During the long pauses of her journey through the forest, Rea filled her days with small routines, anything to keep boredom at bay.
She gathered fruit from the towering trees to satisfy her hunger. Her knowledge of plants was sufficient to distinguish edible fruit from poisonous ones, though even the deadliest toxins amounted to little more than a mild stomachache for her.
At night, she rested atop high branches, allowing the wind to gently sway her body as she gazed at clusters of shimmering stars. They were silent witnesses to the long history of the world. The sky never spoke, yet Rea felt closer to it than to anything else. It was like a companion that had watched over her from her creation to the present day, unchanging eternal.
Rea often sought challenges.
Ancient dungeons lay hidden throughout the forest, filled with traps and savage creatures. Though their masters had vanished long ago, the guardians remained, loyally protecting forgotten treasures.
At times, territorial beasts would provoke her, despite her having no intention of claiming their land.
On occasion, she fished in rivers so clear that the stone beds were visible beneath the surface. Even then, tranquility was deceptive,river monsters grew aggressive whenever they sensed prey nearby.
Yet none of these encounters ever truly endangered her.
With magic, every problem could be resolved effortlessly. Creatures that posed mortal threats to ordinary humans were nothing more than minor inconveniences or fleeting amusements to Rea.
Claws, fangs, and brute force meant nothing before magic honed by immortality.
Still, Rea did not hate these monsters.
She welcomed each encounter, as if they were pieces of a vast, endless game the world itself had devised to chase away her loneliness.
One day, a massive crimson fire boa emerged from behind the trees. Its scales bristled with burning thorns, its body towering higher than a palm tree. Flames burst from its maw, scorching the air.
Rea stepped forward.
With a single breath, she whispered a spell. Blades of wind sliced the creature into twelve clean segments. The flames extinguished along with its life.
Fire boa meat was rich in protein and fat valuable supplies for a long journey.
Nothing Rea encountered was ever wasted.
From dungeons, she collected chests filled with gold coins, ancient magical artifacts buried beneath centuries of dust, and clusters of high-grade crystal stones. Everything was stored within a dimensional space spell, leaving her steps unburdened.
Days passed so many that even her fingers and toes could no longer count them.
To Rea, time was merely a silent current, flowing endlessly forward. She walked by instinct alone. Even without knowing her direction, she trusted the wind brushing against her fingertips, as if the world itself were whispering guidance.
Perfection did not exist in this world.
Every being possessed strengths and flaws.
Including herself.
Rea wielded limitless power and eternal life. Yet she carried an ironic fate she had no sense of direction.
No matter how long she lived, the compass in her mind spun endlessly. Left or right. North or south. None of it mattered.
One night, beneath a moon hanging high above, Rea came to a halt.
She observed the interplay of light and shadow, felt the creeping chill in the air, and read the signs written into nature itself.
"Winter is coming," she murmured.
"If I don't find shelter… even I might freeze here."
The next day, fate finally moved.
Between dense trees and overlapping shadows, Rea spotted a small girl running desperately through the forest.
The child clutched a cloth pouch as if it were her most precious possession. Her breathing was ragged, her steps uneven, fear clearly etched across her young face.
Rea was about to call out perhaps to ask for directions, or the location of the nearest settlement.
But before a sound left her lips, the girl stumbled and fell.
Her small body curled against the damp ground. Mud stained her clothes as red berries spilled from the pouch, scattering across the forest floor.
Ragra Forest , Territory of Horgaz Village
Noa ran through the wild undergrowth, gripping a pouch of redberries as though it were a priceless treasure.
Her fear deepened each time she heard the shrill cries of animals echoing from the shadows between the trees.
She remembered the stories told in her village that the forest was filled with monsters, and that many who entered never returned.
But redberries only grew here.
People loved their sweetness, and there were always buyers willing to pay. That was the only reason she had dared to enter the forest, despite knowing how dangerous it was.
Her breath came in gasps. Thorns scratched her legs, branches tore at her clothes, yet she did not dare stop. Every rustle of wind sounded like footsteps chasing her from behind.
The animal cries rang out again closer this time.
She was on the verge of tears.
Turning sharply, she failed to notice a massive root in her path. Her foot caught, and she was thrown to the ground.
The pouch slipped from her grasp. Redberries rolled across the muddy earth, their vivid crimson staining the soil like fresh blood.
Ignoring the pain in her scraped knees, Noa desperately gathered the scattered fruit. But she was still just a child. Tears fell freely, driven by fear and loneliness.
Then she sensed something moving through the bushes.
Her sobs broke free. Terror made her hands shake as she squeezed her eyes shut.
She covered her mouth, afraid even the smallest sound would summon something worse.
Silence.
Too much silence.
The forest seemed to hold its breath. Even the insects fell quiet.
Slowly, Noa opened her eyes.
From between the trees, a massive shadow emerged. Branches cracked beneath its weight. Through the thin mist, the silhouette of a giant wolf became clear its eyes glowing red.
Tears welled in her eyes.
She knew how this story ended.
But before the wolf could advance, a gentle wind swept through the forest, carrying the scent of damp earth and tree sap.
From the opposite side, a young woman stood silently.
Golden hair flowed freely, her simple clothes fluttering softly. Her expression was far too calm for someone standing before a monstrous beast.
The wolf growled in hostility.
Then, slowly, its exposed fangs retreated. Its ears flattened. The growl weakened not directed at Noa, but at the unfamiliar woman.
Fear.
"Leave," the woman said softly.
Her voice was barely above a whisper yet it carried the weight of an absolute command.
The giant wolf hesitated, then stepped back. One step. Then another.
Finally, it turned and vanished into the darkness of the forest.