Chapter 157: Into The Divide [III]

Chapter 157: Into The Divide [III]


According to Medusa, they were alone.


The spiders she had summoned had scattered in every direction, yet their return brought back nothing good.


"After this clearing lies a vast ice forest," she said, her tone tightening. "It’s crawling with monsters... strong ones. I couldn’t track them all, but one was powerful enough to take out one of my scouts easily."


She bit her lip hard, the tips of her fangs peeking through.


The thought clearly unsettled her, not many beasts could manage.


"It’s like the forest itself is interfering with my senses. I can’t reach far. I can’t see clearly. I... I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help."


Azel stepped closer, his expression calm despite the unease that gnawed at him.


He raised a hand and patted her head gently.


The gesture caught her off-guard, and she let out an involuntary, low purr, like a cat leaning into warmth.


"Thanks, Meda," he said quietly. "You’ve already done more than enough."


But his crimson eyes lifted past her, staring into the looming treeline.


The forest waited like a gaping maw, shadows twitching between jagged branches.


A coldness deeper than the surrounding snowstorm seemed to radiate from it.


A shiver went down his spine.


’Kyone,’ he called inwardly, ’what do you think?’


Silence answered him.


He frowned slightly and waited.


Usually her voice slipped into his mind easily, sometimes annoyingly so.


But this time, there was nothing.


Just empty static.


’Nyala?’ he tried next.


Again, nothing.


Then a sharp, metallic chime rang in his ears.


[Ding]


[Your connection to the Plane of the Goddesses has been lost.]


Azel’s eyes narrowed.


That was new.


Just what kind of place was this?


Not only did it block his goddess’s guidance, but it also severed the connection altogether.


A second notification chimed.


[You have taken the Trial of Winter.]


[You have received a new quest.]


Azel’s lips parted slightly.


’Trial?’


It made sense.


That confirmed what he had thought back when he had just entered the outskirts just beyond the rift for the first time, perhaps the ancestor had already conquered it and turned it into a trial.


[New Quest]


[Trial of Winter [I]: The Forest of Dead Winter lies ahead, filled with monstrosities of Winter. Defend yourself and your companions while slaying 20 Rank 3 Monsters]


[Reward: Passage to Second Trial]


"Hm." Azel exhaled slowly, crossing his arms. "So that’s it?"


Straightforward, at least.


Kill the monsters.


Survive.


Move forward.


But his brows furrowed.


If the other hunters had been scattered as he suspected, would they each receive their own quest?


Did that mean every group was isolated within their own "trial?"


The thought stirred unease, though not enough for him to dwell on.


He only truly cared if his closest allies were at risk.


Still


’That old man...’


Azariah.


The one who had so conveniently organized this conquest.


Azel clicked his tongue.


Azariah hadn’t simply been eager to expand territory.


He had been worried about Azel wanting to go back to the Empire so he made the whole thing possible, so he could utilize his power and divinity.


He was a good father but still...


’He can be a bad person sometimes.’ Azel thought darkly.


The Executioners crossed his mind next.


They were still in a coma, still useless.


What good were weapons too fragile to draw when they were needed most?


He shoved the thought aside.


They weren’t his problem.


He turned back to the women.


"Let’s go." His voice was steady, devoid of fear.


His gaze lingered on the treeline. "We’ll cut down anything that gets in our way."


Medusa’s jaw tightened, but she nodded, determination flickering in her glowing eyes.


Veyra spun her scythe lazily, lips curling into a grin that looked a little too eager.


Together, they stepped into the shadow of the forest.


The instant they crossed the threshold, a shiver ran down Azel’s spine.


It wasn’t the cold.


It was something far worse.


The forest felt alive.


Each branch seemed to bend toward them, each leaf rustling as if whispering secrets.


The air pressed against his skin like a gaze, prickling with awareness.


It was as though the entire place had eyesand was watching them.


Azel cursed himself inwardly for his heightened sensitivity.


For once, it was a curse, not a gift.


Even Medusa faltered. She had lived through centuries of strange lands and cursed places, but never had she felt something like this.


She clutched her furry cloak tighter, unease written across her face.


Veyra, however, was different.


Her scythe gleamed in her grip as she held it ready, her eyes narrowed but excited.


Azel guessed she really had run mad.


Step after step, the shrubs clawed at their legs, resisting their passage.


Every snap of a branch, every crunch of snow underfoot was magnified. It was like hearing them on loudspeakers.


And then —


Crack.


The sound echoed unnaturally loud.


All three froze.


Azel turned sharply toward the noise.


His crimson eyes pierced through the snow, focusing on the source.


A small figure sat near a twig, its delicate paws clutching the broken wood.


A bunny.


Its fur shimmered silver, almost crystalline, glowing faintly in the pale light.


Its ears twitched adorably, nose wriggling as it sniffed the air.


"Awwn~ it looks so cute~" Veyra cooed, lowering her weapon slightly.


The sight was disarming.


The rabbit looked harmless, almost heavenly, like a small blessing in this twisted place.


But Azel’s eyes narrowed.


He swore he had seen something like this before...


The bunny twitched again.


Then... Its body convulsed violently.


The silver sheen of its fur peeled back like sloughing skin, slapping wetly against the snow.


Its small frame stretched unnaturally, bones snapping and elongating with sickening cracks.


Its once-tiny form ballooned upward, grotesque flesh bubbling out from beneath.


Its eyes — once soft and round bulged and bled into pits of red.


The "bunny" grew taller, taller still, until it towered over even Azariah’s imposing figure.


Its hide, once beautiful and silver, now hung in ghastly sheets, torn and flayed as though it had molted into a corpse.


The transformation completed in a roar so guttural it shook the ground.


And then blood sprayed... spattering across the snow, staining it crimson.