The silence of the forest was a palpable presence, fraught with invisible threats. The mist of laziness, though weak at this distance from the Tower, dragged to the ground like a sick fog, slowing their steps and weighing down their limbs with subtle but persistent fatigue.
Arthur, as a scout, gave them discreet hand signals, pointing the way forward. They were advancing in tight formation, with Conor leading with his shield, Hakime and Lyra on their flanks, covering the rear. Their steps were muffled by a carpet of greyish moss and rotten leaves.
Suddenly, Arthur raised his fist, a stop signal. He pointed to a low bush, from which a hoarse growl emanated. Hakime perceived a faint burst of corrupt ether, a dull and sickly glow.
Two figures stood out from the shadows. Lethargic goblins. They were small, grayish-skinned and covered in warts, their glassy eyes reflecting an unhealthy apathy. They held coarse clubs and drooled a thick saliva. Their mere presence seemed to suck up the ambient energy.
"Two. Level 2," Hakime whispered as he read the data on his watch. "They are quickly and silently neutralized. Arthur, distract the one on the left. Conor, immobilize him. Lyra and I are taking care of each other."
Arthur nodded and, in a breath, used his Quickstep. He suddenly appeared next to the first goblin, hitting his club with his daggers to divert his attention. The goblin growled, raising his weapon slowly.
Conor, like a rock, rushed at him. He didn't use his Ironskin, saving his ether. He struck the goblin with his shield, throwing it heavily against a tree. The impact cracked the rotten wood. The goblin collapsed, groggy.
Meanwhile, the second goblin turned to Hakime and Lyra with a drooling grin. Hakime stepped forward, his spear on guard. He did not project light. He used his weapon with deadly precision, aiming at the monster's leg to unbalance it. The crystal tip pierced the muscle, and the goblin screamed, a muffled, hoarse sound.
Lyra had wasted no time. While Hakime was occupying the monster, she had fashioned a long, thin glass needle. With a dry hand gesture, she projected it. The needle passed through the air without a sound and stuck straight into the goblin's eye. His cry came to a halt. He wavered and then collapsed, a trickle of black blood flowing from his wound.
The first goblin, on land, was trying to get up. Arthur, swift as lightning, stuck his two daggers in his neck, ending his suffering.
The silence fell even heavier. The smell of blood and corrupted ether mingled with the mist.
Almost immediately, Hakime felt a lukewarm, raw flow of energy entering him. It was unpleasant, like swallowing a slimy liquid, but his watch confirmed the reality: he had absorbed some of the monster ether. The progress bar to level 2 flashed, having advanced in a tiny but noticeable way.
"Is everyone okay?" asked Hakime, checking his teammates.
Arthur, a little out of breath, nodded. "Yeah. They're slower than in simulations."
"But more real," grumbled Conor, wiping a black splash on his shield.
Lyra retrieved her glass needle, which she cleaned with a meticulous gesture. "Their crystal is of very low quality. Hardly useful."
They resumed their progress, more suspicious than ever. The forest seemed alive, the shadows moving on the periphery of their vision. They encountered other creatures: a corrosive slime, a gelatinous, translucent mass that crawled on the ground, leaving an acid trail. Conor crushed it under his shield, but the metal began to smoke slightly. Lyra taught them to spot the unhealthy reflections they produced in the mist.
Later, as they passed through a denser area, Arthur warned them of a different danger: paralyzing fungus, large purple mushrooms that were slowly pulsing. They carefully avoided approaching it, knowing that their spores could immobilize an adult within seconds.
After several hours of walking and a few minor skirmishes, the team had found a rhythm. They worked like a well-oiled machine. Silent signals, blows with increasing efficiency. Each small fight brought them a tiny amount of ether, slowly but surely moving them to the next level.
As the sun began to descend, tinging the haze with grim colors, they finally reached their first goal: the watering hole. It was a small, clear spring that sprang from a rock formation, one of the few places in the area that still seemed pure. As they approached cautiously, Hakime felt a shiver of warning. His perception, sharpened by the hours of tension, signaled a greater danger to him.
"Watch out," he whispered, raising his hand. "There is something..."
Before he could finish his sentence, a grunt far deeper and more threatening than those of the goblins sounded from behind the rocks. The smell of rot and stagnant ether became almost sickening.
The first real challenge of the expedition awaited them.