Lilya didn't know how long she had been holding on.
Each second stretched unnaturally—no longer time flowing forward, but something forced to continue when it should have already ended.
Every breath felt чуж—foreign.
Every movement came too late.
This body—
was no longer fully hers.
Since the poison entered her veins.
Since that crushing blow struck her back.
Since her blood had begun spilling without permission.
She was merely—
clinging to what remained.
"...hhh..."
Her breathing was ragged.
Hoarse.
Shallow.
The world around her blurred at the edges, trembling like an unstable illusion.
And yet—
she was still standing.
Somehow.
If she hadn't collapsed back then—
if the soul synchronization had never happened...
Lilya knew.
She would have died long ago.
Before she could make it this far.
Before she could search for Cecilia.
Before she could—
save her.
"...hhhh..."
Her breath shook as she tried to steady it.
In.
Out.
But her lungs refused to cooperate. Every inhale felt incomplete, every exhale broken.
Heavy.
Too heavy.
Still—
she remained conscious.
Still seeing.
Still thinking.
In front of her—
the two hobgoblins paused, watching.
As if confirming—
she had truly reached her limit.
Their black aura pulsed steadily now—not wild, but controlled.
And that made it worse.
Far worse.
Suddenly—
"GROAA—!!"
The hobgoblin with spiked gauntlets roared—
and leapt.
Far.
In a single motion, its massive body shot forward, crushing the distance with inhuman speed.
"...fast...!"
Her reflex ignited.
[Battle Instinct]
The world narrowed.
She could read the movement—
But her body—
was too slow.
[Quick Step]
She forced it.
Squeezing the last remnants of strength from her legs—
her body jerked backward.
Barely.
Just barely enough.
The fist tore through the air in front of her face—the wind alone snapping her hair violently.
She survived.
But—
it wasn't over.
Her gaze snapped forward.
And there—
was the true threat.
The axe-wielding hobgoblin—
was ready.
Its stance was perfect.
The axe drawn back—
wrapped in a far denser red aura than before.
Pulsing.
Heavy.
As if even the space around it was being dragged inward.
"...no...!"
She knew.
This was different.
Heavier.
Faster.
Deadlier.
The axe swung.
And the world—
split.
A massive wave surged forward.
Dense.
Fast.
Not just cutting—
but crushing everything in its path.
The ground cracked before it was even touched.
The air trembled violently.
"...too fast...!"
[Flow Guard]
Her body moved.
On instinct.
Not thought—
something inside her forced it.
Her hands rose.
The branch in her grip rotated along an invisible current.
Perfect angle.
Near-perfect timing.
The wave struck.
—SHHHHHK!!
Impact.
But this time—
different.
Heavier.
Denser.
More... overwhelming.
Some of the force—
was redirected.
But not enough.
"—GH...!!"
The remaining force broke through.
Her arms were sliced—
deep.
Her abdomen—
torn open.
A searing heat surged through her body—
followed by a freezing numbness.
Her body lifted.
Uncontrolled.
Then—
she was thrown.
BRUK—!!
She slammed into the ground.
Dust exploded upward.
The earth cracked beneath her.
Her body rolled once—
then stopped.
Still.
"...gh..."
No strength remained.
Her hands—
wouldn't move.
Her legs—
wouldn't respond.
Even standing—
was impossible.
The pain—
was too much.
Her arms hung open, blood spilling.
Her abdomen—
bleeding.
Warm.
Endless.
Her vision darkened at the edges.
Her breathing—
shallow.
Broken.
"...hah..."
She tried.
But her body no longer listened.
For the first time—
truly—
she could not move.
Slowly—
she turned her head.
Forward.
The two hobgoblins—
were approaching.
Their steps were heavy.
Certain.
Unhurried.
Because they knew.
This—
was over.
The ground trembled with each step.
Their shadows loomed over her fallen body.
"...is this..."
Her thoughts whispered.
Soft.
Empty.
"...the end...?"
There was no panic.
No scream.
Just—
a quiet question.
Between fading breaths.
Between weakening heartbeats.
And yet—
even then—
deep within her mind—
one thing remained.
One name.
"...Cecilia..."
The hobgoblin raised its massive hand—
then—
GRAB.
It seized her head.
Hard.
Its fingers dug into her skull without mercy.
"...gh...!"
Her body lifted off the ground—
like she weighed nothing.
Her legs dangled.
No resistance.
No strength.
Her vision shook.
The world spun slowly.
She could feel it—
that power.
The pressure that could crush her skull at any moment.
But—
it didn't.
Not yet.
Without warning—
it threw her.
Her body left its grip—
launched into the air.
Light.
Powerless.
Like a dry leaf in the wind.
At the same moment—
the axe-wielding hobgoblin moved.
The ground shattered beneath its feet—
as it leapt high.
Higher than it should.
Its massive body soared toward her—
axe raised high.
