Breathing heavily, gasping for air, I leaned against a massive curved trunk and carefully looked around. Even the "Adamantium Body" has its limits, after which you'd tire. I had crossed those boundaries an hour ago, and even just standing was challenging now. My chest heaved like that of a marathoner who just set a personal record. Despite my comfortable trekking boots, it seemed as if my feet had been pounded to bloody blisters. And scratches, bruises, and splinters marred my palms. Instead of the expert creation of Master Song, what sat on my head now resembled a ransacked nest. The magnificent hairstyle I had just the day before was completely gone. The trousers I wore, made of sturdy sailcloth, were torn in several places. My traveling bags had survived the frantic run, but one of them had its straps torn off. My spear was also lost. First, the obsidian tip broke off, and then I hid the Tal tree shaft by submerging it in a stream and weighing it down with stones, just to be safe. Out of all my belongings, only the thick multilayered gambeson remained virtually unharmed. However, it was made to withstand a blow from steel weapons, and even the sharpest branches couldn't penetrate its first layer.
After catching my breath for a moment, I slid down, sitting on a hard, twisted root. I had been struggling through the local windfalls and dense underbrush, which was harder to navigate than the wildest Amazonia jungles, all morning, all day, and all evening. Over fourteen hours. And during that entire frantic marathon, which also went through an incredibly overgrown forest, a real thicket, I didn't stop for longer than a couple of minutes.
Despite the "memory of the past," I didn't know much about the Hidden Forests of the Sidhe. Moreover, most of that knowledge came from other people's stories, not my "own," "personal" observations. The boundary stones, one of which the quester stood before, were set up in ancient times. Such markers were not placed on the actual border of the Hidden Forest but at the places where the distortion of other spaces ceased. Since that distant time, especially after the Fall, the Hidden Forests have considerably shrunk in size. But even with that said, there's a reason the locals have a saying: "If you see a boundary stone of a Hidden Forest, run with all your might and pray. Run and pray..."
In reality, the Sidhe don't often leave their Forests, definitely far less than rumors or bard songs suggest. Most of this ancient folk never stepped outside the Forest in their lifetime. But the Sidhe are disliked throughout Ain for a reason. That small fraction of Sidhe hunters who leave the Forest is more than enough to instill unparalleled fear for many centuries in those unfortunate to live near one of the Hidden Forests.
In the Last Cycle, when demons attacked the Hidden Forest of Ruad and set it on fire, the inhabitants of the human village who saw this blaze cried with joy. They wept with smiles on their faces, despite knowing that the next day the demons would come for them and kill them all. They knew about their impending doom, but the joy of seeing the Hidden Forest of Ruad burned was stronger in their hearts than the fear of death.
Murders for entertainment, kidnappings, replacing children with homunculi, bloody rituals, age-old curses — these were just the tip of the iceberg of the horrors perpetrated by the Sidhe. The ancient folk recognized only their own rules and did not consider either humans or dwarves as truly sentient beings. Hence, the Sidhe treated the other races as if they were animals, feeling no guilt, killing and tormenting them. All that mattered to the Sidhe was the preservation of their Forest. And if rivers of blood had to be shed and thousands of infants killed for that purpose, they did it without the slightest hesitation.
The Sidhe...
The oldest of the races inhabiting Ain, or more accurately, species. That is, of course, if we don't count dragons, but little is understood about them, and even less is known. According to legends, the Sidhe are incredibly powerful in magic, but they pay for this power with physical frailty.
In the last cycle, a group of earthlings, after descending to the seventy-sixth floor of the Aerad Tower, read many Runic Records. That floor was almost entirely dedicated to the Sidhe. Our researchers couldn't translate and understand everything, but even a small portion was enough to overturn our perceptions of the ancient folk.
On average, the Sidhe are more inclined towards Nature magic, but they are indeed born very weak physically. Initially, the Sidhe look similar to Maestro Larindel, only even more refined, ethereal, and extremely fragile. For such a being, even a ten-kilogram stone is an unbearable weight. They are tall, slender, and enchantingly beautiful from birth. Magic flows in their blood, saturating their bodies to such an extent that they emit a soft glow even on a bright night. For many centuries, while the Gods took care of reshaping Ain, the entire world belonged to the Sidhe. This lasted for ages. Until the appearance of the dwarves...
