Angie held her spear steady. All around her skittered spider-like creatures, but their bodies were a sickly green, parts of them formed from twisted plant matter.

  The spiders fired webs, but they weren’t silk they were streams of thick tree sap. Charlie and Luke focused on defending while Angie surged forward. She hurled her spear into one of the creatures, then triggered [Valkyrie Charge]. With a sharp cry of [Battle Roar], she rushed the next target.

  More spiders crawled down from the trees. Angie raised her wing-shield, [Winged Defense] flaring to life as she blocked the sticky projectiles while running. The moment she closed the distance, her wings shifted aside and she drove the spear straight through the creature’s face.

  When the fight was over, only crushed spider corpses remained scattered across the clearing.

  **The [Valkyrie] class of Angie has reached Level 23!**

  “Lord Luke, those were the last of them,” she said, wiping sap from the spearhead.

  “That spear of yours is getting pretty worn,” Luke replied, examining the cracks along the metal.

  “These spiders made a mess of everything,” Charlie muttered, annoyed as she kicked the bodies aside.

  This was their camp, and every so often, beasts from the forest wandered too close. After days of exploration, Luke had learned how to navigate the forest properly always moving toward the areas where the poisonous mist grew thicker. The more lethal the fog, the closer they were to the center. Everything there was poisonous.

  “So now we know where those assassins from before were getting their toxins,” Luke said. “The Alchemists have an entire forest to experiment with.”

  During all those days, Luke had eaten every plant he could find poisonous or not forcing his body to adapt. His blood felt stronger now. The burning in his eyes had faded. His resistance to poison climbed with every bite.

  “Here, Luke,” Charlie said, handing him a skewer of roasted meat.

  He wasn’t even hungry, but he made a point of eating anyway. Every time he burped, he could still taste the bitter aftertaste of plants, and he wanted that flavor gone more than anything.

  “Thanks, Charlie. You’re practically a saint to me,” Artemis said as Luke stored the skewers in his pocket dimension.

  “Here, Master Luke,” Angie added, offering him… ten more skewers.

  “Ten? Wow, Angie. You really are an angel literally,” Artemis said, delighted.

  “All of these are for Lord Luke,” Angie declared without hesitation.

  “What? And what about our friendship?” Artemis protested.

  Lulie fluttered closer, carrying a tiny skewer of her own.

  “That one’s for you. Lulie helped make it,” Charlie said.

  “For me?”

  The little bat nodded proudly.

  Luke picked it up, hesitating.

  “What’s this stuff on the meat?”

  “She licked the pieces for you,” Charlie answered gently.

  Okay. Yeah. I am absolutely not eating this.

  “Hey, Artemis,” Luke said. “Didn’t you want skewers?”

  “I’m not eating that, man, don’t even try. If you’re going to put something slobbered-on in my mouth, at least put a—”

  Her sentence cut off instantly as Luke pinched the collar.

  “What was she going to say?” Charlie asked.

  “You don’t want to know,” Luke replied.

  ***

  A massive creature lunged from the mist, something between a carnivorous plant and a bear twisted into one grotesque shape. Charlie triggered her Berserk skill. Her body blazed with an aura of fire and ash as she charged forward with her fists raised.

  “Leave it to me, Master Luke!”

  Vine-like tendrils lashed toward her. She met them head-on, punching and burning through each one. Her strike landed with so much force that the monster was hurled backward.

  Charlie landed atop it in flames and began pounding its face, blow after relentless blow until the skull finally gave in.

  [Charlotte Vespertilio has slain a Plant Bear – Level 75]

  **The [Black Ash Fighter] 2nd Class of Princess Charlie has reached Level 61! (+18 STR, +8 INT, +7 END, +6 VIT, +6 PER, +5 AGI, +5 Free Points.)**

  Once the creature fell silent, they continued deeper into the region. They were far inside the forest now, where the fog had turned a deep violet. The poison here was harsher, a potent hemotoxin.

  Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

  “Another cave,” Charlie said.

  “I’ll check if there are more mushrooms inside.”

  He slipped in while she waited outside. The passage was narrow.

  “If anything dangerous shows up, step back. I’ll protect you, Master Luke.”

  Shouldn’t I be the one saying that?

  “I’m honestly hoping there aren’t any more of those poisonous mushrooms. They taste like rotten blood.”

  The interior was surprisingly bright. Glowing mushrooms clustered across the stone walls.

  [Energizing Luminous Mushroom]: A mushroom widely used in medicines that relieve fatigue and exhaustion, and in potions that restore stamina.

  ‘Mother Freya’s Note: A wonderful ingredient for “stimulating” potions for men and women. Very popular among couples in crisis.’

  Popular among couples in crisis… and stimulating?

  He stared at the mushrooms, then a thought flashed through his mind.

  Don’t tell me… these might let me recreate that legendary potion?

  He immediately began gathering them.

  “Do you need help, my lord?” Angie asked, appearing behind him.

