Lilya's body surged forward even faster.
Dry soil scattered behind each step.
The trees became nothing more than blurred shadows racing past the edges of her vision.
Her breathing grew heavier.
Yet her eyes remained fixed ahead.
Only ahead.
Cecilia.
She had to find Cecilia.
Nothing else mattered.
[Warning]
[Source of foreign magical element detected 100 meters ahead]
Lilya narrowed her eyes slightly.
One hundred meters.
Very close.
Her heart began to beat faster.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
Then—
directly ahead—
she saw it again.
That totem.
An aged wooden pillar carved with grotesque faces.
At its peak rested a dull purple crystal pulsing faintly.
Summ...
Summ...
Summ...
Exactly like the ones before.
"..."
Lilya spared it only a brief glance.
Then ignored it.
WHOOSH—!!
Her body shot past the totem without slowing down.
The cold night wind struck her face and swept through her blonde hair.
Long golden strands streamed wildly behind her.
The air felt heavier.
Colder.
And somehow—
unnatural.
As though this entire area had fallen under the influence of something that had no right to exist within Eldwyn Forest.
WHOOSH—
WHOOSH—
WHOOSH—
She continued running.
Until the system's voice appeared once more.
[Warning]
[Source of foreign magical element has been located at the destination point]
Lilya's steps came to an abrupt halt.
THUD.
Her eyes widened.
Before her—
stood an old cabin.
A simple wooden structure that appeared to have been abandoned for years.
Part of the roof had collapsed.
Several sections of the walls had rotted away completely.
There was no door.
No intact windows.
Only the skeletal remains of a forgotten building standing alone in the middle of the forest.
But what made Lilya freeze was not the cabin itself.
It was—
the two totems.
One on the right.
One on the left.
Standing like silent guardians.
Their purple crystals pulsed slowly in the darkness.
And near the totem on the right—
Lilya noticed something.
Several strands of medicinal herbs.
Wilted.
Scattered across the ground.
For a moment, her heart stopped.
Because she recognized them.
She knew them all too well.
They were among the herbs they had been searching for that morning.
The very herbs Cecilia had gathered.
"...!"
Lilya's eyes widened.
Her body moved instantly.
"Cecilia—!!"
Her cry echoed through the trees.
WHOOSH—!!
She rushed into the cabin.
But—
there was no answer.
No Cecilia.
No one.
Only silence.
Lilya stood motionless in the darkness.
Her eyes slowly adjusted to the dim surroundings, illuminated only by thin strands of moonlight slipping through the gaps in the decaying wooden walls.
The air inside felt heavy.
Cold.
And carried a scent she wished she didn't have to breathe.
The smell of mildew.
The smell of dried blood.
The smell of something long abandoned, yet still leaving behind wounds that refused to heal.
A transparent screen appeared before her eyes, scanning the interior with cold, mechanical precision.
---
[Old Cabin]
[Status: Abandoned]
---
No signs of life detected.
"...There's no one here."
Her voice was faint, almost lost beneath the creak of old wood shifting slowly in the night wind.
Lilya walked.
Her steps were slow, cautious—but not hesitant.
Her eyes swept left and right, reading every shadow, every dark corner that might be hiding something—or someone.
The wooden floor creaked softly beneath her feet.
And then—
she stopped.
Before her, at the far end of the hut, stood two wooden pillars.
Large.
Sturdy.
But weathered.
Rough ropes still hung from each pillar, some frayed and broken, others still tied tightly around the wood.
And between those two pillars—
fabric.
Several pieces.
Scattered across the floor.
Some folded.
Some strewn about.
All of them stained with dried mud.
And accompanied by dark blotches that Lilya did not want to think about the origin of.
Her eyes locked onto the translucent screen hovering over one of those pieces of fabric.
---
[Cecilia Veldrin – Clothing (torn)]
---
"Eh?"
Lilya looked down.
Her hands trembled as her fingers touched that fabric. Light cream-colored cloth. The same cloth that had still been warm against Cecilia's body this morning. Now torn, mud-stained, marked with dark blotches that had long since dried.
She didn't want to believe it.
Her mind screamed that [Auto Appraisal] could be wrong.
Maybe there was a mistake.
Maybe this cloth belonged to someone else.
Maybe Cecilia was fine.
But her fingers kept feeling.
Feeling the fibers that were far too familiar.
Feeling the slightly loose hem where Cecilia always moved her arms too freely while harvesting herbs.
Feeling the warmth that had long since vanished, leaving behind only the cold of the earth and the scent of blood.
Lilya's tears fell.
Silently.
Drop by drop, they soaked the dull fabric in her hands, forming small circles on the stained surface.
