Charlie's hand shot up without warning.
"Stop."
The word barely left his lips before his other hand grabbed my shoulder and yanked me backward. I stumbled, heart leaping into my throat, as he pulled me behind the thick trunk of a massive tree.
The bark was rough and deeply grooved, ancient and scarred, wide enough that it swallowed both of us in its shadow.
Charlie pressed a finger to his lips.
I froze.
Not because he told me to—but because I felt it too.
A presence.
The forest around us seemed to stiffen, as though even the trees were holding their breath. The usual faint creaks of branches and distant rustles vanished, replaced by a low, oppressive stillness that pressed against my ears.
Then I heard it.
Thud.
Thud.
The sound was slow. Heavy. Deliberate.
Each step sent a faint tremor through the ground beneath my boots. Loose dirt shifted. Small pebbles rolled.
My throat went dry.
Through a narrow gap between the twisted roots and hanging shadows, I saw it.
A massive beast emerged from between the trees.
Its body resembled that of a colossal buffalo—but far larger than any animal I'd ever seen. Dark, coarse fur covered its frame like tangled iron threads, absorbing what little light filtered through the canopy. Its muscles rolled beneath its hide with every step, thick and powerful, and each hoof that struck the ground crushed branches and roots as if they were nothing more than brittle twigs.
Its horns were curved and jagged, thick as tree trunks, etched with old scars. Steam puffed from its nostrils with every slow breath, each exhale accompanied by a deep, rumbling snort that vibrated through the air.
I didn't dare breathe.
The creature moved with terrifying calm, not rushing, not hunting—simply existing. And yet, its presence alone felt like a warning from the forest itself.
Charlie leaned close, his lips near my ear, and whispered so softly I barely heard it.
"It's just passing through. We stay here until it's gone."
I nodded, afraid even the sound of swallowing might draw attention.
The beast continued forward, its massive head swaying slightly as it walked. Its tail flicked once, lazily, knocking aside a sapling without slowing. Leaves fluttered down in its wake, settling slowly to the forest floor.
The sound lingered long after it had passed.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
Then—nothing.
We didn't move.
Not when the sound faded.
Not when the forest began to breathe again.
Not when distant insects hesitantly resumed their calls.
Ten minutes passed.
My legs ached from standing still. My back pressed uncomfortably against the bark.
Another ten minutes.
My heartbeat finally slowed, though my nerves remained coiled tight.
Only when Charlie was absolutely certain did he motion with two fingers.
Move.
We stepped out with deliberate caution, every sense drawn tight to the breaking point. The moment we left the shelter of the tree's shadow, a deep unease settled over me—an instinctive feeling of being exposed, as if unseen eyes were tracking every breath, every shift of weight.
The Silent Forest welcomed us back with its unnerving calm.
No wind stirred the leaves. No birds cried out. Even the insects were absent, leaving behind a hollow quiet that pressed in on my ears. The stillness wasn't peaceful—it was watchful, heavy with something unspoken.
We moved slowly, carefully, our pace measured and restrained. Each step was placed with intention, feet brushing the ground as softly as possible. I found myself holding my breath without realizing it, afraid that even the sound of air leaving my lungs might draw attention.
Every snapped twig made my muscles tense. Every shadow between the roots felt like a lurking shape waiting to pounce. The forest didn't need to attack us to feel dangerous—it only had to exist.
Danger followed us everywhere.
It clung to the trunks of trees, hid beneath fallen leaves, and lingered in the spaces just beyond my vision. And with every step forward, I couldn't shake the feeling that the forest was closing in, slowly and patiently, waiting for us to make a single mistake.
High above, sharp-eyed creatures watched from the branches—shapes that shifted just out of sight when I tried to focus on them. Between tangled roots, shadows slithered unnaturally, retreating when Charlie glanced their way. In the distance, massive silhouettes moved between the trees, too large to identify clearly, yet unmistakably alive.
Every crack of a twig made my shoulders tense.
Every rustle of leaves sent my heart racing.
Whenever Charlie sensed danger, we vanished into the forest.
