Chapter 3 – Into the Wilds

Aldric left Black Hollow before dawn.

The town was still asleep, its streets empty and silent. The few wandering souls who still roamed at this hour were beggars, thieves, and the desperate.

His new sword rested at his side, its blackened steel faintly pulsing under the morning fog. It was heaving than his previous blade, but the balance was perfect. Almost like it was made for him.

As he stepped beyond the rotting wooden gates, the landscape stretched before him—vast and wild, untamed.

To the east, the ruins of Whitebridge waited. And near those ruins… was the hidden fortress where Darion had been seen.

Aldric adjusted the straps of his cloak and began walking.

The road to the east was long and dangerous. Aldric kept his pace steady, his senses sharp. The land around him was a mixture of dead forests, open plains, and broken hills—signs of a kingdom in slow decay.

Once, roads like these had been filled with travelers, merchants, and patrols of knights. Now, they were nearly abandoned, save for the occasional bandit or desperate wanderer.

And monsters.

Aldric had been traveling for hours when the first sign of trouble appeared.

His grip tightened on his sword. Something was dead nearby. Aldric's senses were sharpen by the system so his nose was sensitive.

He slowed his steps, his eyes scanning the surroundings. The road was flanked by twisted trees, their gnarled branches reaching toward the sky like skeletal hands.

The scent grew stronger.

Then he saw it.

A wagon, overturned in the middle of the road. Its wheels were shattered, its wooden frame split apart as if something had torn through it.

Bodies lay scattered across the dirt—merchants, their throats slit open, their limbs twisted at unnatural angles. Blood had pooled beneath them, dark and thick, soaking into the dry earth.

Aldric kneeled beside one of the corpses. The man's eyes were wide open, frozen in terror. his chest had been torn open, his ribs cracked apart—not by a blade, but by something with claws.

This wasn't just a bandit attack.

This was something else.

Aldric scanned the area carefully.

Then he saw the footprints.

Large. Not human.

The clawed imprints dug deep into the soil, leading away from the massacre and into the nearby forest.

Aldric stood up.

He could turn back. Avoid whatever beast had done this.

But the system wanted him to grow stronger.

And there was no strength without bloodshed.

The footprints led into the trees.

Without hesitation, Aldric followed them.

The forest was silent.

Not the peaceful kind of silence, but the kind that warned of predators.

Aldric moved carefully, his hand on the hilt of his sword ready. The deeper he ventured, the thicker the fog became, clinging to the air like a ghostly veil.

The footprints led further inward, until—

A snapping sound broke the silence.

Aldric's body reacted before his mind did.

He twisted to the side just as a black shape lunged at him from the trees.

Claws scratch Through the air, missing him by inches.

He caught a glimpse of glowing yellow eyes, of fangs dripping with saliva, before the creature vanished into the mist again.

Aldric didn't move.

Didn't breathe.

He was being hunted.

Good.

A slow grin spread across his face. Let's see who the real predator is.

The beast moved fast—too fast for something its size.

Aldric's eyes flicked between the shifting fog, his grip firm on his sword. His breathing slowed. His body was tense, ready. Waiting.

The creature had attacked once. It would attack again.

A low growl rumbled through the trees

Circling him.

Then, it struck.

A blur of black fur and glowing yellow eyes lunged from the mist. This time, Aldric was ready.

He twisted to the side, barely avoiding the jaws snapping at his throat. As the creature passed, he swung his blade in a sharp arc.

Steel met flesh.

A shriek tore through the air as his sword stab deep into the beast's side, black blood sprayed across the forest soil.

The creature crashed into the ground, but instead of fleeing, it rolled to its feet immediately—completely unfazed.

Aldric's smirk widened. Good.

Now he could enjoy this.

The fog shifted, revealing the monster in full.

It was a dire wolf, but unlike any he had ever seen. Its fur was pitch black, its form unnaturally large, its limbs too long, too thin—as if something had stretched it beyond what nature allowed.

And its eyes burned with hunger.

Aldric moved first.

He charged, his sword slicing through the air in a controlled, deadly arc. The wolf dodged unnaturally fast, twisting its body away from the blade before snapping its fangs toward Aldric's leg.

Aldric jumped back just in time. The wolf's jaws snapped shut inches from his flesh.

He didn't stop. Didn't hesitate.

The moment his boots touched the ground, he lunged again, this time feinting left before cutting right.

The wolf tried to move, but it was a second too late.

Aldric's sword carved across its chest, splitting flesh and bone.

The creature howled in fury, but still didn't fall.

Its body was to unnatural, its wounds healing too fast. The black blood dripping from its cuts hissed against the ground, sizzling as if it burned the earth itself.

Aldric narrowed his eyes.

This thing isn't normal.

His grip on his sword tightened.

Fine. If the beast wouldn't die like any other, he would break it apart piece by piece until it fall.

the wolf let out a distorted shriek, lowering its stance. Its muscles tensed.

Aldric exhaled. And then , they both lunged at each other at the same time.

The fight was too brutal.

The dire wolf was fast, but Aldric was faster. His reflexes had already sharpened beyond what they had been in life. His movements felt natural, almost instinctual, guided by something darker.

The two predators clashed again and again. Steel met claw, fang met flesh.

