The rain had stopped just before dawn. Mist clung low over the forest floor, wrapping everything in a quiet silver haze. Dew sparkled on moss and branches like tiny stars scattered across the ground.
Alaric trudged along the narrow path, yawning so wide his jaw popped. His snow-white hair stuck up in every direction, like he'd just lost a fight with his blanket. His tunic was half-tucked, staff slung lazily across his shoulder.
"Zombie Dad," he muttered, voice still hoarse from sleep, "you know normal people don't make six-year-olds hike through cursed woods before breakfast."
Ashen didn't answer. Of course he didn't. He walked ahead with perfect posture, boots silent against the wet earth. His long black coat barely rustled, and his silver-gray hair looked completely untouched by the rain. Not a single wrinkle, not a single drop.
It annoyed Alaric deeply.
"I hate that you don't get dirty," he said louder this time.
Ashen's head tilted slightly back, just enough for Alaric to see the faintest flicker of amusement in his eyes.
"It would be inefficient," Ashen replied, voice calm as ever.
"Yeah, well, it's unfair." Alaric swung his staff around in a lazy arc, accidentally hitting a bush and scattering wet leaves. "I look like a swamp rat, and you look like you just stepped out of a fancy vampire tea party."
"If I recall," Ashen said, stepping over a root without missing a beat, "you refused to comb your hair this morning."
"That's because someone stole the comb."
"I did not."
"You hid it."
Ashen didn't respond. Which, to Alaric, meant he totally did.
The two of them moved deeper into the Grand Forest, where the mist grew thicker and the trees seemed to lean closer, their roots twisting like frozen serpents.
Kael and Ryn were supposed to meet them later, but for now, it was just the two of them—teacher and student, undead and living, zombie-dad and reluctant prodigy.
The mission was simple: investigate the strange mana disturbances near the southern ridge. Lately, animals had been found lifeless but untouched, their vitality drained, as if the forest itself were sick.
Alaric didn't need to sense it to know something was off. The further they walked, the heavier the air felt. It wasn't just mana. It was wrong. Like something breathing beneath the ground.
Ashen slowed, placing a hand on the nearest tree. The bark cracked faintly under his pale fingers as he murmured, "Death mana. Concentrated. It's spreading from below."
Alaric tilted his head. "So, like… underground mushrooms, but evil?"
Ashen's silver eyes flicked toward him. "In a sense."
Alaric nodded seriously. "Cool. Evil shrooms. Got it."
He spun his staff once, then crouched down, pressing his hand against the soil. His fingers tingled immediately—death mana, thick and pulsing, almost like a heartbeat.
"Whoa…" he whispered. "This isn't just leaking out—it's alive."
Before Ashen could respond, the ground trembled. A low rumble echoed beneath them, and the roots around their feet began to twitch.
Alaric scrambled back, eyes wide. "Uh, that's new! Zombie Dad, please tell me the forest isn't literally waking up."
Ashen's sword was already drawn, its black edge humming faintly with restrained mana. "Be ready."
"I am ready! I'm ready to run!"
The ground split open beside them. Rotten vines lashed upward, wet and gleaming, dragging chunks of dirt with them. The stench of decay filled the air, sharp and suffocating.
From the crack, something began to crawl out.
It looked like a tree—if a tree could rot, bleed, and move. Its trunk twisted with bones, its branches hung with pale, empty husks of animals. A half-dozen eyes blinked open along its bark, glowing faint red in the mist.
"Okay," Alaric said slowly, gripping his staff with both hands, "I take back the mushroom thing. It's definitely a tree demon."
Ashen stepped forward, blade raised. "Stay behind me."
"Sure. Totally. Just gonna—whoa!"
A vine snapped toward him. Alaric ducked, barely missing it as it sliced through the air like a whip. He rolled clumsily onto his feet and pointed his staff at the creature. "You know, Zombie Dad, 'stay behind me' doesn't work when the floor tries to eat me!"
The monster screeched—a sound like cracking wood and grinding bones—and its roots burst outward again. Ashen slashed through them in a blur of motion, black mana burning along the blade's edge. Each strike was silent but absolute, cutting through the vines with surgical precision.
Alaric, meanwhile, stumbled backward, tripped over a log, and fell flat on his back.
"Graceful," Ashen commented without looking.
"Don't mock me while I'm fighting for my life!" Alaric yelled, waving his staff.
He pressed a palm to the ground, channeling mana. "Alright, fine—let's see if this works!"
The staff glowed faint gold as life mana pulsed through it. The ground trembled, and the nearby grass surged upward, wrapping around the vines like green serpents. For a moment, it worked—the growth held the monster in place.
Then the vines began to rot the grass from within.
Alaric's eyes widened. "Oh come on! I just grew that!"
Ashen appeared beside him, coat fluttering as he cleaved through another tangle of roots. "Its core is deep beneath the soil," he said. "Your spell won't hold it."
