Just as I stepped forward, the small ember that had been flickering weakly in the dying man's hand let out a final, reluctant glow—
—and then faded.
A soft wisp of smoke curled into the air as the flame died completely, leaving the space bathed in suffocating darkness once more. It was a quiet, almost poetic end. The sign of his passing.
And with that, I was blind again.
I exhaled slowly through my nose, unfazed. My right hand rose, and I instinctively cupped it, pulling mana from within me and compressing it into my palm.
Crackling amethyst lightning surged forth, weaving around my fingers like dancing serpents. They pulsed rhythmically, humming with power, before stabilizing into a small orb of violet energy hovering just above my hand.
The sudden flash of light illuminated the hollow. The shadows flinched and fled. And finally—I could see again.
The first thing that caught my attention was the floor.
Wooden, gnarled, and riddled with cracks and grooves, it was now entirely painted in various hues of red. Blood—dried, fresh, coagulated, sprayed, smeared. The sheer amount of it was nauseating.
I took a careful step forward.
The mangled remains of examinees littered the floor like discarded puppets, their limbs twisted at odd angles, eyes wide open in permanent terror.
Trails of blood ran in haphazard patterns across the ground—zigzags, smears, drag marks—like some grotesque work of art painted with panic and pain.
It was a massacre.
And the deeper I went, the worse it became.
Flesh splinters, torn tendons, strips of muscle fiber—scattered like decorations on the forest floor.
Bones—some cleanly snapped, others shattered entirely— jutted out from the remains like white stakes driven into crimson mud.
I spotted an organ. A pounding liver, twitching faintly, refusing to die even as its owner no longer existed. Another one nearby—a still-beating heart, crushed partially beneath a boot mark.
The air was heavy. Not just with blood, but with death. That unmistakable stench of rotting meat and digestive acids, underlined by the acrid tang of poison, filled my nostrils and clawed at my throat.
I didn't flinch.
This was revolting—but I had seen worse.
On Earth, corpses didn't disappear. And in the circles I ran through back then, death was commonplace. People turned into meat in more ways than one. This scene? This was nothing new.
My boots squelched against the sticky floor as I advanced, following the winding path of ruin. My lightning flickered with each step, casting shadows across the half-eaten carcasses around me.
The unlucky ones.
No—the stupid ones.
Each of these examinees had thought themselves strong enough. Brave enough. Worthy enough to march into danger without understanding what it truly meant. What lurked in the dark. What monsters were capable of.
Their overconfidence had been their downfall.
Most of the bodies were barely intact—ripped apart, organs splayed out like trophies, chunks bitten out, faces melted, muscle peeled like fruit skins. Some were unrecognizable.
Others—still bore the shocked expressions from the moment of their deaths.
One corpse in particular drew my attention.
It was slumped against the inner wall of the bark, collapsed and sunken in a pool of blackened goo. Unlike the others, this one hadn't just been torn apart—it had been dissolved.
His skin had bubbled and burst, parts of his face had melted, and his entire midsection looked as if it had been corroded from the inside out.
A telltale sign.
Poison.
"...So that's what the smell was," I muttered, furrowing my brows.
Back when I had first approached this place, I remembered catching a faint scent—something pungent and bitter, clinging to the air like mildew. I hadn't given it much thought at the time.
But now it all made sense.
These Feline Stalkers, aside from their paralysis-inducing screeches and coordinated pack tactics, had another tool at their disposal—venom. One that didn't just kill, but rotted.
A slow, painful death.
I glanced down at my uniform, my mind tracing the memory of the earlier skirmish. Those grazes on my arm and thigh—their claws had drawn blood. Not deep wounds. Just scratches.
But even so…
I clenched my jaw, flexing my fingers. There were no signs of burning. No tingling. No numbing. Not yet.
"Lucky," I murmured.
Either the poison required deeper exposure, or they hadn't managed to inject any into me. But still—that was a warning.
A clear one.
'I should be extra careful from here on.'
My hand gripped the hilt of my sword, knuckles whitening slightly.
Because if I wasn't—if I slipped up even once—
—I'd end up just like the poor bastards lying around me. A pile of bones and regrets.
And I had no intention of joining their pathetic little pile.
...
The amethyst orb hovered beside me, its gentle hum whispering against the hollow silence as I advanced.
I moved in tandem with its light, my footsteps calculated and steady. Somewhere in the distance, I heard it—a soft, uneven skittering.
