The elves had always been known for their elegance—tall, slender figures, refined grace, and faces so delicate that even their most ordinary looked ethereal. Their very presence carried an aura of beauty that humans could only admire from afar.
But what Lucas saw before him now made his stomach churn.
These were no longer elves. Whatever dignity or elegance they once carried had been twisted into horror. Their bodies were bloated and grotesque, as though something monstrous had hollowed them out and replaced them with abominations.
Purple-black tumors pulsed and sprouted from their skin, swelling so large that their natural shapes had nearly disappeared. Some of the growths tore open with sickening pops, releasing dark fluid that dripped down in foul rivulets. The once-graceful elves now looked more like cursed husks, consumed by a vile force that refused to let their corpses rest.
It was as if some parasitic horror had burrowed into their bodies, spreading fibrous roots throughout their veins and organs, feeding on their life, and then reshaping them into grotesque puppets.
Lucas felt his scalp prickle. Even with all the battles he had endured, this sight made him instinctively step back.
"Hiss… what a vicious curse," he muttered, sucking in a breath as his body tensed.
He deliberately widened the distance between himself and the nearest corpse. Who could say if the curse was still active? What if it leapt from one host to another? He had no intention of joining their ranks.
His eyes narrowed. "These cursed elves… their vitality is off the charts. Could this be the reason?"
Lucas touched his chin, muttering as he considered the possibilities. "Mutation? Forced integration? A curse? Demonization?"
Whatever the cause, one thing was clear: monsters at this level had no right to carry such enormous health pools. This wasn't normal.
He glanced at the map he had pulled up earlier. This random Secret Realm wasn't just difficult—it was dangerously close to impossible.
Normally, the health of common monsters sat on par with leader-class bosses. But here, even the weakest cursed elf had the endurance of a seasoned warlord. What would that mean for the final boss of this place? Lucas could almost picture it—a blood cow of unimaginable scale, impossible to bring down unless one had already surpassed level 60 and completed a third job advancement.
He shook his head. "If I waste time cutting through every monster, I'll never make it to the center. The only option is to head straight for the heart of the Secret Realm."
With that thought, he tapped his map, fixing his path. "Avoid unnecessary fights. Don't waste time on experience farming. Loot drops are too unreliable to gamble on here."
His lips curled into a small grin. "Shadow Sneak."
Darkness wrapped around him, his form dissolving into shadow. Lucas became nothing more than a faint ripple in the air, invisible and untouchable. Even level 56 cursed elves failed to detect him as he slipped past, unseen and unhindered.
---
Meanwhile, not far away, another group was battling fiercely.
"Captain, something's wrong with this place!" A broad-shouldered man with a greatsword cleaved through one of the twisted elves, its black ichor spraying the ground. His brows knitted as he caught his breath. "These things have way too much HP. Are we sure they're not level 50 elites?"
The man addressed as Captain calmly raised his staff, his expression unreadable. He conjured a fireball, the magic roaring as it ignited the air before slamming into a cursed elf. The abomination shrieked as flames devoured it.
"Even with my attack power, it takes three or four strikes to kill one," the Captain admitted grimly. "These things aren't just tougher—they're unnaturally durable."
Before he could continue, a sharp whistle cut through the air. An arrow streaked toward his head.
The team's shield warrior leapt forward, raising his tower shield. With a metallic clang, the arrow ricocheted away, though the force rattled his arm and shaved a sliver from his health bar.
"Hold still," the team's priest said, raising his hand. A warm glow surrounded the shield warrior, his health bar quickly topping off again.
The Captain didn't flinch at the attack. His eyes remained cold, voice steady. "I thought that with all of us sitting at level 63, conquering this random Secret Realm would be a simple matter. But these monsters…" He clenched his staff as magic pooled at the tip. "They'll make the final boss far harder than we anticipated. Prepare yourselves."
Another firestorm burst forth, engulfing the cursed elf archer. Half its health melted away, yet the monster barely reacted, stringing another arrow as though it felt nothing.
The swordsman charged again, his greatsword carving deep arcs through flesh, each strike heavy and merciless until the archer finally collapsed in a heap.
"Still…" the Captain's lips twitched upward, forming a thin smile. "This might not be a bad thing. It means that lone adventurer who entered before us won't stand a chance. Unless he's some hidden rank-four powerhouse, he'll never outpace us."
"Hahaha, exactly!" the shield warrior barked a laugh. "As long as he's not rank four, we'll always be ahead."
The priest chuckled softly, though his eyes betrayed doubt. "Honestly, if he hasn't even reached a third advancement, he'll be lucky to survive in here. These cursed elves are relentless."
He wasn't wrong. Every single monster they faced took double or triple the effort compared to normal beasts. The fights dragged on longer, their numbers never seemed to thin, and the threat of being overwhelmed lingered constantly.
The Captain nodded once. "Then we hurry. Others may stumble in behind us, but as long as we reach the heart first, the BOSS is ours. Avoid fights where possible. Straight to the center."
"Yes, Captain!"
Excitement rippled through the team. This was a random Secret Realm—its rewards could change their entire futures. If they seized the core holy stone of this place, they would never have to worry about money or resources again.
---
Back on his own path, Lucas continued weaving through the forest. But the deeper he went, the more disturbing his surroundings became.
The trees themselves had fallen prey to the same curse. Their once-sturdy trunks were warped into spirals and jagged twists, bark splitting open to reveal pulsing, vein-like roots beneath.
Bloated sarcospores clung to their surfaces, looking disturbingly like clusters of eyeballs. The fleshy growths pulsed faintly, twitching in ways that made Lucas's skin crawl. Every time he passed one, he could swear its gaze followed him.
Above, the canopy had thinned. The few leaves that remained had lost their vibrant green, replaced by bloody crimson streaked with purple and black veins. The whole forest had become a grotesque parody of itself—an eldritch nightmare that seemed alive.
Lucas quickened his pace, his body a phantom flicker as he slipped in and out of shadow. Whenever his stealth waned and monsters spotted him, he cut them down with ruthless efficiency, refusing to waste precious seconds.
Finally, the trees parted, revealing the central heart of the Secret Realm.
There, rising from the corrupted earth, stood an enormous building. It was unmistakably elven in design—tall arches, flawless symmetry, and carvings of leaves and starlight. Once, it must have been breathtaking.
But now, it was buried under a suffocating blanket of fleshy red vines, their tendrils crawling across every wall, pulsing like veins under diseased skin. The sight was grotesque, as though the royal court of the elves had been swallowed by something alive.
Lucas's breath caught. "This… this was once the royal court."
And if he was right, the final boss of this nightmare awaited inside.
Tightening his grip on his weapon, Lucas crept forward.
The grand gate loomed, heavy and ominous. He stepped through its threshold—
And immediately, a storm of arrows rained down from the darkness within.
The final trial had begun.
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