The old man raised two fingers, smiling: "Two silver pieces. The map is valuable... and you won't easily find another like it. The owner of the map risked a lot to gather these details."
Without argument, Christopher took the pieces out of his bag and placed them on the table.
"A good deal, young man," said the old man as he carefully rolled up the map, then handed it to him.
Christopher took it, thanked the man, and then left the shop. Everything was ready.
Elsewhere, not far from the city of the Phoenix... the southern part of the Forest of the Greats was immersed in a primal silence. The interwoven branches of the gigantic trees blocked the light from the ground, making the day seem like a never-ending, gloomy evening. The air was damp, with a scent of rot and the breath of monsters creeping in.
A small group of seven men advanced, led by a knight in shining silver armor adorned with the symbol of the Sacred Temple. His white cloak was embroidered with golden threads, and his eyes did not hide the sternness of a man accustomed to battles. Sir Cole sat by the trunk of a tree with dense roots, then said in a low but firm voice: "Two months... we have been chasing the shadow of that novice huntress."
Silence was the only response at first, before one of the men spoke: "I think she fled the forest, or met her end at the hands of one of the monsters. It's impossible for a fifteen year old girl to survive in this hell for so long."
Another shook his head in agreement: "Even powerful saints don't venture deeper than this."
Sir Cole sighed, then looked at their faces with steady eyes: "The choice is yours now... If we continue, we risk going deeper into the forest. The chance of death is high. Or we return, but three-quarters of the reward will be deducted. Only a quarter of the pay after two months of hardship."
The men exchanged glances. Silence reigned again. Then one of them, after hesitation, said: "I will continue." Another followed, and then a third spoke.
But four of them, including Sir Cole, remained silent. Cole raised his head and said slowly: "The majority has decided. We will not continue."
No one argued. There was a mixture of relief and loss in their eyes.
Sir Cole's party finally stopped after deciding to retreat. The men began setting up their tents in silence, marked by the exhaustion of the past two months. But gradually, as the tension eased little by little, their faces relaxed, as if the decision to return had freed their souls from prison.
"Oh my God..." said one of them as he spread out the tent cover, "Can you imagine? I'll return and finally see my wife's face... and even if she screams at me, I'll smile at her like a fool."
Another laughed beside him as he secured the ropes: "If she screams at you, know that she still loves you. If she ignores you, that's when the disaster begins!"
Another person smiled as he held a water bottle: "Me? No wife, no kids. But I'll go straight to the Red Falcon Tavern... and I'll order the best wine, then... I'll sleep there."
One of them chuckled as he sat on a tree stump: "And I thought you were going to say you'd look for a woman!"
"In the tavern?" said the fourth, pulling out a piece of bread from his bag. "I think he's looking for a woman who comes with the wine!"
Laughter followed, and the men gathered around a small fire they had started. The danger had not passed, but for a moment, they felt as though the forest had allowed them peace. Sir Cole sat quietly, his eyes fixed on the dancing shadows between the trees, but he did not join in their laughter. "Cole, aren't you going to eat?" one of them asked.
He shook his head, then said: "Eat... we rest tonight, and leave at dawn."
But the rest did not last. While they laughed, drank water, and ate dry bread, a strange feeling suddenly overtook them... a heavy one. It felt as though a mountain had been placed on their chests.
The air changed, as if the pressure around them was increasing, and breathing became difficult. No one spoke. It didn't need explanation. This was... pressure from a vast difference in power levels that no one could mistake.
In the continent of Novalim, power is divided into three main paths: the Hunter's Path: based on absorbing mana, starting from the first rank "Seed," and progressing up to rank nine.
The Sacred Path (Saints): based on absorbing what is known as "holy power," starting from the "Holy Core" as the first rank, and rising to rank nine.
The Demonic Path (Demonic Beasts): These beings absorb the energy of stars, beginning their journey by creating a "Demonic Core" as the first step toward rank nine. Each rank, in the three paths, is divided into four sub-stages: Initial, Intermediate, Advanced, and Peak. As your rank rises, so does your power.
------
The air became denser, as if it was pressing against their chests. Breathing became difficult, and words froze in their throats. It seemed as though their hearts were trying to escape their chests, pounding frantically left and right with no way out.
Then, the sound came...
Slow, heavy steps, as if a hammer was striking the forest ground. Doom... doom... doom... With each step, the ground trembled slightly, and some dry leaves fell from the giant trees.
