Forest Traverse

Heading northward.

It was a long journey, along a path lined with towering trees.

Noah, with only a pack on his back and no other clothing but a black cloak tied around his waist to fend off the cold, was seventeen—neither adult nor child, in the prime of his youth.

After removing the bandage, his wound had scabbed over with a purple crust, as if the witch's salve had fused with his flesh in some peculiar way. The pain had vanished, occasionally replaced by a peculiar warm and cool sensation.

Logan had said that after treating a wound with witch's salve, some hunters succumbed to complications while others survived, growing tougher. Perhaps it was psychological, but Noah did indeed feel stronger than ever, more robust and vigorous.

The witches who concocted the salve hailed from a vast swampland beyond the borders. Many rivers flowed down from the southern mountains, winding their way to the northern bays, converging and pooling to form wetlands. The progenitor witches hid there, imparting their sorcery to the indigenous people, thus transforming the marshes into a land of witchcraft.

Bordering Roman, the witches often entered the kingdom, bartering their magic for goods. They were frequently employed by lords as advisors, tasked with resolving supernatural phenomena within their territories.

Logan had once taken Noah to visit a witch—temperamental, impatient, and prone to berating demon hunters. Highly vigilant, she kept an agile drake as a guard against thieves. She also possessed deep, formidable magic; the enchanted rope in Noah's backpack was her handiwork.

How could he honor Logan's expectations? Noah was fraught with concern.

"You needn't be responsible for the dead, fool," Gladius sneered crudely in his mind. "He's dead through and through. Even if you become utterly corrupt, he won't complain, for he can no longer speak."

"Creatures like you wouldn't understand."

"I don't need to. All that burdens your actions—responsibility, duty, morality—they're debts of your spirit, haunting you day and night."

"And you think I should live without principles? Without a bottom line?"

"You see me; I've no clue about principles, yet I live well. Learn to scorn rules; it gives you an edge over those who abide by them. When they hesitate over some lofty ideals, you get to take the lead."

If only I were a learned hunter, well-versed in the ways of society, I could teach this creature a lesson.

"Please, even if you exhaust a lifetime gaining knowledge, you'd only reach the second tier of wisdom, overturning all your previous beliefs. But I, having lived for countless years, now guide you from the fifth level. So you might as well abandon your foolish notions and comfortably follow my teachings."

Noah endured Gladius's incessant rambling throughout the journey. The demon never lacked for stories or topics to share, commanding the conversation with aggression one moment, humility the next, sometimes cruel and sometimes humorous—a charming companion. But Noah kept his guard up. Better safe than sorry, especially with a demon.

Unsure of the precise route, Noah followed the direction of the sunrise and sunset, trudging northward. He'd heard people casually mention that a ten-day walk north of the Twilight Forest led to the coastline, and from there, the large city of Ash Tree Hall was nearby.

"Such a hasty conclusion," the demon critiqued. "You might wander off course, misjudge directions, traverse aimlessly in the woods, deplete your supplies without finding the forest's edge."

And the demon wasn't wrong. Noah had walked for days without seeing the forest's boundary, which was starting to worry him.

He journeyed by day and rested at night, bearing the cold in sheltered spots, often sleepless through the night and marching on by day. His soles were punctured by thorns and wild grasses, bleeding continuously. He longed for shoes and clothing, a bed and a warm fire. Most of the time, Noah was hungry, foraging for wild fruits, while squirrels and rabbits were too swift for him to catch. But he still had his crossbow, ready to roast any animal he managed to shoot.

On the fifth day, the cuts on his feet scabbed over, his skin toughened. Once only accustomed to the softness of shoe soles, his feet now braved the earth, enabling him to travel farther each day. The silence of the forest was his sole company, aside from the demon. Trapped in Noah's soul, Gladius had a narrow view, seeing only what was close, so Noah described the world he could see—the sun rising on the horizon, pine trees towering in the distance.

There were no signs of humanity, only animals roaming free. Noah spotted a trail of sacred white deer traversing the forest in silent procession, their noble stature casting him into a dreamlike state, their passage leaving him spellbound long after they vanished.

The feeling of escape wasn't all that unpleasant, for there was always hope—the forest wasn't infinite.

By the seventh day, a river appeared before him, reviving Noah's spirits. He recalled crossing a river when they first entered the Twilight Forest; perhaps this was the same one. Crossing the river meant Ash Tree Hall wouldn't be far.

