Magnus darted through the air like a pinball, weaving between the towering trees of the Verdant Woods in a zigzag pattern. He was moving at a ridiculous speed—just over two hundred kilometers an hour. He had to slow down every once in a while to adjust and navigate the tighter turns or thicker clusters of trees, but even then it didn't affect his travel time much. It was a level of speed only Apprentice-level knights could match, and it was something that would have been suicidal to do if his brain was still normal. But thanks to the fact he processes information at more than twice the speed of a normal human, it was no issue.
I wonder what kind of ability this thing has. All the glitches I’ve encountered so far seem to follow some kind of theme. Not themes that make sense for this world, but a theme nonetheless. Still, I’ve never run into a glitch that’s alive. Well, unless you count Monlam and his master… oh, and maybe those teacups. But just because something can dream and get knocked out doesn’t necessarily mean it’s sentient. Still-
He gave a quick shake of his head, snapping himself out of his wandering thoughts. His nerves about the abnormality Mia and the others were dealing with had eased a little since Monlam’s initial explanation. All the time he spent in Freyborn Village had dulled the edge of his worry, shrinking it into something more manageable. But caution still lingered. There was one glaring issue that kept his thoughts anchored.
I still have no idea how the hell I’m supposed to fight this thing.
The Command Console was Magnus’s most powerful tool, without a doubt. But its functionality came with drawbacks, one of which could potentially screw him over when it came to dealing with glitches. Every time Magnus’s Command Console got near a glitch, it sent up an alert. And if he got too close, it activated the Debugging Protocol, locking him out of using it entirely. That had already happened with Monlam. Thankfully, Monlam hadn’t been hostile, but Magnus knew he couldn’t count on being lucky twice. The creature wreaking havoc on Mia and the others clearly had no qualms about attacking people—he was sure of that.
So the question kept circling back to him: How do I deal with this?
Using the Command Console to analyze it sounded great in theory—it could give him information about whatever they were going up against. But what good was that if he got himself killed moments later because he couldn’t defend himself? Just the thought caused him to exhale softly, shifting his weight as he leaped into the air again. He curved sharply around the trunk of a massive tree, landing atop one of its sprawling roots, which jutted out of the ground like a giant archway.
Maybe I could just attack it from a distance? As long as it can’t fly, I could bombard it with magic. But if I do that, I’d be leaving whatever its glitched element is up to chance…
The thought made him click his tongue in annoyance. Fighting a glitch without understanding its abilities felt reckless, almost like walking into a trap blindfolded. He stood there on the root for a while, letting the muted sounds of the Verdant Woods fill the silence. Despite the forest being so vast and open, its creatures were well hidden, their faint calls the only proof they existed at all. After a while, though, Magnus sighed in defeat. He’d been hoping that, after all his time in Freyborn Village, he’d have figured out a solid strategy by now. But the more he thought about it, the clearer it became: he still didn’t have a plan.
The thought grated at him, but all he could do was keep pushing forward and hope he’d find a way to tackle the glitch on his own terms.
Well, whatever. First, I need to find Larter Village. It'll be easier to come up with a plan once I'm filled in and can fully grasp the situation.
So, without wasting any more time, Magnus leaped off the root and continued his journey, sticking to the mental path he had mapped out. Traveling through the air was much quicker than the days it would have taken to make it to Larter Village on foot. Within about an hour, the environment began to shift. The massive trees of the Verdant Woods were getting smaller and more spaced apart, and the forest floor was slowly being replaced by rocky terrain. A few minutes further still, the transformation was complete. The undergrowth had vanished entirely, giving way to dark, jagged stone that curved upwards into steep, massive hills.
They towered even higher than the trees he’d left behind, their sheer slopes looking nearly impassable for anyone without wings or abilities like his. Climbing them would be slow and grueling, but Magnus didn’t have to worry about that.
Adjusting his trajectory, he flew along the incline of one of the hills. It almost looked as though he was skating across invisible ground as he followed the rise of the slope. With one last powerful kick off the air, he cleared the hill entirely, falling a few meters before landing on its peak. He scanned his surroundings, eyes sharp and ears alert, but the area was eerily quiet. Nothing moved, and no sounds reached him—not yet, at least.
From what Alwen and Kolten told me back in Arlcliff City, whatever this thing is, it's been attacking without leaving any witnesses. Even when it destroyed one of the platoons Major General Arbarth sent to help Mia, which probably means it attacked them while they were entering the valley. And with how steep these hills are, I doubt the soldiers in those platoons tried climbing them. The knights could’ve made it over easily, but the regular soldiers with all their gear and supplies? No chance.
