Dead Aura.
It is not merely a term. Nor a legend exaggerated to frighten children.
Across the Continent, its name is known as something that must never be touched, never approached, and never allowed to exist in a world that still breathes.
Dead Aura is born from remnants of life that have already ended.
Not an ordinary death — but the death of beings who once possessed aura.
Sorcerers. Swordmasters. Sages. Dragons.
Creatures whose lives were steeped in power, and whose deaths were burdened with emotions too immense to fade with their flesh.
When such beings perish while harboring resentment, rage, or hatred left unresolved, their deaths do not truly conclude. They leave something behind.
A trace. A curse. A foul aura that seeps into the world—
Dead Aura.
No poison can rival it.
Dead Aura does not kill swiftly. It is slow. Silent. Invisible.
It slips into living bodies and corrodes them from within. Even minimal exposure can steal one's breath and churn the stomach as if unseen hands were twisting the organs inside. Prolonged exposure rots the body — organ by organ — without mercy.
Even Dragons — the highest of all living beings — cannot withstand Dead Aura once its intensity reaches a certain threshold.
Dead Aura is a curse that refuses to be forgotten.
And in this unjust world, there exists only one exception.
The Dark Elves.
To all other beings, Dead Aura is a delayed death. But to Dark Elves, it is not poison.
It is sustenance.
For them, Dead Aura flows like fuel — surging through their bodies, accelerating strength, sharpening instincts, hardening muscle and bone without the need for arduous training. Their very existence is nature's answer to Dead Aura itself.
That is why whenever a corpse emits this cursed aura, Dark Elves will seek it out.
Hunt it. Consume it.
And that is why Lea's heart felt as though it had plunged into the abyss when the Dark Elf before her said—
—that she possessed Dead Aura.
Was this the answer? Was this why her blood caused everything it touched to decay?
"You don't look surprised," the Dark Elf said, his voice low, almost indifferent. Lea remained silent in his arms. "It seems you've known for quite some time."
He paused, then added as though speaking of something trivial, "Oh. And sorry about that. You were bleeding earlier. I licked it to stop the bleeding."
His expression did not change. "Your blood does contain Dead Aura."
Just like that. Without remorse.
Lea did not cry. She did not scream. She did not deny it.
Because deep within herself, she had already known the answer.
Dead Aura flowed through her veins.
She should have realized it long ago — the first time plants withered beneath her blood, the first time meat blackened at her touch, the first time she sensed that something inside her had never been right.
But Lea chose to look away. And now, every fragment fell into place.
If Lea truly carried Dead Aura… was that the reason Grandma Royse's condition had steadily worsened?
Was every breath they shared beneath the same roof slowly poisoning the old woman's body?
The more Lea thought about it, the less room there was for denial.
How could she ever face Grandma Royse again?
Lea closed her eyes. Her chest tightened — not from wounds, not from broken bones — but from guilt with no path to escape.
For the first time, Lea regretted being alive. Shouldn't someone like her simply die?
Wouldn't the world be better off without someone whose existence was poison?
If Lea continued to live, others would fall ill. There would always be victims.
"Hm? Why does your face—"
"How did it taste?"
The question left Lea's lips devoid of emotion. Her voice was empty. Hollow.
The Dark Elf fell silent. "What?"
"My blood," Lea said softly. "You said you licked it."
The Dark Elf raised an eyebrow, then nodded with unsettling enthusiasm. "Delicious. Extremely," he said. "It felt like being reborn."
He quickly added, "But don't worry. I would never kill you just for your blood. That would violate the laws of my kind."
"I allow it."
His steps halted. "What?"
"I allow you to kill me."
Silence.
The Dark Elf stared at Lea for a long moment, as if questioning her sanity. They stood upon a tree branch, surrounded by a forest that breathed quietly in the darkness.
"Those words are not appropriate," he said at last, his voice low and serious.
Lea turned her face away. "Isn't my existence dangerous? Anyone near me will suffer."
The Dark Elf fell silent.
"Miss," he said slowly, "I don't know how you came to possess Dead Aura. I don't know your life."
He drew a breath.
"But throwing away your life like that… is the most foolish thing you could do."
He hesitated before continuing, "If you fear harming humans… then live with us. Dark Elves are immune to Dead Aura."
The words hung in the air.
Then a scream shattered the night.
"Aaaaaaakh!"
A human voice.
The Dark Elf moved instantly, carrying Lea through the trees until they reached an opening — and his body stiffened.
Crack. Crunch.
The sound of human bones breaking.
Thorned tendrils coiled around a hunter's body, snapping his bones slowly, like dry twigs. Cold dread crawled down Lea's spine.
"The fire in the east was caused by humans," the Dark Elf murmured, his voice trembling with restrained fury. "That is why the Thorn Dryads have gone mad."
"Aren't Dryads guardians of the forest…?" Lea's voice was barely audible.
"Not in this forest," he replied coldly. "What you are seeing is a Thorn Dryad."
A creature more cruel than a Fog Ent. A being that crushes bones before devouring flesh still alive.
"You're safe," he said emotionlessly. "Dead Aura makes you unappealing to them."
Another scream rang out.
From the darkness emerged a grotesque figure — not a beautiful woman, but a body of rotting roots, a stench of decay, pink eyes gleaming with hunger, moving on thorned tendrils like a living nightmare.
Lea swallowed. That was the true form of a Thorn Dryad. And for the first time, Lea truly understood—
This forest had never intended to let her live in peace.
The forest seemed to sense it. Not the scream. Not the blood.
But her.
The moment Lea understood what she truly was, the air around them grew heavier — as though the shadows themselves had leaned closer, listening. The wind that once whispered between leaves now fell silent, holding its breath. Even the insects had gone quiet, as if the forest feared to announce its presence in front of something that should not exist.
Dead Aura did not merely cling to her skin. It recognized her.
Lea felt it then — a cold pressure beneath her ribs, a presence that had always been there but never named. It pulsed faintly, responding to her thoughts, to her guilt, to the fear blooming uncontrollably inside her chest.
So this was why she had never truly belonged anywhere.
Why the forest edge welcomed her, yet never embraced her. Why plants grew obediently beneath her care, only to rot the moment her blood touched them. Why sickness had followed her like a patient shadow.
She had mistaken endurance for normalcy. Survival for innocence. In truth, the world had been warning her all along.
The Dark Elf felt it too.
His grip tightened almost imperceptibly — not out of fear, but restraint. To him, the aura was intoxicating, rich and overwhelming, like standing too close to an open flame while starving. Instinct urged him closer. Training forced him still.
"You are alive," he said quietly, more to himself than to her. "Your heart beats. Your soul is present."
His gaze hardened, ancient and unreadable. "But something died inside you long ago."
Lea did not respond. Because deep down, she knew he was right.
Whatever she had once been — whatever she should have been — had already been lost to the Dead Aura flowing through her veins.
And as the Thorn Dryad's laughter echoed through the trees, wet and distorted, Lea realized something far more terrifying than monsters lurking in Shadowfen.
The true danger was not that the forest would kill her. It was that the forest knew she belonged to death — and was waiting patiently for her to accept it.