Eterna Sylva

The morning is unusually crisp as the students of Hero Academy gather just outside the city gates. Mike leads them in silence. Behind him trails a line of young-in-training, their footsteps uneven with nerves, gear clinking in preparation.

The road ends at a wall of green. Towering trees stretch high into the clouds, their trunks too wide to measure by arm, and their canopies forming a ceiling so dense that sunlight filters through only in long, flickering shafts. The forest is quiet, but not exactly silent. There is always the soft rustle of leaves, the creak of unseen branches

Mike stands at the edge of this living wall, leaning on his crooked staff. The breeze tugs at his uneven cloak, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

“This is Eterna Sylva,” he says. “Not too wide as a forest, but you won’t feel it like that inside.”

The entire class is gathered into parties that they’ve chosen in the beginning. Most of them are preparing equipment, some are planning the strategies, others talking about the rumors of the never-ending journeys.

He holds up a glass vial no larger than a thumb. “Break it and I’ll come get you, but that would also mean forfeiting your chance to pass this exam, so protect it carefully.”

He tosses a few to each group. Arthur catches theirs and nods.

“The goal’s simple,” Mike continues. “Either survive for seven days, or reach the far edge. There will be monsters inside, so I’d say try to finish things as quickly as possible.”

A ripple of discomfort spreads through the crowd. One student raises a hand. “Wait, where are our rations?”

Mike gives the crowd a thumb up. “The poor definitely enjoy your food.”

With that, he steps aside and gestures broadly. “Enter whenever you’re ready. Just…don’t give up too fast. I still need my break”

Arthur glances at his teammates.

Spidaract is sticking the glass bottles to his body by his web fluid. Asa adjusts the strap on her pack and raises a brow.

“Should we race?” Asa asks, already stretching her arms behind her head, one leg cocked out like she’s warming up for a morning jog rather than stepping into a warped death forest.

Spidaract tilts his head. “Yeah, even if we don’t make it to the edge, technically we’ll still be alive after seven days. That counts as completing both paths.”

Arthur frowns thoughtfully. “No. Survival’s simpler if we build near a river. Fresh water’s consistent, and if we stay out of the central zone, we avoid high-level monsters. Prioritizing location means longer rest, better alert cycles, and stronger base defense.”

There’s a pause.

All of Spidaract’s eyes blink at once in confusion. “That’s…surprisingly strategic.”

“Kind of impressive, actually,” Asa says, her tone touched with genuine surprise.

“Why do you both sound shocked?”

Spidaract clicks a limb lightly against a tree root. “You don’t usually act this way.”

“Yeah,” Asa says, scratching the back of her neck. “You’re more the ‘jump in first, think later’ type. While wasting your energy on dramatic shouting, ofcourse.”

“Hey!” Arthur opens his mouth to protest, then closes it. “Okay, that’s…fair.”

They’re among the last to enter. Most groups sprint in with blades drawn, hoping to rush through before monsters take notice. But Arthur, Asa, and Spidaract step in slowly, as if crossing a threshold into something sacred.

And immediately, the space changes.

It’s not just darker, it’s deeper. The forest swallows light and sound both. Trees seem to bend slightly when no one is looking, and the air is heavy, with the scent of spoiled flesh everywhere. It is hard to distinguish if they’ve walked five meters or five miles. The path behind them blurs into the thicket.

“Ugh…” Asa groans, pressing her fingers to her temple. Her steps falter, legs giving out beneath her.

Arthur rushes forward, catching her just before she hits the forest floor. “What’s wrong?”

“I tried to sense the mana trace,” she mutters, her breath shaky. “But the noise from it... I think it’s frying my brain.”

Her voice is soft, but laced with frustration. The usual brightness in her eyes is gone, replaced with a strained squint.

Spidaract steps closer, cloak rustling. “You should rest,” he says. “Take my back.”

Arthur shifts, trying to lift her more comfortably. “No, I’ve got her. Your body’s too rough”

Asa doesn’t argue. She leans her head against his shoulder, her weight light but body still trembling.

Together, the three continue through the twisting forest paths, seeking a source of water.