"Then what do we do? Dig it up?"
"Precisely."
Alaric blinked. "…I was kidding."
The ground shook again. The tree-creature rose higher, splitting into several smaller trunks that crawled on roots like spider legs. The red eyes multiplied, focusing all at once on the two of them.
Alaric swallowed hard. "Okay. Yeah. Definitely evil."
He spun his staff once, steadying his breath. "Zombie Dad, think we can burn it?"
Ashen's gaze flicked toward him. "You can't use fire."
"I can if I believe hard enough."
Ashen sighed—the soft, quiet kind that somehow carried more emotion than words. "Focus, Alaric."
"I am focusing!" Alaric yelled, slamming his staff down. "Mostly on not dying!"
The forest trembled. Roots cracked like thunder beneath their boots, and the earth itself seemed to breathe.
Ashen stood unmoving, his coat swaying lightly as dark mist coiled around his blade. Alaric steadied himself beside him, planting his staff into the soil. The glowing red eyes on the creature's trunk blinked in eerie rhythm—watching, waiting.
The air grew thick.
It wasn't the clean, cold aura of death mana they knew—it was muddied, wild, like a storm caught underground.
Alaric's chest tightened as he gritted his teeth. "That's not just rot… something's feeding it."
"Then we end the source," Ashen said quietly.
He dashed forward before Alaric could answer. His movements were fluid, each step dissolving into a streak of shadow. The monster's vines lashed toward him, but he cut through them cleanly, black light trailing from his blade. The sound of each slice echoed through the cavernous forest.
Alaric didn't waste time. He pressed his palm to the ground and closed his eyes.
Alright, come on… focus. Balance the life, shape the death.
Golden light flickered beneath his hand, tracing through the cracks in the dirt. The rotten grass twitched, then turned vibrant green again. Mana surged outward, wrapping around the monster's roots like living chains.
The creature shrieked, a hollow, cracking sound that rattled Alaric's bones.
"Yeah! Not so tough now, huh?" Alaric yelled, sweat dripping from his brow. "That's what you get for trying to eat me, you overgrown salad!"
But the victory was short-lived. The roots began to rot from the inside out, devouring his healing mana. The air filled with a sickly, sweet stench as the corruption spread faster than he could heal it.
"Oh, great," Alaric muttered, stumbling back. "I've basically turned it into fertilizer."
Ashen landed beside him again, coat brushing against Alaric's shoulder as he swung his blade down. The sword bit deep into the creature's main trunk, sending a burst of black light upward.
"Your spells," Ashen said without looking at him, "need precision, not enthusiasm."
Alaric scowled. "I was being precise! It's not my fault nature's fighting dirty!"
Ashen's lips twitched faintly, almost like he wanted to smirk—but didn't. "Step back."
"Why—"
Before Alaric could finish, Ashen's shadow spread across the ground like ink. It rippled, deepened, then moved.
Skeletal wolves and crows crawled out from the black pool, their bones glistening faintly under the dim light. They surged toward the tree monster, tearing into its roots with silent obedience.
Alaric blinked. "Okay… that's actually kind of awesome."
"Stay behind them," Ashen ordered.
"Sure. No problem." Alaric pointed his staff forward anyway. "But if they get tired, I'm not carrying anyone back."
He inhaled, gathering his mana again. This time, he let a sliver of death energy mix into it. The golden glow darkened into a faint silver hue, soft and steady. He pointed at one of the pulsing roots.
"Let's even the odds."
The spell pulsed outward. The air shimmered, and the decayed vines stiffened, freezing mid-motion as their energy turned still.
Alaric smirked, a little proud of himself. "Heh. Who's the swamp rat now, huh?"
Ashen didn't answer—he was already moving again, cutting his way toward the creature's base.
The monster shrieked louder, splitting itself into several limbs. One shot toward Alaric with terrifying speed.
"Not again—!"
He jumped aside, tripping over a root and barely keeping his balance. His heart raced. For a moment, he thought it was over—until a hand caught his arm.
Ashen pulled him up without looking, his voice low and steady. "You're losing focus."
"Yeah, well, death vines tend to do that to me!"
"Control it."
Alaric's protest died in his throat. There was something about Ashen's tone—firm, unshaken—that cut through the panic. He tightened his grip on his staff, swallowed hard, and nodded.
"Right. No running this time."
They moved together again.
Ashen led the charge, slashing through roots that burst from the soil. Alaric followed, casting bursts of life mana to keep the corrupted ground from swallowing them whole. Their movements fell into rhythm—the same rhythm they'd learned in countless battles together.
Ashen would strike. Alaric would cover. Ashen would open a path. Alaric would light it.
And little by little, the creature began to falter.
The red eyes dimmed. The vines lost strength. The pulsing mana beneath the ground flickered, like a dying heart.
But then, the earth split open.
A massive black tendril shot upward, carrying with it a pulsing crystal half-buried in its bark. It glowed faintly, like it was breathing.
