The dirt road, which at first looked like a frail artery in the body of a dead forest, grew clearer and more solid with every step I took. The black trees, though still bearing the grim mark of House Verton, began to give way to more open spaces, and the air itself felt less dense—less saturated with the scent of death and despair that had haunted me for days.
The "Eye of Truth," now a part of how I perceived the world, still flickered with faint warnings here and there—a strange aura around a spiral plant, or stagnant energy within a rocky crevice—but it was nothing like the cosmic horror I had seen deep within the forest. The faint headache behind my eyes had become a constant companion, a reminder of the price I paid for this revealing vision.
My body was still a mix of pain and exhaustion, but the silver scar on my chest—cold and alien—granted me a false sense of invincibility. Who had saved me? Who had healed me in a way that defied logic? The tree with the Verton crest? Was that mere coincidence, or was there a hidden system, an ancient magic, that protected the cursed bloodline of this family even in the darkest of times? Questions without answers circled my mind like swarms of black bats.
After hours of walking, I began to see signs of civilization—or rather, of Verton civilization. Low stone walls, overgrown with dark moss, marked abandoned fields. Old watchtowers, half-collapsed, stood like sad phantoms on distant hills. Everything here bore the imprint of the family: power, age, and a deliberate neglect for anything not of immediate strategic value.
Then… I saw them.
A patrol of Verton guards. Three knights riding massive black horses. Their dark leather armor bore no decoration other than the family's simple, chilling crest. They moved in silence, as if they were part of the shadows. As soon as they saw me, they halted, and one of them raised a hand.
There were no expressions on their faces—just that cold, empty gaze that marks all who've served this house for too long.
"Young master Nier?" the captain said in a hoarse voice, devoid of surprise or welcome. As if the return of the duke's son from the depths of the Black Forest after a long absence was just another routine event.
I nodded silently, lacking the strength to speak.
"Lord Alistair is expecting you," the guard added in the same tone. "We were instructed to search this area."
Instructed? By whom? Did the tree send some kind of signal? Or were there other eyes watching the forest?
I didn't ask. I let them accompany me—or rather, I allowed myself to follow. The horses moved slowly, in consideration of my obvious exhaustion. No one spoke during the entire journey, and the silence was heavier than their armor.
As we neared the castle, the landmarks became more defined. Towering stone walls. Black spires piercing the grey sky. And the ever-present aura of authority and suppression. I felt a mix of disgust… and strange relief. This place, despite everything, was the only one I could call… a starting point.
When we finally reached the castle's main gate, the scene was both familiar and unsettling. The guards, the servants, the silent faces that avoided meeting my eyes directly. But there was something different. Something in their fleeting glances, in the muffled whispers my Eye of Truth picked up—faint waves of anxiety and curiosity.
I didn't pay it much attention at first. All I wanted was to reach my chambers, wash, rest. But when I entered my luxurious suite—now looking like a palace of dreams compared to the damp cave—I noticed something strange.
Everything was spotless, perfectly arranged, as if I had never left. But the dust… there was no dust. Not a single speck. As if the servants had been cleaning it daily with meticulous care, awaiting my return.
That was odd.
Then I saw the calendar on my desk. A luxurious leather-bound one, its pages turned daily by one of the staff. The open page read:
"The first of July?" I muttered, feeling the blood freeze in my veins. "Impossible!"
The last thing I remembered was entering the Black Forest in late May. That meant… I had been gone for—
"Young master," came the voice of an elderly servant who had quietly entered the room, carrying a tray with refreshments. "Thank the heavens for your safety. It has been a full month since your disappearance. We were very worried."
A full month.
The words hit me like a rock. A full month battling death in that cursed forest, unconscious most of the time, or wandering like a ghost. A month of pain, horror, and despair.
"A month…?" I repeated, stunned, staring at the servant with a pale face.
"Yes, my lord," the servant replied with a slight bow. "Exactly one full month."
A wave of dizziness crashed over me. I sat on the nearest chair, the world spinning around me. A month! What had happened during that time?
