Chapter 88: Into the Forest of Spirits.

Chapter 88: Chapter 88: Into the Forest of Spirits.

But before he could take a single step toward those distant peaks, duty called him elsewhere—to the very heart of the Empire’s power, where a different kind of performance awaited. He squared his shoulders, buried the ache beneath a mask of composure, and strode onto the academy’s dais.

He paused, letting the thoughts sink in.

"Each of you here represents the future of the empire. Nobles. Royals. The best and brightest from every corner of our realm. You are here to learn, to grow, to become the future rulers of a great realms."

His expression darkened.

"But recent events within the academy have given us cause for concern."

A murmur rippled through the crowd. Theon felt his stomach clench.

"Threats have emerged that we cannot ignore. Dangers that we cannot always protect you from. And so, we have developed this special exercise."

The instructor gestured toward the forest behind him. The trees loomed dark and ancient, their branches twisting toward the sky like grasping hands.

"Its purpose is simple: to help you grow stronger. To help you become capable of defending yourselves when necessary. To give you the tools you need to survive in a world that will not always be kind."

Theon felt a chill run down his spine.

What kind of threats? he wondered. What’s been happening that they won’t tell us about?

"This is not a game, " Cryvathar said quietly. "Whatever is coming... they know it’s coming. "

Theon nodded slightly. He’d been thinking the same thing.

The second instructor stepped forward. She was a woman with silver-streaked hair and a voice like steel wrapped in velvet.

"Each student will enter the forest," she announced. "Once inside, you will search for spirits to contract. The process is simple in theory, but more complex in practice."

A student raised their hand. "What is the name of the forest?"

The instructor turned. "The Forest of Spirits."

Another hand shot up. "Will I be able to get a high-ranking spirit?"

The instructor’s lips twitched. "If you’re compatible with it."

She continued, her voice carrying clearly across the grounds.

"Every student must enter the forest alone. Once you pass through the threshold, no instructor or external personnel is permitted to assist you, guide you, rescue you, or interfere with your quest in any way."

The crowd erupted.

"What happens if someone tries to kill me?"

"What if someone dies?"

"We’re supposed to just trust that we’ll be safe?"

The instructor raised her hand. The chaos subsided.

"Nothing will happen to you," she said. "No one can be killed in the Forest of Spirits."

A murmur of relief rippled through the crowd.

She continued: "Students may form groups or search parties to locate spirits together. You may assist one another in locating, approaching, or dealing with spirits. However, only the student attempting the contract may establish the contract."

She paused, her gaze sweeping across the faces before her.

"Once you enter the forest, everyone becomes completely responsible for themselves. Your actions have consequences. Your choices determine your outcome. We will not save you. We will not help you. You must rely on yourselves, and on each other."

The silence that followed was heavy.

Theon looked at Lyra. She was gripping his hand tightly, her earlier excitement replaced by something more cautious.

"Are you okay?" he whispered.

She nodded. "I’m fine. Just... this is more serious than I thought it would be."

"Me too," he admitted.

The third instructor stepped forward. She was younger than the others, with dark hair pulled back in a severe bun and eyes that seemed to see through everything.

"Let me explain how the contracts work," she said. "Every spirit possesses a natural compatibility level with a potential contractor. Likewise, the contractor possesses a compatibility level. If the two are compatible, the contract succeeds. If they are not compatible, it fails."

She raised her hand. A glowing sphere of light appeared above her palm.

"Let me be clear: if your compatibility level is below fifty percent, you cannot establish the contract. There is no trick. There is no shortcut. If the spirit does not accept you, you will walk away empty-handed."

The crowd murmured again.

The instructor lowered her hand. The sphere vanished.

"However, compatibility is not fixed. It can change over time. A spirit that rejects you today may accept you tomorrow, if you prove yourself worthy. The bond between spirit and contractor is sacred, but it is also dynamic. It grows. It deepens. It evolves."

Theon felt something stir in his chest. Cryvathar.

"You understand, don’t you? " his mentor asked. "The compatibility they speak of... it’s not just about power. It’s about trust. About connection. About two souls choosing to walk the same path. "

Theon nodded. "Yeah. I understand."

