There Was a Mana Stone Mine in the Mountains Behind the Territory (5)
Nature for the Lost.
The name of the ghost story rose unbidden in my mind, and with it came a flicker of the compendium entry that catalogued it.
The strategy for clearing this deranged ghost story hinged on two rules.
First: within this ghost story, you could go anywhere you truly, desperately wished to reach. Anywhere that existed inside it.
Second: pay close attention to the condition in the first rule — within this ghost story.
That was the most cunning, vicious trap of all.
No matter how desperately you longed to go home, that wish could never be granted. Because home lay outside the ghost story, not within it.
And the longer a person remained trapped here, the more instinctively, frantically they yearned to return home — until at last they could never escape the repeating cycle of despair.
The true terror of this ghost story was how little it needed to function.
The being at its core possessed only meager power compared to other formidable Aberrations.
Yet it fed on humanity's most primal fears — the dread of being lost, the instinctive craving to go home — and with conditions so simple and so devastatingly effective, it had woven this vast zone of mental contamination.
In a way, it was almost stupidly straightforward. And that was precisely what made the trap so lethal.
Anyway. What mattered now was getting out of this godforsaken place. And to do that, there was someone we absolutely needed.
A guide.
This was not an escape-type ghost story.
It was a destruction-type. You had to destroy it to leave.
So we needed someone who could reverse the rules of this ghost story and lead us to its heart.
Someone like that.
I'm not suited for it.
Honestly, my own survival came first.
In a dark fantasy world, the ironclad first rule was always survive.
What I wanted most right now was survival and the development of Seorigol — goals that existed outside this ghost story, not within it.
Even the thought that it would be ideal to rescue a few refugees and bring them back to the fief was ultimately tied to escape.
Of course, if I forced myself to want the heart of this ghost story, I could probably manage it…
I'd just get lost a lot.
Every time my survival instinct kicked in, I'd lose the path.
So making myself the guide would be inefficient.
Then who could serve as one?
Someone who, even in this hopeless situation, sincerely yearned for something that existed inside this ghost story — something more intense than going home.
My gaze drifted naturally to Serin.
Serin.
Of everyone here, she was the most calculating — a woman who would stop at nothing for her own gain.
She was far more likely to wish for something concrete and practical than for the vague hope of "getting out."
The Mana Stone Mine, for instance…
Her endless hunger for wealth and success. That might even outweigh her survival instinct. At the very least, she was the perfect candidate to guide us out of this ghost story.
I steadied my breath, approached her again, and made my proposal once more. This time I needed a more specific lure.
"Inside this ghost story, you can go anywhere you truly desire. But it has to be a place you want with all your heart."
I deliberately stressed the words anywhere you desire, letting the first rule slip just enough.
I already had a fair idea of what she had wanted badly enough to set foot in this dangerous forest.
Greed was already burning in her eyes.
Of course, I said nothing about the second condition — that you could not go home. What she needed right now was hope and motivation. Instead, I added a more practical reason.
"And the more people we have, the better. There's no telling what horrors we might have to fight from here on. Your caravan members looked fairly capable."
By now Serin would have finished her calculations. Whether to find the Mana Stone Mine, to face that unknown Aberration, or simply to survive — joining forces with me was the best option available.
Especially the implication that sacrifices might be necessary. That would have appealed to her. She was a woman who felt no qualms about climbing over others' corpses to secure her own profit.
She would definitely come along.
"…Fine. We'll join you."
Serin finally spoke.
Suspicion and wariness still lingered on her face, but something larger burned beneath them — greed and ambition.
And so a fragile, uneasy alliance was formed.
Aurora, who had been watching us forge our temporary alliance, approached with a worried look.
Hector said nothing, but his eyes were full of distrust toward Serin.
"Ian… are you really going with that woman? I… I'm terrified of her. Just a moment ago she was ready to abandon us and save only herself."
