The light from the small campfire lit by the adventurers danced against the towering walls of ancient trees. Under the shadow of primordial roots, Keyzier Almon slowly fluttered his eyelids open. A sharp throb pulsed through his left forehead, as if a hammer were repeatedly striking his skull. He blinked, struggling to adjust his vision to the deepening darkness of the forest.
The first things he caught sight of were unfamiliar figures—a man in silver armor, a woman in a white robe, and several others who looked formidable. However, memories of blood and goblin blades suddenly jolted his consciousness.
"Novan!" he called out hoarsely.
Ignoring his own pain, Keyzier crawled toward the figure lying not far from him. Donovan was still unconscious. His best friend's face was deathly pale, a stark contrast to his red hair, which was now dull with dust.
"Novan, you're still alive, right? Come on, open your eyes! Don't joke around like this!" Keyzier shook Donovan's shoulder with trembling hands. Tears began to well in his sea-blue eyes. He could not bear the thought that the foolish journey he had proposed might end in the death of his best friend.
Hearing the sound of sobbing, the adventurers who had been standing guard immediately approached.
"W-who are you?!" Keyzier gasped. He instantly positioned himself in front of Donovan's body, spreading his small arms in a defensive stance. Despite his small, injured frame, the look in his eyes showed a fierce determination to protect Donovan from any threat.
Ronan, the party leader, took a step forward while crossing his arms. "Calm down, kid. We're the ones who saved you and your friend. We mean no harm. If we had bad intentions, we would have left you and your friend to that goblin pack long ago!"
Ronan's overly blunt and harsh words only made Keyzier more tense. But before Ronan could say another word...
[SMACK!]
A jeweled wooden staff landed squarely on the crown of Ronan's head. The sound of the impact was loud enough to make the man shriek in pain as he clutched his head. "What was that for, Rin?! That really hurt!" Ronan protested.
"Of course it hurt! Do you want me to give you a bonus hit?" Rin, the healer, snapped back, her eyes flashing with anger.
"W-what did I do wrong?"
"You're still asking? You're scaring the child with that face and those harsh words! At least show some empathy, you idiot!" Rin huffed, then turned her attention to Keyzier.
Rin approached slowly, lowering herself to Keyzier's height. She raised her empty hands to show she held no weapon. "Forgive that fool, child. My name is Rin. We are adventurers who happened to be passing by. You are safe now. I have already treated your friend's wounds."
Keyzier looked into Rin's gentle face. His vigilance slowly faded, replaced by an overwhelming exhaustion. He slumped down weakly beside Donovan.
Once the atmosphere had calmed down a bit, Rin asked Keyzier to explain how two small children had ended up in the heart of the Death Forest. Through a voice occasionally broken by sobs, Keyzier told them everything—about his desire to see the outside world, how they got lost while playing, and the horrific moment when the goblin pack cornered and wounded them.
"I see..." Rin sighed deeply, affectionately stroking Keyzier's ash-white hair. "At least you and your friend are alright now. Let's get out of here before the night truly swallows this forest. We will take you home."
Just as Keyzier was about to stand, Oliver, the scout who had been leaning against a tree, suddenly stood bolt upright. His expression shifted drastically. He closed his eyes, focusing his sense of hearing.
"Everyone, get ready! Protect the kids!" Oliver commanded in a low but urgent tone. "There are many presences moving very fast toward us. A large number!"
In an instant, the mood shifted to combat mode. Ronan drew his longsword, his party member also ready to battle, and Rin stood in front of Keyzier and the still-unconscious Donovan. The Death Forest was no place for relaxation; every second here was a gamble with death.
All eyes were fixed on the darkness of the dense bushes. The rustle of leaves and the sound of steady footsteps began to grow louder. However, instead of monstrous creatures, a group of men carrying torches and weapons emerged from the shadows.
At the very front, an elderly man with a powerful aura led the group. Ronan called out warily, "Who are you?!"