"Good. Then you’re ready. "

The fourth instructor stepped forward. She was the oldest among them, her face lined with the wisdom of decades.

"The event will last three days," she announced. "After that, the forest will close. Anyone still inside will be automatically teleported back to the entrance. You have three days to find your spirits. Three days to prove yourselves."

She raised her hand.

Then—

"Let the event begin."

The students were guided toward the entrance of the Forest of Spirits.

Theon moved with the crowd, Lyra’s hand still clasped in his. His mind was racing, processing everything he’d just heard.

Three days. Spirits. Compatibility. No assistance.

"Focus, " Cryvathar said. "You’re being watched. "

Theon blinked. "Watched? By who— "

He turned.

And froze.

Clestia was standing at the edge of the forest, her eyes fixed directly on him. Her crimson hair caught the sunlight like a burning flame, and her expression was... unreadable.

Why is she looking at me?

Theon felt his face flush. He quickly turned away, staring at the ground as if it held the secrets to the universe.

"Big brother?" Lyra tugged at his hand. "Are you okay? Your face is really red."

"I’m fine."

"You don’t look fine. You look like you just swallowed a bug."

"I didn’t swallow a bug."

"Then why are you acting so weird?"

"I’m not acting weird."

"You’re acting weird. "

"I’m literally not—"

"Big brother, she’s still looking at you."

"Lyra, please—"

"Now she’s walking this way."

"What?"

"Just kidding. She’s walking away."

Theon exhaled. "That’s not funny."

"It’s a little funny."

"It’s not funny at all."

"It’s a little funny. "

"Cryvathar, I swear—"

"What? I’m just saying my thoughts. "

"Say it quietly."

"I’m always quiet. "

"You’re literally talking to me right now."

"That’s different. I’m helping. "

"By agreeing with Lyra?"

"Someone has to always be on her side, just as I’ve said earlier."

"Will you two please just—"

The instructors called everyone forward.

Theon gave up arguing and walked toward the forest entrance.

The moment Theon and Lyra stepped through the threshold, the world changed.

The air grew thick and heavy, pressing against his skin with a weight that was almost physical. The light shifted, filtering through the canopy in strange patterns that seemed to move of their own accord. The sounds of the academy—the chatter, the footsteps, the wind—all faded into nothing, replaced by a silence so profound it was almost audible.

Theon stopped, his eyes widening.

"Big brother..." Lyra’s voice was barely a whisper. "This mana... it’s huge."

He nodded slowly. She was right. The magical energy in the air was overwhelming, so dense he could feel it in his lungs with every breath. It hummed in his veins, vibrated in his bones, made his very soul feel heavier.

"Yes," he said. "It is."

He looked around. The trees were ancient beyond measure, their trunks thick as houses, their roots burrowing deep into the earth. The ground was carpeted with moss that glowed faintly in the dim light. Flowers of impossible colors bloomed in patches, their petals shimmering with a life that was more than just biological.

The forest was alive. Truly alive. He could feel it watching them, waiting, judging.

"This place feels different, " Cryvathar said. "More different than I expected. "

"What do you mean?"

"The spirits here are... old. Older than the academy. Older than the empire. Some of them have been sleeping for thousands of years, waiting for someone worthy to wake them. "

Theon felt a thrill run through him. "You think I could wake one of them?"

"I think you already have. "

He was about to ask what that meant, but Lyra tugged at his hand.

"Big brother, we should stay close, right? You said we need to stay close."

He looked down at her. She was trying to seem brave, but he could see the nervousness in her eyes. The forest was affecting her too.

"Yes," he said, squeezing her hand. "We need to stay close. We can’t afford to risk anything here."

She nodded. "Yes, big brother."

"You’re good with her, " Cryvathar said. "She trusts you completely. "

"She’s my sister. She’s supposed to trust me."

"Not all siblings trust each other that way. "

Theon didn’t respond. He just kept walking, Lyra’s hand warm and solid in his.

They walked deeper into the forest.

The trees grew thicker. The light grew dimmer. The air grew heavier with mana.

