The treeline loomed ahead. Giant trees rose like walls, their twisted branches blotting out the morning sun. Arthur raised his hand.
"Hold."
The command cut through the silence. A thousand boots halted, the sound fading into uneasy stillness.
Arthur lifted his wrist and tapped the rune on his Oculus. A faint blue projection shimmered before his eyes, lines of ancient script flickering in the air.
Oculus Status
Location: Grimhollow Forest
Status: Enshrouded by Demonic Cult's Dark Illusion
Accessibility: Only passable on foot; all other means blocked
Mana Reading: Dense shadow mana; unstable flow; high interference
Warning: Illusion layers may distort perception of space and time
Recommendation: Employ divine-based or light-element spells for safe passage
Arthur's jaw tightened. He turned to the magi from the Tower.
"Who among you can cast Divine Light?"
The mages exchanged glances. Then, fifteen hands rose into the air.
"Good. Each of you will lead a squad of one hundred soldiers. Stay close. I will be at the front."
The clang of armor echoed as the army shifted formation. Shields locked in place, swords and spears drawn. The air was tense, but there was no hesitation in their eyes.
Arthur drew his blade from its sheath, the steel gleaming faintly. Without a word, he stepped forward into the mist. Behind him, the column moved, boots pressing into damp soil.
The march was slow. Roots twisted across the ground, stones half-hidden under moss. Before long, curses slipped from weary soldiers as feet slid out from under them.
"Careful," one man grunted, catching a comrade who stumbled.
Another lost his balance entirely, landing with a loud splash in the mud. Laughter burst briefly before discipline silenced it again.
"Eyes forward," an officer barked. "Stay alert."
But the hazards kept coming. A soldier hissed as he stubbed his toe against a hidden rock. Another tripped over a root, his spear clattering loudly against his armor. The fog distorted depth, making the forest itself feel like a maze designed to humiliate and wear them down.
An hour into the march, a cry rang out.
"Your Majesty! Here!"
Arthur strode forward on foot, pushing through the ranks. Three hundred meters ahead, soldiers circled something on the ground. The smell hit first, sour and heavy.
Arthur crouched. The body of a Valorian scout lay twisted, armor rusted with blood, eyes glassy and wide.
"…Our intelligence unit," he murmured. Then louder, for all to hear: "We go on. Stay sharp."
The deeper they went, the thicker the fog pressed in. Even the halos of Divine Light barely lit more than a few steps ahead. Shapes flickered at the edges of vision, branches that looked like hands, shadows that vanished when approached.
Arthur raised his fist. "Halt."
He closed his eyes and lowered into a crouch. Soldiers shifted nervously as their king began to meditate right there in the open.
How do I drive away this fog? He asked himself. Fog is cold meeting warmth. If I change the mana here, not into flame but into sunlight, ultraviolet, pure light…
He inhaled deeply, drawing on the ambient mana. Then, with a sharp exhale, he released it. Invisible rays spread outward, heating the mist not with fire but with radiant energy. Droplets shimmered, gathering and falling like dew. Slowly, the haze unraveled.
Gasps rose from the ranks. Trees took shape, the forest floor revealed again. A broad road appeared, paved with ancient stones hidden for centuries beneath the cult's illusion.
The army advanced cautiously. One senior mage whispered, voice tinged with awe, "He turned mana into sunlight. How is such a thing possible?"
His companion only shook his head. "I have never heard of such a concept."
The mage, distracted, bumped into a soldier ahead of him, only to realize the column had stopped altogether.
All eyes were fixed forward.
There, rising beyond the trees, stood a castle. Not a ruin, not a fort, but a towering structure, walls gleaming faintly, spires stretching high as though carved from shadow and stone.
The forest was supposed to be endless. Yet here it was, an entire castle hidden in its heart.
Whispers spread among the soldiers.
"A castle… inside a castle?" one muttered, unable to believe his own eyes.
Arthur gripped his sword tightly. His expression was calm, but his heart pounded. This was no ordinary stronghold.
It was the heart of the Demonic Cult.