Chapter 83
Written by Bayzo Albion
I stirred awake gradually. Morning light filtered through narrow gaps in the foliage, scattering golden flecks across my makeshift sanctuary. It warmed my skin, tickled my eyelashes, as if the forest itself was gently urging me to rise and face the day.
Abruptly, something soft yet insistent gripped my arm. The hold wasn't brutal, but commanding—like being claimed by a force that brooked no argument, informing you that resistance was futile. Before fear could even register, I was yanked out into the open, tumbling like a fledgling evicted from its nest too soon.
Before me loomed a face etched into my memory with indelible precision. Features impossible to forget: an elegant poise in every gesture, a chilling grace that sent shivers down my spine, emerald eyes swirling with weariness... and that piercing disappointment, sharper than any blade of hatred.
It was the Forest Queen.
"The world is a damn small place," the thought flashed through my mind. "Of all people, I never expected her to be the one greeting me at dawn instead of the sun. I once promised her a capitalist empire that would free her from the endless hunt for monsters. And then… I almost died like Genghis Khan — in the arms of love."
A wry, self-deprecating smirk tugged at my lips.
"Though, that's not even an explanation anymore. Just a pathetic excuse."
"What are you doing here?" she demanded, her eyes narrowing as if dissecting me for flaws.
"Sleeping," I replied honestly, shrugging nonchalantly. "And what about you?"
"Conversing with some deranged child who's managed to get lost in my forest," she said evenly, as if this were just another mundane morning encounter.
I let out an awkward chuckle and scratched the back of my head. She regarded me with a heavy gaze—not outright hostile, but laced with irritation, exhaustion, echoes of old memories, and a faint undercurrent of wary concern. In that instant, it dawned on me: the forest might be perilous, but it paled in comparison to what lay ahead.
"Who are you?" Her voice rustled like leaves heralding a storm. "And how did you end up in my domain?"
I froze. Of course, she wouldn't recognize me—not in this new body, this new life, this rewritten tale. Only I carried the weight of our shared history. Only I remembered our pact.
"I'm... just a kid. My mother... she left me here to save me," I stammered, the words tumbling out clumsily.
"You're lying," she stated softly. Not an accusation, not fury—just a simple fact.
She stepped closer, placing a slender, powerful hand on my forehead. Beneath her skin, I felt the subtle stir of mana, probing like fingers sifting through invisible threads—searching for enchantments, deceptions... or the raw truth buried within.
"You're peculiar," she said at last. "Not like the others. There's too much... interference in you. As if you've been pieced together from mismatched fragments."
"Maybe I just eat a lot," I quipped, attempting humor to diffuse the tension.
She didn't smile. Naturally.
"What's your name?"
"Balthazar," I exhaled, the name rolling off my tongue like weighted iron.
A brilliant fracture split reality, and a window materialized before my eyes:
> System: ATTENTION. Fatal error detected.
> System: Synchronization error with world data.
> System: Administrator status revoked.
> System: You are no longer a god. No longer an admin. Welcome to reality.
The world tilted subtly. The forest's sounds sharpened: the pungent scent of damp pine needles, the moist earth clinging to my soles, the labored sigh of the wind. Where once threads of cosmic laws thrummed in my chest, now yawned a void.
"You've gone pale," she observed, scrutinizing my face.
"Just tired," I muttered, forcing myself to hold her gaze.
I stood in the heart of her forest—stripped of power, devoid of miracles. Only my name remained, my frail body, and the solitary knowledge of a bargain known to me alone. This, it seemed, was my new truth.
The surroundings constricted around me. Leaves that had whispered moments ago fell silent. The air grew denser, as if the forest sensed my vulnerability and recoiled.
"Did you think I wouldn't recognize you, Gandalf of Rivia?" the Forest Queen hissed, her voice laced with centuries-old fury.
That name—my moniker from a previous existence—lashed like a whip. I swallowed hard. For the first time in this ordeal, true terror gripped me: not mere unease or danger, but a bone-chilling dread, like a cornered beast facing oblivion.
"What's... happening?" I choked out, my knees buckling.
> System: Divine protection deactivated.