Then—like lightning striking my mind—I remembered. The Tyrant Beast!
"Impossible!" I screamed inwardly, a cold dread—far worse than anything I had felt in the forest—beginning to crawl into my soul. "Does that mean… I somehow survived the Tyrant Beast's attack?"
I began mentally flipping through the fevered memories of the novel. The Tyrant Beast—an Eighth-Rank monster—was supposed to appear in early June. If it was already July, that meant the catastrophe had already occurred!
"The battle with that creature… where was it again?" I racked my brain, thinking hard. "Right! It was in the lands of Whitehaven Barony, in the northern provinces! That region was almost completely destroyed before the beast was sealed!"
If that was true—if the Tyrant Beast had already appeared and been dealt with—then I had survived that disaster by a miracle. Had my disappearance into the Black Forest… and my loss of consciousness… actually saved me from facing that hell?
Was fate mocking me? Sparing me from one horror only to throw me into another?
"And what about the sacrifices?" I thought, anxiety tightening in my chest. "The novel said the Duke of Shadows and the Emperor sacrificed much to weaken the beast before sealing it. What were those sacrifices? Was my father's strength affected? Has the balance of power in the world shifted?"
Questions. Endless questions. They raged in my mind like a storm. I felt like someone who had awoken from a coma, only to find the world completely changed.
Then—as if my mind sought an escape from the fear—another thought surfaced.
"Well… if all that time passed," I muttered to myself, trying to regain some composure, "then my enrollment in the Academy must be close."
Yes—the Academy. Silvanus Royal Academy of Magic and Swordsmanship. Where noble children were trained and their talents refined. Nier was set to join at the start of autumn. If it was early July now, I had three or four months to prepare.
"Good," I thought, a small sense of relief seeping in. "I might learn a few useful things there. Magic. Combat. I might grow stronger."
"And Celine de Valois, and Ayla… they'll be joining too," I remembered. "Yes, that's right. Ayla will be there. Why?" A bitter smirk curled my lips. "Something petty, as usual. The novel claimed she had rare, high-level healing abilities, and so she got in with a special scholarship."
For heaven's sake, dear author, I sneered mentally, is that the best you could come up with to make your little heroine special? High healing abilities? Really?
As for Celine… her enrollment was expected. The daughter of the Duke of the Northern Winds, and one of the most gifted young talents of her generation. Her presence in the Academy would be natural.
"At least I won't be the only one suffering there," I thought, grimly amused.
Then I remembered something else. Alistair. And the Duke of Shadows.
"The servant said Alistair was waiting for me," I recalled. "He's probably still mad about that exaggerated banquet. Good. Let him be angry. I don't care anymore."
"As for the Duke of Shadows…" A chill ran through me. "The servant didn't mention him. No reaction to my absence or my return. That… that's the Duke I know. His silence is more terrifying than any fury."
I spent the next few hours trying to collect myself, absorb all this new information. I bathed in hot water, ate some food brought by the servants—which, ironically, was simple and nourishing, not a legendary feast. I felt my body recovering at an amazing pace, as if that silver scar still worked its hidden magic.
But my mind… was still in chaos. A whole month had passed. The world had changed. And I was only beginning to understand the rules of the game.
That evening, I left my quarters. Not to confront Alistair—not yet. But to see, to listen, to understand what had happened while I was "dead."
I wandered through the silent castle halls. The servants still avoided my gaze, but the "Eye of Truth" picked up their whispers—scattered words about "the great beast," "the terrifying battle," "the duke's sacrifices."
I found my way to the castle library—the vast, dusty place the original Nier had avoided like a plague. I searched the sections with recent records and news reports—or their equivalent in this world.
And there, between thick leather-bound volumes, I found what I was looking for.
A detailed report, stamped with the seal of the Empire, titled:
"The Tyrant Beast Incident in the Northern Provinces."
My hands trembled as I opened the file. What I read in the following pages froze my blood again, and I realized—the terror I had faced in the Black Forest…
…was only the beginning.
The world I returned to… was no longer the same.
And hell—had already begun.