his right fist with power as the living mannequin in a bride’s dress prepared for a wide diagonal attack. Nicholas’ eyes glowed with golden energy as he sidestepped to his left. The longsword ended up piercing the ground. A thick cloud of dust was violently pushed outward as Nicholas flexed his arm.

Alchemic Conversion!

His fist connected with the mannequin’s blank face. The figure was thrown back to the throne, with the longsword remaining stuck in place.

Nicholas then shook his hand, his knuckles screaming in pain. Oh my. I didn’t realize my close combat skills were so rusty. I could have used an old monk technique, but nothing came to mind.

He then frowned at the result of his attack.

His Unique Skill had successfully pierced through the veil’s polyester, which now had a fist-sized hole as if he had burned through it, and he had accurately determined that the doll was made of white birch wood. Just like this fucking tree.

But the results were not as expected.

“What the hell…?”

His Unique Skill had aimed to push the composition of the doll’s wooden head inward, as if he had punched malleable clay. The moment his fist disconnected, it was supposed to make the wood chain-react until it was destroyed from the inside—as if it were made of fragile balsa wood—but the alchemic reaction had failed.

Nicholas’ fist had not sunk into the doll’s head, as something else was hidden underneath.

He was now watching as the magically converted birch wood bent outward, resembling the opened aluminum foil of a chocolate bar. But in this case, what lay beneath was a feminine white chin and plump lips dripping with blood.

This is not a doll... This one is a hostage.