"You have entered the land of true silence. Tread carefully… it despises disturbance."
— A Retired Lumberjack
The moment I stepped through the doorway, something crashed into me.
Not physically — emotionally.
A violent flood of alien sensation drowned my mind so suddenly that my knees nearly buckled. My chest tightened as fragmented thoughts, foreign instincts, and intrusive information forced their way into my skull. For one disorienting moment, I could not distinguish where my own mind ended and the dungeon's began.
I steadied myself against the cold ground, breathing deliberately.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Eventually, the pressure receded.
And then I noticed it.
I was alone.
Truly, profoundly alone.
I could not feel the spirits.
No faint laughter. No whispering songs. No playful winds brushing against my clothes. No gentle, mischievous presence lingering just behind my shoulder.
Nothing.
The absence struck harder than any physical wound ever had. It reminded me of those long, hollow years in that forsaken prison – curled against cold stone while darkness pressed against my skin like wet cloth. The years when silence grew so unbearable that even the darkness eventually seemed to pity me enough to speak back.
But this… this was worse.
The silence here felt alive.
My breathing quickened instinctively. Each inhale sounded painfully loud in my own ears. I forced myself to calm down before panic could take root. Slowly, my heartbeat steadied.
That was when I truly heard it.
Nothing.
No insects. No rustling leaves. No distant animals. Not even the whisper of wind.
The silence was so complete that every tiny sound became grotesquely amplified. I could hear the faint shift of Miranda's coat as she moved. I could hear Belinda swallowing nervously somewhere behind me. I could even hear the soft pulse of blood in my own neck.
The dungeon was listening to us breathe.
And I despised that thought immensely.
I lifted my head and finally took in our surroundings.
We stood in a small clearing surrounded by impossibly dense foliage. Behind us lay a vast lake so unnaturally still it resembled polished black glass. Not a single ripple disturbed its obsidian surface.
Ahead lay the forest.
Or rather… darkness pretending to be one.
The trees were enormous, their trunks twisted together like masses of fused flesh. Their branches intertwined high above, strangling the sky itself. Through tiny gaps in the canopy, pale moonlight leaked downward like fractured silver.
The moon itself was shattered.
Cracks spread across its surface like broken porcelain, and the fragments pulsed with dim, sickly light.
That fractured moonlight formed a narrow trail ahead of us.
A path.
An invitation.
Or bait.
I attempted to conjure a simple sphere of light, but the moment the spell began forming, agony exploded behind my eyes. I staggered as new information violently surfaced within my mind.
ROLE ASSIGNED: SUPPORTOFFENSIVE ARCANA – RESTRICTEDSUPPORT ARCANA EFFICIENCY – INCREASED
I grimaced while absorbing the dungeon's cold, clinical explanations. Supports could not use offensive arcana directly. In exchange, defensive and enhancement spells consumed less residue and gained slight potency.
Another section appeared immediately after.
SUB-PARTY SYSTEM ACTIVE
Additional members entering under a completed party would become subordinate members. They would retain greater flexibility while receiving enhancements based on the primary party's specialities.
The information felt invasive. Like cold fingers digging through my thoughts without permission.
I closed the mental manual with distaste.
"Okay… gather up," Miranda whispered.
Even her whisper sounded unnaturally loud.
We moved closer together instinctively. The clearing behind us suddenly felt very far away.
"It seems this area is safe," Miranda continued quietly. "A starting zone, perhaps. Once we leave it, the dungeon officially begins."
Nobody joked.
Even Belinda remained silent.
That alone unsettled me more than anything else.
"I'll take front," Miranda said. "Bo, guard the rear. Mr Handsome stays centred. Belinda, between us."
Bel gave a weak thumbs-up. I noticed her usual radiant smile had dimmed significantly.
Good. That meant she understood something was very wrong here.
"Cast whatever support spells you can," Miranda told me.
I nodded and began layering defensive arcana over the group – strength enhancement, movement reinforcement, reinforced skin, and barriers. Lastly, I summoned floating shields around each of us — transparent barriers inspired by a series I once watched called Water and Ice.
The shields shimmered once before fading from sight.
When preparations were complete, we moved forward.
I transformed my cane into its rifle form.
The metallic CAW it released shattered the silence like breaking glass.
The sound echoed far too long.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
As if the forest itself were repeating it back to us in mockery.
Every person froze.
Then, somewhere deep within the trees…
Something moved.
Not one thing.
Many.
I quietly lowered the weapon's settings.
"…Apologies," I whispered.
Nobody answered.
Bel and I conjured small floating lights, and together we followed the fractured moonlight deeper into the woods.
The forest shifted around us unnaturally. Shrubs bent away before we could touch them. Roots slowly withdrew beneath the soil. Flowers folded shut as we passed, almost like mouths refusing to speak.
Nothing here felt natural.
The deeper we walked, the thicker the darkness became. Our lights illuminated less and less despite maintaining the same brightness.
It was as though the forest itself consumed illumination.
Then we passed a massive boulder.
And instantly—
Everything changed.
A heavy, ancient pressure settled over us.
Miranda stopped walking.
"So this is the true starting point…" she muttered.
The stale air thickened. A rotting scent drifted through the woods — wet leaves, old wood, and something underneath.
Something sweet.
Something spoilt.
I felt eyes everywhere.
Not metaphorically.
Literally.
Thousands of eyes hidden somewhere within the foliage.
Watching.
Waiting.
Then came the whispers.
Soft at first. They were so soft I thought I imagined them.
"Save us…" "Save… us…"
Different voices. Different ages. Some childish. Some old. Some wet and gurgling.
The whispers slowly devolved into quiet giggling.
Then laughter.
Then sobbing.
Bel grabbed Bo's sleeve tightly.
Nobody spoke.
The voices surrounded us completely.
And then—
They appeared.
Small figures emerged between the trees.
Children.
Or things pretending to be children.
They wore torn raincoats of faded colours, stained dark near the hems. Their faces were hidden behind crude masks stitched from bark and cloth.
Their arms ended not in hands, but in pale roots — thin white roots resembling exposed bone.
They crawled along tree trunks with twitching, insect-like movements. Others hung upside down from branches, their necks bent at impossible angles.
One slowly tilted its head.
Then another.
Then all of them.
Their masks stared directly at us.
"Save us," one whispered.
Another giggled immediately after.
The dungeon manual forced itself open within my thoughts.
FIRST TRIAL ENEMIES IDENTIFIED: ORPHANS OF THE FOREST
I tightened my grip on the rifle.
More appeared.
Dozens.
No.
Hundreds.
Some peeked from behind trees. Some crouched within the darkness. Some stood perfectly still among us without us noticing until they moved.
Then suddenly—
Silence.
Absolute silence.
Every creature froze.
Not a single twitch remained.
The forest itself seemed to stop breathing.
And somehow…
That was far worse than the laughter.
I felt it immediately afterwards.
Recognition.
The creatures no longer looked at us with fear or curiosity.
But with excitement.
The kind children possessed before tearing apart insects for entertainment.
One of them slowly raised its head.
The mask split open vertically.
Inside was filled with teeth and tongues.
Then it screamed.
"SAVE US!"
The others lunged simultaneously.