By the time they reached the camp, dawn was just beginning to break — faint gold bleeding into the gray sky. The once-lively campsite now looked like a battlefield. Several tents had collapsed; the earth was scorched in places, and the air still reeked faintly of burnt scales.

A handful of knights were on guard, weary and battered. When they spotted Elisha, their eyes went wide.

"Your Highness!" one of them shouted, stumbling to his feet.

Ronald was on them within seconds, his massive frame moving with surprising speed. The relief in his face was visible, though quickly masked behind a scolding glare.

"Your Highness," he said, dropping to one knee. "You're safe… thank the heavens." Then his tone turned sharp. "What were you thinking, wandering off like that? Do you have any idea what—"

Elisha cut him off softly, her voice calm but hoarse. "I didn't wander off, Ronald. I was thrown."

He paused, looking at the dirt stains, the torn sleeves, and the faint red marks along her arms — evidence enough. His jaw clenched. "…Understood."

Then his gaze shifted past her — landing squarely on Oliver, who looked like he'd just crawled through a chimney.

"You." Ronald's voice dropped, deep and dangerous. "You were with her."

"Yeah," Oliver said casually, dusting off his coat. "Found her bleeding out. Patched her up. You're welcome, by the way."

The knight's grip tightened on his sword hilt. "Watch your tone. That's the Princess of—"

"I know," Oliver interrupted, unfazed. "And she'd be dead if I hadn't been there."

Ronald's glare burned for a long moment, but Elisha stepped forward before things could escalate. "He's right," she said, her voice firm. "He saved me, Ronald. That's an order — stand down."

The captain hesitated, then bowed his head. "…As you command."

A small murmur rippled among the knights — whispers of surprise and relief.

Meanwhile, Isolde crossed her arms beside Oliver, muttering just loud enough for him to hear, "You just can't help provoking people, can you?"

"What? I was being polite," Oliver said, half-grinning.

"That was your polite tone?"

"Yeah. You should hear my rude one."

She rolled her eyes, but there was a faint smile tugging at her lips.

Elisha turned toward the others. "How are the wounded?"

"Stable," Ronald replied. "Thanks to Miss Ariana's healing earlier, most will recover. But we've lost three men."

A grim silence followed. Even Oliver's grin faded.

"I see," Elisha said quietly. "Then… we'll rest here until noon. No one moves without full strength."

The knights bowed, immediately setting to work repairing tents and cleaning up the site.

Ariana hurried over, nearly tripping in her rush. "You're okay!" she said to Oliver, then looked at Elisha and dropped into an awkward half-bow. "I mean—Your Highness!"

Elisha smiled faintly. "Thank you, Ariana. You fought bravely."

"I—I did?"

"She's just being polite," Isolde teased, earning a glare from Ariana and a small laugh from Oliver.

For a moment, despite the exhaustion and death that lingered in the air, the camp felt almost… normal again.

But Ronald's tone quickly cut through the fragile calm.

"We can't stay long," he said to Elisha, his voice low. "The monster's carcass will attract others. By nightfall, this place will be crawling with predators."

"I know," she said. Her eyes lifted toward the forest ahead — the endless dark expanse waiting beyond. "But we're close now. I can feel it."

Oliver raised a brow. "Close to what, exactly?"

Elisha met his gaze, her expression unreadable. "The reason we came here."

That tone — quiet, certain — sent a chill through him that had nothing to do with the morning air.

He glanced toward Isolde, who was already watching the princess with narrowed eyes.

"Looks like this adventure just got a lot more complicated," she murmured.

Oliver exhaled slowly, stretching his sore shoulders. "Yeah… and something tells me this is only the beginning."

The rising sun spilled over the treetops, painting the clearing gold. But the forest beyond still loomed in shadows — ancient, waiting, and watching.

And as they began preparing to move again, none of them realized just how deep they were already in the jaws of something far greater than monsters.

*****

The forest had changed.

By the time the group moved again, the trees were older — their trunks twisted into impossible shapes, bark blackened as though burned yet pulsing faintly with light beneath the surface. The canopy thickened until sunlight only managed to slip through in shards of gold. Every step forward was followed by the echo of something unseen, rustling in the dark.