That was the heart of the problem. Mia, Gerald, Marcos, and the lieutenants leading the platoons could likely escape on their own if they needed to. People capable of traveling faster than sound weren’t exactly easy to corner—if they wanted to run, they could. But doing that would mean abandoning their soldiers and leaving Larter Village to fend for itself against whatever was keeping them trapped in the valley. And even if they returned to Arlcliff City to regroup and brought back an even larger force, the village and the soldiers they left behind might already be wiped out by the time they returned.
Whatever this thing is, it must somehow know when people are entering or leaving the valley, at least in large numbers. Otherwise, how could it ambush them so precisely without ever exposing itself?
How it knew exactly was a mystery. Maybe it had something to do with its nature as a glitch, or maybe it was something entirely unrelated. Either way, Magnus didn’t have a clear answer. So after not seeing or hearing anything after standing around for a while, he decided to keep moving. He stepped to the far edge of the hill’s peak, his footsteps echoing as they tapped lightly against the stone beneath him. Cresting the last mound of rock, he stopped as the full view of his destination came into sight.
"Woah, this place is bigger than I thought," Magnus muttered, his voice barely audible over the breeze that swept past him, rustling his hair and clothes. Standing atop the hill, he took in the vast sight before him. Nearby hills formed a massive natural barrier of dark gray stone around the valley—a colossal wall separating it from the rest of the Verdant Woods. The barrier stretched far into the distance, and even with Magnus's keen eye for detail, he could only just discern its overall oval shape.
Peering down into the valley, Magnus saw that beyond the rocky border was an even steeper drop—a sharp descent far more challenging than the climb leading up to the hill he stood on now. From his vantage point, the valley's hills seemed like towering mountains, their rugged appearance only being softened by the lush greenery filling the secluded valley.
A light mist floated over grassy meadows, creeping along the base of the valley where the rocky terrain gave way to softer ground. The flatter edges of the valley were marked by a small forest. The trees there resembled those of the Verdant Woods, though they were smaller and less ancient-looking than the towering giants near Freyborn Village. Magnus noted he was roughly at the midpoint of the valley, far from either end. Off in the distance, partially hidden by clusters of trees, he spotted what looked like a river winding through the landscape. Its source seemed to be further east, feeding into the valley.
The scene was serene, looking as if it was untouched by the chaos of the outside world. Yet, for Magnus, the knowledge that people had died trying to reach or leave this place gave the tranquillity an unnerving weight.
"Well, no point in just staring." Magnus spoke to himself as he took a step forward, moving to where the hill began to slope downward, forming part of the 'walls' that encased the valley. With a single, decisive leap over the edge, he plunged downward, the wind rushing past as he dove headfirst toward the valley floor and the forest marking its boundary.
•
The sound of shifting straps, clinking metal, and slightly disorganized footsteps echoed through the tightly packed forest. Unlike the open Verdant Woods outside the valley, these younger trees grew close together, their thick branches and dense leaves choking off much of the soft sunlight that trickled into the tranquil-looking ravine in the earth. It created a strange scene below the canopy where faint golden rays illuminated the forest floor in patches. It wasn’t dark exactly—the sunlight made it possible to see—but it wasn’t bright either. The space below the trees lingered in an uneasy dimness, somewhere between light and shadow.
In that muted light, a group of soldiers marched. Their swords hung sheathed at their sides, and shields were strapped to their backs. The squad numbered fifteen, their faces looking weary yet alert, each of their eyes dimmer than the forest around them. Their movements were marked by the kind of tension that came from a mixture of exhaustion and readiness. At the front and rear of the group, soldiers carried torches, the flickering flames casting a warm glow that mingled with the sparse sunlight, just enough to guide their steps through the forest’s uneven terrain.
Leading the group was a man whose age was hard to pinpoint. He hadn’t started to gray, but his features bore the wear of years spent on the field.
His hair, both on his head and face, was untended, and his scruffy appearance was matched by the dullness of his armor. It wasn’t damaged or in disrepair, but it lacked the polish of care—like the cloak draped over his back, secured to the pauldron on his right shoulder, or the etched seal of the Major General on his chestplate. He and his men looked worn, not broken—each carrying the air of those who had seen too much but weren't allowed to falter.
"How much farther until we reach the G-7 line?" He asked in a gravelly voice, glancing back at a soldier walking a few steps behind him. The soldier, startled into action, reached into his satchel, pulling out a map. He quickly scanned their surroundings, taking a moment to calculate before responding.
