At first, Tom thought it was just the wind brushing the branches, but then the branches curled. The trees bent closer, like they had been waiting for him to step in too deep.
One trunk split open with a wet crack, revealing rows of jagged teeth hidden beneath the bark. A breathless hiss escaped, like air being sucked from a broken pipe.
Tom stopped moving. He analyzed the surrounding once. Dozens of trees. All of them waking. Each bark-surface peeling back into mouths big enough to crush him whole.
So this is Carna Forest, he thought. The plants here hunt, not just the beasts.
One leaned low, its wooden jaws snapping shut inches from his shoulder. Tom didn't flinch. His hand tightened on the trident.
The weapon vibrated faintly in his grip, humming with the faint water energy Vera had once boasted about. Tom twisted his wrist. The trident's prongs glowed, a faint blue edge forming.
Another tree lunged. This time Tom slashed.
A stream of water curved from the weapon, sharp as glass. It cut straight through the teeth and bark, spraying splinters across the dirt. The maw recoiled, screeching like an animal even though no lungs existed inside.
Tom exhaled through his nose, stepping forward carefully. He didn't rush. He moved with deliberate calm, slicing at any tree that leaned too close.
Every cut left a hiss of water in the air, every strike trimmed another hungry mouth away from him.
Still, it wasn't enough. The plants didn't fall back. They swayed, circling him, roots dragging in the soil like a pack of wolves closing in.
Tom rotated the trident in his hands, water spiraling along its length. He struck again, this time carving a full arc around himself.
The blade of water tore through branches, forcing the carnivorous trees to jerk back violently.
It bought him space. A path opened a narrow trail where the teeth hadn't closed yet.
Tom ran, coat flaring behind him, trident low at his side. His hat's vision warned him of another tree mouth ahead. He shifted, slashing once, the water edge clean and cold. Bark split apart and he passed through.
The trees roared behind him like hollow and a furious monster.
But Tom didn't look back. His steps stayed measured. He whispered only once, voice calm, words cutting through the chaos.
"No food today, Timmy. "
After going further for a while, he sat down on a patch of dirt, leaning the trident against his shoulder.
The forest around him was quiet for the first time in hours if "quiet" meant distant clicks of unseen insects and the slow creak of trees pretending to be still.
He thinks to meditate here since the environment here is very calm.... right now.
He closed his eyes.
Transparent Realm… inner peace… Grace's words repeated in his head. He slowed his breath, steady, steady. His muscles loosened. The memory of Elior's last words flickered faintly, but Tom pushed it aside. This was his time.
Darkness behind his eyelids. The faint hum of his Face, the floating chair, somewhere beyond the veil he could almost sense it, faint like a hand reaching from water.
All on a sudden,
Bzzzzzz.
A mosquito landed on his cheek.
Tom twitched. His left eyelid cracked open.
Ignore it. It's nothing.
Bzzzzzzzz.
The insect circled his ear now, louder, smug.
His jaw tightened. He swatted at it once, missed, then forced himself back into meditation. He inhaled again, slower this time. He tried to stretch his awareness, searching for that quiet realm Grace spoke of.
BZZZZZZZZZ.
The mosquito darted straight onto his nose.
Tom's eyes snapped open. He slapped his own face so hard his hat nearly flew off. The insect buzzed away harmlessly into the dark canopy, untouched.
Tom sat frozen, palm still on his cheek. He muttered under his breath, low and bitter,
"…Great. My first enemy in meditation is an insect."
He sighed, dragging his hand down his face. The forest was silent again, mocking him.
A small screen appeared in front of the mosquito. Tom bowed slightly trying to see what is written there.
[ Title Achieved ]
[ Doomsday of Attention and Focus ]
Tom made a broken face thinking even a mosquito is a player. That mosquito was given quest to disturb a giant.
Tom brushed the dust from his coat, still muttering about the mosquito, when his foot pressed on something hollow. The ground gave a faint sound, unnatural for forest soil.