The sound of claws against wood. Faint, but familiar. The sound of that wounded Stalker limping deeper into the tree's cavernous interior.
My ears twitched.
'Got you.'
Now that I was inside, I could finally appreciate the sheer colossal scale of this place. The inner cavity of the tree wasn't just large—it was monstrous. The size of a damn football field, easily.
Towering wooden columns—roots, or maybe internal branches—sprouted from the floor and ceiling like structural pillars in a cathedral. The air smelled faintly of old sap and blood.
Trees of this size, and they were littered like shrubs outside?
I let out a short, dry chuckle.
This world really was absurdly huge.
SLASH!
A sudden gust—something cut through the air above me.
I ducked on instinct.
A blurred shadow dropped from above, a flash of movement in the dim purple light. The wounded Stalker had flung itself at me, ambushing from above, claws aiming for my skull.
It must've latched itself onto the bark overhead, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
Its claws barely missed, slicing the air where my head had just been.
It didn't hesitate after the failed attack—it landed and bolted forward again, vanishing into the shadows between the towering wood columns.
"Tch…"
I darted after it without pause, my eyes locked on the wounded predator ahead.
The chase didn't last long. A few meters deeper into the massive hollow, it stopped.
It stood in a partially cleared space—a natural corridor between twisted roots and bark growths. It was panting, but holding its ground. Back arched, teeth bared, growling low and threatening.
I tilted my head slightly, narrowing my eyes.
The Stalker was no longer posturing with confidence.
It was nervous.
No—afraid.
Its eyes darted sideways.
Then it took a step back.
And shrunk behind something.
Suspicious.
I raised my hand, willing the amethyst orb to rise. With a quick pulse of mana, it flared brighter, throwing vivid light across the darkened chamber. Shadows twisted and fled, revealing more of the nest around me.
And then—I saw it.
Nestled into a large depression in the bark wall, curled among broken branches and mounds of softened fiber, was a creature.
Long neck, hardened scales, folded wings.
Its body gently rose and fell with rhythmic breathing.
A Drake.
« Echo Drake »
Type: Drake (Infant)
Rank: ★★★
Points: 60
Alignment: Neutral
Drop: Drake Tooth (★★), Drake Scales (★★★), Drake Core (Rare), Drake Meat (★★★)
« Close »
A baby, but no less terrifying.
Even at this stage, it was nearly the size of a truck. Its wings—while not fully matured—were strong, draped with green leathery membranes.
The glint of reflective scales shimmered under the purple light, especially around its chest and underbelly.
And there, perched smugly on top of the Drake's body, was the Stalker.
Its paws dug into the scales, drawing blood with slow, calculated scratches. A crimson trickle rolled down the Drake's side.
That was when everything clicked.
The reason the trees looked like they were caging something?
They weren't caging anything.
They were part of the Drake's nest.
And I—like a fool—had walked straight into it.
The dead examinees outside. Their corpses. The zigzagging trails. The horrifying remains.
All of them… had likely wandered into this exact trap. By these Stalkers.
They must have been horrified seeing a drake and in their fear they must have had not been able to fight properly with these stalker bastards.
I clenched my jaw.
That little bastard—desperate and dying—had lured me into the one place no rational person would enter willingly. A drake's den. And now, it was about to pull its final act.
The Stalker turned toward the Drake's massive head, let out a shrill roar, and clawed its eye.
Blood spurted.
The Drake twitched.
It growled in its sleep, flinching. Stirring.
My hand clenched into a fist.
But the Stalker wasn't done. With a twisted, vengeful gleam in its eyes, it slashed again—this time aiming for the soft membrane near the nostrils.
Blood flew once more.
The Drake's golden eyes fluttered open, sharp and glinting with instinctual malice.
The Stalker… smiled.
That damn thing was grinning.
'Suicidal prick…'
It had known it would die.
But if it had to go down, it had decided to drag me with it.
"Pathetic," I muttered.
Just before the Drake fully woke, the Stalker's body slumped—finally succumbing to its wounds. It collapsed across the Drake's snout.
The system's voice echoed a heartbeat later.
« +10 Points »
A clean kill.
But the damage had been done.
I looked at the drake's glowing eyes.
The predator blinked slowly.
It twitched its tail, lifted its head, and exhaled a puff of heat that rippled through the room like a wave. Its pupils locked onto me, slow and unblinking.
'Shit.'
The little bastard had succeeded in one thing:
He got the dragon's attention.
I smiled.
"Guess nap time's over."