And from among the thick black shadows, it appeared...
The demon beast.
A giant black mass standing on two feet, terrifying in its size. Its height surpassed ten meters, rivaling the giant trees around it. No eyes, no nose. Only a strange mouth with a grin stretching from cheek to cheek, filled with long teeth, dripping with thick black goo that stained the leaves.
Its ears... long, swelling and contracting with each breath, scanning the area with sound waves, like terrifying radars searching for any sound particle.
Everyone froze.
No one breathed.
But...
Only one scream...
A man behind Sir Cole could not withstand the terror. His eyes widened insanely, his mind collapsed, and he threw his sword, screaming:
"AAAAAAAAAAAH!!"
He ran as if trying to escape from hell itself.
At that moment, the beast stopped.
It turned its neck slowly, frighteningly, as if the sound was a thread pulling it in.
A terrifying grin split its dark face. Its teeth seemed longer, deeper, and more hungry.
In a terrifying flash, it vanished.
In the blink of an eye, it appeared in front of the fleeing man, as if the air itself had torn apart upon its arrival. It extended its giant black hand, grabbed his head as if it were a worthless fruit... and then squeezed.
Tsschh... Crack... Snap... Crack...
The skull shattered under the pressure. Thick red goo exploded between its fingers, spraying onto the ground and nearby trees. The facial bones burst, and the eyes popped out of their sockets with force, dangling on the man's cheek before the beast crushed them in its grip.
It lifted the trembling body to its mouth, then... one bite.
Kraaaaaack!!
The sound was a mixture of crushing bones, tearing innards, and the explosion of blood.
It chewed... and swallowed. As if the man was nothing but a light snack.
The men were paralyzed. It wasn't just fear; it was primal terror that made their bodies refuse to move.
Sir Cole, with grim determination, stared at the beast, thinking to himself with anger as he locked eyes with it:
"Faceless... damn."
But, the disaster wasn't over.
Crack.
A branch broke behind a tent. The beast immediately turned, its ears swelling in a terrifying manner, pinpointing the source with precision.
There, one of the men was trying to withdraw slowly, but he stepped on a branch.
He froze in place.
He collapsed to his knees, hands over his head, screaming, his body trembling like a leaf in the storm:
"Please! Don't kill me! I have children... please!!"
He sobbed, pleaded, and he wet himself from fear.
But the beast slowly approached, its steps crushing the leaves and bones beneath it. It stood before the man, its massive shadow completely covering him. It raised its hand...
Then, five long black claws emerged, longer than any sword.
It slowly drove one into his chest.
"AAAH!! AAH!! Please!! NOOOO!! It hurts!!"
His blood spurted like a fountain, rising into the air before his body collapsed to the ground, as the other claws pierced him from all directions.
He continued to scream, trying to push it away with his trembling hands, striking the beast's fingers, but the beast smiled... enjoying it...
The faceless demon beast stood above the broken body, its fingers still embedded in the flesh, the twisted grin never leaving its wide mouth. It slowly pulled its claws out, making a disgusting ripping sound, as if a sticky piece of cloth was being pulled from the mud. The blood drained from the tips of its claws as if fresh swords had just emerged from a slaughter.
The beast made no sound... but it listened.
Its ears twitched with tension, sweeping the air, scanning for the slightest movement... the faintest breath... the weakest tremor. And the silence engulfed the area.
One man, hiding behind a tree trunk, was trying to stifle his breath, but he was gasping faintly, unable to control himself. His body was drenched in sweat, silent tears streaming down his face, and his eyes locked on the beast.
But his heart... was racing madly.
And the beast heard him.
In an instant, the beast turned toward the sound, and in a flash, it pounced like lightning. It didn't even give the man a chance to run. It suddenly extended its hand and grabbed the tree trunk itself, ripping it out of the ground!
Yes, it uprooted the tree! It lifted it as if it weighed nothing, then hurled it backward, piercing another tree, shattering it with a sound like a small earthquake.
The man who had been hiding fell to the ground, exposed. His face turned ash-gray, and he began crawling on the ground, trying to escape with his trembling hands, screaming:
"Nooooo!! No!! Please!! Help me!!"
But no one moved. Everyone was frozen.
The beast stood above him, then descended upon his body with its colossal foot, crushing his chest entirely.
