This Hellish Forest (5)
The Four Seasons Forest, this hellish place, doesn't start everyone at the same spot upon entry. Unless you're holding hands, people inevitably begin at different locations. Even if you do hold hands, you can't be sure it's the same place. No one who's gone in has ever come back out, after all. You'd have to be incredibly lucky to end up near someone who entered before you.
"Ugh..."
One holy knight groaned as he rose from the ground. His face was hidden behind a helmet, but his attire made his affiliation clear. He was a senior member of the Surveillance Squad, forcibly kicked into the Four Seasons Forest by Ludwig van Errolt.
Regular holy knights typically wore pristine white armor, but Surveillance Squad members donned near-black plate. It was originally the garb of 'heretic inquisitors,' but now they served as the Pope's private enforcers.
"Goddamn it. Where the hell is this?"
The Surveillance Squad member spat curses as he scanned his surroundings. Deep down, he knew exactly where he was—but he desperately wanted to deny it. He remembered Ludwig kicking his back, sending him tumbling into the forest.
'Damn it all...'
He observed an environment utterly unlike the Four Seasons Forest he'd seen from outside. No lush greenery here—just barren, skeletal trees everywhere. It looked blanketed in volcanic ash or ravaged by wildfire; the whole area was a sea of gray. And that was just the start. The ground? Where he'd fallen, there was at least solid earth, but everywhere else was swamp.
'Guess I'm lucky.'
If he'd landed straight in the muck, he'd have died on entry. But safety? No such thing. This was the Four Seasons Forest, dubbed the hell of the mortal world—a demonic realm with zero known survivors. The knight swallowed hard.
'Not necessarily. That guy YasaengGrill's been thriving in here just fine.'
No one escaped, but survivors existed. That sliver of hope bolstered him. He checked for injuries and inspected his weapons. Aside from the kick to his back, nothing ached. But accessing the Gallery?
This area does not allow access to the Gallery.
Impossible. He was a Gallery user himself and knew how invaluable it was in hellscapes like this. Seeing that message, he could only click his tongue.
'Like hell it's accessible.'
The Pope had stirred them up with YasaengGrill as proof that the Gallery worked even in the Four Seasons Forest. It had worked all too well, dispatching the squad. Now inside, the truth hit: the Pope had lied through his teeth. There was a saying that everything from the Pope's mouth was a lie, except the carbon dioxide he exhaled. The knight agreed wholeheartedly. Their mistake was falling for his honeyed words.
'I'll get out of here for sure. I'm way stronger than that bastard—how could I not?'
He gritted his teeth. In a few days, he'd escape and lop off Ludwig's head. The Pope was the true culprit, but he was untouchable. So he vented on the relatively weaker Ludwig. Classic bully behavior—strong against the weak, weak against the strong, pure selfishness.
'First, check my mana.'
Before moving, he assessed his internal mana. The fierce battle with Ludwig had drained a ton. Just a quick check—no need for full mana circulation.
"...Huh?"
Then he sensed something off. His eyes widened slightly. Normally, even a faint circulation should be present, but there was none. Wait—no, it was circulating. Just excruciatingly slowly. What the hell? He frantically activated his mana.
'M-mana, why...?'
No dice. He could barely force it to budge. He even tried manifesting aura... nothing. He was effectively unarmed, survival odds plummeting. Maybe an unnoticed injury? He examined himself closely—no anomalies. Desperate, he risked full mana circulation.
'W-what the...!'
The reason hit him instantly: mana. Not internal—external mana. The concentration was absurdly dense, suppressing his own like deep-sea pressure crushing a submersible.
'No way! That Grills bastard clearly...!'
Unbelievable. This was unforeseen. Grills flung mana around like confetti—how was he crippled? He shook his head.
'No. Give it time...'
Too early to despair. If external mana blocked his internal reserves, he'd just fill up on the ambient stuff. No idea how long it'd take, but doable.
'Find a safe spot.'
Quick decision: this swamp was a death trap. Who knew what monsters lurked? Grills's forest had to be safer. Sword drawn—just in case—he slogged out of the mire. No mana, but his baseline strength would hold.
'Archbishop Odon entered first... where is he?'
