Creepy Paranormal Forest Investigation, This'll Go Well (Not)

So…

You lot are probably wondering what happened after I caused a mass cave-in, right?

No?

Well, considering how I’m monologuing this section, it’s clear I survived, right?

Fine…

I’ll give you the short version, and we can get on with the next misadventure.

After I blew up the crystal, everything came crashing down, literally.

I poured a few shots into the Detonite cluster and the thing blew up in an instant, lighting up the cave in a mix of crackling green and fiery orange blaze.

Crystals, rocks and ores fell from the sky and squashed the goblin miners to death.

The critters ran all over the place, desperate to escape the disaster, but their uncoordinated, selfish instincts of self-preservation only served to hinder them.

Even in the face of imminent death, they bickered and fought one another.

They bit, clawed, hit and shoved.

Goblins died one after another.

Some were crushed by falling crystals or ores, others fell down the ravine and some were trampled underfoot by brethren also wishing to escape.

All around me are the sounds of screaming and falling debris.

It seems the explosion was too effective. A large, turquoise, crystal pillar skewers the ground right next to me.

One look at the pillar in the ground sends me running.

Hopping off her perch, Alin follows behind and catches up to me. Together we scamper up the tunnel we came through in a frantic attempt to escape the mass cave-in.

Unfortunately, the explosion I caused was more powerful than Alin and I had ever envisioned.

Two steps into the tunnel and rocks are falling all around us, threatening to give us a lethal concussion before we can die from suffocation.

Left with no other options, I use my new spell, Glyph of Protection.

I hold my hand above us and shout out, “Glyph of Protection!”

A large glowing green symbol appears above our heads. I care little for its appearance beyond its function.

Under the cover of this spell, we continue frantically running up the hill.

Rocks bounce off the glyphs as we desperately escape the underground disaster we caused.

Reminds me of the scene from that paranormal series where a girl was running through a collapsing mental dreamscape.

Pretty good song, but I enjoyed the meme of WWII soldiers storming Normandy more.

Now I get to live through the experience myself.

Instead of charging through a hail of bullets, I’m running from a cave-in.

Quite frankly, it was fucking hell.

I’m so sorry for making fun of Americans for being obese.

But being sorry doesn’t solve anything.

As we continue to run, the cave keeps collapsing further and further.

Up and up we ran. Our lungs, more specifically my lungs, ached. They scream for me to stop running, to slow my pace and catch my breath.

Then the stitches kick in. Each step I take makes me wince in agony.

Luckily, the tunnel doesn’t collapse immediately, so we have some leeway- but not much.

Bit by bit, we grew ever closer, in the last stretch of ground

‘Phew!’

The moment we see the exit, we throw ourselves at the ground.

‘Cough!’ ‘Cough!’

We cough out our lungs from the dust and lay on our backs, at least I did.

Alin is being a lot less dramatic than me. Her back simply stooped over and she put her hands on her thighs.

Apparently, her definition of weariness is just panting slightly.

“I thought we were goners.”

“And I thought you said you only knew Appraisal and that Mote spell.”

“Just learned it. Didn’t think I’d use it at once.”

“Since when?”

“After killing those goblins.”

“What sort of spellcaster are you? The average wizard takes a month to learn a new spell.”

“I’m kind of like Serana. I have fewer spells, but I can use them indefinitely as far as I’m aware.”

Having successfully escaped the cave-in, we take a few minutes to catch our breath.

After we’ve gotten our bearings, we grab an unconscious Serena, drag the corpses of Kael and Eric behind us, and go back to the ride waiting for us.

Want to know about how the work is split?

Alin, being the same gender as Serena, is responsible for giving the priestess a piggyback.

I am stuck dragging the corpses behind me.

Eric barely weighs anything, no surprises there.

Kael, on the other hand… Let’s just say, you don’t want to be in charge of carrying the corpse of a fighter unless you’re a barbarian or fighter yourself.

We lugged the two corpses and an unconscious priestess to the cart.

The driver takes one look at us and mumbles, “My condolences,” before whipping the donkey and getting the carriage started.

I have a feeling he was going to say, “How did the adventure go?” if he didn’t notice the bodies earlier.

The journey was quiet throughout, a stark contrast to the beginning of the adventure.

When I set out with them earlier, the last thing I envisioned was them turning into corpses before the day was over.

Upon our arrival at Tros, we reported the results of the extermination to the Guild, as well as the colony we discovered and the crystal caverns buried beneath its ruins.

With the Kael and Eric dead and Serena out of commission, our party is considered disbanded.

Not like I was close with them in the slightest.

Though I definitely won’t be going on big adventures anytime soon. Not that goblin slaying counts as a big adventure.

Actually, we did kill like several hundred goblins and uncovered a large crystal cavern/ravine, but that’s besides the point.

Whatever.

On the bright side, we did earn quite a bit. We were compensated with seventy-five silver for reportedly destroying the goblin colony. The guild promises to give us the rest of our dues after they’ve dispatched another team to locate and investigate the collapsed caverns.

With the hectic request pretty much wrapped up, I had no further business in the outpost.

I said my goodbyes to Alin. We half-heartedly promised each other we’d see one another in the future.

Okay, that should be everything, but I feel like I’m forg-

Right! How could I forget the bodies!

Now, what did we do with the corpses of our former companions?

Did we give them a makeshift burial? Send them to a church? Sell their organs and belongings to a graverobber?

Nah, we just handed them over to the guild.

From the freckled receptionist with either a speech impediment or serious social anxiety issues, I learned that they actually offer basic funeral services for low prices.

It surprised me, although it makes a lot of sense the more I think about it.

Adventurers throw their lives away all the time for the promise of wealth and fame.

