On the twelfth day inside the Great Tree Labyrinth, morning arrived as it always did.
Duncan woke, washed up, and traded greetings with the Artemis Familia members as they gradually rose. Because they had pushed so deep, the stream they'd been following since the entrance had long since dwindled and disappeared.
A forest this vast would have other water sources somewhere, of course—but this expedition had a single, unbending objective. No one intended to detour to find a new spring. Their final water reserves were abundant; even if food ran low, thirst wouldn't be their downfall.
Bathing, however, was another matter.
It had been quietly abandoned.
And no one complained—not even Artemis herself. For adventurers, washing every day while on expedition was the unusual luxury.
Duncan waited until the area around him was clear, then performed his usual daily ritual.
"Finger Wiggle."
Golden light gathered around his raised finger, lingered for several seconds, then vanished in a blink. The "Finger Wiggle" spell engraved on his back disappeared—replaced by something new.
Enhancement Magic: Greatly reinforces a skill. The degree of reinforcement increases with the caster's Magic and Mental Strength.
Duncan froze.
Then his expression darkened.
It wasn't that he'd never rolled a "real" spell before. He had. But most of the time, his daily rolls were more useful as practice—training his mana control and mental focus—than as actual combat tools. The spells worked, but rarely mattered.
This one was different.
This one was good.
And that made his stomach twist.
Whether it was the weirdness of his skill, or simply an adventurer's survival instinct, Duncan had started to believe a simple rule:
Whenever he got something useful, something clean, something strong—something would go wrong.
A faint warmth pulsed across his back. Unseen by him, the skill Lucky One? emitted a dim glow… then faded back into silence.
"Good morning, Duncan."
Artemis returned after her routine patrol of the camp and greeted him as usual.
"Good morning, Lady Artemis."
She studied his face—and the warmth in her expression tightened into concern.
"…What's wrong? You look grim."
Duncan hesitated.
Then he spoke with unusual seriousness.
"Lady Artemis… if anything feels abnormal today, you should take everyone and retreat immediately."
Artemis's posture shifted. Her attention sharpened.
"You sensed something?"
"I… don't know what. I just feel it. I know that sounds irresponsible, but my instincts are usually accurate."
He hurriedly added, as if afraid she'd dismiss him.
Artemis didn't.
"I believe you."
She reached out, gently ruffling his hair.
"Not because you're Level 3—though your intuition is sharper than most. But because you're you. I don't think you'd lie to me."
Duncan's throat tightened.
Then Artemis continued, voice still gentle but unwavering.
"However, I won't abandon you to walk alone. Not me—and not my children."
"We'll go with you to the end."
"But if we truly encounter danger, you must retreat with us. Promise me."
Duncan's lips parted. For a moment, it looked like he might refuse.
In the end, he forced himself to nod.
"…I understand."
Artemis's smile returned—soft, relieved.
"Then let's eat. We still have a long road today."
She took Duncan's hand and led him back toward the others.
Breakfast in the wild was never extravagant: something quick, something filling, something you could swallow without thinking. When it was done and the camp had been packed, the party resumed their march.
But today—something was different.
They'd walked for less than an hour when an uneasy stench began to seep from deeper within the forest. It wasn't rot. It wasn't typical monster musk.
It was simply… wrong.
A strange, indescribable wrongness—like the air itself had been tainted.
"We're getting close to the source," Letsa muttered.
She shifted back into the center line where she could support any position. Without needing to be told, the rest tightened formation. Even Artemis—under Letsa's firm insistence—was pushed into the middle of the column.
Another half hour passed.
Then the Great Tree Labyrinth changed.
The lush green vanished.
A dead black forest spread before them: trees stripped of life, their trunks dark and dry, the soil beneath them stained like ash and tar. The corruption looked as though it was expanding, eating outward into the living woods.
The air carried a faint, bloody reek.
Letsa stared, voice barely above a whisper.
"…Is this the sealed monster in the Aelsos ruins? Has it broken free?"
Before anyone could answer, a brittle rustling came from the blackened forest.
Then the ground seemed to move.
A tide of giant black scorpions—each as large as cattle—poured out in a wave, surging forward as if they'd been waiting for intruders, as if they had no intention of warning, negotiating, or hesitating.
They attacked.
"Black monsters—!"
Artemis's face went pale. Her voice snapped tight with dread and recognition.
"They're the descendants of Andares—the sealed breed within the Aelsos ruins!"
"Enemy contact! Hold formation!"
Letsa roared.
"Shields up! Brace the line!"
Three sturdy frontliners raised half-body tower shields, locking them into a wall. Letsa and Duncan stepped forward of the shield line, weapons already in hand.
"Duncan—hit their momentum first!" Letsa shouted. "Don't let them crash into our formation! But don't go too far!"
"Got it!"
Duncan and Letsa moved almost simultaneously, charging straight into the oncoming swarm.
Steel and spear met black chitin—
clang.
Not the wet crunch of flesh.
Not the brittle crack of bone.
A metallic impact, like striking armor plating.
Even that alone was enough to make a Level 1 adventurer's blood run cold.
But "enough" meant nothing here.
Level 3 adventurers had already stepped beyond ordinary human comprehension—especially when there were two of them.
They tore into the scorpion tide like lions into wolves.
Blades and spearheads hammered, cut, and ripped. Black shells shattered. Bodies flew. Some burst into fragments; others disintegrated into black smoke as they died.
Neither Duncan nor Letsa knew the exact location of a scorpion's magic stone. There were too many to aim carefully, and time did not allow precision. So they attacked the simplest vital zones again and again—heads, joints, the belly cavity—anything that could break their advance like scythes cutting grass.
And even as the two Level 3s slaughtered at the front…
The scorpions that slipped past their reach didn't hesitate.
Like fanatics, like soldiers that didn't fear death, they hurled themselves straight into the Artemis Familia's formation—crashing into the shield wall with a force that promised the real battle had only just begun.
....
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