A massive boar tore through the forest in a frenzy. Its body shook with every step, driven by raw instinct, fleeing from the thing that hunted it. This wasn't just a chase. It was torture. Something was playing with it.

A knife sliced through the air, too fast. The boar dodged at the last second, and the blade embedded itself into a tree with a heavy thunk. More followed, whistling past the leaves, forcing it to zigzag wildly.

The forest had become a maze of threats.

Branches rustled. Shadows darted between the canopies. The predator was closing in.

Then came the mist.

Black. Thick. Unnatural. As if the forest itself was being devoured by darkness. The boar tried to run, but the fog swallowed it, hungry arms blotting out the world. It squealed and slashed at the air, but nothing cleared that choking gloom.

A voice pierced the silence.

"Goodbye."

It was the last thing the boar ever heard.

Something grabbed it, then a blade slipped clean through its skull from the side, silent and precise.

[You have slain an Iron-Tusk Boar – Lvl 11]

***

Luke had been lost in that forest for two days.

He'd thought he was just outside the urban fringe of the Wild Zone. He was wrong. He was much farther than he'd realized. The only landmark left was the river, a silver serpent slicing through enemy territory, but now it felt more like a trap than a guide.

The problem was clear: the orc army knew he was out here.

The riverbanks were locked down. Patrols everywhere. Makeshift camps. Orcs mounted on wolves and horses, roaming in pairs or trios… and worse, Beast Captains moving in groups.

Getting anywhere near the water was suicide.

His only option was to vanish deeper into the forest, steering clear of trails and open clearings. He'd done this before, but now the orcs were more alert. More vicious.

Sometimes he heard hoofbeats cutting through the trees, forcing him to climb silently into the upper branches, where sunlight barely reached. He'd lie motionless on the limbs, cloak drawn over him, even controlling his breath.

The tension never left. One wrong sound could mean death.

Even with enough food in his storage item, he hunted a boar. Not just out of caution — out of survival. He didn't know how long he'd be wandering or what he might face. Better to stock up now than starve later.

He cleaned the meat quickly, stripped and packed it. When needed, he could roast a piece using his fire ring, masking the glow under his cloak. Even eating had to be stealthy now.

He crept close to the river, filled his wooden barrel, then moved on.

The forest ahead was dark, dense, suffocating. In the distance, he could see the towering edge of the cliff. If only his [Wraith Form] allowed him to fly... but it didn't. At best, he could hover a meter above the ground with great effort.

He sighed and kept walking.

***

Night had fallen, and the rain hadn't let up. Luke sat huddled beneath a massive tree, thick leaves above shielding him from the worst of it. Droplets still slipped through, trailing down like tiny rivers. It had been hours since he'd seen or heard any sign of orcs, which only made him more paranoid.

He bit into a piece of roasted meat, only to flinch as a hand reached toward his face.

"You don't have to wipe my mouth," he muttered, giving Charlie a tired look.

She'd taken a bit of his cloak and folded it like an improvised napkin. When scolded, she just shrugged, giving off an unmistakable vibe of: 'That's just how I am.'

Luke sighed. Less than a minute later, she tried again, persistent as always. In the end, he gave up and let her dab at his face.

Even in the middle of all this chaos, having Charlie around brought an odd sense of comfort. Especially after a few nights where, half-asleep, he'd caught her watching him while he slept.

"We've got food, water, and two healing potions," he said, finishing the last bite. "Well… technically, those things are just for me. You recharge by returning to my soul, remember?"

He looked at her, tilting his head. "By the way, I've never asked… do you feel hunger?"

Charlie shook her head.

"Makes sense," he muttered, resting his chin on his knees. "But now I'm wondering… would a healing potion even work on you? I mean, you're all bones. Do they only work if you swallow them, or can you just pour one on a wound?"

She shrugged, clearly unsure.

Luke made a mental note.

"Right. Add to list: test if potions work via direct contact with wounds. Because if I'm ever choking on my own blood, I'd like a chance to survive without needing to swallow a drop."