At first, the Sidhe paid no mind to the emergence of yet another sentient race right under their noses. However, within a couple of decades after the first dwarf emerged from the deepest bowels of the earth, the Forests began to burn and be mercilessly cut down. Driven by an insatiable hunger to work, these stout laborers needed a lot of fuel for their underground forges. Thus, Ain's first war erupted - a war in which the Sidhe suffered a crushing defeat. Even the incredible craftsmanship of the forest dwellers could not save them from the heavy march of the armored, short-statured warriors. Dwarves aren't proficient in magic; there's no room for mana in their Cores and blood; only prana and Spirit run there. This makes the mountain folk highly resistant even to the deadliest of spells, which could easily kill anyone else.
To avoid losing everything, the Sidhe, after making generous sacrifices, appealed to Obeorn, who, along with Ishid and Aerad, bestowed upon them the knowledge of the Great Ritual of Dark Soul Union. The Sidhe were changed forever then. They gained the strength to not only drive the dwarves out of their Forests but to send them back into the depths of the mountains. But this power was not given freely; darkness never gives anything without a cost.
From that long-forgotten time, every Sidhe, upon reaching twenty years of age, chooses a beast and fuses with it into a single entity. This fusion is not just spiritual but also physical. In doing so, they compensate for their natural physical frailty and, after the ritual, become capable of matching strength even with dwarves, let alone humans. Each Beast Fusion is individual, and there are no two identical Sidhe in the entire world. Some have the head of a wolf, some that of a deer, others that of a forest auroch or even a rabbit. In this fusion, the personal traits of the Sidhe overlay and influence the variability of the beasts, making each Sidhe truly unique. However, with this strength, the Sidhe acquire a bestial fury, impulsiveness, and dark malice that originally lurks in every living being. And there's no escaping this ritual for the forest dwellers; if a Sidhe doesn't undergo it precisely on their twentieth birthday, their body and soul will be immediately consumed by Darkness. Thus, what was once a lofty race, more like a blend of Earth's notions of elves and fairies, has turned into beings embittered towards the rest of the world, who value only their Forest and nothing more.
So spoke the translations of the records made by earthlings on the seventy-sixth floor of Aerad's Tower. And since Aerad holds the place of the divine chronicler in the local Pantheon and is revered as the god of History, those records were likely mostly true.
The "past me" had fought against the Sidhe many times. I had defeated them in every encounter, but it was never easy. Even when I ascended to Mithril, the forest folk had adversaries worthy of this rank. Only to the demons did the Sidhe, bound to their Hidden Forests, prove powerless. And the Demonic Legion of Primordial Fire burned the ancient Groves with astonishing ease. When a Forest dies, so does the Sidhe born beneath its canopy.
No human would willingly settle near a Hidden Forest. Those who tried have all perished, leaving no descendants. It's believed that the minimum safe distance is a day's journey from the Border's Boundary Stone. But even there, only the most desperate or the outcasts choose to live. While it's true not all Sidhe leave their Forests, those who do come out of the Hidden Groves do so solely for hunting or bloody rituals, dark as a moonless night. The most brutal, cunning, powerful, and obsessed of the Sidhe emerge from beneath the canopy of their native forest. One such Sidhe hunter was so proficient in his "craft" that he broke through the Mist of Divino and ascended the first, lowest flight of the Divine Stairway, ultimately becoming one of Ain's dark gods — Da'Nnan, a name mothers still use to scare disobedient children.
The moment the quester vanished into the night, revealing the Boundary Stone of the Hidden Forest's Border before my eyes, a single, clear thought pierced me. It seemed to me that the questers had indeed decided to get rid of me, and in their favored manner — by another's hands. That's when I bolted, pushing as fast and as far from the Borders as I could.
The main challenge was that at the Steel rank, even with all my aura-enhancing abilities, I'd only notice a forest guardian or Sidhe hunter when a blade was pressed to my throat. That's why I ran straight forward, as quickly as possible. That was all I could do. I only paused once, recalling that I'd been clutching the shaft of a broken spear carved from the Tal tree. Unlike encounters with Sidhe hunters, a meeting with a Forest Guardian doesn't always end tragically for travelers. It's a matter of luck; they might release you if they decide you're no threat to the Forest and came upon the Border by accident. However, possessing a shaft made from a tree only found in the Hidden Forests would guarantee a death sentence in such a meeting. So, I submerged the remains of the spear in a stream, covering it with stones to ensure it wouldn't resurface. I deeply regretted losing such a durable and rare shaft, but as they say, "life is more valuable."
