The deeper Draven went into the Dead Zone, the more he realized the biggest change wasn't in his muscles, but in his mind.
Ever since he had absorbed the Mage's crystal, the world seemed different. Colors weren't sharper, no... the world was louder. He didn't just hear the wind or the skittering of animals anymore; he could feel the vibration hanging in the air, the static electricity crawling on his skin. It was the whisper of that single point of Will. Even locked, it screamed from behind the door.
Hunger. The hunger for meat in his stomach was gone. It was replaced by a deeper, colder void. It wanted mana. His body had tasted that single drop of energy from the crystal, and now it was screaming for more.
The dead Mage's grey robe fit snugly over his leather armor. The fabric blended perfectly with the grey-green hues of the forest. He didn't look like a soldier anymore. He looked like a ghost, a forest monk. He smeared mud on his face and blackened the tip of his spear with soot to stop the glare.
The ravine he was moving through narrowed, trees giving way to sharp, jagged rocks. And then, he saw it.
Between two massive boulders ahead, the air was filled with a silvery mist. But as he got closer, he realized it wasn't mist. Web. Webs as thin as silk but looking as strong as steel cables, draped across the canyon like curtains.
Draven stopped. He checked the wind. It was blowing from the webs toward him. He caught the scent: Rotting meat and... vinegar? The smell of acid.
[ Zone Detected: Crystal Spider Nest ] [ Threat Level: High (Swarm) ]
Draven should retreat. That was the logical move. But his eye caught something in the center of the webs, suspended three meters off the ground in a cluster of cocoons. Most of the cocoons were small—likely rabbits or boar piglets. But one... one was the size of a man. And from that cocoon, a hand dangled out. The hand wore a black glove. And its fingers were still wrapped tight around the hilt of a sword, still sheathed at the hip.
The hilt was different from Draven's standard-issue rusty spear. It was dark wood, and the pommel was shaped like a silver wolf's head. Enemy officer, Draven thought. Or an elite scout.
That sword could be the difference between life and death in this forest. His spear was good, but the wood was rotting, and the tip was dulling. A steel sword... that was a fortune.
Draven crouched in the shadow of the rocks. He couldn't see the spiders. That didn't mean they weren't there. Crystal Spiders didn't move until the prey hit the web. They waited for the vibration.
Draven sat down and opened his pack. He pulled out a large chunk of meat from the boar he had killed yesterday. It was still bloody and smelled strong. The plan was simple. Stupid, but simple.
He stood up. He slung his spear across his back. He would need his speed. He cocked his strong arm and threw the meat chunk high, aiming for a cluster of webs on the opposite side of the canyon from the hanging corpse.
SPLAT.
The meat hit the webs and stuck. Instantly, the ravine came alive. From the shadows of the rocks, creatures with semi-translucent, crystallized legs erupted. They were the size of large dogs but moved much faster. Eight-legged nightmares, gliding over the webs like they were skating on ice.
One, three, five... Seven of them. They all swarmed the meat. Pushing each other, sinking venomous fangs into the flesh in a feeding frenzy.
Draven moved.
He didn't run. He flowed. His newfound agility changed how his feet struck the ground. He leaped over rocks that would have tripped him a week ago, landing silently like a cat. He reached the spot directly under the hanging corpse.
He looked up. Three meters. He could make it. He could feel the explosive power in his legs. He bent his knees and launched himself upward.
He soared. Gravity felt like less of a tyrant. With his left hand, he grabbed the dead wrist dangling from the cocoon. He yanked the body down with his weight.
But the webs didn't snap. They stretched. Like rubber, with a stubborn, elastic resistance, they held him and the corpse suspended in the air. Draven cursed. Steel cables, indeed.
The hissing from the spiders changed pitch. The feeding was over. They had felt the new, heavier vibration. Draven turned his head. Seven pairs of multi-faceted eyes were looking at him. And they began to move.
Draven drew the rusty dagger at his belt. Holding onto the corpse's belt with his free hand, he slashed at the webs above. It didn't cut. It sawed. "Come on," Draven growled. "Come on!"
The first spider leaped from the web toward him. It was like a crystal bullet suspended in the air. Draven pulled the corpse in front of him like a shield. The spider slammed into the cocoon. Its venomous fangs sank into the dead man's armor.
Draven used the momentum of the impact. He dropped the dagger and grabbed the sheathed sword on the corpse's waist with both hands. The sword wouldn't come out of the belt. The leather had to break. Draven planted his feet against the cocoon and pushed, tearing at the belt with every fiber of muscle he possessed.
SNAP.