Red aura enveloping it.
Dense.
Pulsing.
Lethal.
Mid-air—
they met.
Lilya—
and her death.
Time slowed.
Painfully slow.
She saw everything.
The angle of the swing.
The trembling red light.
The empty eyes of the creature.
And—
herself.
A broken body.
A fading breath.
No strength left.
No choices left.
Nothing—
left.
"...ah..."
No scream.
No resistance.
Only—
quiet acceptance.
"...so... this is..."
The final moment.
What should have been—
the end.
But then—
the voice came.
Clearer than ever.
Deeper.
Absolute.
[Warning]
[Threat to individual detected]
[Forcibly activating all defensive skills]
[Defensive Skill: Mirror Step – Lv.100 activated]
[Defensive Skill: Parry Counter – Lv.100 activated]
[Defensive Skill: Veil Resonance – Lv.100 activated]
The axe fell.
Fast.
Precise.
Unerring.
Its blade—
touched the open wound on Lilya's abdomen.
And—
[Mirror Step]
—
Her body—
split.
Cleanly.
In two.
Too fast—
no blood spilled.
No sound.
No resistance.
Just—
a line.
Then—
in the next fraction of a second—
both halves...
disappeared.
Like ash.
Scattered.
Gone.
"...?!"
The hobgoblin froze mid-air.
Its eyes widened.
Its crude instincts—
screamed.
Something—
was wrong.
And then—
it realized.
Too late.
Below it.
On the ground.
She—
was already there.
Lilya.
Standing.
Right beside the gauntlet-wielding hobgoblin.
Her eyes—
open.
Calm.
Empty.
But alive.
Without hesitation—
the hobgoblin attacked.
A straight punch.
Fast.
Brutal.
Aimed at her face.
But—
[Parry Counter]
CLANG—
A sharp metallic clash rang out.
Not from strength—
but precision.
The branch in Lilya's hand moved—
perfect angle.
The force—
redirected.
Reflected.
Returned.
The hobgoblin's body opened—
a perfect gap.
And Lilya—
did not miss it.
[Air Cut]
—SHHHK!!
The air split.
The strike landed.
Arm.
Side.
Blood sprayed.
The massive body was thrown—
slamming into the ground.
BRUK!!
It rolled—
then rose again quickly.
But—
something was different.
Its wounds—
did not close.
Did not move.
Did not regenerate.
Blood continued to flow.
"...?"
The creature stared at its arm.
Confused.
Enraged.
Uncomprehending.
Meanwhile—
Lilya stood still.
The branch in her hand—
changed.
Blue light formed.
Gathered.
Extended.
Shaping—
a sword.
Not physical.
Yet real enough.
Real enough to cut.
[Veil Resonance]
A golden light slowly enveloped her body.
Warm.
Gentle.
But powerful.
Her arm wounds—
closed.
Her abdomen—
sealed.
Blood stopped.
The poison—
vanished.
Gone.
As if it had never existed.
Her breathing—
returned.
Deep.
Steady.
Her eyes widened slightly.
Looking at her own body.
"...this..."
She moved her fingers.
Light.
No pain.
No heaviness.
Everything she had just done—
happened on its own.
Without thought.
Without intention.
As if—
her body remembered.
As if—
she had done this thousands of times before.
But not her.
Not entirely.
"...I..."
She looked at her hand.
The blue blade trembled softly.
Warm.
In sync.
"...I understand..."
Slowly—
she raised her head.
Looking at the two hobgoblins before her.
This time—
no wavering.
No exhaustion.
No hesitation.
Golden light pulsed around her—
steady against the cold night.
And for the first time since the battle began—
the balance—
had shifted.
Lilya—
was no longer surviving.
She—
was ready to strike back.
---
Elsewhere in the Forest
Their steps pushed deeper.
The narrow path had become a corridor, flanked by towering trees that blocked out the sky entirely.
But—
these were no ordinary trees.
The trunks felt... alive.
Their surfaces subtly pulsed, as if veins ran beneath the bark.
Roots jutted from the ground like grasping limbs.
The leaves—
did not sway.
They were still.
Too still.
As if—
waiting.
Harlan swallowed.
"...this..."
His breathing grew uneven.
"...these trees..."
Up ahead—
Rhett slowed.
His eyes sharpened.
"...don't touch the trunks."
His voice was low.
Direct.
Bram frowned.
"Why?"
Rhett didn't answer immediately.
He stared at one trunk—
Then—
a crack formed.
Thin.
Brief.
But enough.
Like—
an eye.
Kael stiffened.
"...it moved."
Darian partially drew his sword.
"...yeah."
Rhett's answer was short.
Heavy.
"...this isn't a normal forest."
He inhaled slowly.
"...these are Treants."
Harlan froze.
"...what?"
He looked around.
Closer.
And now—
he saw it.
Face-like grooves.