We should be there in another twenty minutes, Lieutenant." The lieutenant narrowed his eyes briefly before raising his hand, signaling for the group to stop. The soldiers obeyed immediately, their footsteps ceasing as they waited for further orders. Turning to face them, the lieutenant cleared his throat, his voice cutting through the tense quiet.
"Listen up," the lieutenant barked, his voice steady and commanding despite the fatigue etched into his features. "We’ll conduct one last search of the area before we reach the G-7 Line. Stay in pairs. Just because we haven’t found anything so far doesn’t mean we can get lazy. We know this thing likes to stay close to the hills, so look for anything—tracks, signs of movement, or clues about where it might be hiding." Despite their weariness, the soldiers responded in unison, their voices firm.
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
"Yes, sir!"
"Good. Get to it," he ordered, waving them off. The group quickly split into seven pairs, each pair moving to comb a different section of the forest. The soldier who stayed behind with the lieutenant was the same one who had pulled out the map earlier. His lighter gear—a satchel and a short sword instead of the heavier weaponry carried by the others—marked him as a support member, more focused on navigation than combat.
The lieutenant stood silently for a moment, taking a deep breath as his men spread out into the dim woods. His sharp eyes scanned the area, flicking between the pairs every few minutes to ensure everyone stayed in sight. On the surface, he looked composed and vigilant, but his thoughts were elsewhere.
How haven’t we found this thing yet? We’ve searched nearly two-thirds of this valley, and there’s been no sign of it—no tracks, no lairs—just the bloody mess it leaves behind when it strikes at one of our squads. The only explanation is that it has some way to move around undetected. But if that’s the case, why haven’t we found any hidden caverns or paths?
He’d gone through his fair share of battles and missions under Major General Arbarth’s orders. His blade had tasted both beast and man, and he’d learned to adapt to all kinds of danger. But this? This was different. The feeling of being hunted, of knowing something was out there lurking in the shadows, waiting for its chance to strike, gnawed at him. It wasn’t just unnerving—it was maddening. Every rustle of leaves or snap of a twig sent a spike of tension through the group, draining their focus and sapping their resolve. They were isolated, cut off from the outside world in this valley. Supplies wouldn’t last forever, and if they ran out, there would be no hope.
It was like being strangled, slowly but relentlessly, by something they couldn’t even see. At first, the frustration of the hunt had been infuriating. Then it became terrifying. And now, all that remained was the exhaustion—a deep, bone-weary fatigue that clung to every step they took. But despite it all, they pressed on, driven by duty and the knowledge that the moment they stopped was the moment they died.
Deeper in the forest, one pair of soldiers moved cautiously through the dense foliage. One carried a torch, its flickering light casting long, jagged shadows over the uneven ground. The other soldier, using the light, crouched low to examine their surroundings more closely. The dimness made it easy to miss details—a hidden tunnel or an entrance concealed by nature’s overgrowth. Even the torch’s light couldn’t reach every crevice, leaving pockets of shadow in its wake. So, while the torchbearer kept their path lit, the other soldier methodically checked behind every tree large enough to hide something and every cluster of foliage dense enough to obscure a secret.
“Doesn’t look like there’s anything over here,” the searching soldier said, pointing toward a new area.
“Let’s check there next.”
“Alright,” the torchbearer replied with a nod. Together, they maneuvered through low-hanging branches and uneven ground. It was during this routine search that the soldier without the torch spotted something unusual. For just a moment, a faint red glimmer appeared within the leaves of a nearby tree. It was quick—like the flash of a ruby catching the light—and then it was gone. He froze, lifting a hand to stop the torchbearer while his other hand instinctively reached for the sword at his side.
“What is it?” the soldier with the torch asked, his voice low and wary as he watched his partner’s sudden shift to being ready for combat.
“I saw something… Something red in that tree over there,” the other soldier said, his tone uncertain but tense.
“Might’ve been my imagination, or it could’ve been eyes—something watching us.” The torchbearer moved his grip to the hilt of his sword as well.
“What do we do then? Check it out?” For a moment, the first soldier considered it before shaking his head.
“No. It could be an animal, but it might also be a monster. We’re not here to hunt; we’ll report it to Lieutenant Galven instead.” Even as he spoke, his gaze stayed locked on the spot where the shimmer had appeared. He began to step back slowly, keeping his guard up.
That’s when it happened.