> System: Death is now permanent. Upon lethal outcome, you perish. Eternally.
"So, you've become mortal, Balthazar," she said icily. "And I have no tolerance for mortals who masquerade as gods."
I groped for the familiar strands of reality—nothing. Dry needles crunched underfoot; a sharp twig sliced my skin. Pain surged, immediate and unforgiving, like a final verdict. Blood trickled warmly down my ankle—proof irrefutable: no respawns, no reversals.
"I'm not playing anymore," I rasped. "Not a god. Just... human."
"The forest doesn't entertain excuses," she retorted, advancing a step. Shadows from the branches draped her features, accentuating her sharp cheekbones. "It remembers debts. And it remembers who brought lies into its midst."
Terror propelled me backward—one step, then another. The ground beneath my feet turned treacherous, soft and yielding like quicksand threatening to swallow me whole.
"Listen... this is all a mistake... I never meant to..."
"You invaded my forest, hid from the world, and lied about your very essence," her voice rumbled like an approaching thunderstorm, heavy with judgment. "And now you beg for mercy?"
I stood silent, words failing me for the first time. No ace up my sleeve, no admin codes, no cheats, no reset button. Just me, trapped in this worthless mortal shell, vulnerable and exposed.
"If you wish to live," she said at last, her tone measured but unyielding, "prove you're worthy. Not as a god. As a human."
"Crystal clear," I replied, craning my neck to meet her gaze from below. "This twisted paradise will try to kill me in every way imaginable. By ending me, you'd just be doing the world a favor. It yearns for my erasure."
"The world doesn't 'yearn' for anything," she countered calmly. "It balances itself. Before you meet your end, fulfill your promise: free me from the chains of eternal toil."
"It'd be far simpler to just kill me now than wait for a day that might never come."
"I despise waiting," she admitted, her eyes drifting toward the dense heart of the forest. "But I know how to endure it."
I furrowed my brow, confusion mixing with the lingering fear.
"Why would you even consider trusting me?"
"I don't trust you," she replied, a flicker of something almost like pity crossing her features. "I'm observing how you breathe without power. You were a god once. Now you're stripped bare—no strength, no safeguards, no ability to rewrite reality at whim. It's intriguing: can you reshape it while being nothing? Can you forge an order where I no longer have to slaughter for equilibrium?"
"And if I can't?"
"Then you'll die. And it changes nothing. Just like your life so far."
With that, she turned on her heel and strode away, her gown billowing like echoes of a forgotten shadow, merging seamlessly with the undergrowth.
I lingered beneath the ancient tree, utterly alone for what felt like the first time in eons—devoid of power, stripped of privilege. Only a debt remained, heavy as chains around my soul.
Once her silhouette vanished among the trunks, I attempted to summon the interface mentally—nothing. No flash of light, no familiar chime of system notifications. Just the whisper of the wind through the leaves, raw and indifferent. Reality, unfiltered and unforgiving.
I clenched my fists, feeling the tremor in them, a vulnerability I'd never known.
Before, a mere snap of my fingers would bend the forest to my will—beasts bowing low, waters rising to fill my cupped hands, the very earth reshaping at my command.
Now...
I reached for a low-hanging apple—my fingers grazed air. I jumped—missed. I tumbled, my shoulder slamming into an exposed root with a jolt of pain that radiated through my arm like fire.
"That's it, then," I whispered, sprawled on the damp earth, the cool soil seeping through my clothes. "You're just a kid now. A clever, cursed, exhausted kid."
Shakily, I pushed myself up and staggered forward. My stomach growled ferociously, my legs buzzed with fatigue as if they'd been subjected to some cruel torture. I'd managed only a dozen steps before collapsing against another tree, drained beyond measure.
Instinct surged, and I flung my hand up to cast a spell. Nothing happened—no spark, no surge of energy. Just a clammy wave of primal fear washing over me, raw and animalistic. I had no idea what lurked there, and worse, no means to defend myself.
The bushes shivered again. Something pushed against the leaves, slow and deliberate, as if testing my reaction. My throat tightened. Every instinct screamed to run, yet my legs stayed rooted to the ground.
From the foliage emerged…