Not much of a surprise if death tolls are high. I mean, this is a fantasy world for crying out loud.

Anyways, I’m back at the ranch, my back against a tree in the field.

‘Phew!’

I’m feeling beat.

Back in the goblin colony, after burying the entire place, I saw the green screen pop up. It displayed the familiar message, asking me to sacrifice the souls of the goblins and captives.

It feels incredibly sobering realizing that I indeed killed several innocents in our escape.

Yet knowing the fact I am responsible for their deaths. I feel hollow.

It's sickening. Is it because I didn’t experience their deaths myself? The lingering adrenaline running through my systems since the summoning? Or have I always been this way even on Earth?

Whatever the case, I feel sickened by my lack of an emotional response.

…

Okay, maybe I’m being a bit too dramatic. I’m not getting any strong feelings of guilt that make me want to cry or puke.

I just feel peeved.

Look, I do feel bad for being forced to indirectly kill the captives, but it’s on the level where I feel like it’s more of an inconvenience than an egregious sin.

To describe how I feel, it’d be more like, ‘great no one’s going to let me live down these rumors for at least two weeks.

…

It’s scary, honestly.

But I’m a naturally scatterbrained and care-free person who goes at his own pace. Maybe I’ll feel guilty later on when I encounter the relative of one of my victims, who knows?

Alright, moving on from my melodramatic moment.

There’s something more important I have on my mind.

And that’s the new skill I acquired.

Naturally, to show respect for the victims, I deselected their souls and consumed only those of the goblins.

I think it said something about elite goblins or goblin warriors, but that doesn’t matter since they’re dead.

I have acquired another new skill.

Except this skill is mighty unusual.

What do I mean by that?

Is it some weirdly named or worded skill with secretly busted mechanics?

No, it’s not.

Instead, it looks like this on the green screen.

[???

???]

Completely unknown.

Herein lies the problem: if I don't know what this skill is, how can I use it?

“Activate whatever this skill is.”

The next moment, a book falls onto my lap.

Not just any book.

This was the exact book I encountered in the Eldritch void world with floating islands.

I pry at the pages, but the book doesn’t budge an inch.

After several minutes, I give up and dismiss the book from my hands.

Perhaps there’s a secret prerequisite I have yet to meet. Maybe sacrifice a few more souls?

If it took me several hundred goblin souls to just get this chuuni-esque grimoire, how many will it take to get it open?

Whatever, there’s no way I’ll be able to open it today.

With a thought, I dismiss the book.It vanishes into thin air, like it was never there in the first place. It’d be pretty damning to have someone discover that on my person, especially since I am on the run.

Leaving aside my skills, I check my levels.

From the number of goblins I killed, I levelled up to level 13.

A good ten jumps.

Ten level-ups usually let someone get new skills, right?

Despite reaching such a high level, I didn’t get any new skills. Instead, my current ones levelled up.

Eldritch Mote rose to Level 5 and changed into Eldritch Bullet.

It now has the following description.

[Eldritch Bullet (Level 5)

Shoot forth five small concentrated orbs of Eldritch energy or a single powerful shot.

Damage and range are significantly increased. Incredibly effective, even against armored enemies or creatures with thick hides.

Causes immense pain to target. Unless by Divine or Infernal will, injuries are near impossible to heal.

Warning: do not underestimate its size. This spell has an explosive diameter of at least half a foot. Be careful who you shoot this at.]

Aside from the massive buffs this spell gained, that text seems incredibly descriptive for some reason.

Might be the effects of leveling up, or completing a fragment of the spell.

Here’s what the useless appraisal skill now reads:

[Eyes of The All-Knowing (Incomplete 0.1% restoration in progress)

Provides guidance on certain matters.]

I level up ten times, and the damn thing only increased by 0.1%.

Still, that’s better than nothing.

I test it out on a nearby tree.

[A sturdy oak tree, nothing special. Can be logged to make some decent timber.]

Hunh? It’s more informative compared to when I first used it.

If leveling up ten times gets me 0.1% completion, then that means I have to level up…

At least 990 more times!?!

Can a person even level up this much!? This is in the realm of Gods at this point!

Ugh… how useless.

Maybe I’m using it wrong, but in its current state, it’s a proto-Appraisal skill with a developing personality.

That’s two out of the three checked. Time for the last one.

Let’s see…

Ah, there we go.

[Rune of Protection (Level 5)

Create a Rune that protects against both magical and physical elements.

Will face one direction. Can be summoned at an angle.

Multiple Runes can be created overlaid or at different angles to protect the caster and nearby allies.

Durability and spell size have been greatly increased.]

Hey! This isn’t bad in the slightest!

Although it doesn’t say the amount of punishment one Rune can take, I have high hopes for it.

The first level version of this spell easily fended off the countless head-sized rocks threatening to smash my skull apart back in the goblin cave. Surely, it can defend against a couple dozen weapon strikes or monster attacks.

Plus, much like the Eldritch Bullet, I feel like I can cast it however many times as I want without getting tired!

Man, being a warlock is awesome! …Is what I want to say, but it did make me an enemy to this whole world.

Negative thoughts aside, based on what I gather so far, if I want to acquire new skills, I have to sacrifice more souls to the System. Levelling up will only boost my stats and skills. Honestly, I don’t trust the System that much. Nothing good can possibly come from an entity that demands souls in exchange for power, but it’s not like I have much choice.

Speaking of stats, I wonder how strong I’ve gotten. I managed to reach level 13, but I don’t feel a sudden surge of power that lets me lift cars or sprint a one-minute mile.

Okay, I admit, that’s mighty unrealistic of me, but I should feel something, right?

