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Ch 7 - When the Forest Bows
🕑 Added 2025-05-22 15:12:27 +0000 UTCRoy and the rest of the party froze in place. Their breathing quieted. Even their heartbeats seemed to still. Every movement stopped as they tried to merge with the environment. Clearly, it was an attempt to deceive whatever threat was approaching.
I wonder what's coming that has them this scared.
I considered moving my vision ahead, but leaving Roy and his party outside my field of view wasn’t something I was willing to risk.
I didn’t care much if some of them died, as long as most of them survived, but Roy was completely different. His death wasn’t just a matter of wasting 0.5 Divinity Points. He was my first true investment, the first living symbol of my influence in the tribe. If he died during his very first hunt, it would make me look weak. That, I couldn’t afford.
So I stayed focused on him, waiting patiently for whatever had shaken them so deeply to appear.
Then the forest floor began to tremble. Not just a rumble, a full-bodied quake, like a Balrog had just escaped the Mines of Moria.
But it wasn’t the shaking that intrigued me. It was the forest itself.
Insects scattered. Smaller plants recoiled, dimming their glow. Even trees bent away. The entire forest was shifting to avoid whatever was coming.
And then, it appeared, entering my view like something torn straight from a nightmare.
A towering figure, its body resembling twisted bark stretched into sinew, walked with slow steps toward the Velmoryns. Glowing golden veins pulsed just beneath its surface like embers buried under skin. It was so huge that as it walked, it pushed trees aside like they were nothing but tall grass.
Its eyes glowed, not gold like its veins, but deep, molten crimson. And they weren’t just looking, they were scanning, sweeping the forest with unsettling intent.
Now, this... this is a monster worth slaying.
My mind raced with options.
Should I just use Destruction and eliminate it instantly?
I was confident I could kill it with ease. But the thought of watching Roy’s reaction, seeing how he would respond to something so far beyond him, made me hesitate.
Saving him will be simple, so why should I rush it?
So I went against my initial impulse and held back, deciding to just observe.
The creature kept walking until it reached where the Velmoryns stood, and then stopped, staring at them.
Roy hesitated. He clearly understood that the creature had seen them, but he was still hoping it would ignore them and continue on its way. I could sense the emotions running through him. He was tense, but even in this moment, there was no despair.
He is definitely worth saving.
My decision to protect Roy at any cost solidified even further.
The creature was done watching. I didn’t know what it had been expecting, maybe an offering, or for the Velmoryns to simply kill themselves, but whatever it wanted, it didn’t get. At some point, it took a step toward them, but this time not a slow one. This step was filled with determination and unmistakable killing intent.
"Retreat toward the tribe! I shall draw Kurraghal away!" Roy shouted, vanishing from sight. A heartbeat later, he used Phantom Step to appear behind the creature and fired a glowing, mana-charged arrow straight into its back.
The arrow exploded on impact, lighting up the thick hide with a burst of energy, but Kurraghal barely reacted. It didn’t flinch. Didn’t even seem hurt. If anything, it just looked annoyed.
And then it turned.
The moment its eyes locked onto Roy, I felt the shift. The others were no longer its concern. He had its full attention now.
Roy fired again, fast and focused.
I’d expected Kurraghal to be easy to escape. But it did not even need to close the range.
Vines slithered out from underfoot, chasing after Roy like they had minds of their own. His arrows were just pissing it off more and more. But that was the point.
He wasn’t trying to win. He was trying to pull it away. And the moment he sensed Kurraghal’s focus had fully shifted and his party had made it out of danger, Roy turned and ran.
That should’ve been the end of it. But Kurraghal wasn’t done surprising me.
It leapt.
For something so massive, its motion was impossibly fluid. If Roy hadn’t used Phantom Step right then and there, he would’ve been crushed instantly.
But Roy was made to run.
His agility, his control, the way he read the terrain - it was almost beautiful to watch. He darted through roots and branches like he instinctively knew where to go, slipping just beyond reach every time the beast lunged.
He was slowly gaining distance. But I knew it wouldn’t last. Roy didn’t have the stamina to keep that up forever. He might’ve been fast, but he didn’t have Kurraghal’s endurance. Sooner or later, his legs would fail him.
And he knew it, too.
I could feel it - his tension, his urgency. He wasn’t just running anymore. He was searching. Looking for a path that would save him.
That drive, that need to survive, was the only reason I hadn’t stepped in yet.
Still, Kurraghal was picking up speed. It wasn’t catching him, not yet, but the gap was closing in.
Then, it reached to the side and grabbed a tree, small by forest standards, but still a full-grown tree. Its thick roots tore from the ground with a wet crack as Kurraghal yanked it free like it was nothing more than a twig.
And then it threw it.
The whole trunk flew, spinning once before hurtling toward Roy like a giant spear.
Luckily, Roy’s perception and dexterity was equally amazing.
He pivoted hard, cutting left, slipping between two trees like a shadow. And this time, I could tell that it wasn’t random. He wasn’t just dodging anymore. He had a destination.
I followed his path, tracing where he was headed, and saw it. Half-hidden under moss and earth, there was an old ruin nestled deep in the forest. Only the entrance was still visible. The rest had sunk into the ground long ago.
And the closer I looked, the more I felt something faint but familiar, a very mild pull.