It felt… alive.

Even the air was different — heavier, humming with mana so dense that Ariana's skin tingled every few seconds.

"This place…" she whispered, glancing at the faint shimmer clinging to her fingertips. "It's like the forest itself is saturated with magic."

Isolde nodded, her expression sharp. "A living mana field. Very few regions can sustain one this strong."

Oliver walked ahead, brushing vines aside with his sword. "You mean it's dangerous."

"Of course it is," she replied flatly. "Mana this dense warps nature — mutates it. That's how monsters like the drake appear in the first place."

The knights around them shifted uneasily, gripping their weapons tighter.

At the front, Ronald raised his hand, halting the column. "We're entering uncharted terrain," he said. "Keep formation tight. Eyes open."

They advanced cautiously, boots crunching over roots and fallen leaves. The silence was deafening — not even birds sang here. Only the sound of the wind brushing through dead branches.

Hours passed before the first sign appeared.

"Captain," one of the knights called, pointing ahead.

A massive stone — half-buried under moss — jutted out from the ground. It was covered in carvings so old they looked more like natural cracks than script. But when the sunlight touched them, faint symbols glimmered in response — ancient runes, pulsing weakly as though trying to wake from centuries of sleep.

Elisha stepped closer, brushing her gloved hand across the surface. "This is it," she said softly. "The records mentioned a boundary stone. My ancestor's expedition used these to mark their path."

Isolde crouched down, inspecting the runes. "They're ancient… but still active. Whoever carved these knew what they were doing. The mana here's still flowing through the lines."

Oliver squinted. "You can read them?"

Isolde glanced up. "No. They're not modern runic script. It's pre-Empire era — something we only find in ruins older than recorded history."

Oliver's eyes glowed faintly for a moment — the trait of his Linguist class activating instinctively.

"I can," he said quietly.

Isolde's brows lifted. "You can?"

The symbols shifted, rearranging themselves in his mind until they formed words — old, resonant, each carrying weight and memory.

He read aloud, his voice echoing through the still air.

"Beyond this stone lies the path of those who sought the Heart of the World.

Only the strong of will shall pass."

A chill rippled through the group.

"The Heart of the World?" Ariana murmured. "That sounds like—"

"A myth," Ronald cut in firmly. "An old fairy tale told to scare children. We move on."

But Elisha's eyes lingered on the runes, her expression hard. "No. It's real. My ancestor mentioned it in his expedition records — a source of power, older than the kingdom itself. If we find it…"

She didn't finish, but everyone understood. It could change everything.

They moved deeper, following the faint trail of stones that appeared every few hundred meters — some cracked, some broken, each one humming faintly.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the world grew stranger still. Luminescent vines crawled up trees, glowing blue like veins of liquid light. Pools of shimmering water reflected the canopy like mirrors — except in the reflection, the stars above moved.

"This is getting creepy," Oliver muttered, stepping carefully around one of the pools.

Ariana whispered, "I think we're walking inside a barrier."

Isolde nodded. "A containment field — ancient and powerful. It's preserving this region, keeping it untouched for centuries."

"Then whatever's in here…" Oliver said slowly, "…was meant to stay locked in."

Silence followed his words. Even the knights seemed unwilling to breathe too loudly.

By the time they made camp, the unease had settled into everyone's bones.

Elisha sat apart from the others, staring into the flames. The golden light flickered across her face — no longer the polished image of a princess, but a woman carrying the weight of legacy and fear.

Oliver joined her quietly. "You were right. There's something buried here, isn't there?"

She nodded. "Yes. But the question is whether it's a treasure… or a curse."

Behind them, the forest whispered again — soft, rhythmic, almost like breathing.

Oliver's hand went to his sword instinctively. "Tell me that's the wind."

Isolde's voice came from behind him, low and grim. "That's not the wind. Something's watching us."

The campfire flickered — once, twice — then the flames turned blue.

A cold breeze swept through the clearing, carrying faint voices in a language none of the knights could understand. But Oliver could.

"Turn back… before the Heart claims you too…"

His blood ran cold.

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