He crouched, running his fingers over the earth. With a small push of his trident, the soil shifted, revealing a faint gap of an old pathway, covered for who knew how long.
Tom's brows furrowed. A path under the land?
The trees around him creaked. Leaves rustled without wind. He noticed their shadows stretched longer than they should, leaning toward him like skeletal fingers. He gripped the trident tighter, his calm face giving no sign of fear, only focus....
( Bzzzzzzzz )
Slowly, he stepped down.
The hidden path spiraled, stone replacing dirt beneath his boots. The further he walked, the colder the air grew.
The walls glistened faintly, reflecting light not from his torch, but from themselves as though the stone were polished mirrors trying to catch his reflection.
The silence pressed in. Only his footsteps resounded, soft but sharp. He felt as if someone or something walked just behind him, mimicking his every move.
Finally, the passage opened.
Tom stopped narrowing his eyes.
Before him stood a vast underground cathedral.
Its arches rose impossibly high, carved not from stone but from mirrors, every surface reflecting fragments of him from a thousand angles.
Each reflection was slightly… wrong. A tilt of the head that wasn't his, eyes blinking too late, one face smiling when the rest were not.
It was the same kind of mirrorwork he had seen once before in the desert. The first time he realized this world was not built by human hands alone.
It's the same like the Cathedral he witnessed at the beginning.
Tom's hand tightened on the trident. He whispered to himself, almost flat but heavy,
"…So it wasn't just out there. It's beneath us too."
His eyes darted from reflection to reflection, ignoring the faint smiles some of them wore. He kept his pace steady, scanning every corner.
Then, at the far side of the hall, half-buried in dust and broken glass, he spotted it—a small supply box with the familiar faint glow of the system.
He walked over, crouched, and touched it lightly with the trident's edge. Nothing. Safe. With one hand, he pried it open.
A sharp click, then the system's clear text floated in front of his eyes.
[ Supply Box Unlocked ]
[ You received: 2x Bitger, 100 coins, 5x Iron ]
Tom blinked. "…Bitger?"
The system answered.
[ Bitger: A rare fruit. Can be cooked with other vegetables. ]
[ Effect: Increases immunity to electricity. Temporary Endurance boost. ]
He turned the small fruit over in his hand. Its skin was rough, violet with faint silver veins running along the surface. It smelled faintly sweet, but with a metallic after-scent.
"Electricity immunity, huh…?" he murmured. "That could save me from something ugly later. Guess I'll keep it."
He set the fruit into his pouch carefully, as if it were worth far more than its size.
Next, his eyes went to the iron.
[ Iron: Standard resource. 1x Iron = 200 grams. Can be used for crafting or trade. ]
He weighed one piece in his palm. Heavy, cold.
"Only five, not much. But still… iron's iron."
Finally, he glanced at the coins counter.
[ Current Balance: 850 coins ]
He exhaled slowly.
"…Still far from anything useful in the shop. Everything feels expensive on purpose."
His eyes flicked around the cathedral again. The mirrors were still watching, though he tried not to admit it to himself.
"Supplies in a place like this… either a blessing, or bait."
Tom slipped the box shut, stood, and pressed his coat tighter around him. The silence of the cathedral had grown thicker, as though something was waiting for his next step.
He whispered under his breath, more to keep himself steady than anything:
"…Guess I'll find out which."
The air changed without warning.
A slow thump rolled through the cathedral floor.
Another. Another but louder this time. He could feel it in his chest.
Something heavy was moving in the next chamber, dragging rage behind it. The sound wasn't rushed. It was steady, certain like whatever was out there already knew he was here.
Tom's grip tightened on the trident. His jaw flexed. He didn't step back, but his eyes flicked toward the arched doorway where the noise swelled.
A shadow stretched across the mirror floor. Long and distorted.
The next footstep landed. Closer this time.
A Three headed Lion with sharp angelic four feather wings came out. It stared at Tom after exhaling furiously. It's eyes were glowing, their skin leaking a type of smell he wasn't aware about. Its mane was shredded in old-dried blood of thousands of innocents.