I've felt this before.
It didn’t take long to remember. That feeling was just like the one I had when I first saw the statue of the Goddess.
If that statue was her last breath, this ruin felt like a memory that hadn’t died yet. Something there still remembered her. And remembered me.
I instantly got excited. Now, I didn’t just want Roy to survive, I wanted him to enter that place and explore it.
But that excitement wasn’t shared by Kurraghal.
The moment Roy slipped through the narrow entrance, the beast let out a furious roar and slammed against the ruin’s outer wall. Stone cracked, dust fell, but the opening was too small. Its hulking form couldn’t even fit its head inside.
The ruins stood, firmly making a declaration to Kurraghal - You Shall Not Pass!
It still kept trying, though - clawing, smashing, tearing at the stone, but the structure held. Even its magical vines couldn’t pierce the entrance. Roy was already gone, slipping deeper into the ruin’s shadowed halls.
The interior of the dungeon was simple, but not in a way that felt unfinished, more like a forgotten monument carved with purpose and left behind by time. The walls were built from sturdy white stone. There were no carvings, no murals, no faded inscriptions hinting at who had once walked here. Just moss creeping across the stone, as if nurtured by the last lingering traces of sentient presence.
Roy stepped inside slowly, and as the muffled roars of Kurraghal faded behind him, he finally confirmed he was no longer in danger. His earlier, frantic pace eased into careful movement. Gone was the reckless sprint, he began to study each step before taking it, his eyes scanning the floor, the walls, even the ceiling.
The change in his behavior told me everything I needed to know – dungeons like these, filled with traps, were not rare in this world.
Still, caution wasn’t always enough.
His next step triggered a sharp click. A stone shifted in the wall, and an old, rusted mechanism sprang to life. A hidden crossbow fired, but the bolt shot wide, barely grazing past Roy’s leg. Not because he dodged it. The old trap had simply malfunctioned, its timing off, the worn parts misaligned by age.
“I failed to account for traps,” Roy muttered, irritation flashing across his face. He was likely angry at himself for being so careless.
He reached into his pouch and pulled out a small vial. Dipping a finger into the liquid, he drew a symbol onto his forehead – a violet-colored eye.
I couldn’t be certain what it was, but the moment it settled against his skin, his movements changed. It was probably a ward of some kind. Likely to help him see traces of magic.
Whatever it did, it worked. His steps became more confident, his movement quicker and sharper.
It didn’t take long for him to reach the end of the stone corridor, where a simple wooden door separated him from the next chamber.
I wasn’t about to let him walk in blind and trigger yet another mechanism.
With a single thought, I extended my field of vision beyond the door, and what I saw on the other side was nothing like I expected.
The room was illuminated by glowing cyan crystals hanging along the walls like eerie torches, their soft light casting faint reflections across the smooth stone floor, which glistened faintly from thin streams of water slowly trailing down the walls. The walls, unlike the entrance, were no longer bare, they were carved with faded scenes, a worn history preserved in stone and half-swallowed by time.
Figures shown on these walls were tall and elegant with pointy ears – Velmoryns, or perhaps even elves, though at this point the distinction felt irrelevant.
The story these paintings told was of these figures waging a war against creatures I couldn’t quite make out, as whatever they looked like had long been worn away by moss and time. The next scene showed their defeat, and the one after that depicted them turning their backs on God. The beings carved into the stone were no longer beautiful or graceful. They were scarred, disfigured, ugly, in short.
As I studied the engravings, I heard the door creak behind me. Roy stepped into the chamber, moving slowly toward the center. One of his steps triggered a sharp click, but this time, it wasn’t a trap. He had stepped on a bone, cracking it beneath his weight.
There was a skeleton lying on the ground, dressed in what was now a grayish rag. But the faded and worn patterns made it clear this had once been a beautiful white robe or dress.
“The priestess’s clothes,” Roy murmured, brushing his fingers gently over the fabric. He clearly knew more about all of this than I did.
He reached down and removed the diadem from the skull, pausing. Then, he pressed a soft kiss to it, and tucked it carefully into his pouch, like honoring a relic, not just taking it.
Then he extended his hand toward the staff beside the skeleton, and I caught a faint tremble in his fingers.
Okay, this place is clearly tied to the Velmoryns.
If I had any doubt before, it was gone now. This ruin was connected to the Goddess. I waited, watching as Roy turned his attention to the engravings above the skeleton. He studied them in silence, leaving me to guess based on what I could feel from him.
First, there was pride. Then, a mix of rage and regret. And finally, disappointment, followed by a faint hint of guilt.
If I had to guess, the engraving told the story of the Velmoryns during the time they worshipped the Goddess.
They were likely a strong and noble race once, which would explain the pride. Then came the war, hence the bitter rage. The regret for what was lost. But I couldn’t quite make sense of the disappointment. Sadness, sure. But guilt and disappointment?
After a while, I gave up trying to interpret it through Roy and decided to study the room myself.
That’s when I noticed the platform at the far end of the chamber.
How the hell did I miss this?
I stared, confused by how I’d overlooked something so obvious. Because lying atop that platform was a body I felt a strong, undeniable connection to.
It wasn’t sleeping.
It wasn’t alive.
Yet, it wasn’t dead either.
Kurraghal
