The forest fought with every ounce of its twisted life.
Roots lashed at boots, branches clawed at hair and shoulders, spores swirled into choking clouds. Garrick's shoulders burned beneath the weight of the unmoving man. Each step was a struggle, each breath rasping through thick, humid air. Rosalie stumbled, nearly tipping into a root, and Leo's sword arced in frantic defiance, throwing bursts of light that lanced through the gloom. Elion's hands glowed blue as he chanted, glyphs dancing in the air, siphoning ambient mana from the roots to restrain the pursuing guardian.
Yet, despite their chaos, something shifted.
A cold, suffocating presence spread through the forest, silent and impossible to ignore. It was not a spell, not a gust of wind, not even a pulse of the earth...it was being. The forest seemed to shiver and recoil, as if some invisible weight were pressing upon its roots and branches. The guardian staggered mid-stride, claws scraping the soil, eyes blinking in confusion. Vines loosened, branches cracked, and spores hung in stunned stillness.
Elion froze, senses tingling. "It's… It's not our magic. Something ancient, something… alive, suppressing it."
Garrick slowed, wary, eyes scanning the dark green maze around them. "The forest… it's letting us go."
Rosalie's grin spread wide, manic and tipsy. "See? Even the trees fear our handsome stranger!"
Leo, chest heaving, tried to claim credit, sword raised high. "Ha! Heroic light scares even the forest!" But the tremor in his voice betrayed uncertainty.
The forest seemed to stretch and collapse at once, clearing a tenuous path. Sunlight fractured through the canopy, dappled and warm. A breeze stirred, scattering the lingering spores, carrying a hint of relief. Each step forward was a small victory, legs trembling, lungs burning, sweat stinging eyes. Garrick's grip on the Demon Lord's body never faltered.
"We're not safe until we're behind walls," he muttered, dragging one boot over a slick root, jaw tight.
Rosalie slammed her fist against her thigh. "Research be damned! Sylvia's coming with us, or we're not going anywhere!"
Garrick exhaled, shaking his head, exasperation cracking his voice. "Fine. We'll find her. But we survive first."
Leo glanced back, panting. "Did… did we even do anything?"
Elion's eyes narrowed, his hands still faintly glowing as he felt the residual mana ripple in his bones. "No. Something far older… far stronger than us. The ambient mana recoiled, twisted as if recognizing a superior presence. We barely touched it."
They stumbled through the last stretch of trees, branches snapping and roots writhing in retreat. Sunlight grew stronger, wind pushing against sweat-soaked faces. Birdsong returned hesitantly, the familiar cadence grounding them in the world outside the suffocating forest. Relief pressed down on them, dizzying in its sudden weight, though none dared relax fully.
Garrick adjusted his hold on the Demon Lord's body, shoulders trembling. "We keep moving. Find the village. Sylvia's waiting. The man… he needs her attention."
Rosalie huffed, hands on hips, wobbling slightly. "I'm not leaving her behind. She's not convincing us to stay for research, that's for sure. She's coming with us, or I'm staying put!"
Leo's chest heaved, still gripping his sword. "So… we just outran the forest?"
Elion shook his head slowly, frowning. "No. The forest surrendered, yes—but not to us. Something… someone… suppressed it. Something old, proud, and utterly indifferent to our struggles."
The party moved into the open field beyond the forest, panting, bruised, coated in dirt and blood from splintered branches. Sunlight spilled across them, washing the suffocating green away. The weight of the Demon Lord's body was still a constant reminder of the mission.
And above all, silent and unseen, the Demon Lord's soul drifted close. Watching. Detached, amused. Cold.
The forest remembered. It bent not out of loyalty, not out of respect, but out of fear.
And those who carried his body, blissfully unaware, had just glimpsed a fraction of that fear.