He gave her a serious look.

"Charlie, if that ever happens, just pour the potion on the wound. Got it?"

She nodded solemnly.

They sat in silence for a bit, the rain a soft hiss in the background. Then Luke said, "By the way… ever since you got those Iron Bones, I haven't actually seen what they look like. Mind taking off the armor? I want to see how you look without anything on."

Charlie froze.

Her entire posture stiffened, then slumped slightly in what Luke could only describe as embarrassed. If she had skin, he was sure she'd be blushing.

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"Ah—wait! I meant just the glove!" he blurted, realizing how bad that had sounded given the situation with her. "Just the glove's fine!"

Great job, idiot, he thought. She walked around naked as a skeleton for days, and now she gets shy?

Charlie hesitated a moment longer, then removed the glove.

She revealed a skeletal hand. It looked familiar, but when he touched it, the difference was obvious. Cold. Solid. Durable. Not bone anymore, metal, the exact color of bone.

"Holy crap… you're like some undead Wolverine," Luke muttered.

Charlie calmly slipped the glove back on.

Since the upgrade, she had become something far more than just resilient. The [Iron Bones] combined with her [Bone Endurance] had turned her into something dense, heavy, and entirely built for punishment. Add in [Basic Bone Regeneration], which let her rebuild shattered parts at the cost of HP, and Luke was sure that the fragile skeleton he had met would feel envy.

Charlie wasn't just his companion.

She was a walking fortress.

***

The two moved through the forest, following a narrow stream. It wasn't the main river but a small offshoot, winding between thick trees. Luke could've jumped over it without effort. It was so thin, it looked more like a deep groove in the earth than a true waterway.

He pushed aside the tall grass and stepped forward, but stopped abruptly. He halted at the last second.

Ahead of him was something that resembled a lake, but it didn't look natural. The shape was too round, too symmetrical. A massive pool, sculpted into the ground by artificial means. The stream fed into the structure, flowing in through one end and out through another narrow channel. It wasn't a lake. It was a chamber. A containment pit.

Luke crouched and studied the still water. Then he saw it.

Floating among oversized lily pads, something green lurked at the bottom of the pit. A crocodile. But not just any crocodile. This one was massive, muscular, covered in thick, rugged scales. Its eyes were half-lidded, barely visible beneath the surface, its body perfectly blended into the aquatic plants.

I hate crocodiles…

A chill crawled up his spine. The sight reminded him of the Stalker Crocodile from the temple dungeon. A memory he'd rather keep buried. Trauma had a way of resurfacing at the worst times.

But this crocodile seemed trapped. The walls of the pit were too high, and the water too shallow for it to climb out. It wasn't just stuck. It was caged.

Luke flinched as an orc appeared on the far side of the pool, emerging from the underbrush. The creature carried a massive chunk of meat and casually hurled it into the center of the pit. The moment the meat hit the water, the crocodile surged upward in a violent burst. It snapped its jaws around the offering before vanishing back beneath the leaves.

Luke swallowed hard.

A pet?

He immediately ducked. Charlie followed suit beside him. They remained motionless, eyes locked on their surroundings. Luke scanned the forest, looking for more signs of orcs.

Keeping to the treeline, he circled the artificial lake. The crocodile had gone still again, indistinguishable from the vegetation. Like a living trap.

Luke climbed a tree for a better view. That's when he saw it.

An orc encampment. Makeshift tents, leather canopies, wooden scaffolds. At least fifteen orcs moved throughout the site, armed and armored. Near the edge of the clearing, monstrous horses were tied to a thick tree.

This was a problem.

Sticking close to the river and moving through the forest had been the smartest play so far. The only real strategy. But now a whole squad was in his path. If they spotted him, the hunt would begin all over again. Worse: if he simply tried to sneak past them, one of them could act as a scout, spread his location, and he'd be surrounded in no time.

His grip tightened around the kukris.

If I leave them alive, it's only a matter of time before they find me. But if I kill them... I risk alerting others. What if more orcs are nearby?

