hidden location

Alex felt his consciousness slipping. His mind wavered, his vision darkening as if the very air sought to drag him into oblivion. His limbs felt heavier than iron, and his breathing was shallow.

No… not here.

"I can't collapse here," he muttered, forcing himself to endure.

Then—something awakened.

A presence.

It wasn't external—it was within him, near his dantian. A pulse, a whisper of power.

In the depths of his fading awareness, an image flickered. Blackens crept at the edges of his mind, writhing, crawling—then suddenly, clarity struck him like a tide of the ocean. His senses snapped back, the dizziness gone as if it had never existed.

Alex gasped, steadying his breath. "What… was that?" and what's happening? 

The forest was completely changed—twisted, and ominous, but no longer suffocating. The trees loomed like silent sentinels also no longer huge, their gnarled branches twisting into hideous shapes under the dim moonlight. Now The air carried a faint, almost indiscernible scent—decay masked by something unnatural, Herbs were gone seductive scent was no longer present.

Everything is wrong with this place.

But His instincts pointed as a presence caught his attention.

Behind one of the trees, barely concealed in the shadows, stood a familiar figure—the drunkard.

Alex's eyes narrowed. He moved in a blur, appearing before the man in an instant.

"So, you're here, old man," he said, his voice edged with suspicion. "Care to explain what you're doing?"

The priest flinched, his patchy beard trembling as he took a nervous step back. His scraggly hair stuck to his sweaty forehead, and though his face wore a cowardly look, there was a faint sneer lurking beneath.

"I-I just followed you out of concern, young man," the priest stammered, his voice unsteady.

Alex didn't buy it for a second. "Do you want to live or not?"

The priest gulped, raising his hands in surrender. "Wait, wait! I'll talk!"

Alex tilted his head slightly, giving him a cold, expectant stare.

The man licked his dry lips before speaking. "I'm… a former priest," he admitted with a shudder. "I was exiled from the church two years ago, and since then, I've been wandering from place to place… drinking." He let out a bitter chuckle. "But then, I got a hope—a chance."

Alex didn't respond, waiting for him to continue.

"When I saw you heading there yesterday, I had an idea about you… And then today you asked me questions about the history of the artifact." The priest clenched his fists. "That's when I used my brain. I thought I could frame you for stealing it. Then, I'd inform the church and be seen as a hero."

With A beat of silence.

Alex exhaled slowly, his expression unrealistic. "So that's why you were following me?"

The old man nodded frantically. "Yes! But… you're in the wrong forest. That's why I didn't report back—I couldn't."

Alex's gaze narrowed. "Wrong forest?"

"Yes. The artifact is hidden in a forest, but not this one. You should've taken the left path."

Alex's lips pressed together,

His expression was darkened. "There was no left path. Are you messing with me?"

"I swear, there was!" the drunkard insisted, voice trembling. "But… it's gone. I don't know how, but it disappeared when you entered this forest."

Alex's patience thinned. His hand shot out, gripping the man's throat.

"You're lying to my face?"

The old priest clawed weakly at Alex's grip. "I-I'm not… let me finish…"

After a moment, Alex released him, letting the man collapse, gasping for air.

The priest coughed violently before speaking again. "The truth is… they don't fear the artifact being stolen. No one can steal it."

Alex's brows furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"It's the Goddess," the priest whispered. "From the very beginning, she placed the artifact there. No one can move it. No mortal, no king, no dragon—not even the church itself."

Silence settled between them. The night air pressed heavy, thick with unspoken implications.

Alex watched as the drunkard stumbled away, his ragged breaths fading into the distance. He let him go. If not for his slightly improved mood, the old man would have already been drinking with Stano in hell.

He leaned against the trunk of a tree, arms crossed, his mind churning.

What's happening?

The situation was slipping from his control, and that alone irritated him.

Still, he had gotten what he wanted—the artifact's location.

And the old man wasn't lying. Alex could tell. Years of reading people had sharpened his instincts, and the way the priest spoke—the tremble in his voice, the sweat beading on his brow—told Alex everything.

But if the artifact couldn't be moved, then what had the church done?

A mirage? An illusion? Some kind of magical trickery?

He thought back to when he first entered the forest. There was no path if there was it was —gone, as if erased.

That meant someone—whether the king, the church, or another force—was aware of my existence here. Aware enough to prevent me from approaching it.

If I had known it was this simple to locate, I would have stolen it the moment I set foot in this kingdom.

His lips curled slightly at the thought.

But tonight wasn't the night.

He lifted his gaze. The inky darkness of the forest was slowly giving way to pale streaks of morning light. The sky was shifting, the deep blues bleeding into lighter hues.

The sun would rise in an hour.

The night's work was done.

Alex exhaled and pushed himself off the tree.

No rush.

For now, it was best to return to the academy.