The Echoing Woods lives up to its name. The deeper I venture, the more the silence becomes an illusion. The wind in the branches seems to whisper forgotten words. The snap of a twig under my boot echoes strangely, as if repeated by dozens of invisible voices. It is a living forest, imbued with an ancient and melancholic magic.
The creatures here are wilder, more dangerous. They are the true test, the first bulwark protecting the ruins. I am no longer the dominant hunter of the sewers. Here, I am both predator and prey.
I have been stalking a stealthy figure for an hour. It moves from shadow to shadow, a barely perceptible ripple of black fur. My interface has given me its name: a Ghost Cat, Level 8. A beast known for its speed and its ability to strike without a sound before vanishing. It is hunting me, thinking I am easy prey. It does not know it is dealing with a hunter of the same kind.
I find a fork in a dead tree and settle in, motionless. I activate Camouflage. The shadows of the foliage swallow me. I slow my breathing, clear my mind. I become a part of the forest, a silent wait.
The Ghost Cat, frustrated at having lost my trail, finally makes a mistake. It steps into the open, sniffing the air, its yellow eyes piercing the gloom. It is beautiful and deadly.
I do not wait. I let myself drop from my branch, a silent dead weight. I land just behind it. Before it can react, my dagger is already in motion. I activate Precise Strike. The blade sinks into the base of its skull. A single spasm, and it is over.
You have defeated [Ghost Cat]!
350 XP
Experience: 105/600 → 455/600
I am close to Level 6. The beast's essence is rich, imbued with a supernatural agility. I devour it. The wave of power is pure and cold. It doesn't strengthen my Dagger Mastery, but I feel something else awaken within me. A deeper understanding of silent movement.
Your skill [Camouflage] has been strengthened by the absorbed essence.
[Camouflage (Lvl. 1)] → [Camouflage (Lvl. 2)]
Power can be stolen in many ways.
After two days of careful progress through the forest, I see them. The Whispering Ruins. They emerge from the vegetation like the bones of a long-dead titan. Half-collapsed towers reach for the sky, covered in ivy. Ruptured walls reveal dark halls, open to the winds. A deathly silence hangs over the place, a silence so profound it absorbs all the sounds of the forest.
The main entrance is a monumental arch, but it is blocked by a fall of cyclopean rocks. There is no way through. I follow the outer walls, searching for another entrance. I find it in the form of a breach in the wall of an old chapel, where a section of the structure collapsed centuries ago.
I slip inside. The air is stagnant, heavy with the smell of ancient dust and cold stone. My Night Vision reveals a devastated hall. Stone pews are overturned, an altar is broken in two. Daylight struggles to pierce through the high, shattered stained-glass windows, creating shafts of pale light in the gloom.
The ruins are a labyrinth. Corridors intersect, some leading to dead ends, others opening onto inner courtyards where nature has reclaimed its domain. Ghostly whispers float on the air—echoes of conversations, songs, screams, trapped in the stones by the cataclysm that destroyed this place.
I proceed with infinite slowness, marking the walls with my dagger so as not to get lost. I am not just following corridors; I am following my instinct. My hunger skill, I realize, is sensitive to concentrations of power. And somewhere in this maze, there is a source of energy that draws it like a beacon in the night. The library.
After what feels like hours of silent walking, I arrive before a set of monumental double doors. Unlike the rest of the ruins, they are intact. They are made of a dark, petrified wood, reinforced with bands of time-tarnished bronze. Complex runes are carved into them, glowing with a faint blue light. This is it.
I place my hand on the door. It is cold, but I feel a vibration of power from within. This is the threshold.
As I prepare to push, I hear a sound behind me. A faint clatter.
I spin around, dagger in hand.
In the middle of the great hall before the library, a pile of bones that had been littering the floor begins to move. The bones rise into the air, assembling themselves with unnatural precision. A ribcage forms, then a spine, legs, arms. A skull settles on top, and in its empty sockets, two points of ice-blue light ignite.
The skeletal figure stands up. It is taller than a man, its long, thin bones giving it a macabre grace. It holds no weapon. Its bony hands are empty.
Name: Skeletal Guardian (The Bone Lady)
Level: ??
Status: Vigilant
Level question mark. My blood runs cold. This is a threat level that the system itself either cannot or will not quantify for me. It is an abyss.
The Guardian does not charge. It tilts its head slightly, as if studying me. Then, a voice resonates, not from its jaw, but directly in my mind. A woman's voice, ancient, weary, but firm as steel.
"Stop. Turn back, mortal. This sanctuary is not for you."
Her words confirm Elric's story. She is not a rampaging monster. She is a sentinel.
"I have not come to plunder," I answer aloud, my own voice sounding incongruous in the silence. "I have come to learn."
"Knowledge is protected. It is not offered to those who enter by force and trespass. Only the scholars of the academy had the right to cross this threshold. And the academy is no more."
"Then this knowledge is lost forever, locked behind this door?"
"It is preserved. That is my duty. An eternal duty."
I grip the hilt of my dagger. Brute force is useless, Elric told me. She rebuilds herself. Think like a river. The bird can fly over the rock.
I have to test her. Understand her limits.
I do not attack her. I feint. I dash to the left, as if to try and get around her to the door.
Her reaction is instant and terrifying. She doesn't move an inch. She simply raises a hand. The stone floor beneath my feet cracks, and a cage of bone erupts from the ground, trapping me in a split second. The bone bars are thick and solid.
"Violence is a crude response," her voice echoes in my head. "Cunning, equally so. You shall not pass."
I am trapped. The cage is strong, I can feel it. But that is not what terrifies me. It is the ease with which she did it. Effortlessly. This is an ancient, powerful magic, tied to this very place.
She could kill me whenever she wished. She could make a bone spear erupt from my own chest. But she doesn't. She merely contains me.
Elric was right. Force cannot break her.
Anya was right. This is a tomb.
And my simple ploy was a pathetic failure.
I am on my knees, in a cage of bone, under the vacant gaze of death itself. The hunger for power led me here, and for the first time, I am facing an obstacle I cannot devour, cannot stab.
My knife would not be enough. To overcome this obstacle, I would have to think differently. I would have to become the bird.