Chapter 26

Dumaine was a mystery. He had lost an arm to me, yet vanished. Did he have some ability I didn’t know of? A teleportation scroll? Forced recall magic? My thoughts spiraled endlessly with no answer in sight.

As I walked, I realized I had reached the mountain where the Sage was said to reside. For the first time in three days, I sensed a human presence—yet it vanished almost immediately. Confused, I invoked Lightfoot and rushed to where I had felt it. But there was nothing. No sign of habitation, nothing to suggest a human had ever lived here. Just trees and grass everywhere.

What was going on? I heightened my senses as far as they would go, but the trace of a human presence had disappeared completely. Usually, when someone cast magic, there was a lingering distortion in the natural mana flow at the site, but I found no such trace. Then where had it gone?

As I circled the area, something odd brushed against my foot. A faint difference in the ground’s feel.

I focused and walked again. This time, the sensation was clear. The step beneath me felt different from the grass I’d been walking on.

“Underground?”

Crouching down, I swept my hands across the ground, searching. After some time, my fingers caught on something. I gripped it and pulled upward—only to find that the grass itself lifted. Beneath it was an opening, and a ladder descended into darkness.

Living underground…?

I set one foot onto the ladder but hesitated. Was this truly where the Sage lived? That was the real question. But the doubt didn’t last long. Better to go in and see for myself.

I lowered myself onto the ladder, gripped the sides, and climbed down. It was darker than I expected. The descent was longer, too. At last, my feet touched solid ground, and I found a passage leading inward, tall enough that I could walk it without crouching.

Candles flickered along the walls, dimly lighting the path. Somewhere inside, a breeze stirred faintly against my skin. The passage sloped downward, twisting deeper into the earth.

Eventually, a door appeared ahead. Hastening my steps, I reached it quickly. A simple wooden door stood before me, unadorned and plain. Yet from beyond it, I could sense a presence. Human. The certainty sparked a rush of expectation. I grasped the handle and pulled.

Clunk.

It didn’t budge.

Was it a push door? I shoved it forward, but it still held fast. Locked?

“Excuse me. Could you open the door?” I called out, raising my voice slightly.

Then I reconsidered. Would they actually open it? Someone living underground must have their reasons, and if a stranger showed up asking to be let in…

“Slide it to the side.”

A voice answered from within, calm and utterly unshaken.

“Thank you.”

So it was a sliding door? I pushed it to the left, and with a rough scrape, the door opened. The inside was surprisingly bright, unlike the dim passage I had walked. Yet, just like outside, there was wind moving through the chamber. Where was it coming from?

Too many thoughts crowded my head—distracting, unnecessary. Thoughts I couldn’t control.

“Haa…”

I exhaled softly, forcing the clutter from my mind. Only then did the interior come into focus.

Candles lit a broad room, their flames flickering across half-empty bookshelves that held fewer than ten volumes. To the left, a wooden bed and a door stood against the wall. To the right, a table sat with a lone candle at its center. And in the middle of it all was a round wooden table, where an old man sat.

His white beard, eyebrows, and hair stood out starkly. His eyebrows were so thick and long they drooped all the way down to the bridge of his nose, hiding his eyes. His beard was long enough to conceal his mouth, while his hair was neatly combed back. As I studied him, the mass of his beard stirred at the place where his mouth must have been, and a voice emerged—low, steady, impossible to refuse.

“Come, sit. I’ve been waiting for you.”

Waiting? He knew I was coming? Was this the Sage? A hundred thoughts passed through my mind in a flash.

“I am called Zydrint, the one people call Sage. Don’t ask how I read your thoughts. From the smallest of expressions or gestures, one can know enough. Now, sit.”

I was too taken aback to reply. My body moved on its own, walking forward to sit in the chair before him. Silence followed, broken only by the soft flutter of candlelight and the faint breeze that stirred the air.

“Dumaine will cross your path often. You’ll spend a long time together.”

“What do you mean?”

The moment Dumaine vanished replayed in my mind.

“That is the fate awaiting him.”

“Do you know all of fate?”

“I only speak of what I have seen and heard. There is nothing I’ve truly understood… the gods do not lay bare the path of destiny to mere mortals.”

“Then what is it you wish to tell me?”

Once more, silence. Then, within that quiet, the Sage began to speak—sharing much.

I lost track of how long I listened. He spoke of the Force Lead. Of his lineage. Of his family’s bond with the Force Lead.

Should I believe him? Did I even have the time to sort through this? I closed my eyes, sinking into thought.

Clunk.

The sound of a door opening and closing. Subtle differences in the creak of wood marked it, but the one entering now paid no mind. Instead, they pulled back the curtain on the left.

Sssk.

Behind the curtain was a simple setup: a chair, a small wooden table. Two candles burned brightly on it, scattering light across the space. A book lay open, abandoned mid-read, at the spot closest to the chair.

The Sage sat in that chair, picked up the book, and resumed reading. Only the steady, rhythmic sound of pages turning broke the silence.

The candles wavered under the unseen breeze, their faint sputter adding to the silence. Yet the Sage, absorbed in his reading, paid no mind.

“Keep thinking, Force Lead. I cannot reveal everything to you yet…”

Thump.

The Sage shut the book without glancing at the final page. He never read the last page of any book. It was a habit he had carried since the age of twenty, when, after first discovering books at five, he had decided that endings were not for him. Ninety-four years of leaving the last page untouched had turned it into second nature.

Zydrint pulled another book from the shelf, opened the cover, and began reading once more. When he reached the end, he would close it again before the final page. Always.

And so, the chamber filled again with the sound of pages turning and the faint crackle of candle flames trembling in the breeze. All else was silence.

Thung, thung.

A heavy strike rang out, as though iron clashed against iron, yet the sound carried a strange, otherworldly echo.

Thung, thung.

Each blow gave rise to a faint blue glow in the darkness ahead, flaring to life, then fading slowly away.

“Damn it. Why can’t I get out of here?”

A one-armed man swung a sword with his left hand, striking again and again at the unseen barrier before him. Each impact summoned the same fleeting blue light. Then a voice resounded in his head.

[Humans call this place the Forest of Demons. Entering is easy. Leaving is impossible.]

“So this is the infamous Forest of Demons? Hah. But why impossible?”

Dumaine’s lips twisted into an eager smile. The sword paused in his hand, but he waited for the reply.

[Because of the dragons who sealed me. They cast a great barrier over the entire forest, trapping countless monsters inside. But what you see now—those are but illusions.]

The answer made him frown.

“Then why is it possible to come in, but not to leave?”

[Who can fathom the minds of lizards? And I have no wish to try.]

At that, Dumaine burst into manic laughter.

“Lizards? Ha! And here I thought there was nothing you didn’t know.”

Clang.

The sword struck again, light blooming brighter this time, but the result remained the same.

[It’s useless. Until you master my power of Ruin completely, you cannot leave. Behind you.]

Slish.

“Guh?”

“I already know. Still, swinging left-handed isn’t the easiest.”

Thud.

An ogre, cleaved at the waist, crashed lifelessly behind him.

“Yes… I’ll master it fully. The power of Ruin itself. Ha-ha-ha!”

Thoom, thoom.

Slash.

“Grrrroooaaagh!”

Dozens of ogres charged toward him, only to collapse mid-stride. For a moment, a gray blur flickered among their falling bodies, then vanished. In the span of heartbeats, six ogres lay cut down.

Dumaine dashed forward, his laughter echoing.

“Tell me, was that advice just now? Heh-heh.”

No answer came. Only the chorus of ogres’ dying screams shook the forest.