This isn’t going to be a cliche where characters don’t feel any change, underestimate their own strength and then suddenly unleash it during a climactic fight?

Honestly, I have no clue.

I wouldn’t say I’m in horrible shape. I get good cardio. Though when it comes to physical work with my arms, like push-ups, I start trembling at thirty.

Perhaps I should test things out.

I drop on all fours and attempt thirty sets.

My arm strength has definitely improved, but this exercise has taught me little about my stamina or speed.

I don’t think I need to run several laps around the farm. I could do that, but it’d be a waste of time.

No, instead I’ll do something far more productive to test out the strength I gained.

Farm labor.

Hear me out, farm labour is intensive work. During my time on my relatives farm, I could barely go through an hour without taking a break.

Don’t get it wrong, it’s not because I have poor fitness. I do pretty well on the endurance runs, comparable to members of the track team. Though admittedly, my arm muscles are lacking.

Where am I going with this?

Right, farm labour is a good indicator of my physique improvement. If I can get through two hours, my stats would’ve doubled. For my stamina and endurance at least.

I wonder what stats this world measures?

In D&D, the core stats are Strength, Dexterity, Constitution, Wisdom, Charisma and Intelligence.

For RPG games, it’ll be Strength, Agility, Toughness, Defence, Magic and Luck.

It’s interesting how D&D makes the spellcasters each rely on a different spell modifier while the spellcasting classes all rely on the same Magic stat to work their spells.

Alright, enough pondering about game mechanics, time to work! I get up from the bed and start off my slow day helping around the farm.

Throughout the day, I helped out with the chores.

Ralph

I won’t get into what I did on the farm, because this is a series about my misadventures not a glorified farming documentary.

The entire da

By the time I finish overturning the land, I have broken into a light sweat.

It seems my physical prowess has improved. Quite greatly, in fact.

Does this mean my stamina quintupled?

However, I don’t know the full extent of my newly gained strength.

My arms look nothing like Schwarzenegger’s, but I feel like my biceps and triceps are tighter and more robust, same as the rest of my body.

I decide to help run the farm for the next two days to see how much my body’s changed.

The answer?

A lot.

There are plenty of isekais revolving around farm life, so I don’t think I need to describe every little detail that happened.

You want more of an explanation? Go and read one of those slow-life farm novels. This isn’t it.

Still, for those of you with 2000 hours in Stellar Yew Valley, here’s a little taste of what farm work is actually like: boring and repetitive.

Two days of nothing but ploughing the land and planting oats, barley, whatever.

Hey, just because I spent a summer on a farm doesn’t make me an expert who can discern wheat seeds from oat seeds.

The whole process didn’t take too long.

Before working on the farm, Ralph and I had a little discussion about how I’d work.

No, it wasn’t a discussion about wages. He simply didn’t want me, his benefactor, to toil for him for free.

Very swell guy. When I make it big, I’m definitely coming back and repaying him tenfold.

So I made him a deal. Three days. I’d work on the fields for three days.

Not knowing I had leveled up, he agreed, probably thinking I’d finish tilling only one field by the deadline at most.

The sight of his stunned face when I told him I already finished two fields was mighty entertaining.

Okay, we’re finally done with the farmwork description. Now it’s time to talk about how it affected me physically.

Quite simply put, I didn’t break a sweat.

If I went back to Earth with my current stats, I think I might open a farm of my own.

With the three days ‘stamina training’ done, I decided to finally move the plot along.

The next morning, I’m back at the outpost again, looking at the requests.

Alin came up to greet me. “Good morning, Shin.”

“Hey Alin, how are you doing?”

“Fine, have you found a party yet?”

“Unfortunately, no. I’m socially awkward. It was a real stroke of luck for you guys to invite me. God bless everyone’s souls in heaven.”

“Don’t lump me in with those guys lying in their graves.”

“Of course, my bad.” I quickly apologize and ask her about her situation, “How about you? Found anyone?”

“I was hoping you were available.”

Why does that sound like a cheap pick-up line?

“You want to form a group with me?”

“Yes, is there a problem?” she questions.

“None, but my skills are limited to just throwing Eldritch Mote and Rune of Protection. I’m pretty much useless as a frontliner, scout or support.”

“Not a problem, I just need someone with a good head on their shoulders,” she brushes off my concerns. “Not like those bright-eyed fools who rushed in headlong.”

Having already taken a two-day farm break, I don’t have anything better to do. “I’m in. What sort of request are we taking on?”

“An investigation request.”

“Specifics?”

“Monsters have been pouring out of the Nazul forest recently.

Based on the reports of some mages, a surge of unidentified magic was detected a week ago.

Reward is ten silvers from the guild. Enough for a person to live for two months.”

A week ago in a forest…

It couldn’t be the Eldritch Magic that isekai-ed me, right?

“So, you in?”

I ask for clarification on the contents of the request. “I presume we’re trying to locate the source and not fight any monsters?”

“Pretty much, if we find anything suspicious, we report back to the Guild.”

Ten silvers…

“Seems a bit suspicious. It’s way too lucrative a quest for rookies like us,” I reply. “It’s like they’re asking us to walk into another goblin colony, but with lower pay this time,” I joke.

In all honesty, I’m getting some bad vibes, similar to the ones I got from the goblin cave.

“Oh…” She sheepishly rubs the back of her hooded head. “I forgot to tell you, but I’m a Bronze-rank. The request is Bronze-ranked. Don’t worry, a Wood-tag like you can join, it’s not a very difficult one on paper, I made sure of that.”

I let out a stupid “What?”

This girl has been a professional all along!?