Eye-like cracks.
Shapes too structured to be natural.
And the number—
too many.
"...impossible..."
His voice weakened.
"...all of them...?"
Kael swallowed.
"...we're walking through them..."
Bram clicked his tongue.
"...and they're just letting us?"
Rhett shook his head.
"...not letting us."
His gaze hardened.
"...guiding us."
The word fell like a stone.
Harlan felt cold crawl down his spine.
"...we're being led?"
Rhett didn't answer.
He stepped forward.
"If we stop now—we won't get out anyway."
No choice.
They moved again.
Now fully aware—
they were surrounded by living things.
Treants.
Watching.
The corridor narrowed.
The Treants closed in, their trunks forming walls that left only one direction—
forward.
No escape.
Only—
advance.
And then—
they arrived.
Rhett stopped.
Before them—
stood one Treant.
Massive.
Towering.
Its bark formed a clear face—
and its expression...
was not neutral.
It was—
hostile.
Harlan stepped back.
"...impossible..."
"...that's... an Elder Treant..."
His breath caught.
Bram looked up.
"...oi... oi..."
"...that one's definitely not friendly..."
Kael didn't respond.
Because he had already seen something else.
"...Rhett..."
"...we're not alone."
"I know."
Rhett didn't turn.
Behind them.
Beside them.
Ahead.
The Treants—
began to move.
Slowly.
Roots tore from the earth.
Trunks creaked.
Eyes opened—
one by one.
Dozens.
Hundreds.
All—
facing them.
Harlan trembled.
"...this..."
"...we're surrounded..."
Bram raised his axe.
"Yeah. And not a small number."
Kael lowered his stance.
"...this is insane..."
Darian—
fully ready.
"Formation."
Rhett stepped forward.
Facing the Elder Treant.
"...so this is the center."
Hundreds of Treants encircled them.
Not rushing.
Not chaotic.
Closing in.
Slowly.
Surely.
Then—
a roar.
"GRRRAAAAAAAAAA—!!"
The Elder Treant opened its "mouth"—a massive split in its trunk—and unleashed a roar that shook the air itself.
The ground trembled.
The air hissed.
And in the next moment—
its entire body moved.
Branches lashed out.
Not one.
Not two.
Dozens.
Like massive whips tearing through everything in their path.
"Spread out!!"
Rhett shouted.
But—
too late for one direction.
A massive branch shot straight—
toward Harlan.
Too fast.
Far too fast.
Harlan froze.
Eyes wide.
No time to react.
No time to think.
And—
CLANG—!!
A flash of steel cut through the air.
Rhett appeared in front of him.
One step.
One swing.
Clean.
The branch—
was severed.
Half of it crashed to the ground.
"Don't freeze up!!" Rhett snapped.
But—
something else happened.
The severed branch—
moved.
The cut half writhing—
then reconnecting.
Fibers knitting together.
Reforming.
Within seconds—
whole again.
"...what...?"
Rhett narrowed his eyes.
Before he could process it—
another attack came.
Left.
Right.
Above.
Bram jumped back, blocking a heavy strike with his axe.
"Oi—oi!!"
He dodged again.
"You've gotta be kidding me!"
CRAAK!!
He split another branch.
But—
again—
it regenerated.
"Why the hell does this Elder Treant have [Auto Heal]?!!"
Kael darted through the chaos, dodging two strikes at once.
"This isn't normal...!"
Darian cut down a branch trying to bind his leg.
Severed.
Then restored.
Endlessly.
Meanwhile—
Harlan stood still.
Not watching the attacks—
but something else.
Something he felt.
"...what is that...?"
He stared at the Elder Treant.
Deeper.
Closer.
And then—
he saw it.
A black aura.
Faint—
but unmistakable.
"...not just it..."
His gaze shifted.
Left.
Right.
All around.
Every Treant—
had it.
His hands trembled.
But he focused.
Softly—
he whispered:
"[Appraisal Open]..."
His eyes widened.
His body shook violently.
Because—
he saw something impossible.
—
[Elder Treant]
[Level: 56]
[Status: Berserk]
—
His breath stopped.
His heart pounded violently.
"What did you see, Harlan?!" Rhett shouted.
His blade kept moving.
Cutting.
Deflecting.
But nothing—
stayed down.
Everything—
came back.
Everything—
kept coming.
Harlan didn't answer immediately.
His lips parted.
But what came out—
wasn't an answer.
It was—
laughter.
"...ha..."
Soft.
Empty.
"...hahaha..."
No joy.
No relief.
Only despair—
so deep it broke into something else.
Rhett glanced at him.
"Harlan—?!"
Finally—
Harlan spoke.
A fragile smile on his face.
Empty eyes.
"...all of these Treants..."
He took a deep breath.
Heavy.
"...they're all..."
His voice trembled—
but clear.
"...in a state of..."
"...[Berserk]."