Mortis's group continued their journey for a while longer, and the atmosphere around them gradually began to change in an astonishing way. The lush green forest ahead slowly transformed into a strange and wondrous landscape. Towering trees gave way to enormous mushrooms, their bright red caps dotted with white spots, stretching skyward as high as the trees once had. The once-vivid green grass became a soft, flowing carpet of bluish hues that stretched as far as the eye could see, as if they had stepped into another world.
Heavy footsteps echoed nearby. A large ox calmly wandered past, but what caught everyone's attention was the colorful fungi sprouting from its back, as if the creature had become one with the mysterious forest itself.
"This mushroom forest was born from spores consuming all life, merging everything it touched," Sylwen explained in a cold, cautious tone, as if afraid even her voice might awaken the forest.
"I've heard tales..." Mira spoke up, her voice trembling slightly. "...of a man who once slept in this forest. Each night, mushrooms sprouted from his body... until he became part of the forest itself."
Ryn let out a grunt of disbelief and muttered irritably,
"Nonsense! I'm seventy years old, and I've never seen anyone turn into a mushroom!"
Mira scowled and snapped back,
"That's because you've never slept in the mushroom forest, you old geezer!"
Their argument echoed through the silent forest like a clanging bell. Sylwen chuckled softly while Mortis watched them silently, a strange warmth filling his heart from their lively banter.
They pressed on under the setting sun, the sky gradually darkening. A thin mist began to drift over the waters ahead, sending an eerie chill through the air without clear reason.
"That's Nong Ruea Village..." Garrick said in a solemn tone.
As they reached the village, they were met with the sight of a small community floating on water. Houses stood atop tall wooden stilts, connected by narrow wooden bridges. Most movement required the use of rowboats. The atmosphere was calm but tinged with a faint sense of melancholy.
An old woman, her skin wrinkled and weathered, paddled a small boat toward the dock where they stood. Her clouded eyes examined them curiously.
"Are you travelers?" she rasped.
Garrick gave a slight smile and answered for everyone,
"We're adventurers, heading across the river to the city of Phon."
The old woman's eyes widened slightly in surprise.
"Adventurers, you say? Perfect timing. Our village is having... some troubles."
Mira exchanged a wary glance with Sylwen before asking,
"What kind of troubles?"
The old woman hesitated, shaking her head slightly before whispering,
"I... can't explain it here. Come aboard. I'll take you to the village chief."
They exchanged uncertain looks but decided to follow her. Another old man paddled a second boat to help transport Garrick's horses, pulling a small wooden raft silently behind them.
The boats carried them into the heart of the village. The air was damp and chilly, the scent of mud and stagnant water hanging thick around them. They finally reached the largest wooden house in the village, where a stern-faced middle-aged man stood waiting.
"Please, come inside," he said, motioning them in.
Inside the sparsely furnished reception room, with only an old wooden table and a small oil lamp for company, the village chief began to speak heavily.
"Our village has been attacked by direwolves," he explained. "They've been killing our livestock, trampling our crops. Three people have already been injured."
"Why not report it to the guild in Phon?" Ryn asked.
The chief sighed.
"I sent someone... but it's been six days, and there's been no word."
"Maybe they're still at the city, trying to form another party," Ryn suggested.
"If we take on the same quest without informing the guild, it'll cause huge problems," Mira added. "You know how chaotic it gets when two parties work on the same quest without coordination."
The chief looked troubled.
"But..."
Garrick spoke up firmly.
"We'll take the job."
Ryn turned to him.
"But—"
"I'll take full responsibility for any problems," Garrick said, his voice unwavering.
Sylwen gave him a faint, approving smile while Ryn sighed in reluctant acceptance.
The village chief bowed deeply.
"I promise a generous reward," he said with earnest gratitude.
"Then we'll start tomorrow," Garrick agreed.
Afterward, everyone scattered to purchase supplies, leaving Garrick, Mortis, and the chief together.
The village chief pulled Garrick aside.
"I have one more favor to ask," he said gravely. "My son—the one I sent to report to the guild—I'm afraid he might have been captured by bandits. If you find him, please, save him."
Garrick immediately agreed. The chief promised them free lodging and would cover all boat transport costs.
That evening, they dined at the village's famed boat noodle shop. The old owner welcomed them with a warm smile.
"Our boat noodles are so good, everyone who tries them always comes back," he said proudly.