But perhaps I was wrong, and the questers didn't want to kill me. Or maybe these creatures had nothing to do with the portal malfunction, as they had said. As far as I "remember," no earthling caught them in a direct lie in the previous cycle. There were plenty of omissions and wordplays, but I can't "recall" any mention of plain deceit. In any case, throughout my run, almost fourteen hours, I didn't come across any Sidhe. Which was undoubtedly for the best. Though, it's entirely possible that they're just toying with me. "A live toy runs through the forest, gasping, breathing hard, and let it run. And when it stops, feeling safe, then we will..." This is what the Sidhe hunters might have thought. Maybe it's true, but I can't run anymore. Absolutely can't, in any way. I might crawl, but only with great effort, slower than a tortoise.
The sun had set behind the western horizon almost an hour ago, and the heavy low-hanging clouds so shrouded the sky that even with the Perception aura, it was simply impossible to make out any path. An ancient, dense forest encircled me. The sprawling dense crowns of its trees obscured the clouds drifting very low. The surroundings looked as if they came straight out of a children's horror tale: intertwined and twisted tree trunks, among which a thick wall of shrubs grew that looked like silhouettes of unknown monsters even from five meters away. Nonetheless, it was a regular forest, not a magical one.
Shedding my travel bags from my shoulders, I felt slightly lighter, just a tiny bit, but it was enough to find a dry and more comfortable spot. I moved there, shielding my back with the massive trunk of one of the centuries-old giants whose crown towered above the rest of the forest, like a TV tower over city buildings. By my rough estimate, I had moved at least twenty kilometers away from the Boundary Stone. Probably no more, as running through a thick, nearly impassable forest is no easy task. Nonetheless, if we trust the "memories" of the reduction of the Hidden Forests compared to when the Boundary Stones were established, I could say I was in a relatively safe zone. Still, one couldn't let their guard down. Even the ordinary forests of Ain can hold many dangers for a lone traveler of the Metal Coil of the Great Spiral. Especially such a forest, which in Ain is called nothing but the Wicked Woods. Spanning almost nine hundred kilometers along the western part of the Great Ridge, this wasn't just a narrow strip of trees. At its widest part, the Wicked Woods stretched for two hundred kilometers. And within it, as far as I "knew," the Hidden Forest of Moorn was concealed. The Boundary Stone marking its border was the one I saw.
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Raising my eyes to the sky, I regretted that clouds covered the entire expanse. This made it impossible to navigate by the stars and determine my current location more precisely. Leaning over to my backpack, I untied the knots and pulled out a bundle of food I had saved for emergencies. Dried fruits, bread from the master baker, and a quarter wheel of cheese. It wasn't that I was hungry, but I needed to regain my strength. Cutting the cheese into thick slices, I made myself sandwiches and began to chew them, feeling no taste.
Indeed, to put it mildly, the day had been far from the luckiest. When entering Sundbad's Gate, I hoped to end up in Deytran. Alas, that hope wasn't meant to be. Damn gate malfunction! Despite the quester's claim that they had nothing to do with it, I couldn't help but believe that the Way's disruption wasn't an accident. I had no proof of this, but I was still convinced – it wasn't random.
The darkness of the night was so dense that I began to feel uneasy. Behind every tree, with every rustle of the bushes, it seemed something more than just the play of the wind lurked. I'm a city dweller, and even the "memories of the past" and numerous expeditions of "my future self" couldn't change the fact that I felt very uncomfortable now.
After quickly eating, I dropped to my hands and knees and started gathering firewood, which was abundant here. As far as I knew, the animals of the Wicked Woods, especially those that prefer to hunt at night, were quite wary of open fire. And I would feel much safer surrounded by the shadows of a campfire. It gave me a slight advantage in case of a possible attack. As for the idea that the fire might attract the attention of the Sidhe, I wasn't worried. In this forest, the trees and shrubs grew so densely that no one could see a fire from even thirty paces away. And from that distance, any Sidhe hunter could easily locate me by my aura. Whether I started a fire or not, it wouldn't affect my discovery.
Without the chainmail Larindel gifted and my spear, I felt exposed, as if naked. And the Thunder Dagger I constantly gripped didn't provide much reassurance.
How unfortunate things have turned out! The steel of the chainmail, treated with Larindel's alchemy, couldn't withstand the divine magic of the Transition. It first rusted and then disintegrated into fine metallic dust. The very dust that heavily filled my eyes. And if not for the "Lesser Healing," I'd still be blind, like a mole.