"...no..."
Her voice broke.
Soft.
Almost inaudible.
"...am I too late?"
Lilya's body trembled violently. Not from the cold—not from exhaustion. But from something deeper than any physical wound.
Something that crept into her chest, bound her heart, and made her breath feel like it was being torn apart.
She didn't know what had happened to Cecilia while she was searching. And in that same moment—when despair nearly consumed everything—the world around her exploded.
Two hobgoblins leaped from the shadows behind her, their massive bodies slamming into the ground with heavy thuds. Three hell wolves emerged from the collapsed wall. The disgusting black aura surrounding them made it clear that they were all being controlled by something.
They surrounded her from all sides—leaving no room, no time.
But Lilya did not move.
Did not retreat.
Did not panic.
[Battle Instinct]
The world narrowed into a single thin line between destruction.
In a fraction of a second—before the first attack could even touch her skin—the blue light sword in her hand flashed. One slash. Two slashes. Three. Four. Five. No unnecessary movements. No sound. Just flashes of blue-gold light cutting through the darkness like lightning too fast for the eye to see.
THUD.
THUD.
THUD.
Five monster bodies fell to the ground at once. Hobgoblins split from shoulder to waist. Hell wolves severed mid-leap, their bodies separated before they could even touch the floor. None of them moved. None of them got back up. Because [Veil Resonance] had killed their regeneration before their last breath could escape.
Silence.
Lilya stood in the middle of a circle of corpses, thin black smoke still rising from their wounds. Her breathing was heavy, her chest rising and falling unevenly. Her fingers still gripped the cream-colored cloth tightly—the cloth wet with her own tears.
She was still alive.
The Elder Treant had said Cecilia was in danger.
Not dead.
In danger.
That meant—there was still time.
Even if only a little.
Even if every second felt like a knife stabbing into her chest.
Lilya gritted her teeth.
Worry still gnawed at her heart, but she couldn't let it paralyze her again. Cecilia needed her. And as long as she still had breath in her body, as long as blood still flowed through her veins—she would not stop.
Auuuuuuuuuu—!!
A long howl shattered the night's silence.
Lilya turned quickly toward the hut's wide-open doorway. Her eyes narrowed.
Beyond the collapsed wooden frame, beyond the gaps between the trees outside, red eyes began to appear one by one.
WHOOSH—!!
Lilya ran out of the hut.
And before her—
an army.
Not one or two stray monsters.
But a horde.
At least a dozen monsters stood ready to attack her at any moment.
At the very front, three Hell Wolves crouched low to the ground. Their black bodies pulsed faintly with a dark red aura, marking the [Berserk] status that had eroded their natural instincts. Their eyes glowed yellow—not orange like ordinary wolves, but a pale yellow like dying embers.
---
[Hell Wolf Lv. 31]
[Status: Berserk]
[Hell Wolf Lv. 33]
[Status: Berserk]
[Hell Wolf Lv. 35]
[Status: Berserk]
---
They did not howl.
Did not growl.
Just stared—silent, frozen, like living statues waiting for a command.
Directly behind the Hell Wolves, three Goblin Riders sat astride small wolf-monsters with slimmer bodies than ordinary Hell Wolves. Their skin was darker than common goblins, with small totems hanging from their necks.
---
[Goblin Rider Lv. 25]
[Status: Berserk]
[Goblin Rider Lv. 26]
[Status: Berserk]
[Goblin Rider Lv. 27]
[Status: Berserk]
---
Wooden spears with sharp stone tips were raised in their right hands.
They waited.
And at the very back—
three Hobgoblins.
They carried greatswords.
Rough iron blades as long as a grown human's height were gripped in one hand—while the other held a spiked wooden shield that covered almost their entire lower body. Their bodies were larger than the hobgoblins Lilya had fought before. Black muscles bulged unnaturally in their arms and thighs, as if [Berserk] had forced their bodies to grow beyond natural limits.
---
[Hobgoblin Lv. 35]
[Status: Berserk]
[Hobgoblin Lv. 38]
[Status: Berserk]
[Hobgoblin Lv. 40]
[Status: Berserk]
---
They stood farthest from Lilya—yet the pressure of the black aura emanating from their bodies was the heaviest. Unlike the aggressive Hell Wolves or the ready-to-pounce Goblin Riders, these Hobgoblins were still.
Too still.
As if they knew—they didn't need to move first.
Because the front and middle ranks would weaken their prey.
And they would come at the end—to finish it.
Lilya stood before the horde of monsters.
Her breathing was still heavy. Her eyes were still wet. Her fingers still gripped the cream-colored cloth tightly—the cloth wet with her own tears, the cloth that was the only proof she was on the right path.