The thick, rich broth gave off a pungent aroma of spices and herbs, blending with the scent of blood that had been simmered down to a hearty, savory depth. The rice noodles were perfectly chewy, the meatballs dense, and the flavors a balanced mix of spiciness and sweetness. Mortis silently watched everyone slurp down their noodles, feeling a rare sense of peace, as if he were touching a distant fragment of life far removed from death.
After dinner, Mortis wandered alone to explore the village.
He walked along the wooden bridges that connected the stilted houses, each built about five meters above the water. Beneath the village, the wide swamp stretched out endlessly, with water buffalo floating in scattered patches.
He silently ordered his hidden undead forces to submerge beneath the village, staying hidden.
As he strolled, he overheard a group of men fishing, speaking in hushed tones.
"The money we stole from the village chief's son... hahaha! We left him in the middle of the forest."
Mortis's eyes grew cold. He vanished into the shadows without a sound, silently tailing one of the bandits.
That night, a thief returned home and opened the drawer beside his mattress, revealing a large sum of money. But before he could touch it, a strange noise echoed from the window.
A massive dark shadow rose slowly, revealing the legs of a giant spider.
The thief nearly fainted from fear. He dashed toward the door, only to be blocked by another shadow. Mortis stepped out from the darkness, revealing a white skull beneath a black cloak.
The thief, trembling, backed into the mattress. Before he could scream, small hands clamped over his mouth, and a tiny dagger pressed against his throat. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw three undead goblins grinning mockingly at him.
Mortis raised a finger to his lips, signaling for silence. The little goblins mimicked his gesture playfully, snickering quietly.
Leaning closer, Mortis seemed like a specter from the depths of hell. A chilling whisper floated up from the hollow of his chest.
"Where are you hiding the money..."
The voice was not human. It was steeped in the power of death. The thief, barely conscious, nodded frantically, his trembling hand pointing toward the drawer near the mattress.
Mortis glanced over. One of the goblins leapt to open the drawer at his command, sending a cascade of gold coins spilling out with a clinking sound that echoed in the silent room.
Mortis extended a pale hand to touch the coins, then turned back to the thief, who was now trembling so violently he could hardly stand.
"The village chief's son... where is he?" Mortis asked again, his voice dropping lower, a rumble like it came from the underworld itself.
The thief gasped for breath, struggling to compose himself while the little dagger still pressed against his throat. He whispered, barely audible:
"In the woods... by the hayfields to the east... we tied him up there..."
Mortis nodded slightly and withdrew his hand, signaling the goblin to release the thief. The little goblin chuckled gleefully and let the thief collapse into a heap on the floor.
Mortis retreated into the shadows, his army of goblins and undead spiders silently following. All that remained was an icy chill... and the frantic beating of the unfortunate thief's heart.
In the middle of the night, Mortis rejoined Garrick, Sylwen, and Mira, who were secretly meeting beneath the wooden floor of an old house. He reported what he had learned without speaking a word, instead writing on a scrap of cloth with black ink.
After reading the message, Garrick's brows furrowed deeply, his gaze hardening at once. Mira clenched her fists in fury, veins bulging along the backs of her hands.
"Those vile bastards..." she growled under her breath.
Sylwen, on the other hand, sighed heavily, her face calm but with a slight twitch at the corner of her mouth betraying deep-seated displeasure.
"We must rescue that child before it's too late," Garrick declared firmly, his voice so intense that the air seemed heavier.
Under the moonlight, they quietly began to lay out a plan. Mortis stood silently to the side, his hollow gaze fixed unwaveringly toward the east. Deep within his chest, something stirred—something resembling "anger"—though he wasn't sure if he still possessed such a thing.
Later that night, when the world was so quiet that only the sound of waves lapping against the shore could be heard, Sylwen stealthily paddled a narrow boat away from the old harbor. Her figure was cloaked in dark fabric, her sharp eyes scanning the surroundings cautiously.
As the boat drifted farther from shore, a soft thud sounded. Another cloaked figure appeared silently on the boat. Mortis stepped aboard, taking position at the stern without uttering a word.
Sylwen glanced at him, offering a faint smile and whispering, "I knew you would come."
Mortis nodded slightly and replied in a calm voice, "I believe I know where to start looking."
Silently, they paddled across the water, with Garrick watching them from afar.
When they reached the other side, they disembarked and slipped into the dense forest. The ground was wet with midnight dew under the dim moonlight.
The scent of damp grass filled the air. Branches scratched against their skin as they pushed deeper into the woods.
Suddenly, Sylwen halted. She bent down and retrieved a torn piece of cloth snagged on a branch at chest height.
Mortis leaned closer to examine it solemnly.
