The Submerged Ruins

After nearly two weeks, Dinis finally emerged from the oppressive Forest of Eternal Passage, exhausted but determined to continue toward his final destination. Even outside the forest, the memory of the recent confrontation still haunted him. The feeling of helplessness for not having discovered the origin of the mysterious third element, who watched him and interfered at the most critical moments, remained like a shadow in his mind. But he needed to focus on the next stage, pushing those thoughts aside with rigid willpower.

As he left the forest behind, the scenery began to change. Ahead of him stretched an immense swamp covered by a thin mist that undulated over the ground, creating shadows among the twisted and fallen trees. It was a wet and treacherous expanse, where the muddy soil and stagnant water merged into an almost inhospitable environment. There was something haunting about the landscape, as if that place had once been full of life but was now abandoned and devoured by time.

Dinis proceeded carefully, noticing that the swamp waters reached his knees, making each step an effort to free himself from the grip of the viscous and sticky mud. The water was cold, carrying the metallic smell of mold and decay, and the sludge coated his boots, hindering his movement. Each step made a sucking sound as he advanced with difficulty, and the damp breeze seemed to carry ancient whispers, voices of people long gone, forgotten by all.

The smell was almost unbearable: a mixture of decomposing organic matter, sludge, and rotting vegetation that filled the air. As he inhaled, Dinis tasted the bitter and rusty humidity, a sign that the swamp hadn't been touched by human hands for centuries. Through the mist, he could see traces of an ancient village now submerged in the sludge, like a tomb of buried stories.

The remains of buildings rose partially from the water—destroyed walls and sunken roofs. Some wooden beams still stood, twisted and blackened by time and moisture, reminders of homes that once sheltered lives. Here and there, ancient objects were half-buried in the mud: rusty candelabras, broken pieces of furniture, and corroded household utensils that had lost their shine and were forgotten by history. The sight was a silent testimony to how relentless nature had reclaimed that place, erasing the memories and dreams that once existed there.

As Dinis advanced, he noticed the distant echo of voices that seemed mixed with the wind—whispers that made him question whether that place was truly empty. Every ruin and structure seemed to watch him, and the breeze carried sounds that could have been just the wind but resembled muffled laughter and distant conversations. He kept his guard up, aware that places like that could harbor creatures as ancient and deadly as the swamp itself.

Even knowing the existence of hierarchies among monsters, as he had read in ancient books and heard in stories, Dinis was aware that some beings roamed alone, without subordination—solitary and wild predators. He advanced slowly, each step heavy and marked by the tension of being watched. The swamp seemed to have absorbed not only the village but also the spirits and memories of the people who had lived there.

As he walked through the remains of the submerged village, the collapsed structures and distant objects transformed the environment into a vast cemetery. The mud coiled around his legs as if trying to pull him down, and the air was saturated with humidity that made breathing heavy. He knew that his advance needed to be cautious, for the waters hid more than just debris—they could conceal something alive, lurking, awaiting its prey's next move.

Suddenly, Dinis felt an abrupt change in the environment. The air became denser, as if it carried an ancient and unsettling energy, and a chill seeped into his skin. He moved cautiously through the remains of an old partially submerged warehouse, with shelves and furniture already overtaken by sludge and crumbling walls. Amid all this decay, he felt a growing weight around him, as if he were being drawn by an invisible presence—something that awaited his arrival.

As he moved, with the heavy sludge up to his knees, something caught his attention. In the middle of the sludge, fragments of bones and traces of rotted clothing emerged from the water, suggesting that it was not uncommon for adventurers or former residents to have met their end there. This thought, combined with the gloomy environment and the stagnant air, made each step a test of endurance.

Then, while observing the remains of an old leaning tower, he sensed a presence approaching at frightening speed, slicing through the mist and silence with deadly precision. He spun around, only to see a large steel sword descending upon his head in a precise and brutal slash.