The forest of wooden men lay just ahead. At first glance, Erik couldn't discern any difference between it and the surrounding woodland—only that the trees were more sparsely distributed.
But after taking a few more steps forward, a sudden sting shot through her right eye, and the scene before her shifted.
The trees transformed into humanoid figures rooted into the earth.
Each "tree" was grotesquely elongated, its slender branches stretching into gaunt, skeletal arms. As the wind stirred their limbs, it looked to Erik as though these figures were waving to the players with uncanny familiarity.
The vision lasted but an instant, yet it was vivid enough to send a chill through her soul. Every instinct screamed alert.
"All right," Da Shan announced. "Pick for yourselves. First step to making a wooden man is choosing your wood. If you find a piece that resonates with you, it might just become a spirit-bound puppet." With that, he wandered off, found a stone, and sat down to wait.
"How are we supposed to choose? These trees all look the same," a player muttered.
The group began to scatter in search of "compatible" wood. Erik opened her mouth to speak, wanting to share what she had seen—but then, visions of the missing half-body puppet and the mysteriously murdered male player flashed across her mind.
In uncertain circumstances, blending into the crowd was the safest strategy.
Survival instinct silenced her.
The players searched for the wood that called to them.
"No axes? No saws? How do we cut these down?" someone asked Da Shan.
Chewing on a blade of grass, Da Shan replied they could fetch axes from him once they had chosen their tree. He had brought a basket with four axes tucked inside.
"How much should we chop?"
"As much as you can carry. Don't waste it—wood from the forest of wooden men is rare and precious."
Erik, too, was choosing her tree.
Perhaps because she already knew the truth of these trees, she found herself scrutinizing them for signs of the hidden "humans" within. But no matter how long she studied them, they looked like ordinary wood. She plucked a leaf, crushed it between her fingers. Green sap stained her skin—then, for a heartbeat, it turned red. She blinked. It was green again.
With that kind of illusion, how could she dare swing an axe at any of these trees? Cutting them down piece by piece—wasn't that akin to dismembering a person?
Still, the others gradually selected their wood. One player took an axe, then another, then a third.
Erik knew she had no choice—she needed wood to craft her puppet.
After some thought, she queued for an axe, but instead of striking a trunk, she knelt and began digging at the roots.
She intended to extract the entire tree and carry it back whole. She would figure out how to handle it later.
To make transport easier, she picked a slender tree. Thinner wood was fine—like Niu Niu, she could craft a smaller puppet. The materials would suffice.
To her surprise, the roots were shallow. With little effort, she unearthed the tree.
*Thud!* The tree toppled, kicking up a cloud of dust.
Returning the axe to Da Shan, she stood beside the fallen trunk, took a deep breath, braced herself, bent down—
Standing in the center of the tree, she gripped it tightly and hauled it over her shoulder.
Fortunately, it was light enough. But a two-hour mountain trek lay ahead—no small feat.
If she were alone, she could've hidden the tree in her supermarket inventory.
But she didn't want to fall behind or arouse suspicion by secretly using the space. Better to endure the burden than risk walking alone in danger.
"Aren't you going to trim the excess branches or cut it into pieces? It'll be easier to carry," a female player asked curiously as she passed.
"I'd rather cut it once I'm back, based on what I need," Erik replied with a smile.
The woman carried a bundle of pre-cut wood—most players had done the same. Only a few, like Erik, carried whole trees.
Indeed, Erik saw Gavin, Brielle, and Ximena each hoisting entire trunks. Gavin, tall and broad, bore his with ease.
Some people—by nature or experience—had a leader's bearing. Gavin and Brielle had stood out since entering the dungeon, among both male and female players. Their actions inevitably stirred ripples among the group.
The others began asking questions.
"I just think it's better to take the whole tree and cut it later when the village chief teaches us how to make puppets," said Brielle.
Erik nodded in agreement.
Gavin said nothing. "Some prefer to chop first, others carry whole. Everyone makes their own choice."
Ximena rolled her eyes. "Then why are you all cutting yours into pieces? You explain too."
Her words were curt, but the sentiment matched Gavin's.
