Chapter 16 – Into the Heart of Darkness

The Journey into the Middle Zone

The battlefield where Reyon's squad had just fought the monstrous troll lay behind them, a testament to their strength and teamwork. But Reyon knew better than to feel triumphant—this was only the beginning.

The middle zone of the Dark Nation was infamous, a land where the weak perished and even the strong rarely thrived. Unlike the outer zones where monsters roamed in scattered hordes, the middle zone was a domain of apex predators, ancient remnants of battlefields, and eldritch magic long forgotten.

"Stay close. No unnecessary movements," Reyon commanded, his voice carrying the weight of his experience.

The squad moved cautiously through the dense, twisted trees, their bark blackened as if burned by cursed mana. The air carried an eerie stillness, as though something unseen was watching.

Sylph, walking beside Reyon, ran her fingers along a thick vine. Her golden hair shimmered faintly under the dim glow of the moonlight.

"This isn't normal plant life," she murmured. "It's absorbing ambient mana."

Before Reyon could respond, the vine twitched.

Like a whip of living steel, it lashed toward the squad, its thorns glowing with toxic energy.

Reyon reacted instantly.

With a flick of his fingers, Vector Magic surged through his palm. He cast Vector Repulsion, an invisible force rippling through the air, sending the vine slamming into a tree with a loud crack.

The squad recoiled in shock as the vine writhed and hissed like a wounded snake.

"They're carnivorous," Reyon said coolly. "And they don't attack based on movement—they sense mana signatures."

One of the recruits stepped back in fear, but Reyon clenched his fist, releasing another pulse of Vector Magic. The surrounding vines twisted unnaturally, pushed back as if an invisible wall had formed between them and the squad.

"Move now," he ordered. "They won't stay back for long."

The squad quickly followed, keeping to the safe path Reyon carved using his magic.

Ambush in the Jungle

Hours passed as they ventured deeper. The deeper they went, the stronger the presence of dark magic became. The very air felt heavier, charged with residual energy.

That's when Reyon felt it.

A flicker of hostile intent.

"Prepare for battle," he said, his voice low but urgent.

Sylph's light sword flared to life, the radiant glow illuminating the darkness.

Then, it struck.

A dark projectile hurtled through the air—a black wind arrow infused with corrosive mana.

Without hesitation, Reyon raised his hand and twisted his fingers. A Vector Barrier formed mid-air, deflecting the arrow with precision. The projectile veered off course and embedded itself into a nearby tree, instantly corroding the bark.

"Assassins," Sylph hissed.

Figures clad in black robes emerged from the darkness, their eyes glowing red. These were Dark Nation Marauders, warriors corrupted by the tainted mana of the region.

"Formation!" Reyon commanded.

The assassins moved in unpredictable patterns, their speed unnatural.

One lunged at Reyon—his dagger aiming for the throat.

But Reyon's fingers twitched.

He released Vector Manipulation – Directional Force, shifting the assassin's movement mid-air. The enemy twisted violently and slammed into the ground, as if an unseen force had redirected his momentum.

Another assassin attempted to stab him from behind, but Reyon cast Vector Reversal, flipping the enemy's trajectory backward. The assassin flew back into his comrades, knocking them down like dolls.

Sylph was engaged in her own battle, her light sword clashing against dark weapons. She cut through one assassin's armor, while the others tried to overwhelm her with sheer numbers.

"Enough," Reyon muttered.

He lifted his palm, and Vector Compression – Explosive Repulsion erupted outward. The assassins were hurled away by an invisible force, their bodies slamming against trees with sickening cracks.

The remaining assassins didn't retreat out of fear.

They smirked.

"Why aren't they fighting seriously?" Sylph muttered.

Reyon frowned. They weren't trying to kill.

"This was a test."

Then, as if satisfied, the assassins vanished into the darkness.

A warning.

Reyon clenched his fists. Something was coming.

The Ruins and the Ring of Ferica

As night fell, the squad stumbled upon something unexpected—a ruined structure hidden deep within the middle zone.

Tall, weathered stone pillars stood like the bones of an ancient civilization. Strange carvings ran along their surfaces, glowing faintly with a blue hue.

"This place…" Sylph murmured, running her fingers along the inscriptions. "This is old magic. Maybe even from the age of the Dragon Lords."

Reyon studied the glowing runes. Something about them felt familiar.

He placed his hand on one of the carvings, his mana interacting with the symbols. A sudden pulse of energy rippled outward.

The ground rumbled.

A deep hum resonated through the ruins. Magic was awakening.

"Sylph, step back!" Reyon called.

The carvings flared with an eerie blue light.

The wind howled through the ruins, carrying whispers—voices speaking in an ancient tongue.

Then—

A figure emerged from the darkness.

A being clad in shadowed robes, its face obscured beneath a deep hood.

It raised a skeletal hand.

"The Ring of Ferica… should never be found."

A sudden pressure filled the air, crushing down on the squad. Some fell to their knees, unable to withstand the sheer weight of the energy.

But Reyon stood tall.

His Vector Magic flared as he countered the force pressing down on him.

The figure tilted its head, almost amused. "You wield the forbidden path… The Magic of Leywin. But will you survive its curse?"

Reyon's heart pounded.

Was this place connected to his grandfather's lost magic?

Then, suddenly—the ruins shook violently, and a monstrous presence emerged from beneath.