I mean, I know she’s skilled, but I assumed it’s because she’s of a noble lineage or completed special training or whatnot. Genuinely, I didn’t expect her to be a veteran, even though in retrospect, that is the most plausible explanation.

Guess I’m being influenced too much by light novels. No way the person in front of me is some princess or legendary warrior playing adventurer for fun.

That stuff only happens in trash isekai.

Hold on, I’m in an Isekai!

She nods her head with closed eyes in response to my surprise. “Yeah, figured that’s how you’d react.”

Hold on, if she’s Bronze-rank, does that mean… that Kael, Serena and the dipshit Eric were also Bronze-rank?

I confirm my suspicions: “Wait, were those guys also-”

“No, they weren’t,” Alin denies. “All of them, including the mage, were Wood-ranked.”

Eh? They were Wood-rank?

“Why did you form a party with them then?” I ask.

“They looked like they had good character and potential; unfortunately, their hubris got the better of them.”

“Ah.”

Makes sense.

Speaking of our old party, I wonder how the other survivor’s doing.

“What about Serena? How is she doing?”

“Dunno,” the ranger half-heartedly shrugs. “Dropped her off at a nearby inn, haven’t seen her since.”

“I see.”

“So, are you in or not?”

“Are we on any time constraints?”

“No, but we should hurry. One week is long enough for traces to vanish, but not disappear completely.

If we waste too much time, investigating will be much harder.”

Hmm… Alright, why not? An investigation mission sounds a lot safer than the previous goblin slaying quest.

“Before we go, I'd better get some equipment. What I’m wearing is not suitable for a fight.”

“Very well. I’ll meet you here tomorrow morning. If you don’t show up on time, I’ll take on the quest by myself.”

“Alright, I’ll see you later.”

I wave goodbye and start my impromptu shopping trip.

I made my way from the outpost to the blacksmith.

It wasn’t too far. Lots of businesses are close to the outpost, such as apothecaries and gear shops.

Doesn't take a genius to know why they’re stationed so close. Adventurers need those supplies.

Ralph gave me a tour of the town before and introduced me to a few of the folks around here.

Quite a small community. Excluding adventurers, there can't be more than a few hundred people.

With the money from the goblin request on hand, piled up with the chump change from doing the odd slime exterminating side gig, I can finally afford to splurge a little.

Two minutes down the road, I enter the first shop.

The blacksmith’s store is housed in an unassuming building, but the inside leaves quite the impression.

Several shelves and tables full of weapons and armor straight out of a typical fantasy blacksmith’s, arranged in no particular order:

A metal helm next to a pair of leather boots, a shield beside a halberd, chainmail next to a quiver of arrows.

Despite the number of bizarre combinations, the goods are all neatly in place. Not a single item was haphazardly thrown or crammed into a space.

A contradiction if I’ve ever seen one.

Ignoring the displays, I stride over to a man polishing a sword.

I make my presence known to the owner. “Excuse me?”

The owner, Garv, looks up. He is a stout man with impressively muscular arms.

Same can’t be said for the beer belly and his badly shaved whiskers.

I half suspect he’s of dwarven blood.

Looking up from his work, Garv greets me: “Oh, you’re the brat crashing at Ralph’s place. What can I do for you?”

“Yup, I’m looking to get some armor for myself.”

“Any requirements?”

Getting straight to business, eh? Not the sociable type I reckon, but it’s fine. I’m not exactly chatty myself.

“Light and maneuverable, but can protect me from a stab in the back."

“Your budget?”

“Twenty-five silvers.”

“Hmm…” He strokes one of his whiskers. “Wait here.”

The blacksmith goes into the back of the shop and comes out with a crate full of leather pieces.

He plops it down and glances at me for a brief moment. Then his thick fingers begin rummaging through the pile until pulling out a chest piece and several joint protectors.

Looks a bit like the basic gear one wears for airsoft or paintball battles.

“Here, try it on.”

He thrusts the chest piece into my arms. I hold it in my hands and take a good look.

Incredibly basic, literally thick pieces of animal hide.

It covers my vital organs, joints and thighs.

However, it’s light. More importantly, it’ll give me some protection. After seeing how Kael and Eric pathetically died, I’ve decided to play things more safely.

Satisfied, I ask for the price.

“That’ll be ten silvers.”

I part with 40% of my goblin slaying spoils and mutter a quick ‘thanks, have a nice day.’

Before I can take two steps away from the counter, Garv calls out to me.

“Wait.”

I turn around to see what he wants.

“Take this as well.”

In his usual gruff manner, he shoves a shortsword and scabbard into my hands.

“A sword?”

I hold it stupidly in my hands, unsure why he’s telling me to hold it.

“First time service, your physique has potential,” he bluntly replies. “I don’t know what profession you have, but it wouldn’t hurt to try your hand at a sword.”

Wow! Turns out it’s free!

See everyone? It pays to be polite to others.

“Thank you! I’ll be sure to come back again!”

Now that I’ve acquired a modicum of extra protection and a free weapon to boot, it’s time to move on to the next and only item I need.

The next stop was Auntie Heather’s. Both the name of the shop and its proprietor. Another person Ralph introduced me to.

No, she is not a hag, as far as I know.

But she is a sweet neighbourhood lady type who has a talent for baking pies. Apparently she learnt them from her father back in Brooks.

Not sure why she’s in a middle-of-nowhere village when she could open up a bakery of her own somewhere nice.

However, who am I to judge her life choices? I practically became the enemy of the world just by developing a taste for Lovecraftian TTRPG monsters.

I walk up to a quaint little wood shop bursting with flora and fauna of all kinds.

Being careful not to make skin contact with any of the plants, I walk up and open the door.