He recalled Odon, another holy man forcibly sent in by Ludwig. Unlike him, Odon specialized in support—near-zero combat ability. And now mana was off-limits here. The longer it dragged, the worse his odds.
'Can't save the Archbishop, so prioritize others.'
Barring miracles, he wrote off the priest. His own power was halved; no spare capacity for dead weight. Priests healed via divine power, sure—but only if they had any. Odon's was negligible; he'd climbed ranks by riding coattails, not merit. To escape this hellish forest, he'd need alliances with the strong—not liabilities.
'Still... if we cross paths, I can't just ignore him...'
He'd just reconciled that when—
[...come...]
A voice whispered in his ear. Hallucination? He froze, listening.
[...help... come...]
Faint, but real. He whipped around, pinpointing it.
"Who's there? If you're real, speak up—loud!"
Shouting in a swamp was suicide—beasts might home in. But urgency won.
[Here! Over here! I'm here!]
Clear now. He bolted toward it. Echoey voice, but the language—El Dorado's tongue.
'And that voice... Archbishop Odon?'
Luck struck; Odon had woken nearby. He'd dismissed him seconds ago, but he was still human.
'Worst case, use him as a meat shield.'
Desperation bred treachery.
[Here! Anyone? Help!]
Closer now. Water lapped his ankles—ignore it, confirm first. Arrival:
"A-Archbishop?! You're alive?!"
[Oh... you came...!]
There he was, surprisingly intact. Voice a bit off, but otherwise fine.
[Come here. This seems like the exit.]
"Exit... you mean?"
[Yes. Someone helped me too.]
Odon's kindly face beckoned to... deeper swamp. Ankle-deep here, but that was bottomless. Suspicion spiked.
'Before that...'
Something weirder: Odon was short. Water barely ankle-deep. So why was he standing on the surface? Masters could water-walk, but not Odon. Creepy. Beyond creepy—ominous.
"W-who the hell are you?!"
[Pardon? What...]
"Filthy monster! Show yourself!"
He retreated, sword leveled, voice quavering with fear. Did it sense that? The Odon-thing stopped hiding.
Shimmer—
It faded like a mirage, revealing... a corpse. Gaunt, withered, neck bound in tentacles like strangulation.
Instant recognition: Odon.
'W-what...!'
Rumble rumble rumble!
The swamp quaked like an earthquake, ignoring his shock. Grills would've bolted; this was the knight's first rodeo. He froze as the monster stirred. Splash—from the depths, a hand emerged. Human-like, but slick amphibian skin, bark-brown camouflage.
Splooosh!!!
The beast braced on that hand, fully rising. The knight gaped at the behemoth—several times his size. Hideous fangs, elongated body, head tentacles... dangling Odon's corpse.
Whoosh!
From the deep swamp, a hand-tipped claw lunged. He dodged back frantically—but that sealed his fate.
This was swamp. Splosh!
"Gahk!"
Standing still would've sunk him eventually. Off-balance, he toppled; the swamp angler pounced.
Crunch!
"Gaaah!"
Humanoid hand clamped his torso brutally. He thrashed against the crush—futile. No mana. Eaten alive.
Crunch crunch—
Meanwhile, it stuffed Odon's corpse into its maw, grinding with razor teeth. Then, tentacle-like feeler coiled his neck.
Squeeze!
"Gurgle..."
Air hissed out; strength ebbed fast. Clunk! Violent struggles dislodged his helmet, revealing a withered mummy like Odon's.
Release—
The hand let go; he dangled from the tentacle. Drained dry, the angler submerged, leaving only the tentacle topside.
[A-Archbishop?!]
Incredibly, the mummified knight's mouth moved, voice issuing forth. The tentacle puppeteered him—grotesque.
[Filthy monster! Show yourself!]
Beyond mimicry.
[Anyone? I'm here! I need help!]
Memories extracted wholesale.
[Help me, anyone!]
The Four Seasons Forest was hell incarnate.
*****
Thwack! Thud! Thwack!
"Phew. That oughta do it."
I murmured in satisfaction, hammering the signpost into the ground. The time I'd sunk into making it... but damn, it felt good.
'Hope they make it through okay.'