The torchlight behind him wavered and then suddenly dropped. The faint sound of rustling reached his ears, followed by the dull plop of the torch hitting the ground. Whipping around, the soldier found himself staring at an empty space where his partner had just been standing. The only sign he’d ever been there was the still-burning torch lying on the forest floor.
"What the- Hey! Where did you go?" The soldier yelled, spinning around in a frantic search for his missing partner. His voice echoed, but no response came. His heart pounded in his chest, growing louder in the silence that seemed to blanket the forest. Quickly, he bent down and snatched the torch off the ground before it could set anything alight. Scanning the area, he called out again, but the forest had gone utterly still. Just as he was about to move, something caught his eye—a single leaf, drifting lazily from above. He froze, his breath hitching as his gaze followed the leaf’s descent, his head tilting upward.
What he saw made his blood run cold.
There, hanging in the branches above, was his partner, struggling wildly but eerily silent. Thick, white thread bound their ankles and wrapped tightly around their torso and arms, immobilizing them completely. But the worst part was their head. The same thread encased it entirely, masking the contours of their face in a grotesque outline. And then the soldier’s eyes shifted to the thing responsible.
It clung to the trapped soldier’s body with ease, its long, jointed legs covered in thin black hairs. The creature resembled a spider, though its body was grotesquely malformed, its bulbous abdomen bulging in unnatural, asymmetrical shapes. Despite its misshapen appearance, it moved with terrifying precision, its front legs manipulating the silk it sprayed from its abdomen. The soldier on the ground felt his stomach churn as he realized what it was doing. The creature was forcing silk into his partner’s mouth—stuffing it in relentlessly, choking them. That explained the silence; the first thing it had targeted was his head, ensuring he couldn’t scream. Now it continued its methodical work, suffocating its prey as the soldier below watched helplessly.
Under the flickering light of the torch, the soldier saw its eyes—pure, glistening red, like polished rubies reflecting the firelight. They locked onto him for a moment, unblinking and unfeeling. But then he saw more. Unfolding from the shadows above, crimson orbs began appearing one after another, dotting the canopy like malevolent stars. There were more of them.
The realization hit like a hammer: there was no saving his partner. Any thought of rescue was obliterated, replaced by a singular, primal instinct.
Run.
The soldier bolted back the way he’d come, yelling at the top of his lungs, "Lieutenant Galven!"
The dense trees and foliage would have muffled his voice for most, but not for Galven. As an Adept-level knight, his sharp senses picked up the shout despite his weariness. Standing near the point where the squad had initially split up, his head snapped toward the sound. Without hesitation, he projected his voice with an aura-boosted shout, loud enough to carry through the forest.
"We’re under attack! Regroup!" The soldiers scattered throughout the woods heard the command and immediately abandoned their searches, sprinting back toward their lieutenant’s position. They hadn’t ventured far, so within minutes, they emerged from the forest, weapons drawn, quickly forming up into a defensive formation. But as the soldiers regrouped, it became clear something was wrong. The soldier who had called out for help was nowhere to be seen, and out of the fourteen who had gone searching, only nine had returned.
The others had simply vanished.
Galven’s expression darkened as he drew his sword, the metallic ring of steel cutting through the heavy air. His grip tightened as the forest itself seemed to shift. The cause of the disappearance soon revealed itself. They came skittering out of the trees—spider-like creatures, their numbers staggering. They varied in size, from the scale of small dogs to tarantulas only slightly larger than normal, their jointed legs creaking and skittering across the ground and up the trunks of trees. Their glowing red eyes pierced through the dimness of the forest, countless pinpricks of light in the shadows.
But it wasn’t their size that sent a chill down Galven’s spine. It was their numbers. They just kept coming, flowing out from the forest like an unending tide. One of the larger spiders lunged forward, only to meet the blade of a soldier who brought his sword down hard, cleaving the creature’s head in two. Its body crumpled, spilling its insides onto the forest floor. But the victory was short-lived. Another spider immediately skittered over the corpse, its red eyes gleaming as it lunged toward the group.
The sheer volume of them was overwhelming. Galven clenched his teeth, his mind racing.
Damn it! They must have been what attacked Gerald in A-11!
The spiders were closing in, their endless ranks pressing closer. Galven raised his voice again, his tone sharp and commanding.
"Fall back! Retreat!" None of the soldiers hesitated to obey Galven’s order. This wasn’t a fight they could win, not with their numbers. They bolted in the only direction that wasn’t flooded with spiders, their torches slashing through the darkness as they waved them to clear a path. Galven stayed at the rear, covering their retreat. As the swarm encroached, he swung his sword in a powerful arc, the sheer force and speed of the strike making the blade seem to blur. The slash tore through the oncoming tide, cleaving a large swath of spiders in half.