More plants greet my view, and the walls are lined with glass vials containing all manners of concoctions I can scarcely envision the usage of.

To add to the chaotic mess, sitting out of place by the windows is a table of stacked pies. Judging from the smell, I think they’re filled with blueberries.

Personally, I’m more of an apple pie guy. But damn, do those pies smell nice!

“Hello there, love! What can I do for you?”

“Hey there, Auntie Heather. I’m looking to buy some healing potions and a few antidotes.”

Unlike the image one gets from the usual stereotypes of a middle-aged, creepy apothecary woman, Auntie Heather looks no older than late thirties to early forties.

Despite the mess, she dresses like a very neat Victorian woman with her brown hair up in a well-tied bun.

With a smile on her face, she asks me, “How many do you need?”

“Six healing and three antidotes.”

Auntie Heather smiles. “Coming right up.”

“That’ll be a total of one silver.”

Hunh, potions are surprisingly cheap. I had thought the amount I purchased would be worth at least double.

I happily part ways with silver.

After taking the money, she goes to one of the packed shelves and takes half a dozen red vials and three green vials.

She then takes out a waist pouch and neatly puts them all inside, each attached to and seperated by a strip of leather to prevent them from clinking against one another.

“The pouch is free, consider it a first time customer bonus.”

“Wow, thanks!”

The gifts don’t just stop there.

“Would you like a slice of pie?” she asks.

“Sorry, I already stuffed myself at the outpost.”

“How about a small slice then?”

Hmm… I already rejected her once, it’d be rude to do so a second time.

“Sure.”

She goes to the window and slices a small piece. A glimpse of the dark filling has my mouth pool with saliva.

She hands it to me on a napkin. The wonderful, sweet, fruity scent invades my nostrils and makes me swallow hard.

“Here you go, enjoy.”

“Thanks, Auntie Heather!”

The apothecary woman smiles. “Come back any time, dear.”

I walk out the door and unceremoniously cram the pie into my mouth in one go.

Bad idea.

The moment I shove the delicious morsel into my mouth, my tongue suffers third degree burns.

‘Phew!’

Hot! Hot! Hot!

Bit by bit, the heat subsides and I manage to actually enjoy the treat.

As I walk, I ponder my interactions with the local village folk. More like town folk, given the size of this place….

The people are so nice: a sword and a pouch… Oh, can’t forget the pie I stuffed into my mouth!

My cheeks are bulging like a chipmunk’s.

Stuffed with a rosy sense of gratitude and sweet pie filling, My logical faculties are shut off for a moment as I skip through town.

Suddenly, I realize something.

Wait…

My cynical thinking kicks in.

The only way anyone can give stuff away for free is if they have plenty of money—or ill intentions.

Could it be that those lovely people ripped me off and are giving me these things to lure me back to purchase more overpriced items…?

The thought sends shivers down my spine.

Damnit! My grandmother always nagged me all the time to watch out for these kinds of people! Can’t believe I still fell for their insidious tactics!

You know what? There’s no point in going back and demanding a refund. I don’t know what the standard price for a loaf of bread is, let alone medicine and armor.

I also don’t want to paint a bad image of Ralph after all the help he’s given me. If I show up demanding refunds and calling them con-artists, they might smear Ralph’s name and credibility with bad rumors.

Besides, those are the only apothecary and blacksmith in the entire town. No point trying to find another one. Even if I rushed to Brooks, the shops would all be closed by the time I arrive.

‘Sigh…’

Ignorance is bliss? More like ignorance is sin.

Ah, whatever. Next time I meet Alin, I’ll ask her about the economy, sale prices of standard adventuring gear and whatnot.

If they didn’t rip me off, great. If they did, well, I’m never going to their shops again. Even if it’s far, I’ll find more credible and better alternatives.

With my shopping done, I still have a good amount of sunlight left. It’s not even noon yet.

I decide to head to the guild to pick up a local slime extermination quest to warm myself up.

Thanks to my upgraded Eldritch Bullet, I make short work of the slimes. It takes me barely two minutes to eradicate the pests eating at the crop fields. Due to the innate weakness of slimes, I am unable to test the Bullet’s limits.

Honestly, I don’t even know why I bothered with that request. Gave me a few coppers at best.

Not that I’m complaining, better overkill than no-kill.

With the request done, I make another trip to the outpost, collect the reward and go back to the ranch.

The next morning, I head to the outpost and met up with Alin.

Upon seeing my new gear, she remarks, “Not bad, definitely a step up from before.”

Together, we leave Tros along the main road.

We don’t talk much during the journey.

During our brief goblin-slaying trip, Kael and Serena (mostly Kael) were the only ones who engaged in conversation. Alin and me belonged to the quiet group.

A socially awkward teen with weird interests, and an aloof, no-nonsense (possible) elf ranger.

You can guess how our conversation went, right?

That’s right. Absolute silence.

We follow the main road for a good hour or two until reaching a sparse forest.

A suspiciously familiar sparse forest with tall and sturdy conifers and evergreens with trunks thick enough for a family of three to hide behind.

…

Isn’t this the place where I rescued Ralph from those goblins a week ago?

I ask Alin, “This is the place we're supposed to investigate?”

“Correct,” she affirms.

“It’s really close to the main road. Why hasn’t it been cut down?”

“Officially, it’s stated that sacred spirits dwell within these woods. Logging these tress would supposedly incur the wrath of the powers that call this forest their home.”

“Officially?” Smells of a massive cover-up. “Unofficially, what’s the stance?”

She remains silent for a brief moment before sharing what she knows: “Unofficially, according to rumors, strange things happen."

Wow, now we’re getting into the paranormal. What’s next? Sci-Fi? A hidden technologically advanced species that came from outer space?