All things considered, it could have been worse. Once, due to a similar Sundbad Way Fault, my "past self" was thrown onto the Tyberian Plateau completely naked, with all my belongings continuing on their journey and arriving at the destination without me. So, this current Way Rupture isn't even close to the worst that could have happened. Besides, it didn't dump me at any random point on the continent but seemingly somewhere between Tries and Deytran. Due to the low clouds, I can't pinpoint it more accurately for now.
Moreover, I was transported to the western slope of the Great Ridge, meaning I don't have to cross the highest and most dangerous mountain range on the continent on foot to reach Pentapolis. Yes, Deytran is still hundreds of kilometers away, but that's entirely manageable even for an ordinary pilgrim not above the Bronze rank. I just need to follow the tried-and-true trade routes. But to get onto those routes, I first need to get out of the Wicked Woods. That, in itself, may prove challenging, even without any interference from the Sidhe.
Pulling the alchemical box from my belt pouch, I took out the second Elevation pill and swallowed it. In three more days, I will reach Wootz, which theoretically should make my journey much easier. As far as I remember, the countries bordering the Wicked Woods recruit Wootz fighters to guard their borders from the beasts and monsters of the Forest. This means that by reaching this level, in theory, I should be able to handle most of the local inhabitants. At least, I really hope so.
The fire ignited instantly with the first spark from my flint, crackling dryly. Immediately, through Affinity, I felt numerous shadows "spreading" in all directions, falling onto tree trunks and enveloping nearby shrubs. For a second, I activated "Shadow Player" but was immediately struck with dizziness and quickly disabled the skill. After that, I leaned back against the trunk of a forest giant and, for the first time in a while, allowed myself a sigh of relief. Judging by what I felt through the shadows, there was no immediate danger nearby. This safe radius didn't extend beyond a few steps, but I felt significantly more at ease. After catching my breath, having something to eat, setting up the fire, and gaining a fleeting illusion of safety, my mind was immediately filled with thoughts about the conversation with the quester.
Despite my feelings being different in this Cycle compared to the Last and the burning hatred I once felt towards them being absent, I still don't find them likable. It's hard to be fond of those who see you, at best, as a plaything. "Sortudo" – I hadn't heard this term from them in the Last Cycle. What does it mean? And why does it seem familiar? I'm sure I've heard it before. Maybe in Lisbon or Barcelona, or was it Bordeaux? I can't remember. But the word might be of Earth origin. Does it have any significance? I don't know yet, but I should remember this detail and try to find out its meaning. Maybe it would make sense to one of the earthlings.
Does Ain consider all earthlings a new race of humans? There's a certain logic to that claim. But how to utilize this knowledge remains unclear to me.
Pushing these thoughts to "someday," I briefly immersed myself in the contemplation of the Core, or more precisely, the new inscription on its surface.
"Power of the Word!"
On the one hand, being the first earthling-sortudo to acquire a personal motto, I had hoped for something more "significant." But on closer inspection, this achievement seemed rather promising. Perhaps it will help me in Understanding the Rune Words, which currently is my top priority. From the very first day, when I received the "memories of the future," I've been certain that answers to the main questions should be sought in the deep past of Ain. Such searches are impossible without the ability to read the Primordial Speech.
Each Rune carries multiple meanings. But it becomes even more complex when these Runes are combined into Words. When integrated into a Word, Runes can mean something entirely different than what one would understand by reading each individual Rune that composes this Word. That's why the new questers' task is not as simple as it might seem. At first glance, this quest seems impossible for me. To read Rune Words, one must possess at least Four Stars of Talent in Runes, and I only have three... And how to get another Star in this Talent within the month designated for the task is beyond me. Even with the "memory of the future," it's impossible.
But there's one detail that prevents me from succumbing to despair. The quester didn't ask to pronounce the Word, didn't ask to Understand the Word, and didn't even ask to Write it down. The task was: "Assemble a Rune Word". It might seem that there's no difference between "read," "understand," "write," and "assemble," but there is. A fundamental difference. To lay out the Runes in the correct order, one doesn't need to Understand the Word. Knowing the correct sequence of Runes is enough. And this gives me hope.
Thanks to my "memory" and the fact that "my past self" had many conversations with someone like Morpheus, who was the best expert on the Divine Script among all earthlings in the Previous Cycle, I knew that the Word Life was made up of three Runes. Morpheus once told me about it, using this very Word as an example of the complexity of understanding the Primordial Script. The thing is, the Runic Word Life didn't use the Rune of Life at all. Such a non-intuitive paradox. Nevertheless, I remembered the meanings of the first and last Runes. Birth and Death. But the meaning of the Rune that stood between these two was unknown to me; Morpheus didn't mention this detail in his story. So, all I needed to complete the new questers' task was to find and Understand the Runes of Birth and Death, and then... This "then" was the hardest and most confusing part, but I knew where to start, which meant it was too early to give up. As far as I know, questers don't give impossible tasks. This means only one thing — I am capable of solving this puzzle.