"There's the core," Ashen said, voice calm but sharp.
Alaric stared. "That's… inside the tree?"
Ashen nodded. "And it's absorbing life around it. We destroy that, the corruption ends."
Alaric took a shaky breath. His fingers tightened on his staff. "Okay. No big deal. Just gotta hit the scary crystal heart thing. Totally normal day."
The ground rumbled again, the air thick with mana. The corrupted forest wasn't done yet.
The ground trembled harder now. Dust and rotten leaves spun in the air as the creature let out a deep, echoing roar that shook the forest itself. The crystal at its center pulsed like a heart ready to burst.
Ashen raised his sword, its black edge glowing faintly blue under the death mana around them. The air grew still, heavy with power. His eyes were calm, cold, unwavering.
Alaric stood beside him, panting, staff glowing with uneven light. His clothes were torn, dirt streaked across his face, and sweat clung to his messy white hair. But his golden eyes—sharp and bright—burned with stubborn fire.
"Zombie Dad," he said between breaths, "I've got a really bad feeling about that shiny rock."
Ashen didn't take his eyes off the crystal. "You should."
"Great. Thanks for the pep talk."
A thin smile almost formed at the edge of Ashen's lips—but only almost.
"Focus," he said simply.
Alaric nodded. He held out his staff, both hands steady now. The golden glow deepened, swirling with silver streaks as life and death mana mixed together. His pulse quickened. His core burned.
The magic inside him reacted violently—the same chaotic balance he'd struggled with since birth. One side pulsed warm and bright, the other cold and heavy, both demanding control.
Ashen stepped slightly ahead, his presence grounding Alaric's rising energy. "Balance it. Let them breathe together."
"Yeah, yeah," Alaric muttered, closing his eyes. "Easy for you to say—you're not the one holding a mana blender in your chest."
He drew in a deep breath. His staff began to hum. The light intensified until it filled the clearing, washing over the corrupted trees and roots around them. The glow was both beautiful and terrifying—like dawn breaking over a graveyard.
The creature screamed again, its red eyes burning brighter. Vines surged from the ground, slashing toward them in all directions.
Ashen moved first. His shadow split apart, sending out a wave of skeletal wolves and ravens that intercepted the vines midair. Bones shattered, vines snapped, black mana clashed against green light.
"Now, Alaric!"
The boy's eyes snapped open. Golden light reflected in them like twin suns.
"Got it!"
He slammed his staff down.
A beam of pure, swirling light shot out—half gold, half silver—twisting together in a single spiral. It cut through the vines and struck the crystal dead center.
The explosion of mana was instant.
A shockwave of energy rippled outward, tearing through the corrupted forest. The red glow faded from the trees, replaced by blinding light. The monstrous roots recoiled and crumbled into ash, their remains scattering in the wind.
For a moment, everything was silent.
Then, the light faded.
The once-rotten trees now stood still and quiet. The thick, choking air had turned crisp and clear again. The black veins of corruption beneath the soil had vanished, leaving only damp earth and the smell of rain.
Alaric swayed on his feet, staff slipping from his hands. "Heh… nailed it."
Ashen caught him before he fell, one arm firm around his shoulders. "You overextended again."
"Yeah," Alaric mumbled, leaning against him, "but it looked awesome, right?"
Ashen gave him a look that landed somewhere between exasperation and quiet pride. "…Adequate."
"Pfft. You mean perfect."
He chuckled weakly, closing his eyes for a moment. The warmth of the lingering life mana surrounded them, soft and calm. For once, the forest didn't feel dangerous—it felt alive.
Ashen looked down at him, adjusting his hold carefully. "You handled both forces better this time."
Alaric cracked one eye open. "So… I'm improving?"
"Yes. Slowly."
"I'll take it."
Ashen's lips curved, just slightly. "You should."
They stood in silence for a while. The wind rustled softly through the trees, carrying away the last traces of rot.
Alaric tilted his head back, staring up at the clearing sky. The faint sunlight spilled through the leaves, touching his face.
"Guess we won," he said quietly.
Ashen's gaze followed the light. "For now."
Alaric frowned. "You always have to make things sound dramatic."
"Realistic," Ashen corrected. "Something caused this corruption. It won't be the last."
"Great," Alaric sighed. "More cursed forest adventures. Exactly what I wanted."
He yawned, rubbing his eyes. "Let's head back before Ryn starts yelling about us missing dinner."
Ashen gave a faint nod. "Agreed."
As they turned back toward the village, Alaric glanced once more over his shoulder. The forest was quiet again—but deep beneath the soil, something faintly pulsed. A whisper of mana.
It wasn't gone. Not entirely.
The balance had shifted—but the roots of darkness ran deeper than they could see.
And for a brief moment, the shadows beneath Alaric's feet flickered—
as if something inside his own power had stirred, watching the light fade.