“What sorts of strange things?”

“Sometimes, a person might walk for half an hour, finding themselves only a dozen or so feet from the edge of the forest where they began.

Landmarks suddenly shift. A large boulder on the west side could suddenly end up in the east, despite the person going perfectly straight.

Unidentified creatures, warped plant life, minor visual, auditory and sensory hallucinations.

These are just a few of the cases that have been reported.”

This is really starting to step into the bounds of a ghost haunting.

“The guild once sent a group with a priest to investigate, but there weren’t any readings of Infernal, Dark or Necromantic magic.

When the group returned, all they said was that it would be best not to dig too deep into it.”

What?

All those bizarre events and you’re telling me no magic was involved? Is this place ruled by some twisted Fae creature?

“And your opinion?”

“I feel something… weird.”

“Weird?”

“It’s… off,” she goes on. “I guess you could compare it to a beggar at a royal ball. An existence with no intent to harm, yet it doesn’t fit in, nor is it wanted.

There’s something here that doesn’t belong.”

Interesting, very interesting.

An enigmatic existence with spatial and mental manipulating properties that makes the inhabitants uneasy and feel repulsion.

What are the chances that reality-bending eldritch powers might be at play here?

Questions can be asked as many as I desire, but answers will not be found through mere idle chat.

Hunh. When did I become a sage?

Meh, not important, back on track.

Without any further questions, we enter the forest.

“Stay close.” Alin orders.

I follow behind Alin, tense and on alert. My companion is the exact opposite, loose and unbothered, despite telling me to be on guard.

Actually, she never told me to be on guard, just to stay close.

Feels a bit like she’s treating me as a child.

Though if her suspected elven lineage is indeed true, that would make sense.

A few minutes of walking into the forest, she glances back to check up on me.

Seeing my tension, she quickly explains, “The entrances to the woods are usually safe. Even if they aren’t, there are early signs one can detect.”

“Care to give an example?”

“Large broken branches, blood, carcasses, and trodden undergrowth are a few of the more easily identified signs of monsters or predators.”

“Got it.”

With my worries somewhat assuaged, we continue on our merry way deeper into the forest.

Some time passes with the only sounds accompanying our silent descent being the chipper chirping of birds, who seem wholly unbothered by the ominous atmosphere.

I must say, this place reminds me a bit of Canada, more specifically its evergreen forests. It's a very nice country, it’s where the pen pal who introduced me to D&D is from.

One would think the Canadians live in slow covered rocky mountain tops, while riding mooses chugging on maple syrup.

On the contrary, the country is much more hospitable than one envisions.

He once showed me a picture of his apartment surroundings through his phone camera.

Gotta say, I was mighty impressed by the vast forests, clear skies and clean city.

I take in the sights around me until

As I zone back in, I realize that Alin is no longer before me. I look around confused, but before I can open my mouth, I am pulled into nearby shrubbery. Alin covers my mouth with left while pointing at two masses of matted fur hiding in the undergrowth.

“Dire Wolves,” she whispers in my ear. “Usually, they’re further down in the forest.”

She lifts her hand from my mouth, and I ask the first thing that comes to mind: “How have they not found us yet?”

“I cast a spell that masks our scent before we entered this forest, but be careful. There are some cases where elite Dire Wolves develop mana-sensing abilities.”

“What’s the plan?”

“I’ll take the one on the right, you take the one on the left.”

A Dire Wolf, eh? Time to finally test my Eldritch Bullet on a proper target.

“On the count of three.

One, two, three—!”

Our timing’s a little off, but that’s to be expected.

Alin’s arrow flies through the ai,r piercing the skull of one of the beasts.

‘ZWUACK!’

I raise my hand. Green energy begins to converge at my fingertips.

‘BOOM!’

Jesus, that was louder than I anticipated. The Eldritch Bullet definitely lives up to its name. That sounded like a gunshot.

Alin jabs my side. I instinctively clutch the hit area.

“Can you not tone down the racket?” she hisses. “Now they’re all onto us!”

“They?”

‘Awroo!’

Oooooh, they, as in the rest of the pack.

I see.

We’re screwed.

My enemies have thus far consisted of sluggish slimes and goblins who only knew how to charge forward or retreat.

I have no clue how well I’ll do against agile opponents.

Dangit! If I had known this would happen, I would’ve polished my skills with the Horned rabbits!

“Hey! What are you doing!?”

I look around to find Alin, but can find no sign of her.

“Up here, idiot!”

I look up and see her already twenty feet above my head.

If this girl isn’t an elf, she’s a monkey. There’s no way that humans can climb that fast.

Not even the most enthusiastic rock climbers could beat her stamina and pace.

“Jump!”

“What?” I’m sorry, did this girl just tell me to jump?

“I said jump! Hurry up!”

It seems my ears are indeed working.

“Quit standing there and get a move on!”

“I’m a human, not a monkey,” I retort. “I can’t jump that high!”

“Do you want to get torn apart by wolves?”

She’s a sensible person, if she’s telling me to jump, it’s probably the most reasonable course of action…

I aim for a thick branch next to hers.

Bending my legs, I give the strongest jump I can muster.

Next thing I know, I’m flying through the air.

This euphoric sensation is cut short when I suddenly feel myself plummeting to the ground.

Going on pure instinct, I extend my hands out and barely manage to hold onto a sturdy branch. Thank goodness I brought some gloves, otherwise my hands would be full of needles and splinters!

Unfortunately, due to the awkward angle at which I caught the branch, my grip is slipping bit by bit.

Luckily for me, Alin is close enough to hoist me up with a wiry strength that is hard to reconcile with her lithe frame.

