The forest was no longer silent.
Birds that once sang in harmony now fled in chaos, their wings scattering like broken prayers. The ancient stillness that had reigned for centuries was shattered, replaced by the restless murmurs of steel, boots, and greed.
News had spread faster than wildfire: The Guardian of the Forest is dead.
No one knew who had slain it, but every rumor twisted the story further. Some claimed a wandering knight of unparalleled might. Others whispered it was the work of a demon, or worse—an omen of calamity.
But the truth stood at the forest's heart, masked and grinning in shadows.
The Hunters Gather
On the forest's edge, a group of rough-looking men sat around a flickering campfire. Their armor was mismatched, dented by years of mercenary work, but their weapons gleamed with a predator's care.
One of them spat into the dirt. "Dead, huh? That big bastard of a Guardian… felled by some unknown hand? Don't care who killed it. What matters is the treasure it left behind."
Another mercenary leaned forward, his scarred face catching the firelight. "You think the Guardian guarded nothing? No. The old tales say its heart is pure mana crystal. Enough to buy a kingdom if you sell it right."
A younger man, barely past his teens, shivered. "But if something killed the Guardian… doesn't that mean it's still out there?"
The scarred man laughed, a cruel sound. "Boy, monsters die. Men kill them. Whatever killed it, we'll kill too. Or we'll join hands with it, if it bleeds coin instead of blood."
Their laughter echoed, but it was hollow. None of them noticed the forest's shadows creeping closer, bending unnaturally toward the center… toward Lian.
Beyond the Villages
Farther away, in a humble village nestled at the forest's border, fear had taken root. The villagers gathered at the elder's house, candles trembling in their hands.
"It's true," the elder whispered, voice hoarse. "The Guardian has fallen. I felt its death. The balance is broken."
A mother clutched her child tighter. "What balance? It was a monster!"
The elder shook his head. "Foolish woman. The Guardian was no mere beast—it kept the darker things at bay. The moment it died, the forest's seal weakened. You'll see. Beasts will wander where they shouldn't. Blood will flow."
At that moment, the candlelight flickered, and a chill swept through the room. None of them saw the crimson glow pulsing faintly in the distance, beyond the treeline.
The Nobles' Curiosity
In a distant city, word had already reached the marble halls of nobility.
A plump baron adjusted his jeweled rings as he listened to the report. "A Guardian dead, you say? Magnificent. That forest has been untouchable for generations. If the Guardian is gone, that means land. Resources. Timber. Mines, perhaps. Opportunity!"
A rival noble, thinner and sharper, narrowed his eyes. "Or danger. If a force exists that can kill a Guardian, it could kill you, baron."
The plump man scoffed. "Please. Whatever killed it is either long gone or can be bought. Everything has a price."
Neither noticed the shadowy messenger who slipped out of the chamber, whispering the news to ears far darker than nobility.
The Mask's Hunger
At the heart of it all, Lian stood among the trees, his mask pulsing like a living thing. He could hear the forest differently now—every rustle, every whisper, every heartbeat of the intruders who dared step within.
[Mask of Sins resonates…]
[Detected Sin: Greed]
[Energy siphoned: +12%]
Lian chuckled. "So many little vermin crawling into my web."
He flexed his fingers, dark energy wrapping around them like claws. His body no longer felt entirely his own—the mask whispered, urged, demanded.
"Feed."
"Punish."
"Claim what is yours."
And Lian, instead of resisting, grinned wider.
Clash in the Dark
Night fell swiftly, and with it, the first mercenary band entered deeper into the woods. They marched with torches high, laughter masking their unease.
Then the torches flickered. The flames bent, as if bowing to something unseen.
"Hold up," one of them muttered. "Did you feel that? The air's—"
His words cut off in a scream as a shadow erupted from the trees, cleaving through him with invisible force. Blood sprayed across the leaves, the torch falling into the dirt.
Panic erupted. Steel clashed against shadows, but their blades found only air. A laugh—low, distorted, inhuman—echoed through the trees.
"Greed," Lian's voice whispered from everywhere and nowhere. "It shines so brightly within you all. Allow me to harvest it."
One mercenary swung wildly, torchlight revealing a figure masked in runes, eyes glowing crimson beneath. For a single heartbeat, he saw him—
And then his chest caved inward, consumed by invisible wrath.
The survivors fled, stumbling over roots, dropping weapons in their panic. But the shadows pursued, relentless.
For the first time in centuries, the forest hunted man.
Ripples of Terror
By dawn, only scraps of armor and bloodstains remained where the mercenaries once stood.
The news spread back to the villages. To the nobles. To the hunters still on the road.
Not only was the Guardian dead—
But something worse had taken its place.
And deep within the forest, Lian stood still, mask pulsing with satisfaction. He lifted his gaze toward the horizon, toward lands untouched.
"The world is coming to me," he murmured, his grin sharp as a blade. "But soon… I'll go to it."