Chapter 337: Whispering Forest [2]

"S-Seven," the villager replied nervously, then bowed deeply. "P-Please, save them."

The knight placed a hand on the villager’s shoulder. "I can’t promise anything, but we’ll try our best."

"T-Thank you!"

The knight waved and led his party into the forest, the red-haired woman using a fire spell to light the way.

The villager watched them go, and the moment they were out of his sight, his fearful expression melted away, replaced by a mysterious smile. The next second, his body slowly turned to mist and disappeared.

"..."

A minute passed in silence, broken only by the faint whispers drifting from the forest.

Then a figure emerged from the treeline. A woman, dressed in dark leathers with a mask covering the lower half of her face. She moved without a sound, her eyes fixed on the spot where the villager had vanished.

’So I was right,’ she thought, her gaze narrowing. ’He was not one of them.’

"Elea!"

The red-haired woman came stomping back through the underbrush, the knight close behind her. Both looked annoyed, though the knight’s irritation was more controlled.

"Why did you disappear again?" the red-haired woman demanded. "We told you to stay with the group."

Elea shook her head. "Nothing. Just checking something."

"Checking what?" the knight asked.

"Nothing important," she replied, turning away from the spot where the villager had disappeared. "Let’s not waste time. We have children to save."

"Yeah," The red-haired woman frowned. "The sooner we finish, the faster we can go home. I really hate these kinds of places, you know."

The knight nodded in agreement. "Stay close. We don’t know what’s waiting for us in here."

The three of them moved deeper into the forest, their footsteps muffled by the thick carpet of fallen leaves. The whispers grew louder with every step, brushing against their ears like cold fingers. The red-haired woman kept her hand near her weapon, and the knight’s eyes scanned the darkness ahead.

Elea walked behind them, silent as always. But her mind was elsewhere.

’He must be a hidden character,’ she thought, recalling the staff’s explanation before they entered. Since her party members were created by the illusion, they couldn’t be him. ’But where do I find him?’

She glanced around at the twisted trees and the shadows that seemed to shift when she wasn’t looking. The forest was vast, and the whispers made it hard to think clearly. If not for her character’s superior senses and perception, she couldn’t even see five meters ahead. If Soren was somewhere in here, finding him wouldn’t be easy.

’However, since this is a story, I’m sure we’ll encounter him soon. I just have to keep observing and make sure not to miss him.’

And, considering Soren’s personality, he was probably looking for her too. So, they might meet sooner than she expected.

’Yeah...’

She allowed herself a small smile behind her mask, then quickened her pace to catch up with the others.

The three of them pressed deeper into the forest, the whispers growing louder with every step. It wasn’t long before they encountered trouble. Strange black creatures emerged from the shadows, their bodies shifting and twisting like smoke. They had no faces, only glowing red eyes and claws that tore through the air with a sickening screech. The knight drew his sword, the red-haired woman summoned flames to her palms, and Elea melted into the shadows, her daggers flashing.

The fight was brief but intense. The creatures dissolved when struck, but more kept coming, as if the forest itself was trying to push them back. The whispers also intensified, affecting their minds, sometimes cursing them and sometimes trying to allure.

After what felt like hours, they stumbled into a small clearing where the whispers softened to a gentle hum. There, hovering above a cluster of glowing mushrooms, was a tiny fairy. She was no bigger than a hand, with translucent wings and eyes that shimmered like liquid silver.

"Travelers," the fairy said, her voice like wind chimes. "You shouldn’t be here. The forest doesn’t welcome strangers."

"We’re looking for the missing children," the knight said. "Do you know where they are?"

The fairy tilted her head. "...The children are safe. For now. But the one who took them... he is not what he seems."

"Who is he?" Mona asked. "Some kind of monster?"

The fairy’s wings drooped. "We don’t know his name. We only know he wears many faces. He was once one of us, but he was cast out. Now he seeks to claim the forest for himself."

The fairy gave them a few more clues, hints about the forest’s history, why the children were kidnapped, and so on. She also warned them of the whispers, telling them not to trust everything they heard.

Then she vanished in a puff of light with an ominous line saying he knows they’re here.

With no choice, they kept walking, but they saw no sign of Soren or any other human. The forest stretched endlessly, and the whispers never stopped.

Elea’s mind raced as she kept thinking. ’...He might appear at the end. Or perhaps he’s one of the kidnapped children.’ She paused, a new thought forming. ’Or... he might be the evil one himself.’

She considered the possibility. The fairy had said the enemy wore many faces. What if Soren’s role was the antagonist? It would be a twist, but not impossible.

She shook her head. ’No. The villain is probably the villager who brought us here. And... Fairy isn’t exactly trustworthy either.’

Not to mention her sudden appearance, but also her seemingly helpful nature despite warning them they shouldn’t be here. In fact, the fairy seemed to be manipulating them, feeding them just enough information to keep them moving forward without actually telling them anything useful.

’Classic misdirection,’ She thought. ’Give them a vague warning, a few crumbs of truth, and let them think they’re making progress on their own.’

She also made a mental note to keep an eye on any other "helpful" creatures they encountered. The forest was clearly designed to confuse and mislead, and she wasn’t about to fall for it.

’I just hope I can meet him soon. It’s boring without him...’