"Judging by the tear marks..." Sylwen murmured thoughtfully as she turned the fabric in her hand. "Someone must have been running from something."
Mortis scanned the surroundings, sensing unseen dangers lurking nearby.
They pressed on. The deeper they went, the eerier the forest became—no insects, no nocturnal creatures—only the sound of cautious footsteps.
Eventually, they reached a slight depression in the ground, where a wide, dark cave mouth yawned before them. A faint stench wafted out. Animal skeletons of various sizes were scattered around, some with remnants of rotting flesh still clinging to the bones.
Among them lay human skeletons, ribs broken and twisted unnaturally.
Suddenly— A long, mournful howl tore through the silence.
Dozens of large figures emerged from the bushes. A pack of dire wolves—beasts twice the size of normal wolves—circled them swiftly, their dim yellow eyes glowing in the dark.
Sharp claws gouged the earth. Low growls rippled through the air.
Sylwen turned urgently to Mortis. "Cover me," she said quickly.
Without waiting for a reply, she began chanting a spell, her whispers as soft as the breeze.
Mortis tightened his grip on his dagger and stepped boldly toward the pack.
One wolf lunged at him. He dodged by a hair's breadth, thrusting his blade into its throat. Another leapt at his back. Mortis spun and slashed its side, leaving a deep gash.
But there were too many.
Soon, Mortis was struggling to hold them off.
Just then— Sylwen's incantation reached its climax.
She slammed her palm onto the ground.
A cracking sound erupted beneath them as countless tree roots burst from the soil under Sylwen's command. They surged wildly, lashing in all directions. Some roots struck wolves, knocking them over; others coiled around their strong legs, trapping them. A few swift wolves managed to evade the roots narrowly.
"Now's our chance! Let's move!" Sylwen shouted. Mana surged through her hands, and a strong gust of wind formed under their feet, boosting their speed.
Sylwen's body shot forward at high speed. Mortis, startled, stumbled at first, but he quickly regained his footing and sprinted after Sylwen.
Heavy footsteps thundered behind them.
When Mortis glanced back, he saw a pack of direwolves chasing close behind!
The two dashed through the forest with everything they had, their destination the shoreline where the boat was waiting.
Garrick, standing on a rock by the shore, spotted them running toward him with dozens of direwolves in tow. His eyes widened in shock before he hastily shoved the boat off the shore.
"Jump! Hurry!" Garrick shouted at the top of his lungs.
Without hesitation, Sylwen and Mortis leapt with all their strength, instinct driving them despite the distance.
At that moment, it felt as if the world had stopped spinning—
Their bodies sailed through the air and landed on the boat by a hair's breadth.
The direwolves halted at the shoreline, unleashing a chorus of eerie howls that echoed across the entire forest.
Sylwen, Garrick, and Mortis burst out laughing with relief before collapsing onto the boat, panting from exhaustion.
But then—
The water behind them churned violently.
A massive beast burst from the forest.
It was the size of a rhino, covered in white fur with piercing blue eyes. It leapt over the bushes with tremendous force, aiming straight for the boat!
The beast soared into the air—
But it fell short, crashing into the water with a deafening splash, sending waves surging in every direction.
They were about to breathe a sigh of relief—
But before they could, a loud rush of water sounded dangerously close.
The creature shot up from beneath the surface!
It clamped its jaws around Mortis and yanked him off the boat in an instant!
"Mortis!" Sylwen lunged to grab his hand but missed—Mortis was dragged away in the blink of an eye.
The beast carried Mortis's body onto the shore and vanished into the darkness of the forest.
The rest of the direwolves bolted after it without hesitation.
The boat fell into a dead silence.
For a moment, it was as if the world stood still.
"We have to save him!" Sylwen said urgently.
But Garrick clenched his fists, his eyes blazing with barely contained rage.
"If we go now, we won't be able to do anything," his voice was chilling, laced with a burning frustration.
He was furious at himself—furious for being powerless, just like when he was a child, the day he couldn't save his brother from the bandits.
He despised his own weakness, his failure to protect his comrade once again.
Garrick gritted his teeth, took a deep breath, and said firmly:
"We have to get the other two first."
Amidst the thunderous growls of the direwolf pack, Mortis's body was dragged back into the cave by the alpha wolf.
He struggled desperately, calling for his undead minions to come to his aid.
But his body, savagely torn by the alpha's jaws, was flung around so violently that his clothes were shredded.
The alpha slammed him against a rock with a loud crack!—his brittle bones snapping into two pieces.
Only the upper half of Mortis's skeleton remained mobile.