His innards exploded from his sides, his intestines spilled from his mouth, and his scream was cut off mid-way, with a strangled "Gghh!!" sound.
His body was split in half, and blood spread across the grass like red paint on a canvas of madness.
The beast remained silent, breathing heavily through its mouth, listening...
Behind it, another man began trembling hysterically, unable to control his breath anymore, whispering through his sobs:
"I'm dead... I'm dead... I'm dead..."
The beast heard him.
It turned once more.
This time, it didn't approach slowly. It ran.
It ran like a beast driven by demonic force, uprooting the ground beneath its feet. It reached the man within seconds, grabbed him by the neck, and lifted him high.
"Please... Please don't..."
But the beast did not listen.
It drove its claws into the man's mouth.
One, two, then three... until his jaws were completely ripped out, and his face split in half.
A scream unlike any human came from him, a broken sound of dying, filled with terror, pain, and despair.
"GghhhAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!"
Then, it tore him in half.
Simply... it split his body from mouth to belly, as if tearing wet paper.
Flesh tore. Bones shattered. Blood rained down like a storm.
Only two men were left alive, one crawling quietly behind a rock, his face covered in blood, crying silently, while the other... was Sir Cole.
Cole didn't move. He didn't breathe. He didn't even blink.
His eyes were fixed on the beast with focus. His hand was on the hilt of his sword... but he didn't draw it.
He knew...
Any movement now, even a tremor... meant death.
The faceless demon beast stood in the midst of a field of blood and destruction... five mangled corpses scattered around it like broken dolls, and intestines scattered across the ground, filling the air with their metallic, decaying scent. The air had become heavier, suffocating, as if the forest itself was holding its breath.
But the beast didn't move.
It slowly raised its head toward the sky, as if staring at it, even though it had no eyes.
A wide grin split its face from ear to ear, twisting grotesquely... as if what it had just done was a childish pleasure, a silly game.
Its long ears began to move, twitching, swelling and contracting with every breath of air, searching... listening... scanning the area.
A minute... two minutes... three minutes... four.
No sound. No breath. No tremor.
The silence... was absolute.
Suddenly, the grin vanished. It disappeared as if it had never existed. The beast stood still for a moment, then leaned its massive body, as if sniffing something... even though it had no nose.
Then, without warning... it turned and walked away.
Watching it leave was more terrifying than watching the killing itself. As if... it had grown bored.
As if everything it had done... was nothing. Trivial. Not worth staying for.
It sank back into the trees, slowly, each heavy step echoing in the distance, until the darkness swallowed it again.
Behind it, only Sir Cole and the other man remained.
Cole was still frozen in place, sweat dripping down his temple, his heart beating slowly... but steadily.
And the other man, behind the rock, was still crying silently, his body trembling.
The beast was gone. But the terror... did not leave.
After confirming the beast had disappeared, Sir Cole dropped to his knees as if he had fallen from the top of a mountain. He gasped violently. Each breath was painful... as if his chest was being crushed. Each inhalation mixed with guilt, helplessness, and something else... something growing inside him, a desire growing.
He felt weakness. A weakness unlike any wound... but the weakness of the soul. Power... that word spun in his head like an annoying siren, never quieting.
"Power... power... I need to get power..." He said it in a hoarse voice, his eyes burning with exhaustion and tears.
Slowly, he stood, as if carrying a mountain on his shoulders, then turned toward a spot behind a rock covered in blood and ash. There, it was... Bero Calvan. The other man, the only survivor of the massacre.
He approached him with heavy steps, his eyes swaying between pain and disbelief.
"He... man..." He said softly, then louder and more roughly: "You didn't die, right?"
But Bero didn't answer. He was lying on his side, his face pale, covered in blood, his body shaking slightly... but he was not dead.
He was unconscious.
Cole got closer, knelt beside him, and extended his hand to check his pulse. It was weak... but it was there.
He sighed slowly, his tired eyes looking toward the sky through the thick trees:
"This hell... shows no mercy to anyone."
Without wasting time, he lifted Bero onto his back, tightened his grip on his body. Then... he began walking.
Not fast, not with complete stability. He walked against the direction of the beast, against the slaughter. In the heart of the damp shadows, between the twisted roots, where the trees choked the light.
The air was still heavy, the forest still ominous, but Cole no longer cared.
The only thing that controlled his being now...
One desire.
Power.