"I am Keywiln Almon. I am the head of the village located about two kilometers from this forest!" the old man shouted, breathless.
Seeing the figure he knew so well, Keyzier's mental defenses completely collapsed. "Grandfather!" he cried out. He ran like a bolt of lightning and threw himself into his grandfather's arms. "Grandpa... Novan is over there... Novan got hurt protecting me..."
Keywiln Almon hugged his grandson tightly, letting Keyzier's tears break against his chest. "Calm down, Keyzier. Grandpa is here. Everything will be alright."
Keywiln then signaled to one of the villagers. The man raised his hand toward the sky, and a ball of white light shot from his fingertips, exploding in the air like a brilliant firework. The signal was a command for the other search parties to gather immediately.
Ronan's group could only watch in awe at the villagers' coordination. They didn't look like ordinary, panicked farmers. The way they held their weapons and utilized magic showed that they were no ordinary villagers.
Three minutes later, the clearing became crowded. The other search parties arrived, including Keyzier's and Donovan's parents. Sarah, Keyzier's mother, immediately hugged her son hysterically.
Meanwhile, Donovan's parents rushed toward Rin, who was still cradling their son. "My son... Donovan..." his mother sobbed as she saw the bandages on the boy's back.
"He has passed the critical stage." Rin explained calmly. "But he needs total rest. The wound on his back is quite deep."
A sense of relief washed over the clearing, but not for Keyzier. He stood frozen beside his grandfather, staring at his hands and clothes which were still stained with Donovan's blood. Every sob from Donovan's mother felt like a dagger piercing his heart. He was drowning in a deep sense of guilt, feeling that he was the cause of all this suffering.
The joy of finding the two children was short-lived. The forest's silence was disturbed once more, but this time not by human footsteps. Low growls, the snorting of wild beasts, and the sound of scales scraping against the ground began to echo from all directions.
The light signal fired into the sky had turned out to be a double-edged sword. The bright light and magical energy in the darkness of the Death Forest were a dinner invitation for predators.
"Damn it!" Oliver muttered, looking around. "These monsters were attracted to that magic signal."
From the darkness, glowing red eyes emerged. Six-legged forest wolves, giant venomous spiders, Red Boars, Black Grizzlies, and even a few small Ogres began to surround them. There were dozens, perhaps hundreds in the deeper shadows.
A suffocating tension gripped the adventurers. However, the villagers' reaction was entirely unexpected. Keywiln Almon, the village head, released his hug from Keyzier. He stood tall, gripping the hilt of his dagger firmly.
The other villagers showed no fear. On the contrary, they smirked. Some began to stretch their neck muscles, while others checked the sharpness of their spears.
"Well... we're surrounded by a pack of monsters!" shouted one of the villagers, a large, muscular man carrying a high-quality spear. "It seems the Death Forest wants to give us a gift for visiting."
"It's harvest time, guys! It's been a while since we feasted on monster meat!" another called out in a tone that sounded almost cheerful.
The adventurers from Ronan's group looked at each other in confusion. They were professional adventurers, yet they had never seen villagers face a monster siege in the Death Forest with such humor and bravery.
"What is with these villagers?" Oliver whispered in disbelief. "It's as if they aren't in the most dangerous forest in the world."
Keywiln Almon looked forward toward a giant wolf attempting to leap at him. With a movement so fast it was difficult for the naked eye to follow, the grandfather unsheathed his dagger.
Slash!
The wolf's head fell before it could even make a sound. Keywiln sheathed his blade and turned to his grandson, who was still terrified.
"Watch closely, Keyzier." the grandfather said in a low, authoritative voice. "This is the reason our village has survived on the edge of this forest for hundreds of years. Never fear the darkness, for we are the light that will pierce it."
Oliver watched Keywiln and thought to himself: Is that old man an assassin? Incredible! Even though I'm an assassin myself, the gap between my strength and his is immense.