The grass beneath Erevan's boots looked ordinary. Too ordinary.
It swayed gently in the wind, brushing against his fingertips like any other field should have. But after tumbling through collapsing fragments of reality and punching a nightmare creature that literally spat out bugs, "ordinary" had lost all credibility.
He pressed his heel into the soil, grinding it in as if the ground might vanish beneath him. The earth held firm. No flicker. No glitch.
For now.
He exhaled shakily and muttered, "Okay. So far, the ground is real. Great start."
Kaelith didn't look convinced. Her bow was already half drawn, her eyes scanning the horizon with that unblinking precision that made Erevan's sarcasm wilt on arrival. The faint shimmer of her silver armor caught the light like a warning flare.
"We're not safe," she said quietly. Her tone was calm—but sharp, like the moment right before a blade sinks in.
"Wow." Erevan dropped heavily onto the grass, rubbing a hand over his face. "You don't say. Was it the giant laughing nightmare trying to eat us, or the part where we fell through what I'm pretty sure was a collapsing computer screen?"
Kaelith gave no answer. Of course she didn't.
Erevan sighed. "Yeah. That's what I thought."
The air shimmered, and his vision stuttered with a familiar blue flicker. The System was back, as relentless as ever.
(Quest Complete: Emergency Escape)
(Reward: 1,000 EXP)
(Bonus Reward: Data Fragment – Delivered)
[Level Up]
Erevan Arclight — Lv. 12 → Lv. 14
HP: 620/620
MP: 360/360
Strength: 49 (+6)
Agility: 44 (+7)
Intelligence: 46 (+6)
Luck: Error
New Skill Gained: System Ping
Effect: Sends out a pulse to detect anomalies nearby. Warning: May attract unwanted attention.
Erevan stared at the glowing text, jaw tightening. "May attract unwanted attention. Great. That's not a skill. That's a suicide note."
He let his hand fall back onto the grass, feeling the rough blades scratch his palm, grounding him just enough to breathe again. "For a system that keeps calling me an anomaly, it really loves making my life miserable."
Kaelith crouched beside him. Her silver eyes caught the fractured sunlight—steady, assessing, far too perceptive. "Tell me what you saw," she said.
Erevan blinked. "What?"
"The fragment. The recording." Her tone didn't waver. It was the kind of voice that didn't ask—it commanded.
Erevan's throat tightened. That recording. The flickering hologram. The words burned behind his eyelids even now—Test subject… memory suppression… containment breach. He swallowed hard.
"It was just corrupted junk," he said finally, forcing the words through a grin that didn't reach his eyes. "Old logs. Nothing useful. Probably some admin having a breakdown."
Kaelith stared at him for a long, unblinking moment. "You're a terrible liar."
He smiled weakly. "Thank you. I do try."
She didn't press, and somehow that was worse. The silence between them wasn't empty—it was loaded. Heavy. Like the air before a storm.
They started walking again.
The hills rolled out before them, wide and endless—but wrong. The grass shimmered in faint pulses, as if someone had rendered reality in low resolution. Trees warped as they moved, bending at impossible angles. Rocks floated inches above the ground, shadows cast in directions that didn't match the sun.
A metallic tang hung in the air, faint but unmistakable. It tasted like electricity and rain and blood.
Erevan kicked at a pebble. It bounced twice—then froze midair, glitched, and blinked out of existence.
He froze. "Okay. Nope. Not ominous at all."
Kaelith kept walking, her expression unreadable. "Don't fall behind."
"I wasn't planning to! Just… appreciating the existential horror of floating rocks, that's all."
The System chimed again, cutting through the strange quiet.
(New Side Quest Available: Investigate the Whispering Grove)
(Reward: ???)
(Failure: Unknown)
Erevan groaned aloud. "Why do I never get quests like 'Take a nap' or 'Eat something that won't kill you'?"
Kaelith's gaze lifted toward the horizon. Beyond the corrupted hills, a thin band of trees waited—dark, distorted, their leaves flickering like broken pixels.
"The Grove," she murmured. "I've heard of it."
"Good things?" Erevan asked, already knowing the answer.
"No."
"Figures."
He adjusted the strap on his shoulder, gave the horizon a long, tired look, and sighed. "Alright then. Off to the whispering death-forest. Because apparently, that's a thing now."
Kaelith didn't respond, but her posture tightened, bow already ready.
Erevan glanced at her, then at the shifting air ahead. "You ever get the feeling the world's just… waiting for us to screw up?"
Her silver eyes flicked toward him. "Constantly."
He let out a shaky laugh. "Yeah. Same."
And together, they stepped into the warping fields—toward the grove that whispered like something alive.
The forest loomed ahead like a memory someone had tried to delete—but failed.
The trees twisted upward in impossible spirals, their bark flickering between wood, static, and something almost metallic. The leaves whispered in a language that wasn't wind—soft, urgent, broken.
Erevan hesitated at the edge of the tree line. The moment he stepped closer, his breath caught. The sound wasn't around him. It was inside his head.
His name.
Faint. Whispered. Drawn out like a prayer.
Erevan... Erevan...
