Like that, he walked.
For two days straight, Eric drifted through the forest like a pale ghost, legs moving without rest, without hunger, without the slightest protest of fatigue.
Being a zombie had its perks… if endless marching counted as one.
The forest, however, made sure the journey was anything but dull.
He passed a swamp earlier—an entire pool teeming with something that resembled fish. If fish were stretched, skinned, sharpened, and stuffed with nothing but mindless aggression.
A single leaf had fallen in.
The water erupted like a bomb of teeth and frenzy.
Eric had slowly, very slowly, backed away.
And the horrors didn't end there. He spotted birds with three wings; a wolf-shaped thing that scaled trees like a spider; and several other creatures he mentally refused to describe. Avoiding them became his strongest survival skill.
Human instinct: pretend the nightmare doesn't exist and keep walking.
Even the grass here looked like it might strangle someone for stepping wrong.
Still, he trudged on, guided only by the thick fog that pressed around him—cold, silent, and unmoving.
Then, sometime on the second day, the mist began to thin.
Light—actual sunlight—filtered through the trees. Grass softened the ground beneath his feet. The trees here weren't twisted monuments of death; they looked… normal.
For the first time in days, the air felt breathable.
Eric glanced back. The fog sat like a solid wall, refusing to follow him.
Good. He didn't want it to.
He stepped further into the clearer forest, each footfall feeling like progress.
Birds darted through branches. Small animals scurried across the undergrowth. Life existed here — vibrant, busy, loud. A sharp contrast to the dead silence he had left behind.
That's when he heard it.
Grunts. Shouts. Heavy impacts — the unmistakable sound of flesh meeting force.
He moved quietly, crouched behind a tree, and peered through the leaves.
A clearing opened before him.
A massive bear reared up, roaring as it swung its claws at two humans. One held a sword, the other a bow.
"Careful! Don't let it reach you!" the archer shouted.
"I see it!" the swordsman barked, rolling aside as a paw carved a trench where his chest had been. He retaliated with a clean strike across the bear's shoulder, drawing a deep, red line.
The bear spun with startling speed and charged the archer.
"Now! Hit its side!" the swordsman yelled.
Arrows flew in rapid succession, sinking into the bear's flank and slowing its charge.
The beast lunged again, claws slicing the air. Dirt exploded as it slammed into the ground, missing the swordsman by inches.
He darted forward and drove his blade deep into the bear's chest. The creature staggered, breathing raggedly.
"Finish it! The heart!" he shouted.
The archer drew, steadied his aim, and fired.
The arrow buried itself deep, and the bear collapsed with a final, guttural roar.
Silence followed. The hunters stood over the carcass, chests heaving.
"That was too close," the swordsman muttered.
"No kidding," the archer said, already nocking another arrow out of habit. "We are not hunting this close to the treeline again."
Hidden behind the tree, Eric watched them closely.
Humans… and hunters, by the look of it.
If he trailed them—carefully, silently—he might discover where they lived. A settlement meant more than shelter; it meant knowledge. Books could only tell him so much.
They didn't list towns or roads, didn't map out which regions were safe, and which ones promised a horrible death.
If he wanted to survive in this world, he needed more than scattered information on a page.
He needed people.
He needed answers.
And these two were his first lead.
"Should I… go say hi?"
The thought slipped into Eric's mind like an idiot sneaking into a battlefield. He rubbed his chin, peering through the foliage at the two hunters hauling the massive bear's corpse.
For half a heartbeat, it sounded reasonable.
Then reality caught up.
Strolling out of a fog-shrouded hellscape to greet strangers armed with a sword and a bow?
Yeah. That was how people ended up as dead bodies.
Before he could decide whether courage or caution would win, the forest answered for him.
An arrow sliced past his cheek and sank into the bark beside his head with a sharp, unforgiving thunk.
Eric froze.
"Come out!" a voice shouted — harsh, practiced, and very sure of itself. "I know you're there!"
Eric sighed inwardly. Great. Their senses are way too good.
"Don't shoot! I'm just a passerby!" he called out, stepping into the open with his hands raised high. He tugged back his hood, revealing his face — pale, but hopefully not suspiciously corpse-pale.
The archer lowered his bow a fraction, though his posture stayed tight and ready. He was a man in his late twenties, hair tied back, leather armor worn from real work, and eyes sharp enough to dissect lies before they were spoken.
"Who are you?" the man demanded. "And why were you watching us from behind a tree?"
A fair question. In forests like this, monsters weren't the only predators.
Hunters had to stay alert — not just for the beasts lurking in shadows, but the humans hiding in them. Poachers who waited to steal a kill.
Bandits pretending to be travelers. Desperate men who'd rather slit a throat than track a beast themselves.
In these woods, the most dangerous creature didn't always have claws.
Sometimes it had a hungry belly and a knife.
"I'm just a lost wanderer," Eric said calmly. "Nothing more. As you can see — no weapons."
He did a slow turn, showing empty hands, empty belt, and a complete lack of anything threatening.
The archer's frown deepened. "A lost wanderer… this deep in the forest? And this close to the Forest of Dryads?"
Eric blinked. "Forest of Dryads?"
The name alone made something inside him drop — or it would have, if he still had working organs.
He'd read enough in the Warlock's library to know exactly what that meant. Dryads here weren't gentle nature spirits. They were carnivorous, parasitic trees that lured creatures with illusions, wrapped them up like gifts, and drained every last drop of vitality.
Eric's mind scrambled back to the twisted forest he'd just walked through.
Oh, great. Those nightmare trees were Dryads, weren't they?
And the only reason they hadn't attacked him…
Yeah. No life force to suck out.
*****
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