Behind fallen logs thick with moss. Between jagged clusters of stone half-buried in soil. Beneath massive, overhanging roots that twisted like the ribs of some buried beast. Each hiding place felt temporary—fragile—as if it could fail us at any moment.
And every time we stopped, my heart betrayed me.
It thundered violently in my chest, each beat so loud I was certain it echoed through the trees. I held my breath, clamped my hands over my mouth, and prayed the sound wouldn't carry.
Sweat slid down my spine even in the cool forest air. My legs trembled from the strain of staying still.
I could feel eyes on us.
Not always see them—but feel them. A pressure in the air. A wrongness that made my skin crawl.
Sometimes branches shifted without wind. Sometimes shadows lingered where nothing stood. And sometimes… nothing happened at all, which was somehow worse.
We didn't fight.
We didn't challenge the forest or the horrors lurking within it.
Charlie never reached for flame unless absolutely necessary. I never asked him to. We both understood—combat here was a gamble we couldn't afford. One mistake. One sound too loud. One misjudged enemy.
And it would be over.
So we survived the only way we could.
By avoiding.
By slipping through the cracks between danger and death, moving only when it was safe, hiding whenever it wasn't. Step by careful step, breath by silent breath, we pressed onward—two fragile lives threading their way through a forest that seemed eager to swallow us whole.
Hours passed.
The light filtering through the canopy shifted subtly, turning dimmer, more golden, then slowly fading toward evening. My legs burned. My mouth felt dry, my tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth.
Finally, Charlie slowed his pace.
"I think…" he said quietly, scanning the forest ahead, "…we're nearing the end of the starting part of the forest."
I stopped dead.
"What!?" The word burst out before I could stop myself. "We've been walking nonstop since morning! It's already evening! You're telling me we're still at the starting point!? I thought we'd at least reached halfway!"
Charlie glanced back at me and gave a faint, almost amused smile.
"Young Master," he said calmly, "this is not an ordinary forest. If it were that easy, don't you think people would have explored it long ago?"
My stomach sank.
"So…" I said weakly, "…you're saying we encountered all those beasts at just the starting area?"
"Yes," Charlie replied. "And the deeper we go, the more dangerous it becomes."
My lips trembled.
"…We're going to die. That's for sure."
To my surprise, Charlie actually smiled.
Not mockingly. Not cruelly.
Reassuringly.
I swallowed and forced the fear down.
"Charlie," I said again, quieter this time, "teach me your cultivation technique."
He stopped walking.
The forest seemed to lean in.
"I can't," he said gently.
"Why?" I asked immediately, frustration and desperation mixing in my chest.
Charlie sighed, his expression serious. "What I told you about mysterious abilities… you weren't supposed to know any of that before turning eighteen. That is why I hesitated."
"Why does my age matter?" I asked, confused.
"It is forbidden," Charlie explained. "If someone tries to cultivate nature energy before the age of eighteen, their energy core becomes unstable. The body isn't ready to store such power."
He continued, his voice heavy.
"There have been many cases. People crippled for life. Unable to cultivate ever again. Some died. That is why it was banned and kept secret from those below eighteen."
Silence settled between us.
"I understand," I said quietly.
Charlie looked at me firmly. "Never attempt to sense or cultivate nature energy, Young Master. Promise me."
"…I promise."
We resumed walking.
Not long after, the trees ahead thinned slightly. A faint glimmer reflected between the trunks.
Water.
Relief washed through me.
"I haven't had water in two days…" I murmured, stepping closer.
A large pond lay before us, its surface smooth like polished glass. Towering trees reflected upon it, their shapes stretching endlessly downward. Faint ripples shimmered across the surface, catching the dim light in silvery patterns.
The water was unnaturally clear.
I could see deep beneath the surface—far more than ten meters—where the light slowly faded into darkness.
It looked calm. Peaceful.
Too peaceful.
A strange chill brushed against my skin as I approached.
I knelt and cupped my hands, lifting the cool water toward my lips—
Something moved beneath the surface.
My instincts screamed.
I jumped back instantly.
"Charlie!" I hissed. "There's something inside the water!"
The pond rippled once. Then fell completely still again. As if nothing had ever been there. And somehow… that terrified me more.