He froze. "Okay," he whispered, his voice trembling. "Nope. That's— that's fine. Totally fine. Just trees talking to me. Definitely not losing it."
Kaelith turned slightly, her silver eyes scanning the dark. "What is it?"
"You don't—hear that?"
"I hear static." Her tone was calm, but her hand had already moved toward her blade. "Nothing more."
"Right," Erevan muttered, throat dry. "Just me, then. Of course."
The System didn't help. It never did.
(Warning: Mental Stability Threat Detected)
(Countermeasure: Resist or Submit)
He groaned. "Oh, perfect. Another fake choice from my least favorite cosmic admin."
Still, he forced himself forward, one boot sinking into the shimmering grass. The ground rippled beneath him like liquid light.
The whispers surged. The shadows stretched.
And then the forest moved.
Branches bent inward, forming a tunnel of warped light and color, swallowing him whole. Kaelith's presence blinked out of existence behind him.
"Kaelith?" His voice echoed, too loud, too alone. "Hey—this is not funny! I am not doing solo horror quests today!"
No answer. Just the rhythmic thrum of whispers. The forest pulsed like it had a heartbeat.
And then—he saw it.
A figure, standing motionless in the distance. Hooded. Cloaked in digital haze. Its face was pure static, a shifting blur that refused to hold shape.
Every instinct in Erevan screamed run.
Instead, he froze. "Nope," he whispered to himself. "Nope, nope, nope. This is where normal people turn around."
He looked back. The path was gone.
Of course it was.
The air shimmered with cold. His vision flickered.
(Quest Progress: Whispering Grove – Phase One Initiated)
"Oh great," he muttered, voice rising with panic. "Phase one. Because apparently, there are phases."
The hooded figure raised its hand. The whispers sharpened into words—layered, distorted, wrong.
"You do not belong here."
Erevan's pulse hammered. "Yeah, well, tell that to the giant laughing monster that threw me here, thanks."
The voice overlapped itself, echoing from everywhere at once.
"You are an error. A fracture. A shadow of what should have been."
The words sank into his skull like ice. His vision blurred—he saw flashes. Laboratories. Wires. His own reflection, staring back with hollow eyes.
His HP bar plummeted.
HP: 620/620 → 490/620
"Stop—doing—whatever that is!" Erevan shouted, swinging his arm forward out of pure panic. "I don't need therapy from haunted holograms!"
The figure didn't move. It just kept watching.
Something inside Erevan cracked—his nerves, or maybe his patience. Either way, he snapped. "You know what? Screw this!"
He punched forward, half expecting his fist to go through air—
—but the world tore.
A line of light split open beside him, sparking like a broken file. From that rift, something small tumbled out.
A penguin.
Round. Waddling. Wearing a crooked little wizard's hat.
Erevan blinked. "…What."
The penguin tilted its head, then quacked. The sound echoed unnaturally loud in the silent forest.
"Okay," Erevan said slowly. "I've officially lost it. I'm hallucinating flightless birds in cosplay."
The penguin quacked again—louder this time—and with that sound came a burst of icy blue light. Shards of frost exploded outward, slamming into the hooded figure with a crack that rattled the trees.
The forest shuddered. The whispers faltered.
The cloaked enemy stumbled back, its static face glitching wildly.
Erevan stared, jaw dropping. Then—grinned. "Oh, that's right. Fear the penguin."
The little creature puffed up proudly, wobbling forward as frost trailed behind its tiny feet. Another quack—another burst of frozen static. The figure shrieked in distortion before collapsing into shards of digital ash.
Silence.
The forest froze, the air heavy and still.
Then, reality blinked—and Kaelith reappeared beside him, eyes wide, bow drawn. "What happened?"
Erevan gestured vaguely at the penguin, still dusted in ice and arrogance. "That happened."
Kaelith stared. "It's… wearing a hat."
"I noticed." Erevan crouched, gently patting the little creature on the head. "Meet my emotional support anomaly."
The penguin quacked proudly again, tiny hat tilting to one side.
The System pinged, as if reluctantly acknowledging the absurdity of the moment.
(Side Quest Progress: Whispering Grove – Phase One Complete)
(Companion Acquired: Glitch Penguin [Temporary])
(Skill Unlocked: Frozen Static Blast)
Erevan leaned back, still panting. "I swear, I don't even know what genre I'm in anymore."
Kaelith holstered her bow, glancing warily at the penguin. "It's… effective. Somehow."
"Right? Little guy's a menace." Erevan smiled faintly, brushing dirt from his gloves. "Finally, someone in this game I can relate to."
The penguin quacked again, smug and self-satisfied.
Erevan tried to laugh, but the echo of the figure's words lingered in his skull.
You are an error. A fracture. A shadow.
He swallowed hard, the cold seeping deeper than it should. "Yeah… sure. Error or not, we're still here."
Kaelith glanced at him, sharp eyes narrowing. "Something happened, didn't it?"
He forced a grin that didn't reach his eyes. "Nothing serious. Just me and my penguin saving the world."
But as they stepped deeper into the forest's flickering dark, Erevan could still feel the gaze of the Grove. Watching. Waiting.