As for the reward for the Achievement, it was logical in its own way. Choosing the motto "Came, saw, conquered", I gained Understanding of three Runes: Movement, See, and Victory. And while I can imagine the benefit of the first two Runes, the third is currently useless to me. The meaning carried by the Rune of Victory is too abstract, and with abstractions in a world filled with magic, it's better not to joke. Because you never know what result it might lead to. Nevertheless, it was another Rune added to my understanding of the Divine Speech. Hence, it was undeniably useful, if not now, then in the future.
Reflecting on this topic, I didn't forget to look around carefully. Everything was quiet so far, the usual sounds of the forest, no howling of beasts or frightened bird calls. I was very sleepy. A long, hours-long run through the thicket drained my energy to the bottom. However, just falling asleep, leaning against a mighty forest giant, was a bit scary, to put it mildly. This forest, even without any Sidhe, was slightly intimidating with its wilderness. I'm sure that if people walk in these places, it's no more than once a decade. Who knows what kind of beasts, monsters, and creatures roam at night under these majestic canopies? Stretching until my shoulders cracked, I yawned widely and almost swallowed my tongue in surprise...
A Heavenly Quill touched my Core and brought forth a new record on its surface — an Adamantium Record! A short, one-word Record: "Catalyst."
At the same time, I didn't do anything. Nothing at all! Just yawned, that's it! But it doesn't happen like that! It's impossible to get an Adamantium Achievement just for yawning!!!
Although, I "remembered" one of Dice's stories. He told of a time when, after yet another drinking spree, he awoke alone, naked in some desolate mountains, with no memory of how he got there. Upon getting up, he felt the urge to relieve himself and did so, watering an unremarkable stone. No sooner had he done this than he gained an Adamantium Achievement for bringing moisture to a magical seed that had been parched for two thousand years. When Dice urinated on the stone, and droplets touched the seed, it instantly sprouted into a five-meter tree bearing fruits in seconds. Dice then collected the fruits and wandered off aimlessly. He couldn't even remember where the tree had grown, but he boasted of selling a dozen of those fruits to alchemists for a thousand gold pieces each. A group of earthlings later spent a month searching for that magical tree but never found it.
But even in that case, Dice did something to earn the Achievement. I had done absolutely nothing! Surely a yawn couldn't be considered an act deserving of an Adamantium Record?
My understanding of how this world operates wavered and cracked. And as much as I stared at the new Record, I couldn't understand its purpose or meaning. Just the word: "Catalyst," the significance of which I couldn't yet grasp. Of course, I remember the definition from school. A catalyst is a substance that speeds up a reaction without being consumed in the process. But how does this relate to the Record? I couldn't understand at all!
Nevertheless, the bonus granted by this Achievement was crystal clear to me. According to it, my Core became Perfect. This means that when advancing to the next Rank of the Spiral, such a transition will always occur at the Core energy density only available to others during Overflow. In essence, thanks to the bonus, my Core was now on par with that of the Shards!
A Perfect Core. Imagine that. And most puzzling of all, I had no clue why it was granted!
My brain twisted itself into knots, trying to decipher this enigma. Unsuccessfully. I closed my eyes, squinted hard, and shook my head vigorously.
When I opened them, I saw something I entirely didn't expect.
At all.
Definitely not here.
Not in this dense forest.
Opposite me, on the other side of the campfire, stood a little girl, about nine years old or younger. She was dressed in a pristine, seemingly freshly washed and ironed, spotless, light beige dress. And this, in such a depth of the forest! Her blond hair was adorned with a neatly styled, large bow. She held a wreath made of flowers unknown to me. Despite being barefoot, her small feet showed no sign of the scratches that would inevitably appear within a minute of walking in this rough terrain.
Moreover...
I couldn't see the girl's Rank. Only a blurred, vague spot where it should be. It was as if I wasn't looking at a child of Wooden rank but a Master of Mental Magic of the Mithril tier.
Honestly, a pack of forest animals, a hunting party of Sidhe, or the appearance of a Hellhound would have scared me far less than this incongruously cheerful and carefree-smiling girl in the dark, ancient forest.