Chapter 40
Written by Bayzo Albion
We followed the Forest Queen, my double and I.
She led us down a spiraling staircase carved into the tree's core, steps winding tighter with each descent. The air grew colder, walls frosting over with crystalline hoarfrost that sparkled under flickering torchlight, casting dancing shadows that whispered of hidden perils. Our footsteps echoed dully, punctuated by the occasional crackle of ice, as if the tree itself strained to exhale but remained forever trapped.
"I adore this air of mystery," my double giggled, rubbing his hands together in mock enthusiasm. "Bet there's some kinky dungeon down here. I've got a killer vibe about it."
I snorted. His "vibes" were impeccable—right up until they got us skewered.
At last, the stairs ended, depositing us in a vast subterranean chamber. Everything gleamed white—not snow, but a thick rime of frost encasing walls, floor, and ceiling, sucking the warmth from our bones like a thief in the night. The chill wasn't mere cold; it invaded, leaching life with every breath, leaving a metallic tang on the tongue.
But the true horror sprawled before us: mountains of monster carcasses, bloodied heaps of flesh and bone fused in frozen gore. The stench defied the frost—a cloying miasma of iron and decay, thick as rust coating the palate, inescapable.
"I've seen you hoarding... useless trinkets," the Forest Queen said, pausing delicately, as if sparing me the indignity of being called a scavenger. "So, consider yourself employed. Clear out this... refuse from my vault."
I surveyed the macabre tableau, a grin tugging at my lips despite the grimness.
"If you'll forgive the stone golem incident... I'll gladly haul away all this meat and bone."
"Ah!" She waved dismissively, as if swatting an irksome fly. "Forget it. That brute was worthless. I was merely... amusing myself."
"Figures," I shrugged, unsurprised. Her games were as capricious as the wind.
"Well then," her voice echoed from above, bouncing off the icy walls like distant thunder, "get to it!"
And with that, she vanished, leaving us amid the glacial crypt—steeped in cold, blood, and the ghosts of countless slaughters.
My double exhaled loudly, turning to me with a wry smirk.
"At least it won't be boring."
I eyed the nearest carcass, its fangs longer than my blade, glinting ominously in the frost-light.
"That's putting it mildly..."
– – –
"All women are the same," my double whined, flinging a gnawed bone aside with a disgusted flick. It clattered against the frozen wall, echoing in the cavernous chill. "They dangle their charms, exploit a guy's good nature, and bam! Next thing you know, you're scrubbing floors in some icy tomb."
"You wanted passion, but got grunt work instead. Life's full of curveballs," I shrugged, wiping sweat from my brow despite the biting cold that seeped into my bones like an uninvited guest.
"But we're in paradise, damn it!" He threw his hands up wildly, nearly clipping a hanging carcass that swayed ominously, a chunk of frozen meat sloughing off with a wet, nauseating *plop*. The air was thick with the metallic tang of blood and the sharp bite of frost, a grim perfume that clung to everything. "This is supposed to be the land where wishes snap into reality! Instead..." His eyes swept over the towering piles of gore, disgust twisting his features. "We're slaving away like common laborers!"
After ten minutes of his pointless griping—his voice bouncing off the ice-encrusted walls like a petulant echo—we finally buckled down. Sure, I could have waved my hand and banished the whole bloody mess into my spatial pocket in one fell swoop. But oddly enough, I craved the slowness of it all. The tactile ritual: fingers sinking into the resilient chill of cooling muscle, the satisfying crunch of ice crystals shattering under pressure, the heavy, sodden tear as chunks peeled away from the frost-bound floor. There was a primal authenticity to it, a raw connection to the labor that no lazy spell could replicate—a reminder that even in this enchanted realm, some truths demanded sweat and strain.
"We're loaded!" my double suddenly crowed, plunging elbow-deep into a mound of bones, his face lighting up like a kid in a candy shop. Shards of ivory and cartilage scattered around him, glinting dully in the cavern's dim, ethereal glow. "This haul's endless! Look—troll horn! And this... ooh, bet it's an ice golem's core!"
"Luck's a double-edged sword," I cautioned, heaving another slab into the void of my storage. "Ever hear what happens to those fortune favors too fondly?"
