The Cursed Road

Kyle pushed forward through the thick mist, keeping Rin close as they navigated deeper into the Wailing Thicket. The air was colder here, carrying a weight that pressed against his skin. Every step felt deliberate, as if the forest itself was waiting for something to happen. His hand stayed near the hilt of his sword, muscles tense, ready for the next attack. The specter had been the first threat, but Kyle knew it wouldn't be the last.

Rin's breathing was barely audible, but Kyle could see the tension in their small frame. The goblin child didn't complain, didn't question his pace, but there was something in their eyes—an understanding far beyond their years. This wasn't the first time Rin had been forced to survive.

The trees stretched taller now, their bark a sickly gray, their leaves brittle and dead. The deeper they went, the more twisted the landscape became. Shapes that should have been rocks seemed to shift when Kyle wasn't looking. Shadows flickered in the corner of his vision, but when he turned, there was nothing.

A familiar screen flickered into existence before his eyes.

---

Environmental Warning: The Cursed Road

Long ago, this path led to a kingdom that no longer exists. The souls of the forgotten linger, bound by regret and rage. Few who enter leave whole.

---

Kyle exhaled, forcing himself to stay calm. Every part of him screamed that this was a terrible idea, that they should turn back. But there was nothing behind them—only the Black Legion, the burning village, and a fight he wasn't ready for.

He had no choice but to move forward.

Rin tugged at his sleeve. "The trees are whispering."

Kyle frowned, listening. At first, there was nothing. Just the sound of their own footsteps on the damp earth. But as the silence stretched on, he heard it.

Faint voices.

They weren't words. Not really. Just a presence, a sensation of something unseen pressing against his thoughts, like fingers tracing along the edges of his mind.

He didn't like it.

"We keep moving," he said, his voice low. "Don't listen to them."

Rin nodded quickly, their small hands clenching into fists.

Kyle tightened his grip on his sword and walked faster.

The whispers grew louder.

At first, they were distant, floating through the mist like the wind. But as they moved deeper, the sound became sharper, more insistent. The voices overlapped, a hundred fragmented thoughts pressing into Kyle's skull.

"Lost… forgotten… betrayed…"

"The Land takes all…"

"Turn back… or be consumed…"

Kyle grit his teeth. It was just noise. Just the remnants of whatever had died here, the echoes of those who had fallen long before he arrived. He wouldn't let a bunch of dead things tell him what to do.

But then—one voice broke through the others.

"Marked one."

Kyle froze.

The whisper wasn't distant. It wasn't a forgotten echo. It was speaking directly to him.

He turned sharply, scanning the mist. The world felt different, heavier, like something was shifting around him. His instincts screamed that he wasn't alone.

Then the mist moved.

A figure emerged from the fog, tall and draped in tattered robes. Its face was hidden beneath a dark hood, its presence wrong in a way Kyle couldn't describe. It wasn't just a shadow or a specter. It felt real, like it belonged to something that had once been alive.

Rin took a step back, barely breathing.

Kyle didn't move. He knew he was looking at something important.

The figure tilted its head. "You walk the path of the Forgotten."

Kyle's fingers twitched over the hilt of his sword. "And?"

"You are not the first." The figure's voice was layered, as if multiple people were speaking at once. "The Land does not forgive. The Mark does not fade. The cycle is endless."

Kyle narrowed his eyes. "What cycle?"

The figure's hood shifted slightly. "The Marked are brought. The Marked are tested. The Marked are taken."

Kyle felt his pulse quicken. He didn't know what this thing was, but it knew about him. About the Mark. About whatever game this world was playing.

He took a step forward. "Taken by who?"

The figure lifted a skeletal hand, pointing a single bony finger toward Kyle's chest.

"The Land."

Before Kyle could react, the mist exploded.

A surge of cold slammed into him, sending him staggering backward. His vision blurred, his body locking up as if unseen chains had wrapped around him. The weight of a thousand voices crashed into his mind, drowning his thoughts in static.

"Submit."

Kyle clenched his jaw, fighting against the force pressing against him. He had felt something similar before—the wraith, the Black Legion's presence—but this was worse.

He was being dragged down.

His knees buckled. The mist swirled faster, tightening around him, pulling him into something deeper.

But then—something burned inside him.

His system flared.

A new notification forced its way through the chaos.

---

Path of the Forgotten Activated: Cycle Resistance Unlocked.

You are not bound by the fate of those before you.

Resisting Forced Submission… SUCCESS.

---

Kyle's body snapped back into motion. The weight lifted instantly, like chains shattering around him. The mist recoiled, pulling away from him as if burned. The figure staggered backward, its hooded head tilting in something that almost resembled shock.

Kyle didn't hesitate.

He moved, lunging forward. His sword slashed through the figure's chest, cutting through its tattered robes. There was no body beneath, only swirling darkness.

The figure let out a hollow, echoing cry. The mist shrank away from him, no longer pressing against his mind.

Kyle stepped back, sword still raised. His breath came fast, his heartbeat hammering in his ears.

The figure steadied itself, tilting its head again. "You… break the pattern."

Kyle exhaled sharply. "Yeah? Get used to it."

For the first time, the figure hesitated. Then, slowly, it began to fade back into the mist. The whispers lessened, retreating into the trees.

Before it disappeared completely, it spoke once more.

"The Land is watching."

Then it was gone.

Silence settled over the forest. The mist still clung to the ground, but the overwhelming pressure had faded. Kyle lowered his sword, rolling his shoulders.

Rin let out a shaky breath. "What… what was that?"

Kyle didn't answer immediately. His mind was still processing. The figure hadn't been an enemy—not fully. It had been testing him. It had expected him to submit, to fall like the others before him.

He hadn't.

That meant something.

Kyle turned toward Rin, his expression hard. "We keep moving."

Rin nodded, their fear still evident, but they didn't argue.