  “No. I’ve got it.”

  He tossed the mushrooms into his storage item as fast as he could. I’ll only attempt to recreate that potion… for the sake of magical research. Purely scientific. Obviously.

  He nearly started whistling while harvesting them.

  With great power comes great responsibility. If I was given this talent, why shouldn’t I use it? Anyone in my place would do the same.

  He paused.

  And why am I trying to justify myself… to myself?

  ***

  They reached a wide clearing.

  “Prepare yourself, my lord,” Angie said.

  “I’m ready.”

  He was the only one physically present. Charlie rested within the soul space. Angie took hold of both his arms and took flight. She climbed fast, wings beating hard.

  “You’re flying much faster than before.”

  “I’m burning a lot of stamina to carry you as high as possible.”

  They rose higher and higher until the ground turned distant beneath them. The wind roared against his face.

  “I’m going to release you.”

  She let go.

  Luke dropped into free fall.

  He spread his cloak.

  [Black Bat Cloak (Rare)

  Description: A cloak as black as the void. Helps blend into shadows and reduces fall speed.

  Enchantments:

  [Bat Wings (Rare)]: Reduces fall velocity.

  Bonus: +5 Agility

  Requirement: Level 20+ in Assassin class.]

  He glided over the forest canopy, carried forward on the night wind as rain streaked across the air. The world below blurred into dark shapes and patches of dim light.

  Then, far ahead, something cut through the horizon, a vast structure illuminated by torches. A colossal temple, its design echoing Incan stonework fused with hints of Japanese architecture, rising from the heart of the forest.

  “I found the damn place.”

  ***

  Henry walked through the wreckage of a ruined camp in the forest, boots crunching over shattered crates and splintered wood. Bodies lay scattered across the ground, blood smeared across the dirt. A wagon burned nearby, its frame creaking as flames ate through the wood. Somewhere deeper in the trees, a woman screamed, the sound echoing through the mist.

  He whistled softly as he approached a wooden watchtower. The door didn’t budge when he tried the handle.

  “Please, I’m begging you. We already gave you everything we had. Just let me live,” a panicked voice called from the other side.

  Henry smiled.

  “You forgot to hand over your life.”

  There was a frantic scrape of wood against stone, the soldier trying to drag something heavy to brace the door. Henry glanced at the locked handle and activated one of his thief skills.

  [Master Key (Rare)]: The thief conjures a key of condensed mana capable of opening any door not sealed by magic.

  A shimmering key formed in his hand. He slid it into the lock, and with a soft metallic chime, the door gave way.

  He pushed it open. The soldier bolted for the stairs in a blind panic. Henry already had his weapon in hand a deck of cards. Still whistling, he flicked one forward. The card cut into the man’s leg mid-stride, sending him stumbling.

  Henry laughed under his breath.

  “Please” the soldier tried to beg, but Henry simply kept throwing card after card until the man collapsed, his body giving way under fear and pain.

  He moved on, reaching a small room at the top of the tower. The handle refused to turn. Another quick flash of mana, another click, and the door shifted but didn’t open.

  “Clever. You stacked something against it,” Henry muttered.

  He stepped back, still whistling, and pulled an item from his storage.

  [Flammable Oil Flask]: A volatile, fire-reactive alchemical liquid. Useful as a crafting reagent… or on its own for less subtle solutions.

  He tossed several flasks inside through the gaps, then plucked a torch from the wall and dropped it.

  “If this is how you chose to go, that’s not my problem,” he said, turning away as flames began to crawl up the tower.

  He waited outside, listening to the crackle of fire and the distant cries from the camp. Every so often he glanced back toward the sound of that lone scream. His sister was still busy with her victim.

  Minutes later, someone burst through the burning doorway, staggering out with charred clothing, stumbling for air.

  Henry flicked another card. Then another. The figure hit the ground, writhing.

  He walked over and stopped beside him.

  “Mercy… please. We didn’t do anything,” the man gasped.

  “Mercy? From me?” Henry leaned closer, pressing the edge of a card beneath the man’s chin. “Do you even know who we are?”

  “T-the Red Eight Fingers,” the man stammered.

  “The moment our name reached this region, you should have packed up and disappeared. This territory belongs to us now.” Henry drove the card forward with a cold finality. “No one leaves until we have the treasures.”

  He let the body fall still and headed back toward the soldiers’ camp. When he arrived, he found his sister standing over the corpse of a fallen woman.

  “She screamed so much,” she said, almost amused, idly licking her dagger. “Shame she didn’t last longer.”

  “You and your habits,” Henry muttered.

  Even he had limits. He killed when necessary and didn’t drag out the act. His sister, however, took a twisted delight in torment and only ever chose women.

  “What can I say? I have a weakness for pretty faces,” she replied lightly.

  Henry glanced toward the burning tower, flames climbing into the dark sky.

  “That should send Cassandra a very clear message.” He turned to her. “Come on, Dolores. We need to report back to Miles.”

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