Rowan frowned. "If you've got a clue, just say it. Don't let us walk into traps with our eyes wide open."
"Maybe *we're* the ones walking into a trap," Ximena retorted. "I'll take responsibility for my own choices. If you want to copy me, that's your call—not my problem." She walked on.
In a previous dungeon, she had shared intel, only to be met with suspicion and resentment. Since then, she kept her insights to herself. Everyone has their fate.
Brielle smoothed things over: "Anyone can still switch. Da Shan hasn't rushed us, and there's time."
"What about the ones we already chopped?"
"I think Da Shan said not to waste anything..."
Bo's eyes gleamed. He tossed aside his cut wood and went back for a whole tree.
After Bo left, Erik arrived beside Da Shan, set down her tree, and sat to rest.
"How do we make puppets?" she asked.
Da Shan chuckled. "The village chief'll show you once we're back. Just pay close attention."
No matter how much she asked, he would reveal nothing further, so Erik gave up.
Once everyone had gathered their chosen wood, Da Shan packed away the axes into his basket and called, "Let's move! The clouds are thickening—I worry it'll rain soon."
At the mention of rain, Erik noticed a flicker of unease on his face.
Rain in the mountains was troublesome enough, but thunder and lightning would be even worse.
Yet she sensed Da Shan's worry wasn't just about the weather. Looking up, she saw the skies darken—the heavy clouds had swallowed the sun.
The trek here had been grueling; the way back would be worse.
Half an hour in, Erik had to stop to rest her shoulders and massage her aching hands before lifting the tree once more.
Then the rain came.
It began as a drizzle, then thickened into a downpour. The mountain path grew slick with mud. Players slipped, wood scattered.
A log rolled to Erik's feet. She stopped it with a swift foot. Kai hurried over to retrieve it. "Thanks!"
"No problem."
"Da Shan, can we take shelter?" Brielle's voice called through the roar of rain.
"No!" Da Shan's reply was muffled. "Rain after harvesting puppet trees is a bad omen! We must get back quickly!"
Erik gritted her teeth and hoisted the tree again. She tread carefully, dodging puddles and mud pits. In times like this, staying with the group—and protecting her load—was paramount. If things got worse, she was ready to stash the tree in her inventory.
The narrow mountain path could only accommodate one person at a time. Tree-bearers like Erik were assigned to the rear. Behind her was Kai, followed by Brielle, Ximena, and Gavin guarding the rear.
The rain thickened. Visibility shrank.
Erik's foot slipped. The tree on her shoulder lurched forward. Heart leaping, she twisted, wedging the trunk against another tree to slow the fall.
The force tugged her forward. She stumbled, pain flaring in her shoulder—but she didn't let go.
Once the momentum ceased, she regained balance, one foot sinking into a puddle. Her shoes were soaked, heavy. Gritting her teeth, she lifted the tree again—this time carrying it upright in her arms.
It was harder, but she persisted, pausing at puddles to rest the trunk and catch her breath.
The final stretch was agony for everyone—except Da Shan, who strode effortlessly at the front, unbothered even with four axes on his back.
By the time they saw the village, Erik barely felt her limbs. Tears pricked her eyes. They had made it.
"You go on ahead!" Da Shan shouted and disappeared toward his home.
The village lay drenched in rain. Not a soul was outside.
By the time Erik and the others reached the old courtyard, they were half-dead.
"Achoo!"
"Cough, cough!"
Though it was summer, two hours in the cold rain left many shivering. Some had already caught colds.
With the kitchen collapsed and no firewood, they couldn't heat water or dry clothes. All they could do was endure.
"If it gets worse, I'll just buy a basic healing kit... achoo!"
In the main room, the female players locked the door and barricaded it with chairs. Modesty forgotten, they shut the windows, stripped, wrung their clothes dry, and hung them to air.
Erik had spare clothes but decided not to draw attention.
She followed suit, hanging her garments on the bedpost.
Then—something felt off.
She counted the women in the room.
1, 2, 3… 8, 9, 10.
A chill crept up her spine. She forced herself to stay calm, and counted again. Twice.
Still ten people.
But there were only nine female players.