Hours pass. They make camp near a small river, hidden beneath an overgrown root system that forms a shallow cave. Spidaract spins a thin line of silk to help stabilize the frame of their tent, while Arthur gathers dry leaves and twigs for a fire.

“We’ll rotate night watch,” Asa says, already dividing the responsibilities. “I’ll take the second shift. Spidaract first?”

“No, you should sleep the full night. Me and Spidaract can rotate shifts, right?” Arthur says.

The Arachna nods once in confirmation.

Arthur handles the fire. He struggles at first, hitting rocks at each other won’t cut it. But then, he starts using his magic, making the color of the leaves darker and darker until it burns.

“Thank you, comic logic.”

They sit around the flames in silence. The fire cracks gently, and for a moment, everything feels…normal. Arthur watches Asa lean back, arms behind her head, her face lit with gold and amber. Spidaract crouches near the edge of the light, eyes locked to the outside.

“It’s peaceful,” Arthur murmurs.

“Just as I want it to be,” Asa says.

That night, sleep comes slowly.

Arthur curls into his blanket, the dirt cold beneath his back. The fire burns low, Spidaract’s silhouette steady near the entrance. The last thing Arthur hears before drifting off is the wind brushing against leaves, except it doesn’t sound like wind anymore.

Then everything goes black.

…

Arthur wakes to silence.

He blinks, then sits up sharply. The forest feels different, with a darker color and heavier atmosphere. He must’ve rolled down from the camp, but he doesn’t see the tent, the river, or his teammates.

“Asa? Spidaract?” he calls.

No answer.

He looks around. There are no footprints. No web line from Spidaract. Just trees. Trees that all look the same, repeating in a way that feels almost deliberate.

He turns in a slow circle.

Then hears a whisper behind him.

“Too bad.”

Arthur turns around, but no one is there.

And then he’s slammed into the ground.

The impact knocks the breath from his chest. He gasps, blinking through leaves, as a kick sends him flying. A familiar voice chuckles, silken and cruel.

“You shouldn’t leave your teammates,” Carrie whispers.

Arthur struggles, but another hand grabs his arm and pins it behind him.

Uta appears on his back, calm as always. “Let’s make this quick.”

Carrie snorts. “Right, right, then can we get back to Enger?”

…

Spidaract crouches on a thick root, several meters from their makeshift shelter, scanning the treetops. He has only stepped away for a moment - to check the outer perimeter, lay a few silken lines for alarm. When he returns, the cave is gone.

No, not gone, sealed.

The cave entrance is now walled off by interlocking roots and bark, gnarled like a clenched fist. There is only the faint flicker of firelight leaks through the cracks, dancing across the warped wooden prison.

Spidaract rushes over in panic. He presses one limb against the bark, but it doesn’t budge.

He clicks once, low in his throat, then raises four limbs. Threads fire forward in thin, almost invisible arcs. The web clings, but then begins to sizzle from the smoke of the flame.

A shadow falls across him.

By the time he turns, the claws are already wrapping around his body. A massive, leathery form drops from above, its wings folding like a curtain of death. It’s a massive owl-like creature. It holds Spidaract so tight that he can’t move any of his limbs.

He slashes out, tries to break free, but it’s no use. The retreat vials slides from beneath his cloak, striking a stone and shattering.

…

Asa wakes up from the heat,

Her lashes flutter. The fire’s still burning nearby, but something is wrong - the walls are closer.

Much closer.

Her eyes shoot open. She bolts upright, only to hit her head at the ceiling.

The cave is shrinking.

The bark and roots that had once curved protectively overhead are now tightening, inch by inch. The entrance is gone, sealed completely with twisting layers of wood, not a single sliver of moonlight left.

“Where are the others?” she whispers, even though she knows she’s alone.

There’s no answer. Just the hiss of roots sliding, the crunch of stone cracking beneath pressure.

She scrambles to her feet, nearly stumbling over the blanket. Her breath stutters.

“Where are they? Where’s Arthur? Where is…”

Her voice breaks. Her hand flies to her chest, pressing as if to still her racing heart.

The fire flickers wildly, casting her long shadow against the root walls.

The space is becoming smaller and smaller.

She turns a full circle, arms out, searching for something, anything, that can give her an escape. But there is nothing.