He followed the riverbank, the babbling waters striking stones with a series of crisp sounds. Midway through Frostmoon, the tenth month of the year, the weather grew colder, the river chill biting. Noah crouched down, splashing river water over his face, the icy shock instantly refreshing him.

"Ah—" Gladius complained, "That's cold."

"You can feel what I feel?" Noah was puzzled.

"Yes, I feel extreme sensations. Please, no more of these hot and cold tricks. It only reminds me how vulnerable your nerves are, reacting so intensely to these temperature changes."

"I've seen your body, with flames burning underneath. Does it burn?"

"Of course, it's the perpetual demon fire inside me. We devour souls; souls are our fuel. Demons are always burning, and if we don't consume enough souls, we disintegrate."

"What sustains you now without souls? My soul?"

"Ugh, your soul reeks of Aether Flame's taint; it's unappetizing. Yes, if I can't replenish with fresh souls, I'll starve. Do me a favor and find some fresh souls."

"I won't kill for you."

"Ah, are demons so fragile that we rely solely on human souls? Why must demons be such troublesome beings! Give me animal souls, beasts or monsters, the souls of terrestrial creatures, each with their own flavor."

Noah spotted a small river crab crawling along the muddy bank, snatched it up, and crushed it between his fingers.

"Like this?"

"..." Gladius reluctantly agreed. "Yes, I've consumed it, but I'm still aggrieved by your attempt to appease a demon with such rubbish."

Noah might have been imagining it, but he saw a wisp of green smoke rise from the crab and enter his body.

He tossed the crab into his mouth, crunching down hard.

The juice burst, salty and tender crab meat mixed with sharp shell fragments, chewed into a paste in his mouth, the flavor surprisingly delightful.

Noah smacked his lips and continued along the river, soon coming upon a stone bridge.

Finally, a place to cross.

"Look, look, our feast is coming," Gladius murmured.

Noah, unsure what the demon meant, approached the bridge, catching an unpleasant odor. The bridge was broad and impressive, spanning the river, wide enough for two carriages to pass side by side with ease. Banners of the Ash Tree Hall lord, green with hyacinths, stood at both ends, weathered and torn, nearly faded beyond recognition.

He heard the sound of water sloshing beneath the bridge, something moving in the water. Noah stepped back agilely, clutching his newly forged weapon.

A terrible creature emerged before him.

It was cloaked in slimy green scales, secreting mucus, with a nauseatingly yellow belly, covered in bumps and barnacle-like parasites. Its limbs were thick, arms so long that they could touch the ground when it stood upright, webbed fingers black and pronounced, clutching a soaked cudgel with formidable strength. The disproportionally large head had tusks protruding, eyes murky and fierce, ears small, almost just seams flushed against its skull, and from its bald head, water continuously dripped.

Noah knew what it was—a troll.

Trolls were resilient, adapting to all kinds of environments and accordingly evolving traits to match. The river troll before him had evolved webbed extremities and lost cumbersome ears to suit the river's conditions. Snow trolls were cloaked in fur, while cave trolls developed acute hearing, and there were countless subspecies.

Moreover, trolls were clever.

"Bridge toll," it banged the cudgel against the bridge, a dull thud echoing. "Bridge toll," it demanded, opening its other hideous hand toward Noah.

"What do you want?" Noah asked.

"Kill it! Let me eat it! I'm so hungry; I need a soul!" Gladius was eager.

"Gold, silver, copper, whatever you have. Glass, jewelry, I take it all... Food works too!" the troll's gaping maw opened and closed, grinding like stones against bark.

Skulls wrapped around its waist still had bits of uneaten, dried flesh.

"Do you kill people?" Noah's grip on his weapon tightened.

"Only if they try to cross without paying... Are you trying to cross?" The troll roared in anger. "Without toll money, no one crosses!"

"I'll cross anyway. If you try to stop me, I'll cut you down," Noah threatened.

The troll, enraged, slammed its cudgel into the ground, climbed atop the bridge, and grasped the parapet, glaring at Noah with a gaze filled with malevolence.

"I want money! Hand it over! Don't even think about crossing!"

"Slay it, tear its skin, pluck out its flesh," Gladius whispered incessantly. "Destroy it, use your strength to subdue it, make it a stepping stone to power and honor. You can do it; you can..."

Noah's fury and murderous intent were driven by Gladius, but he also felt a chill recognizing the cunning in the troll's eyes.