Using his skeletal arms, he painstakingly crawled away, but the alpha's low growls grew closer with each moment.
Then suddenly—thunk!—a spear pierced the head of one of the wolves with deadly precision, revealing three undead goblins riding on the back of a giant black-haired spider.
They were armed to the teeth, their eyes glowing faintly purple.
Battle erupted instantly.
The wolf pack charged at the goblin undead.
One goblin leapt from the spider, thrusting his spear through a wolf's skull.
Another nocked an arrow and fired repeatedly into the throats of the wolves.
Meanwhile, the giant spider lunged forward, biting and flinging wolves like ragdolls, the cave echoing with the sounds of shlick! and thud!
The alpha wolf roared and charged at the giant spider.
The two massive beasts collided in a ferocious clash, rolling and tearing at each other.
Fangs crashed against armored hide, the spider retaliating with vicious bites, while the alpha struck back with savage claws.
The goblins fought tooth and nail against the direwolves.
The cave floor became a blood-soaked battlefield littered with bones and the cries of the dying.
Seizing an opening, the giant spider sank its fangs deep into the alpha's side with a sickening crack!
Bright red blood gushed down its once-pure white fur.
The alpha staggered and turned to glare at the spider with furious eyes.
Rain began to pour, and thunder rumbled across the sky.
The alpha's eyes glowed an intense blue.
It raised its head and unleashed a thunderous roar—and then... whoooosh!
It opened its jaws and released a wave of freezing energy.
Everything it touched froze instantly.
The cave floor, the goblin undead, even the giant spider—all were turned into grotesque statues of ice.
The alpha turned slowly and approached Mortis, who had crawled to the farthest wall of the cave, now reduced to a trembling half-skeleton.
"I guess... Im going to die again, huh... Ha... Ha..." Mortis laughed bitterly at himself.
"Mortis..."
A mysterious voice echoed in his mind.
"Leave it to me," the voice said coldly.
"We're going to die..." Mortis answered in despair.
"Let go... Let go of everything..." the voice whispered firmly.
Mortis murmured, "Fine... I have nothing left to lose."
The alpha drew near, lowering its head to end his miserable existence.
Mortis seized the chance, stabbing a sharp bone shard at its neck—but it was like stabbing steel.
The wolf barely flinched.
It raised its heavy paw and stomped on Mortis's ribcage with a loud crack, crushing him until only his skull remained.
The alpha growled lowly, turned away, and left the cave, abandoning Mortis's shattered remains.
...But then—
CRACKKK!!!
A bolt of purplish-blue lightning struck down in the center of the cave, hitting Mortis's skull dead on.
A dark aura erupted from the skull, swirling wildly with deep purple and black energy.
The surrounding air froze, mist rising from the ground.
The entire pack of direwolves trembled violently, unable to move, as if an immense force was pinning them to the earth.
The skull was lifted into the air by the spiraling aura, gradually reconstructing a new skeleton — this one denser and stronger, its surface resembling polished steel, glowing faintly with a soft purple light in the darkness.
Purple flames engulfed the skull like an otherworldly inferno, granting it the terrifying majesty of a soulless demon.
The skeletal figure stepped toward the pack.
The corpses of fallen wolves scattered around the cave suddenly sparked with violet light in their dead eyes. Slowly, they stirred... then rose as undead monsters.
They lunged savagely at the living wolves, blood splattering across the cavern like a slaughterhouse.
The sound of bone crunching and snapping — crack, crack — echoed so powerfully that it seemed to make the cave walls themselves tremble.
Mortis's new skeletal form strode toward the frozen pack leader.
With a single hand, he seized the creature's thick neck and lifted it effortlessly off the ground, dragging it across the cave floor.
The harsh scraping sound — scrrrraaaape — followed as flesh tore against stone.
Then — WHAM! — he slammed the leader into a boulder, the impact booming through the cavern.
The beast whimpered in agony.
Without hesitation, the skeleton grabbed the leader's hind leg and began smashing it against the stone floor over and over with a furious frenzy.
THUD! THUD! THUD!
Each strike rattled the cave itself.
The pack leader twitched weakly, utterly defeated.
The skeletal Mortis seized its head, gripped the upper and lower jaws with both hands, and then—
RIPPED ITS MOUTH APART IN TWO!!!
The sickening sound of tearing flesh — CRACK!!! — filled the air, followed by a splatter of blood and saliva, under the relentless downpour of rain outside.
Echoing within the cave was the laughter of the skeleton —
Cold, mad, and brimming with death.