And somewhere beyond that silence, something knew his name.
The silence that followed felt heavy enough to crush thought.
The forest had stopped whispering—almost. The trees still hummed faintly, like a chorus holding its breath. The air shimmered with leftover static, carrying the aftertaste of frost and fear.
Erevan exhaled slowly, his breath misting in the cold. "Well," he said, voice hoarse. "That was… a lot."
Kaelith didn't respond right away. She stood a few steps away, bow lowered, silver eyes scanning the darkness like she expected reality itself to move again.
Erevan flopped backward onto the grass. It felt solid this time. Real enough. He wasn't sure he trusted that, but it was something. "I think I hate forests now," he muttered.
The penguin waddled up beside him and sat down with the same exhausted energy, its hat tilting forward like it had also given up on existence.
Kaelith's shadow fell over them. "Don't relax yet," she said softly. "The Grove adapts. It watches."
Erevan stared at the trees, watching their faint pulse of corrupted light. "Yeah. Well, it can keep watching. I'm fresh out of energy and emotional stability."
He rubbed his temple, trying to ignore the headache clawing at his skull. Then the System chimed again, cold and clinical.
(Side Quest Progress: Whispering Grove – Phase Two Complete)
(Companion Status: Glitch Penguin [Stable])
Erevan rolled his eyes. "Stable? Sure. Let's call it that."
He sat up slowly, running a hand through his hair. The strands crackled faintly—static still clinging to him. "Why does everything here feel alive? The air. The ground. Even the dirt hums."
Kaelith crouched beside him, her voice quiet but steady. "Because it is alive. Just not the way you understand it. This place isn't part of the world anymore—it's remembering it."
Her words lingered, strange and heavy. Remembering it.
Erevan looked at her, the corners of his mouth twitching. "That's poetic. Terrifying, but poetic."
Her gaze flickered toward him, faint amusement softening her usual edge. "You talk when you're afraid."
He smirked. "You don't talk enough when you are."
That earned the smallest exhale of laughter from her—barely there, but real. And in that flicker of human sound, some of the tension finally broke.
They moved again, not because they wanted to, but because stillness in this place felt dangerous. The forest warped as they walked. Trees twisted back into their original shapes, only to flicker again moments later. The air shimmered like a curtain of dying code.
"Do you think the Grinshard's still out there?" Erevan asked, eyes flicking to the distance.
"Yes." Kaelith didn't hesitate.
He groaned. "Right. Of course. Because peace and I aren't on speaking terms anymore."
The penguin quacked quietly, almost consoling.
Eventually, they reached a clearing. The ground here didn't flicker—it pulsed gently, like a heartbeat beneath glass. In the center stood an obelisk, cracked and glowing faintly with fractured lines of blue.
Erevan froze. "That… looks important. And probably cursed."
Kaelith stepped closer, gaze sharp. "It's not natural. That's where the anomaly anchors."
The System blinked alive again in his vision, text scrolling too fast to read. Then a burst of static replaced it—jagged symbols, half-legible words.
(Warning: Anomaly Fragment Detected)
(Do Not Engage)
"Do not engage," Erevan muttered. "Yeah, that warning always stops me."
He crouched near the obelisk, fingertips brushing against its surface. It was warm. Almost breathing. When his skin met it, images flashed behind his eyes—white rooms, fragmented data, whispers of people without faces.
He jerked his hand back.
Kaelith watched him carefully. "You saw something."
"Just… static," he lied. His voice sounded too tight to be casual. "You know how it is. Headache. Existential dread. Regular Tuesday."
Her expression didn't change, but her silence said everything.
He glanced at her, then at the sky—or what passed for one. The stars flickered in broken intervals, like dying pixels. "Do you ever think about what happens if the system just… stops pretending this is real?"
Kaelith tilted her head. "Then we stop pretending too."
That wasn't comforting. Not really. But somehow, it made sense.
A faint wind moved through the clearing. The forest seemed to lean in, listening.
Erevan looked down at the penguin still at his feet, quietly snoozing beside the obelisk. "You know," he said softly, "I used to think the worst part of this world was dying. But now I think it's living in it and realizing it remembers more about me than I do."
Kaelith's gaze softened just a little. "Then remember faster."
Erevan smiled faintly, exhaustion written in every line of it. "Working on it."
The System hummed again—quiet, almost thoughtful.
(New Objective: Survive)
(Time Remaining Until Storm Reset: 04:00:00)
Erevan stared at the timer as it appeared in his vision. "Four hours. Fantastic. Just enough time to almost die twice."
Kaelith's hand brushed the hilt of her sword. "Then let's make them count."
Erevan tilted his head toward her, a lopsided grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You really don't do optimism, do you?"
"No."
He chuckled softly, pushing himself to his feet. "Guess I'll do it for both of us."
They stood together at the edge of the clearing, the forest still pulsing faintly behind them. The obelisk's glow dimmed to a heartbeat of light. Somewhere deep within the Grove, something stirred—slow, patient, aware.
Erevan didn't look back.
He just whispered to the penguin perched on his shoulder, "Come on, little guy. Let's go break reality again."
And the forest watched them go.