He nearly clicked his tongue in frustration. Circling the camp from the outer forest was an option, but a risky one. He'd seen other smaller groups in the surrounding area. The orcs were too well-coordinated for this to be an isolated outpost.

Luke closed his eyes and took a slow breath.

No choice.

I won't be able to sleep knowing I left fifteen orcs at my back. Better they find a ruined camp too late than catch me running through the woods with no backup.

He opened his eyes, cold and focused.

I'll kill them all.

***

Luke watched the orcs. These ones didn't carry bells. They weren't scouts. They were support units: grinding blades, sharpening spears, hauling crates of supplies. A resource camp. Too tightly grouped for a stealth approach.

He had no choice.

He dropped from the tree and rushed forward. The orcs stood stunned. No time to react. His kukris flashed through the air as he threw them mid-run. Charlie landed a second later, spinning into a whirlwind of steel.

An orc charged with a spear. Luke deflected it with one blade and countered with the other, slicing clean across the creature's chest. He jumped, using the wounded orc's head as a springboard, and dropped into the middle of the group. Black vapor burst around him. He vanished.

Charlie landed hard behind him, sword coming down vertically, impaling another. Luke rematerialized behind a target, grabbed its head, and slit its throat. Charlie tore through another with a rapid series of cuts.

One orc reached for an axe, but spectral chains lashed around his leg and slammed him against a tree. Luke leapt on top and drove his blade into the creature's chest. Another tried to flee. Luke's kukris flew. Charlie yanked him back with her chains and finished him with a single strike.

A whistle. A flash. A flying arrow. Luke deflected it by instinct. Two more orcs at the back had begun firing rapidly. Luke sprinted, dodging with Basic Dark Dash. A handaxe spun at him. He dove behind a wooden crate.

Silence. Breathing. Movement.

He rose, hurling both kukris. One orc blocked with a wooden shield, then threw the whole thing at Luke. Luke rolled over the crate, recalled the kukris magnetically, and rushed with Charlie, each flanking from opposite sides. She activated Spectral Charge. One orc tried to draw, but chains curled around him like snakes. Luke jumped and beheaded the first. He landed on the second like a panther, finishing him with both blades in a clean, ruthless strike.

He counted quickly. Thirteen down. But two were missing.

Then, a barrel came flying at them. Charlie punched it mid-air. Water exploded in every direction. An orc charged with twin handaxes. He leapt, only to be met mid-air by a brutal punch to the chest. Charlie spun and finished him with a swift slash.

The last orc fired arrows in rapid succession. Luke ran straight toward him, dodging with every step. Each arrow was a potential kill shot.

One, deflected.

Another, dodged.

The next, grazed his arm.

He blurred forward, a black phantom, and leapt. A sweeping arc. The orc crumpled, sliced open.

Luke rolled on landing, stood fast, eyes scanning. Heavy breath. Muscles tense.

"We got them."

But then, something massive came hurtling toward him. A tree trunk. It slammed into him with brutal force. He flew back through the air.

And that's when he felt it. Arrows. Dozens. Some pierced his side. Chains followed, snaking through the air. They caught. Pulled.

Charlie darted in front, defending him, blocking, shielding. Luke dragged himself to a wooden shack and dove inside. Charlie followed, covering the rear.

What the hell was that?

He peeked through a crack in the wall and froze.

Orcs. Dozens. Pouring from the forest. A tidal wave of enemies.

And then a voice rang out, dripping with contempt.

"Well, would you look at that. It worked."

Luke went still.

"I know how you think. The second I learned you were in this region, I made sure to scatter weak-looking camps. Bait."

The voice was unmistakable.

"I followed your trail of bodies. I guessed your path. Like a rat. I've been ten steps ahead this entire time."

A towering figure stepped out from among the orcs. The pressure in the air grew heavier.

"I've waited so long for this. Been dying to kill you. Remember when you said you'd come for my head?"

The figure grinned wide, eyes burning with hatred.

"Well, I'm here."

[Morvat, the Orc General – Lvl ??]

Luke had walked straight into a trap.

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