(Third-Person Narrative Chapter)
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"Boreal Forest – The Living Wood"
The golden grass thinned out. The wind died down.
And then, without warning, the world changed.
Lucien stepped into the Boreal Forest, and the temperature dropped slightly — not cold, but heavy. The air felt thick with presence. Every breath tingled, like drawing in starlight. The trees here were tall and quiet, their bark patterned with glowing veins of green and silver.
Above him, high-branch canopies dimmed the sunlight, casting the forest floor in soft, sacred shadows. The ground pulsed with Vita — the living energy of Elorian — so dense it distorted his peripheral vision, warping light around roots and leaves.
He placed his hand against a tree. The bark was warm. Breathing. It throbbed.
> "This isn't a normal forest…"
Lucien unshouldered his wooden axe, staring up at a thick-barked pine easily five times his height.
He took a swing.
> THUNK.
A clean slice. A chunk of bark splintered and fell.
The tree groaned… but not like timber.
It sighed.
And then, right in front of him, the wound sealed itself — the wood growing back like muscle reknitting under skin.
Within minutes, the mark of his axe was gone entirely. Lucien blinked.
> "High Vita levels... so high that even trees are self-repairing. Forest can't be cleared. Deforestation is… impossible."
He looked around. The entire forest shimmered now, pulsing like a giant lung. Every tree was conscious.
---
Lucien adjusted.
Instead of chopping trees, he began gathering resources more carefully — fallen bark, twigs with residual glow, moss soaked in Vita essence, and crystals growing from tree roots.
✦ Vita Bark Fragments – Retain warmth and slowly regenerate if kept damp
✦ ...Spirit Moss – Stores ambient magic, good for potions or insulation
✦... Root Crystals – Fragile, but useful in crafting sensors or power modules
✦ ...Floating Needles – Rare pine needles that don't fall — they hover, as if dancing with the forest's rhythm
While collecting, Lucien noticed something else…
A pair of glowing yellow eyes in the brush.
Then another.
Then three more pairs, circling slowly.
> Forest Guardians.
Semi-elemental beasts that protect high-Vita zones.
Not hostile… unless provoked.
Lucien slowly reached into his bag, pulling out a single granola bar.
He broke off a piece… and tossed it gently toward the eyes.
Silence.
Then a soft rustle. One of the creatures — long, vine-limbed and fox-like — crept forward, sniffed, and took the bite. It didn't growl. Instead, it let out a low huff… and disappeared into the brush.
> "We understand each other then."
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Lucien found a small clearing surrounded by mossy stones.
Perfect for a temporary camp.
He set up a crafting square, laid out the resource fragments, and began using the Aether Bracelets to run minor crafting commands — slow, subtle, respectful to the land.
This forest couldn't be taken.
But if you listened…
It gave.
---
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—Scene: First Craft — The Working Table
Lucien knelt in the mossy clearing. The soft hum of the Boreal Forest wrapped around him like a sleeping giant. Small lights flickered in the underbrush — bugs, spirits, or both.
He cleared a flat spot using his wooden shovel, gently brushing away damp leaves and thread-thin roots.
Then, he got to work.
From his pack, he placed:
Two straight pieces of forest wood
One flat piece of glow-bark
Twine made from spirit moss fibers
He connected them with purpose — moving with the kind of silent concentration only someone from the Aether Realm would know. The Aether Bracelets pulsed faintly, recognizing his intention.
> TAP. CLICK. WHIRR.
Pieces locked into place. Symbols glowed briefly and faded.
And there it was — a rough but functioning Working Table, or as some called it:
> Crafting Bench [Level 1] – Vita Synced
He laid his hand on the surface. The bench shimmered as it synced to his intent — pulling up crafting slots in his mind like transparent blueprints.
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— Lucien Begins Crafting
> Input: Forest Wood + Stone Fragments
He drags the components into the mental crafting grid — instinct guiding his hand like a phantom (UI).
🔹... Result: Stone Hatchet – A sharper, tougher version of his old wooden axe.
🔹... Result: Stone Dagger – Light, silent, ideal for defense or quick dismantling.