But the reprieve was fleeting. The moment the front ranks fell, the next wave surged forward, filling the gap without pause.
“They’re like damned Kryle!” Galven shouted in frustration, cursing under his breath as he turned to follow the group. He stayed close to the rear, along with the soldiers wielding torches and swords, cutting down any spiders that got too close. The creatures were relentless, but they weren’t quite fast enough to catch the retreating soldiers—as long as they didn’t get cut off.
"To the valley wall!" Galven ordered, his voice sharp and resolute.
"We need something solid at our backs!" The forest thinned as they neared the edge of the valley. The rocky terrain didn’t favor the dense vegetation, leaving fewer trees and less cover. Ahead, the valley floor sloped upward, merging into the stone wall that marked the valley's edge and the base of the surrounding hills.
Galven sprinted up alongside the soldier carrying the satchel, urgency clear in his voice. "Signal smoke! Now!"
The soldier blinked in surprise at the command, hesitating only for a moment before nodding. He quickly reached into his bag, pulling out a small metal canister and handing it to Galven. Without missing a beat, Galven crushed it in his hand, sparks flaring as the chemical ignited. He hurled it with all the strength of an Adept-level knight, sending the canister soaring high above the forest canopy. A trail of thick, dark smoke billowed into the sky, cutting through the misty air like a beacon. Seconds later, the group broke through the edge of the forest. The ground beneath their feet turned rocky and uneven, forcing them to adjust their footing as they moved out onto the barren terrain.
All that remained in the clearing was moss-covered stone and the towering wall of rock that formed the valley’s edge. Now that they had escaped the forest and reached an open area with their backs secured against the valley wall, Galven finally came to a halt. His abrupt stop signaled the other soldiers to do the same. Quickly, they formed up, throwing down their torches now that the daylight illuminated their surroundings. Shields were unlatched, swords drawn, and they positioned themselves into a tight defensive formation with Galven standing at the forefront.
Their eyes were locked on the forest they had just escaped, watching as the red glimmers of countless eyes appeared within the shadows. The sound of the swarm—thousands of legs shuffling and clicking—rose in volume, an ominous prelude to the tide spilling out of the trees.
"The whole damn forest is infested..." Galven muttered under his breath as the enormity of the situation became clear. For a knight of his caliber, sheer numbers wouldn’t usually be a problem. But with nine soldiers at his back, it was a different story. He couldn’t unleash large-scale aura styles without risking their lives. Alone, he would have been able to handle it, but protecting them while fighting this overwhelming wave? It wasn’t a fight he could win so easily. His mind raced, searching for a strategy as he watched the spiders pour out of the forest like a relentless tide, abandoning their shadows to claim the cornered meals before them.
"Listen up!" Galven barked, his voice cutting through the rising noise of the swarm.
"I’ll hold the left and right flanks and funnel them down the center to you. Avoid getting bitten at any cost! Gerald’s report said these things are venomous. All we need to do is hold out until reinforcements arrive." The soldiers glanced at one another, doubt flickering in their eyes. Galven’s plan was sound in theory, but in practice? The odds were stacked against them. Adept-level knights were fast—unbelievably so—but even Galven couldn’t be everywhere at once. Holding off hundreds, if not thousands, of spiders while keeping nine soldiers alive? It was an impossible task. And they all knew it.
They also knew there was no chance of help arriving in time. The squads scattered through the valley were too far away. It was a plan born from necessity, the only course of action that gave even the faintest hope of survival. And so, despite the grim odds, the nine soldiers behind Galven nodded resolutely.
"Yes, sir!" Galven cast a brief glance over his shoulder, acknowledging their courage before shifting his focus back to the advancing swarm—a tide of skittering legs, gleaming eyes, and razor-sharp fangs. He took a deep breath, steadying himself as he adopted a battle stance. Every muscle in his body tensed as his aura surged through him, enhancing his strength, speed, and reflexes to superhuman levels. There was no room for distraction now; this was a moment demanding absolute focus. The soldiers behind him were just as tense, their grips firm on their weapons, their shields held high. But then, out of nowhere, a crackling sound split the air. It came from above, faint at first but growing louder with each passing second.
Galven’s frown deepened as he risked a glance upward.
And then it struck.
Lightning rained down from the sky, splitting the air with deafening cracks and streaking toward the earth with blinding precision.