After I’m safely in the trees with her, the ranger orders, “Quick! Hide behind the branches!”

I scurry over to a spot with cover and peer out through the gaps.

A large pack of a dozen rushes onto the scene.

Upon arrival, they witness the corpses of their comrades and howl into the air.

The Dire Wolves comb the area, sniffing and barking, intent on avenging the deaths of their comrades.

I look to Alin for directions. “Should we attack?”

“Hmm… Yes, let's, we already attracted their attention anyway. Might as well get rid of them so they don’t hinder us later.

But do you have anything else in your arsenal that makes less ruckus than your Eldritch Bullet?”

“Nope. That’s the only offensive spell I have.”

Alin deliberates for some time. “Fine, just use Eldritch Bullet. Whatever other monsters hide in these woods would be aware of our presence by now anyway.

Instead of using the enhanced Eldritch Bullet, I decide to go with the original multi-shot version to see the damage comparison.

‘Zwuack!’ ‘Zwuack!’ ‘Zwuack!’

After three quick bursts, half-blown up wolf corpses litter the forest ground.

Truly, this is an overpowered spell.

With the wolves dead, we get off the tree. Alin simply jumps down, whilst I awkwardly shimmy myself to the ground.

Upon reaching the ground, I witness the ranger gutting one of the wolf corpses, much to my horror and disgust.

She rips out a bloody flesh tube, possibly an intestine, and smothers it all over herself.

Next thing I knew, she approaches me with a fresh organ and lathers me in its blood.

Great, are we going to yell ‘Skulls for the Skull Throne, blood for the Blood God!’ next?

“What are you doing?”

“Putting blood on ourselves.”

“Why?”

“Any animal that smells this will know we’ve killed or think we’re Dire Wolves.

This’ll ward off weaker monsters, preventing unnecessary fights and encounters.”

“Oh, smart, but did you have to get it on my shirt? It’s the only one I have.”

“Don’t be a wuss, you can just clean it later.”

With that gruesome preparation out of the way, we continue on our merry way deeper into the forest.

Aside from the Dire Wolves, we hardly have any encounters.

No encounters is good and all, but there’s only so much inaction one can take while wandering.

“Are we even making any progress with this request?” I ask Alin.

“Somewhat,” she responds.

“Somewhat? We’ve been walking non-stop for three hours straight.”

Alin lets out a sigh. “Fine, we can take a break.”

She sits herself down on a fallen log, its bark long gone and peeled by who knows what.

I don’t see any other place to sit, so I take a seat next to her.

As soon as we are both seated, she shares her analysis of our previous encounter with me: “Dire Wolves are usually found deeper in, where the woods thicken. It’s rare for them to venture close to the more open regions of the forest.

There are three possibilities.

One, the population of Dire Wolves is too large to be sustained, leading some of them to migrate out in search of food. This can be ruled out since there’s been an explosive increase in various other monster sightings.

Two, a superior species or predator is actively hunting the Dire Wolves, forcing them out of their habitat. Potential possibility, but fails to explain why other monsters show up.

Three, there’s something deeper in the forest causing the monsters to flee the forest or expand their population.

Given what we’re seeing so far, it’s likely the final option.”

“Doesn’t that mean we can go back to the outpost and report our findings?”

She shakes her head, “We found changes in behaviour, but not the root cause for their migration. There’s still work to be done. Breaktime’s over, let’s get going.”

Aww man, already?

Let’s be clear on one thing: it’s not because I have no stamina. I barely got winded when doing farm work on the ranch, and I could run a marathon back on Earth without taking breaks.

But this girl’s something else entirely.

Perhaps I should try striking up a conversation, maybe that’ll get her to slow her pace.

I start with something simple: “Do you often adventure alone?”

“Usually, yes. There were times I adventured with others, but they are far outweighed by the amount of times I went at it solo.”

“How were they?”

“A few decent individuals, some professionals on the need-to-know level, then a few obnoxious scumbags...”

Bit lackluster of an answer, but nonetheless, I attempt to prolong our dialogue: “What made you decide to become an adventurer?”

“Guess I just wanted to see new sights. You?”

“Not many job openings for an Otherworlder with no papers.”

She chuckles. “True. If you had papers, what would you do?”

“Me?”

I thought about it for moment.

“I’d probably be a politician.”

“A politician?” her voice is full of skepticism.

“Is that so surprising?”

“I thought you might’ve said something like ‘become a great mage’.”

“It was a joke.”

“You really had me fooled. So, what do you actually want to do?”

Honestly, I really enjoyed watching videos on Youtube. Especially the gaming channels.

I tried my hand at a gaming channel once in late middle school, but it didn't go too well.

Then I experimented a little by talking about politics, ideology and history. Got a decent start of three thousand subscribers after two months.

Last I checked, I was nearing the ten thousand subscriber milestone.

“It’s hard to describe, but I would want to be an entertainer of sorts.”

“An entertainer? You want to be a jester or part of some circus show?”

“No, no. Not that kind of entertainer.”

I scratch my head. How exactly am I supposed to explain what a Youtuber is?

“It’s hard to explain… I guess I would just be doing satirical commentary. People would watch it, and if they like it, the agency I’m contracted to would give me money.”

“I don’t understand. How is that a job? What you describe just sounds like a deadbeat complaining about the world.”

“I make money by talking and doing stuff I like. A deadbeat mooches off others without doing anything.”

“You know what, I still don’t get it. Forget I asked.”

“What about you?” I ask. “What was your dream job?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

You can’t just ask that kind of personal question without having an answer yourself! Come on, give me something more substantial!

“Back home, I did what I was told. It’s been like that for years.”

“Heavy… Are you enjoying your current lifestyle?”