Theon kept his senses alert, his hand never leaving Lyra’s. Something was different here. Something was watching them.

He’d known it for the past ten minutes.

"Someone’s following us, " Cryvathar confirmed. "Has been for a while. "

"I know. Keep Lyra close."

He continued walking, pretending he hadn’t noticed. Let the stalker think they were unaware. Let them make the first move.

Lyra started to speak. He squeezed her hand once. Twice.

She fell silent.

Good girl.

They walked another fifty paces. Theon could feel the presence growing closer, more urgent. Whoever it was, they were losing patience.

The trees rustled.

Someone moved within them.

Theon stopped. "Who is out there?" he called, his voice sharp and commanding.

The rustling stopped.

Then—a figure emerged from the shadows.

He was a student. Young, with crimson hair and hollow eyes. He moved with a strange stiffness, like a puppet whose strings were being pulled by someone else.

Theon stared at him. Then recognition dawned.

"Noel?" he said, his voice filled with disbelief. "Noel... that’s actually you. What are you doing here? What do you want?"

Noel said nothing.

He drew his sword.

The blade gleamed in the dim light, sharp and deadly. His eyes were flat, empty, like there was no one behind them.

Then—

"Fire Spear. "

The spell came without warning. A huge fireball erupted from Noel’s hand, transforming midair into a spear of flame that shot toward Theon with devastating speed.

Theon didn’t flinch. He simply raised his hand.

The fire spear stopped inches from his palm, held in place by a wall of invisible force. The flames licked against the barrier, desperate to consume him, but unable to pass.

Theon looked at Noel. Really looked at him.

"He’s not himself, " Cryvathar said. "Something’s wrong with him. Something’s controlling him. "

Noel attacked again, his sword swinging in a wild arc.

Theon dodged easily, pulling Lyra with him. Noel’s movements were sluggish, uncoordinated. There was no skill behind them, no technique. Just brute force driven by desperation.

Theon ducked under another swing, his mind racing.

"Big brother!" Lyra’s voice was high with fear. "What’s happening?!"

"I don’t know," Theon said, pushing her behind him. "But stay close. Don’t move."

Noel attacked again.

And again.

And again.

Each swing was weaker than the last, his movements growing more desperate as the battle wore on. Theon dodged and weaved, never retaliating, never fighting back.

"Noel!" he shouted. "Snap out of it! What are you doing?!"

Noel’s eyes flickered. For just a moment, something human appeared behind the emptiness.

"If the academy finds out about this," Theon continued, "I will get expelled. You’ll get expelled. We’ll both—"

"So what?"

Noel’s voice was hoarse, broken. He was breathing hard, his sword hanging limp at his side.

"So what if I get expelled?" he repeated. "It’s all the same after all."

Theon froze. "What are you talking about?"

Noel laughed. It was a terrible sound, devoid of humor.

"If I don’t do this, my family dies." He raised his sword again, his hands shaking. "If I do it, I get expelled or killed for trying to kill an imperial prince."

His voice cracked.

"But at least my family will be able to live."

Theon’s blood ran cold. "Your family? What are you talking about?"

Noel screamed and attacked again.

Theon deflected the blow, his heart pounding. This wasn’t just an attack. This was something else. Something deeper. Something—"He’s being forced, " Cryvathar said. "Someone is threatening his family that is making him do this. "

Noel attacked again. Theon dodged.

Again. Again. Again.

Noel’s movements grew wilder, more desperate. He was no longer fighting to win—he was fighting because he had no other choice.

Eventually, he collapsed.

His sword clattered to the ground. He fell to his knees, gasping for breath.

"Why can’t I defeat you?" he demanded, tears streaming down his face. "Why are you so strong?"

Theon crouched before him. "Do you want to talk about it?" he asked quietly. "What happened to your family?"

Noel looked up at him. His eyes were red, swollen with tears he couldn’t hold back.

"Even if I tell you," he said, "even you wouldn’t be able to defeat them."

Theon leaned closer. "Them? Who are they?"

Noel looked at him. His face contorted with fear, with grief, with something that looked almost like pity.

Then he said:

"Pand...."