Silas left the open field and entered the forest, planning to make the most of his time and get stronger.
He took a step inside. The atmosphere was cold, and for some reason, even the sun didn't penetrate the trees—as if the forest was in constant night, its very nature laced with mystical properties.
Every step he took was wet, mud and dirt clinging to his boots, flora grazing his uniform.
"What the hell is up with this place?"
Silas spoke aloud, the undead wolf in front of him helping to navigate the forest—biting down on leaves, branches, and more to clear the way and scan for threats.
The wolf suddenly growled, baring its fangs, its dead eyes fierce.
"What is it, boy?"
Silas stepped forward, brushing aside a branch that had been blocking his view.
A bear—fighting a pack of wolves. Ten versus one. And it looked like the wolves were winning.
Silas ducked, hiding behind a tree near the fight, his scent masked by the smell of damp mud.
I wonder…
"Banish minion."
He whispered. The wolf, still growling at the fight, suddenly went limp as the crimson tendrils puppeting it disappeared.
[Minion Banished]
"Well, that's convenient."
Silas muttered, just as a powerful roar echoed through the clearing.
He flicked his eyes back toward the fight—the bear was being bitten from all sides, fighting desperately before finally going down.
Silas exhaled a twisted laugh, his voice eager yet bloodthirsty.
"I guess the robe's passive doesn't activate when I don't personally kill the thing."
Silas slinked from behind the trunk, keeping low beneath the thick underbrush. Even ten wolves would be a problem with his mana running low.
He stretched out his arms toward the bear while remaining concealed, his grin widening. His palms glowed with a faint, dark crimson as his magic pulsed like a dying heart
"Reanimate!"
He shouted. The bear's lifeless corpse, still being gnawed on by the wolves, suddenly twitched. Crimson tendrils slithered through its gaping wounds like veins made of light, yanking the bear upright with a wet, snapping sound. Its eyes were gone, but it still turned to face the wolves, breathing shallowly like something trying to remember how to live.
The wolves recoiled, gathering into one spot—shocked at the unnatural resurrection.
Silas stepped out of the bush, his grin wide, hands clapping.
"You pups just made my life a lot easier."
He narrowed his eyes, raising his hand.
"Sick 'em."
He barked, snapping his fingers.
The bear sprinted at the wolves—no longer fighting to survive, but to kill. Its massive claws cleaved through three wolves at once.
[EXP: 150]
Silas sighed, relieved that his body could finally rest while letting his minions do the work.
"I do wonder… am I getting more sadistic lately…?"
He thought aloud, lips curling into a half-smile.
No. I've always been like this. This world just gave me permission.
As the last wolf fell, the green forest floor was soaked in blood. The undead bear stood atop the pile of death, silently awaiting its next command.
[EXP: 350]
"Now that's what you call a level-up."
Silas approached the undead bear, patting its head like a twisted pet owner. He looked up—trees and leaves still blocking the sky, darkness continuing to swallow the forest whole.
"Now that I'm seeing it… didn't the game have a sort of class teamwork training in this forest as well…?"
And just as Silas pondered, his suspicions were confirmed. In the distance, he could hear voices—not from the three delinquents, but another. A voice slightly old, but wise.
A professor…
Silas chuckled, placing a finger in his mouth in thought.
"Continue grinding? Or disrupt a class?"
He said in mock contemplation before lowering his hands.
"Why is that even a question? Of course I'm gonna disrupt a class."
Silas smirked as he mounted the undead bear, tapping its side with his boots like a horse.
"Let's go, boy!"