"Forget that doom-and-gloom crap!" He beamed, undeterred, waving a vertebrae like a macabre scepter. "With this stockpile, we could indulge in carnal bliss for a year straight—no foraging, no recovery worries. Just pure, uninterrupted ecstasy." He winked playfully, his grin laced with that familiar lecherous spark, as if the frozen slaughterhouse were the backdrop to some grand seduction.
"Shut it," I snapped, hurling a severed hoof at him in exasperation—his mood swings were giving me whiplash. "You're getting on my last nerve..."
A thunderous rumble from above cut me off mid-sentence. Ice shards rained down from the ceiling, tinkling and skittering across the floor like brittle glass. The walls vibrated with deep, ominous tremors, and a fresh scent pierced the stale air—warm, coppery... the unmistakable reek of spilled blood, hot and vital.
My double froze, his idiot grin faltering. "Bet that's her! Maybe she reconsidered the 'work' and—"
"You've got a one-track mind," I interrupted, snatching up a bloodied knife from the pile, its edge still keen despite the gore. I glanced upward as another muffled thud reverberated through the chamber. "And it's about to bite you in the ass."
One more impact—and the ceiling fractured like pond ice under a boot heel. Debris cascaded in a frozen avalanche, and with it plummeted something colossal, crashing into the meat heaps below with earth-shaking force.
First, I registered the claws: obsidian-black, dagger-length, curving wickedly. Then the eyes—glowing a sickly yellow, like lanterns in a crypt—and a maw exhaling fetid steam, reeking of rot and decay that made my stomach churn.
The beast landed atop the carcasses, the floor quaking beneath us. Ice spiderwebbed under its hooves, and frozen bodies exploded outward like rag dolls in a storm.
"O-oh..." my double drawled, backing toward the wall, his bravado evaporating. "Company's here. And I doubt it's for tea and chit-chat..."
I shoved him aside just as those claws sliced the air where my head had been moments before, the whoosh sending a chill wind across my face.
"No stuffing this one in the pocket," I muttered, drawing my sword with a metallic rasp. "Old-school it is."
The monster unleashed a guttural roar that shook the walls, dislodging another icy boulder from above. It lunged faster than its bulk suggested possible, sweeping away half the hanging carcasses in a single, devastating arc.
It charged me head-on, and I rolled aside at the last second, the ground splintering like fragile crystal under its assault. My sword felt puny against that wall of fangs and fury, but I had speed on my side—a fleeting edge in this frozen arena.
I feinted left, then right, baiting it into a wild swing that left it off-balance. As it barreled past, I thrust upward, burying the blade in the joint between neck and shoulder. It howled—a bone-rattling cry—but didn't crumple. Rage only fueled it, yellow eyes blazing with primal hate.
"Come on..." I gasped, yanking the sword free in a spray of dark ichor.
It pounced again, straight at me. I stepped into the fray, sliding beneath its underbelly, and slashed upward with every ounce of strength. The blade carved through flesh like butter, eliciting a ragged, gurgling bellow. The beast toppled sideways, thrashing in its death throes, the chamber filling with the wet slaps of its final convulsions. One last strike silenced it forever.
**System:** You have slain the Black Behemoth (Level 3). Experience: +100
I leaned on my sword, chest heaving, the blade slick with viscous blood that steamed in the cold air.
"Well... that was a riot," my double quipped, peeking out from behind a bone pile, his voice shaky despite the sarcasm.
Before I could retort, the Forest Queen's mocking lilt echoed from afar, as if woven through the tree's very veins: "Sorry, boys—I was too lazy to finish it off myself, so I ported it your way. Thanks for the cleanup!"
I tilted my head back, glaring at the fractured ceiling. "Love your sense of humor."
My double, rummaging through his loot sack without looking up, added: "Next time, send something cute. Like a bunny with a big heart and doe eyes."
Ten minutes ticked by. We'd stashed half the carcasses into storage when a suspicious creak groaned from above. I froze. My double glanced up, squinting... and grinned.
"Feels like she's dumping again."
The ceiling split, and something verdant and writhing tumbled down, unfurling like a massive bloom to reveal... a cannon. Organic, twisted from woody fibers and draped in moss, it pulsed with unnatural life.
"You're kidding..." I breathed.