The belt gave way. Draven and the corpse (and the spider attached to it) fell to the ground. It was a hard landing. Draven rolled, scrambling to his feet instantly. He had the sword. Scabbard and all.
The spider detached itself from the cocoon and turned to Draven. Green fluid dripped from its fangs. The other six were descending. From the walls, from the webs... coming from everywhere.
Draven gripped the sword's hilt and pulled. The blade slid out with a satisfying ring. Perfect balance. Single-edged, sharp tip, slightly curved. A "Cavalier Saber." Blue runes glowed faintly on the steel. Not magical, but master-crafted.
The spider lunged. Draven didn't think. With his old spear, he would have tried to brace. He would have tried to defend. But this sword was light. And Draven was fast now.
He side-stepped—a movement so quick the spider bit only a shadow. Draven completed his spin and swung the sword.
Whiff-thud.
The air parted. The blade sheared through the crystal carapace like it was slicing paper. The spider's head separated from its body.
Draven didn't stop to admire the kill. The others were coming. This wasn't a duel; it was a firing squad. He couldn't fight them all. He had to run.
But as he turned... he saw a prize. He leaned down to the shattered body of the dead spider. Instinctively, he saw the glowing green sac inside the creature's abdomen. Venom sac. Or... a mana sac?
No time to analyze. He ripped the sac free, ignoring the slime, and tossed it into his pouch. Then he ran.
The hissing behind him filled the forest. Draven dove into the trees. He ran in zig-zags, vaulting over roots, ducking under branches. His lungs didn't burn. His legs didn't tire. His body was working like a machine.
Five minutes. Ten minutes. He didn't stop until the sounds faded completely. Finally, he reached a dry riverbed that seemed safe enough, and collapsed to his knees.
Breathing hard, he looked at the sword in his hand. No blood. The steel didn't hold the gore. He looked at the wolf emblem on the pommel. The symbol of the enemy kingdom, the "Northern Alliance." He was carrying an enemy weapon now.
[ Item Acquired: Northern Cavalier Saber (Quality: Superior) ] [ +1 Agility Bonus (Balanced Weight) ]
Draven gave the sword a few test swings. He heard the whistle. The spear was for keeping distance. It was a coward's weapon, the Sergeant had said. This sword... this was for getting close.
Draven opened his pouch and took out the slimy green sac. It was glowing. Mana. Raw, unrefined nature mana. His stomach cramped. The familiar hunger returned, violent and sharp.
This time, he didn't hesitate. He punctured the sac and let the bitter, acidic fluid flow into his mouth. It tasted like battery acid. It burned his throat, bringing tears to his eyes. But when it hit his stomach... it exploded.
Draven curled up on the ground, groaning in pain. His body shook. Poison? No. Power. His body was filtering the toxin, distilling the mana. His Endurance was fighting the poison, neutralizing it.
[ Toxic Substance Consumed ] [ Endurance Check: Successful ] [ Mana Essence Extracted ]
[ Will: 2 / 100 ]
When the pain subsided, Draven lay on his back, staring up at the pale sun filtering through the grey clouds. Two. He needed a hundred. But now he knew the way. Every monster, every mage, every cursed plant... they were all just stepping stones.
He stood up. He strapped the new sword to his belt. He adjusted the grey robes. He looked North. Toward the enemy lines. There were more soldiers there. More mages. And more prey.
"I'm coming," he whispered.
Just then, across the riverbed, there was movement in the shadows of the trees. Draven's hand went to his sword. But the thing that emerged wasn't a monster. It was a man. Armor shattered, face bloody, limping heavily. On his chest was the emblem of the Northern Alliance.
The man saw Draven. He saw the grey mage robes Draven was wearing. Fear didn't fill the man's eyes; hope did. "Mage..." the man wheezed, reaching out a hand. "Please... are you a healer? Help me..."
Draven paused. The man thought he was an ally. Because of the robe. Draven touched the Northern sword at his hip. Then he walked toward the man. His face was a mask—cold and expressionless.
"Help," Draven said, kneeling beside the man. The soldier relaxed, letting his head fall back. "Thank you... Ambush... Everyone died..."
Draven placed a hand on the man's shoulder. "Quiet now," he said softly. "The pain will pass soon."
And instead of casting a healing spell, Draven drove his dagger between the man's ribs, straight into his heart. The soldier's eyes went wide, filled with a moment of shock and betrayal, and then the light faded.
Draven pulled the dagger out. Cruelty? No. Mercy. With those wounds, the man wouldn't survive the night. The spiders would have eaten him alive. And Draven needed the XP.
[ Target Neutralized: Enemy Soldier (Wounded) ] [ Reward: Minimal ]
Draven stood up. There were no sides anymore. No flags. There was only him.