🔹... Result: Stone Pickknife – Used for digging softer ores or carving roots.
As he confirmed the last item, his Aether Relic flashed, and golden text scrolled across the air briefly:
> [Achievement Unlocked] 🏆...
Stonebark – You've entered the Stone Age
Lucien smirked slightly — the tiniest tug at the corner of his lips. It felt like progress.
---
Utility Crafting: Colors & Resources 🌺
Nearby, he noticed a few patches of wild glowing flowers — brilliant violets, deep reds, and a strange glacial blue.
> Input: Wildflowers → Result: Color Dyes
Violet = Ink dye
Crimson = Fire dye
Icebloom = Frost dye
He stored the dyes carefully — dye was currency in some Dwarven trade posts, especially if made from high-Vita flora.
---
The workbench now had a small pile of:
Stone tools
Color dyes
Spirit moss twine
Bark fragments
And with the Forest Guardians no longer circling, Lucien felt something he hadn't since leaving the Aether Realm:
> Stability.
He sat beside the bench, sipping water and chewing on another granola bar, eyes on the swaying branches above.
> "Alright," he muttered. "Now I can begin for real."
---
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Scene: {Clash in the Boreal Shadows – Goblin Skirmish}
The wind in the Boreal Forest had quieted.
Lucien was packing up his makeshift camp, tying bundles of gathered resources with spirit moss twine when he heard it—
A rustle.
A click of wood on stone.
Then a low, sharp grunt.
He turned, just in time to duck. A javelin made from sharpened rootwood embedded itself into the tree behind him, vibrating violently.
> "Goblins."
From the underbrush, three short figures emerged. They were lean and nimble, with mottled green skin, dark braided hair, and patchwork hide armor made of stitched bark and woven bone. Their eyes gleamed with survival, not malice.
These weren't cartoon monsters.
They were tribal demi-humans, and they were hunting.
---
[Combat Begins]
Lucien drew his stone dagger with one hand and a light moss bomb with the other — a crude but bright flash item he had just crafted using glowing fungi and brittle root.
He didn't speak. Neither did they.
The first Goblin lunged — fast, wild, using a chipped bone spear. Lucien dodged left, slashing across its weapon hand. It yelped but stayed standing.
The second circled, throwing slingshot stones from afar — one cracked his shoulder, leaving a bruise.
The third tried to rush him from behind, but Lucien spun and threw the flash bomb at the ground.
> THWUMP. 💥0
A burst of glowing moss-dust exploded, lighting the clearing like a will-o'-the-wisp storm.
Lucien slashed again, driving the dagger toward the nearest goblin's chest — but it blocked with a wooden plank shield.
Seconds passed. None of them backed down.
Blood had been drawn, but none of it was lethal.
---
The Draw 🛑
Breathing heavily, Lucien kept his stance. His dagger dripped faintly. One Goblin was limping. Another's weapon was cracked. But none had fallen.
Then, the leader gave a low growl — not a war cry, but a warning.
The Goblins slowly backed away, one by one, disappearing into the brush with the same silence they had come with. No words. No vengeance.
> It wasn't a loss. But it wasn't a win either.
Lucien lowered his weapon, wiping sweat and sap off his brow.
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"Field Note Update: Goblins"
> Species: Goblins
Classification: Demi-Human Sub-Race
Magic Affinity: Very low
Traits: High reproduction rate, tribal intelligence, durable undergrowth weapons
Culture:
Strong ties to small villages and tribal units
Territorial but not suicidal
Common in Boreal, Taiga, and Temperate Forests
Lifespan: ~50 years
Appearance:
Short, green-skinned
Dark-haired, expressive eyes
Wears handmade gear from bones, bark, and cloth
Behavioral Note:
Not inherently evil
Attacks out of fear, hunger, or resource protection
---
Lucien sat down at the edge of the clearing, breathing deep.
He now knew that even out here in the wild — he wasn't alone.
> "No village for them nearby... just scouts. That means others are watching too."
He reached for another granola bar, warily eyeing the treetops.