She didn't know how many more would come.
Didn't know how much longer she could hold on.
But one thing she knew—
she would not die here.
Not before finding Cecilia.
Not before making sure Cecilia was safe.
"I will kill all of you."
Her voice was soft.
Calm.
No shouting. No explosive rage. Just a statement—cold, flat, and absolute.
The Hell Wolves in front growled softly. Their black bodies lowered, long claws digging into the earth, ready to pounce.
The Goblin Riders behind them raised their spears. The small totems around their necks trembled, emitting waves of black magic that spread through the air like poisonous mist.
And the Hobgoblins at the very back—
silent.
Still silent.
Waiting.
But Lilya didn't care.
"You can keep attacking, keep coming—until that master mind comes to me!"
[Veil Resonance]
A golden-yellow aura exploded from her body.
Not thin like before. Not dim like when she was exhausted.
But bright.
Blazing.
Incandescent.
As if all the anger, all the worry, all the determination she had been holding back—now burst forth at once, wrapping her body in a light that was warm yet deadly.
The ground cracked beneath her feet.
Dust rose.
Dry leaves scattered.
The blue light sword in her hand changed—its color shifting, blue and gold blending into one, emitting a radiance that made the monsters before her step back half a step.
Even they—whose sanity had been eroded by [Berserk]—could feel it.
Something had changed.
Lilya no longer looked like prey.
WHOOSH—!!
Her body shot forward.
[Quick Step]
Not one step. Not two.
But an explosion of speed that made her body almost invisible.
The first Hell Wolf barely had time to raise its claw—
SHHK—!!
Its head was severed before it could touch the ground.
The second tried to leap aside—too late.
SHHK—!!
Its body was split diagonally.
The third howled, charging blindly toward Lilya with a chaotic, trembling black aura.
Lilya did not dodge.
She ran straight toward it.
[Precision Cut]
SHHK—!!
Her blade moved in a single straight line.
Right between neck and shoulder.
The Hell Wolf's body kept running for a few more steps—before finally collapsing, its head rolling across the muddy ground.
Three seconds.
Three Hell Wolves.
Annihilated.
No regeneration.
Because [Veil Resonance] had made those wounds—eternal.
Not finished yet.
The Goblin Riders were already moving.
Their spears shot from three different directions—one thrusting toward her neck, one toward her chest, one toward her stomach. Coordinated. Fast. Lethal.
Lilya saw it all.
[Battle Instinct]
The world narrowed.
The paths of the spears.
The gaps between them.
The body position of each Goblin Rider.
She did not dodge.
She leaped.
High.
Past the first spear.
Twisted in mid-air—past the second spear.
And as the third spear shot upward from below—
she flipped her body.
[Parry Counter]
CLANG—!!
The spear deflected.
The Goblin Rider who had thrust from below was stunned—his eyes widening.
No time to react.
Lilya had already landed in front of him.
[Sword Slash]
SHHK—!!
His body split apart.
The other two Goblin Riders tried to retreat—too late.
[Chain Strike]
One slash.
Two slashes.
SHHK—SHHK—!!
They fell together.
Three Goblin Riders.
Annihilated.
Lilya stood in the middle of a pile of corpses.
Her golden aura still blazed.
Her breathing was heavy.
But her eyes—
not tired.
Still sharp.
Still focused.
She stared ahead.
Toward the three Hobgoblins still standing at the very back.
They did not move.
Did not panic.
Did not try to run.
Just stared.
As if the deaths of their comrades before their eyes—meant nothing.
Because they knew.
They were not the first wave.
Not the second wave.
They were the last.
The strongest.
The ones tasked with—finishing the job.
The Hobgoblin level 35 in the center raised its greatsword.
It stepped forward.
One step.
Two steps.
The golden aura around Lilya pulsed brighter.
The blue-gold light sword in her hand lengthened—longer than before, more stable, sharper.
"[Veil Resonance] full activation."
She didn't know how much MP she had left.
Didn't know how much longer she could hold on.
But there was no time to calculate.
No time to be afraid.
Cecilia was waiting.
And as long as she could still stand, as long as this sword was still in her hand—
nothing could stop her.
The Hobgoblin level 40 at the back raised its spiked wooden shield.
The wood creaked softly, the black spikes on its surface pulsing with concentrated poison.
The Hobgoblin level 38 beside it swung its greatsword to the side—the tip of the blade scraping the ground, leaving behind a black mark that hissed as if burned by acid.
They were ready.
So was Lilya.
"Move."
WHOOSH—!!
Her body shot forward.
And the darkness of the night—
was once again split by light.