“Too soon to say, but it’s definitely less pressure and more flexible than being a soldier.”

I swear, half the people I encounter in this world have ties to the military. Just how serious is the monster and demon crisis in this isekai fantasy?

“Say, where are you fr—”

Once again, Alin forces me to cease my actions.

This time, instead of shoving me to the ground, she clamps her leather fingerless gloves over my hand.

I don’t mean to be a pervert, but I can smell her wrist, a mix of earth, sweat, and slight cooling mint. Also, the faint, metallic smell of dried blood.

Blood?

Oh shit, I'd better keep my mouth shut about her odour.

Thankfully, I have a constitution where my face doesn’t easily flush.

Or maybe it’s because she’s so zoned in with her ranger senses that she doesn’t notice.

Unable to read my inner thoughts, she states the obvious: “Something’s off.”

Duh, I could tell from the way you clasped your hand around my mouth.

After a few moments, she lets go of my mouth. I ask her, “What is it?”

“Do you sense it?” she asks cryptically.

“No, not really.”

“The trees. Look at them. What do you see?”

I glance around. The trees are clustered closely together, creating dark patches of shadow. The vegetation grows more sparsely within them and looks malnourished.

“Everything is more dense and dreary?

“Exactly. We’ve walked for only three to four hours. Based on our speed, we should’ve walked roughly forty miles.”

She looks at me, expecting an answer

I, however, am neither a ranger, nor a local, nor versed in this world’s geography.

Meaning I don’t know shit about what she’s implying.

“Please just explain.”

“Right, you’re an Otherworlder.”

Now you remember!?

Come on! My opinion of you was so high before! How can you forget such an important detail!?

Again, oblivious to my thoughts, she goes on, “Based on old sources from previous veteran parties sent to map the Nazul forest, this section can only be encountered at least two hundred miles in.

Unless there’s some dark druid expanding the forest, some force teleported us here.”

That doesn’t sound good.

“Are we lost?”

She pulls out a compass. “Strange.”

“What’s strange?”

“We’ve been teleported deeper in the same direction we’re walking in.”

“So what do we do? Do we go back or continue onwards?”

Alin holds her chin in her hand. “It would be wise to head back, but it seems there’s something here that’s drawing us closer to the source. I say we risk it.”

I nod along with what she said, because whatever the case, I’m the bottom and she’s the top. If I don’t agree, she could just ditch me and go on by herself. She’s the experienced veteran who knows how to get out of a forest, not me.

Onward we walk, for who knows how long.

Another hour or two could’ve gone by, maybe just 30 minutes.

Whatever the case, we trek on.

Time drags on. Bit by bit, my feet grow more and more weary.

Yet, I press on.

We continue on for an hour or two more.

Then, the thing I feared most happened.

Picture this.

The average push-ups one can do in the lower range is thirty.

That is the max one can do without making one’s arms feel like falling off.

Someone might ask, “Imagine trying to make it past thirty, surely it’s simple, right? Just do one more.”

Okay, they’ve done it, they’re feeling exhausted, but they've done it.

Then they’re asked to do another one.

The person exercising grits their teeth and squeezes out the thirty-second push-up, feeling more weary than ever before.

But the audience isn’t satisfied, they ask the guy to keep doing one more pushup, one more, one more...

Each time the person tries, the exhaustion increases tenfold, until they lay flat on their stomach, unable to continue any further.

This is the exact situation I’m in right now.

My legs are killing me.

No matter how much stronger I got from jumping to Level 13, I can’t keep up with the pace of my ranger friend.

However hard I try to endure, the mounting weariness finally crashes in.

The world ends ‘not with a bang, but with a whimper’, to quote T.S. Eliot.

I trip over a root and stumble into a tree, falling to my butt.

“Damn it!”

I trie to get back up, but my legs refuse to listen.

You know what, maybe I could use a breather.

So there I sit for a few moments. With the soreness somewhat subsided, I get back up.

Unfortunately, ‘a few moments’ turns out to have been far too long.

By the time I recover, I’ve lost sight of my companion. “Alin! Alin! Where are you!?”

Nothing. Not a peep.

I try calling out a few more times. No response, not even the fluttering of leaves or crackling of undergrowth.

That’s when it hits me. Something’s terribly wrong.

No matter how long I sat on the ground, she shouldn’t have walked out of earshot. Even if she wasn’t an elf like I presumed, she should’ve been able to hear the echoes and yell back.

I look around my surroundings. Surely there must be some familiar reference point I can use to backtrack.

None, nothing. All around me is a dense cluster of trees with a few odd spaces a person could walk through.

I’m lost.

Shit.

Guess I’ll have to rely on the old-fashioned way.

Bawling my lungs out.

“Alin!” I scream out into the woods, “Alin! Where are you!?”

Nothing but my echoes.

Undeterred, I try again, “Alin! Where are you!?”

Still nothing.

After two minutes of me screaming my lungs out, my voice hopelessly gives out.

I sink to my knees in despair.

I’m a goner. I have no clue where I am. This forest is full of monsters and aside from my spells, the only things I have are a sword and three potions.

Truly, I’m fucked.

As I wallow in my sorrows, a voice calls out.

Finally! At long last, a response has found me!

But it's not Alin.

“Quit screaming, you bastard!”

It’s the voice of a grouch who ran out of alcohol.

Shit, don’t tell me it’s a hobo. I’ve had my fill of seeing those guys in the homeless shelters my mother runs.

“You son of a bloated pus-covered Warg! Who are you calling a hobo!”

Scratch that, a temperamental, jobless drunk whose severance cut didn’t arrive in time for him to buy the next bottle.

“Bloody bastard!”