Aurora's voice was nearly breaking. Hector gave a heavy nod of agreement.
I understood their unease.
But this was no time for sentiment. I led them somewhere a little safer and, in a low voice, began explaining everything I knew about the strategy for the ghost story called Nature for the Lost.
"…So to escape this ghost story, you can't simply try to 'get out.' You have to deliberately head for its heart. That's where the core of the Aberration that created this place is most likely to be — and only by destroying it can we wake from this nightmare."
"Th-then… does that mean we can never leave? Because we long to go home…?"
Despair flickered again in Aurora's eyes. I shook my head firmly.
"No. There is a way. But we can't reach the heart ourselves. Our most desperate wish is escape. Serin is different. She has a clear goal that may exist inside this ghost story — her own profit. That fierce desire of hers is the only key that can lead us to the center."
"So… we must fight the master of this place at the heart, then?"
Hector frowned as he asked. "Anything capable of weaving an illusion on this scale would be a considerable being. Can we handle it with our strength?"
"Probably."
I shrugged.
Hector looked me up and down in surprise, then shook his head vigorously — as if to say I did not look particularly strong.
"It seems beyond you, lad. Forgive me — I mean no insult."
"I know that perfectly well. But by my estimate, while the ghost story itself is powerful, the Aberration that created it shouldn't be all that strong. It's the kind that cleverly exploits human psychology to achieve maximum effect with minimum force. The fact that something this vast runs perfectly on just two simple conditions means its master is rather clever — but not absolutely powerful."
Aurora and Hector fell silent at my explanation. Then, with resolute faces, they looked at me.
"All right, Ian. I'll trust your judgment. That… remarkable mind of yours."
Aurora said. Fear still lingered in her eyes, but deep trust in me lived there alongside it.
"I too shall follow Lord Ian's will. Having chosen to believe once, I will see it through to the end." Hector showed the same firm resolve.
"Good. Then let's move out. We need to catch up before Serin's group gets too far ahead."
The journey was anything but smooth. Fog swallowed us without warning, and the forest's whispers grew ever more cunning and malicious.
Powerful hallucinations tormented us without end. Aurora in particular was haunted by visions of her missing friend Lily and found herself in danger more than once, while Hector struggled under the weight of old battlefield trauma and the limits of his aging body.
To make matters worse, our food stores were nearly gone, and every night the assaults of the lost wraiths grew fiercer and more relentless.
Among the survivors, voices of mutual suspicion and blame rose higher. Some finally could not endure the despair — they broke away, or else were consumed by madness and became prey for the wraiths.
We passed through crisis after crisis, despair after despair, until at last we reached the deepest heart of the forest: an ancient tree soaring skyward like a tower.
It was larger than most apartment buildings, its bark hard and ridged like ancient armor.
And at the base of that colossal tree, a dark hole yawned like a cave, its depths unknowable.
A cold, damp aura seeped from the blackness within.
"A-are we really going in there?"
"Doesn't seem wise. Who knows what's waiting."
It stirred a primal dread, like the mouth of hell itself. People hesitated before it and could go no farther.
Then an unexpected figure moved first.
"At last!"
It was Serin. Unable to hide the greed blazing in her eyes, she strode without hesitation straight into the hole beneath the ancient tree.
Her caravan members reluctantly followed.
I leaned close to Aurora and Hector and whispered a warning.
"Serin may try to stab us in the back. Keep your distance at all times. Never let your guard down."
Both nodded, faces tight with tension. Then we too drew a deep breath and stepped into the ancient tree that gaped like a maw ready to swallow us whole.
We descended the slick, damp slope for what felt like a long time. At last solid ground met our feet, and our vision opened a little.
And the sight that spread before our eyes…
A vast heart pulsed with a dull crimson glow. It beat with the steady rhythm of a living thing, endlessly pouring a wicked, ominous aura out into the entire forest.
We had arrived.
At the heart of this wretched ghost story.