42: When Shadows Return

In a flash of light, the four appeared once more on the grassy plains. The forest stood just across a narrow stream ahead, its dark canopy visible from where they stood.

Zin turned toward the disturbing sound he had heard moments ago. It was Gilly and Zenora, emptying their stomachs onto the grass.

Teleportation was a hassle for lower-ranked individuals—worse for those experiencing it for the first time.

After some time to recover, they finally steadied themselves, though their legs still felt weak.

Meanwhile, Siel had gone ahead to scout. His suspicion proved correct. There were faint trails of dead mana lingering in the air. To elves, who were especially sensitive to such corruption, the traces were unmistakable.

The trio crossed the stream and caught up to Siel.

“Strange… how did this get here?” Zin murmured, referring to the dead mana hanging in the air.

His expression darkened.

Siel fell silent.

Zenora’s grip tightened around her staff, her palms growing sweaty.

Gilly noticed the sudden shift in mood. More importantly, her body was heating up again. The strange sensation she had experienced several times before had returned—stronger this time.

“Gilly. Zenora. Siel.”

Zin hesitated for a moment before continuing.

“I’ll be going ahead now. I don’t know what you’ll face, but Elnor needs help.”

“Help? Elnor?” Gilly realized she hadn’t paid close attention to their earlier discussion in the city. Judging from their expressions, something dangerous had already happened.

She still couldn’t fully understand the feeling rising inside her. Through the forest ahead, she could faintly see dark threads scattered between the trees.

“Gilly.”

She snapped back to the present.

Zin ruffled her hair. “Don’t leave Zenora alone. Please.”

Her eyes widened. She had never heard Zin plead before. He always wore an indifferent expression—but now he looked… troubled.

“What is this warmth?” Zin wondered as his hand lingered briefly. He could feel a strange energy radiating from her.

“Siel, follow closely behind. I’ll clear the path ahead. We need to reach them as soon as possible.”

His tone hardened.

Siel nodded. The girls would slow them down—they had to move first.

Zin then turned to the frightened Zenora. “It’s okay,” he said with a grin. “It won’t happen again.”

He ruffled her hair and brushed her cheek gently.

Zenora’s eyes grew teary.

With a sudden gust of wind, Zin and Siel dashed toward the forest, leaving the two girls behind.

It dawned on Gilly.

“They slowed down earlier… so we could keep up,” she murmured.

Zenora wiped her tears. Hope flickered in her eyes, clinging tightly to Zin’s words.

“Let’s go.”

They stepped into the forest.

The air inside felt heavier.

The usual forest sounds were absent—no insects, no rustling birds, no distant wildlife. Even the wind seemed reluctant to move through the branches.

Only the faint scent of something burnt lingered.

They moved cautiously.

Minutes stretched into an hour.

The deeper they went, the thicker the dark threads became. They flowed subtly through the forest like veins beneath the earth, all pointing in one direction.

Gilly’s skin prickled.

Her chest tightened.

Something about this place felt wrong.

A few hours passed.

The dark strands were now thicker, almost visible even without focus. They coiled around tree trunks and drifted between branches like faint smoke.

Gilly suddenly paused, stopping Zenora in her tracks.

Without warning, she drew her sword and slashed vertically.

A pair of glowing eyes flickered in the bushes ahead.

The air shifted.

Gilly felt disturbed. The sight stirred something deep within her—a memory she had buried.

She dashed forward, swinging her sword from left to right, but the eyes slipped through the shadows beneath the trees.

“Fireball!” Zenora shouted, finishing her incantation as a stream of flame shot forward.

The fire flared brightly, revealing a shadowed figure roughly the same height as Gilly.

It felt familiar.

They stared at each other.

Then it clicked.

Gilly remembered the gruesome incident from when she had first arrived in this unknown world.

The culprit stood before her.

Her heart pounded. Her eyes reddened with rage.

The flames began to die down. Seizing the moment, the shadow attempted to melt back into darkness.

Streams of fireballs flew into the forest, lighting it up again.

“Gilly, that thing is dangerous,” Zenora warned, gripping her staff tightly.

“I know.”

Gilly dashed forward again. Slash after slash, swing after swing—yet her blade passed through the shadow as if it were smoke.

Frustration mounted.

Her rage strained against control.

Zenora continued supporting her with fireballs, but nothing seemed to land decisively.

A faint glow began to surround Gilly.

Gradually, it intensified.

Then—

She tripped on a root.

Her balance faltered.

The shadow lunged.

Her sword was out of position.

Zenora was mid-incantation and unable to intervene.

With no other choice, Gilly swung her leg in a desperate kick.

Contact.

A sharp impact.

The creature screeched as blue flames erupted across its form. Within seconds, it vanished.

Silence fell.

Zenora stared in shock. Gilly was no less surprised.

“Mana…” Zenora whispered uncertainly.

“It might have been a spirit-type entity.”

She stepped closer and raised her staff. A pure green light pulsed from its tip.

“Mana Bullet.”

A streak of green shot past Gilly into the bushes behind her.

Blue flames burst out once more before fading.

Zenora looked pleased.

Gilly remained confused—but she let it go.

Zenora had finally smiled.

“Let’s go.”

They pressed forward, encountering more shadow figures along the way. Each clash grew slightly easier, though the tension in the air never eased.

Zin stood atop a large tree at the edge of the town.

After five hours of relentless running, he had finally arrived.

Before he saw it—

He smelled it.

Smoke.

Blood.

Ash drifted through the air like black snow.

More than half the town was engulfed in flames.

The stench of death hung thick and suffocating.

But Zin did not move immediately.

He scanned the town carefully.

His gaze settled on the great tree at the center.

He vanished.

A shockwave followed.

He landed in the town square.

Bodies were scattered across the ground.

At the far end stood his sister, battered but still upright. Pom stood beside her along with a few surviving guards.

To the right—

A figure knelt, using his sword for support.

The old man.

Pom’s father.

Zin approached.

Before he could reach him, the old man collapsed, drawing his final breath.

Zin slowly turned.

Several towering shadow figures stood opposite his sister—some reaching nearly nine feet tall.

Behind them stood one figure distinct from the rest.

Its aura was suffocating.

Zin took a step—and vanished.

He appeared beside his sister just as her strength gave out. She fell forward.

He caught her gently and lowered her to the ground.

Pom exhaled in relief.

Zin stepped again and disappeared.

He reappeared before the largest shadow.

“I assume you’re their king,” Zin said calmly, finally drawing his sword.