The wolf's attacks grew more erratic. It was getting tired.

Aldric, however, was not.

He was learning. Each attack he missed, each dodge, each wound—it all fed into his instincts, refining his timing, his movements.

And then—the moment came.

The wolf lunged, aiming for his throat.

Aldric sidestepped, bringing his sword up in a flash of silver.

The blade sank deep into the creature's exposed neck—and this time, he twisted.

The wolf's body spasmed.

Aldric pulled his sword and drove it downward, severing the beast's spine.

A final, gurgling shrike escaped its throat—before the monster collapsed.

Dead.

[Experience Gained: 600]

[Level Up!]

[New Skill Acquired: Abyssal Resilience]

Aldric stepped back, exhaling. His pulse was steady. His body still craved more.

The notification appeared before his eyes, revealing the details of his new skill.

[Abyssal Resilience: Passive Skill]

The Abyss hardens your body against pain and wounds. All incoming damage is reduced by 10%. Wounds heal 20% faster.

Aldric rolled his shoulders, feeling the faint ache of his injuries fading faster than before.

"Useful" Thought Aldric with a smirk.

He wiped his sword against the grass, cleaning it of the blackened blood.

Then, he turned his gaze toward the corpse.

Even after death, the dire wolf looked unnatural.

Aldric kneeled beside it, running his fingers through its thick black fur. He could feel something beneath the flesh—something wrong.

His sword flashed, and he sliced open the beast's chest.

Inside, nestled between its ribs, was a black, pulsing stone the size of a fist. It glowed faintly, leaking crimson mist.

Aldric narrowed his eyes.

A core.

He had read about things like this before. Beasts that weren't just creatures, but manifestations of corrupted magic.

His fingers curled around the stone.

A sharp pulse ran through his palm the moment he touched it.

Aldric's vision blurred.

For a split second, he saw something else—a vast, endless void filled with shifting, monstrous forms, their red eyes glaring from the abyss.

Then the vision was gone.

He tightened his grip and stood up.

He didn't know what the stone was, not yet at least.

But he would find out.

And if these creatures were connected to Darion's hidden fortress, then he had just stumbled upon something far more important than he expected.

Aldric smirked.

That meant when he reached Whitebridge, he'd have more than just revenge to deal with. And he was more than ready.

Aldric held the blackened core in his palm, feeling the faint pulse of energy radiating from it.

The crimson mist swirling around the stone felt unnatural, as if it had been infused with something beyond mere magic. This wasn't just some mutated beast—it was something worse.

Something born of corruption.

His grip tightened.

If the core was really connect to whitebridge than the fortress wasn't just a normal fortress of men.

It was a nest of something darker.

Aldric tucked the core inside his cloak. He would figure out what to do with it later.

For now, he needed to move.

By the time he reached the edge of the forest, the sun was beginning to set.

The land beyond stretched into rolling hills, the remnants of an ancient battlefield scattered across the plains.

Old rusted weapons, broken banners, and half-buried bones peeked out from the dirt, the last remnants of some long-forgotten war.

And in the distance, he saw it.

The ruins of Whitebridge

Or what was left of it.

Once, it had been a great fortified city, a key crossing point between the northern and southern regions of the kingdom. But now, it was nothing but a decayed fortress—half of its stone walls had collapsed, and most of its buildings had crumbled into ruins.

Yet, despite the ruins, Aldric could see movement

.

Figures, barely visible against the dying light, lurking within the broken city.

Not scavengers.

Not survivors.

Something else.

Aldric's eyes narrowed. This was no abandoned ruin. It was a .trap waiting to be sprung. And if Darion's hidden fortress was beyond this, then Aldric had just found the gates of hell.

A slow grin spread across his face.

Perfect.

He had always been good at burning things down.

Aldric descended the hill, moving toward the outskirts of Whitebridge. The air felt different as he drew closer—thicker, heavier.

The ruins should have been silent, yet the shadows between the broken walls shifted as if watching him.

His fingers brushed the hilt of his sword. His instincts screamed at him.

There was something here.

Then—a low moan.

The sound came from ahead, near the remains of a collapsed building. It was deep, guttural, almost human but not quite.

He took another step.

A figure crawled from the ruins, dragging itself forward with strange, unnatural movements.

Its flesh was rotting, its bones half-exposed, and its hollow eyes glowed faintly with sickly green light.

A ghoul.

No. Not just one.

The moment Aldric locked eyes with the creature, more began to stir.

From the ruins, dozens of figures emerged—limbs twisted, their decayed forms still wrapped in the tattered remains of armor and clothing.

Aldric's ready himself up.

This was a graveyard of the dead.

And it had just become his hunting ground.

The ghouls let out a collective screech and charged.

Aldric drew his sword—

And stepped forward to meet them.

The first ghoul lunged, its jaw unhinging grotesquely as it snapped toward Aldric's throat.

He moved with inhuman speed, sidestepping effortlessly before driving his sword through its open mouth.

The blade pierced the back of its skull, and with a sharp pull, he ripped it free, sending blackened blood spraying across the dirt.

The ghoul collapsed, but the others didn't stop. They charged forward, their distorted limps grasping, clawing, biting.

Aldric grinned.

He had needed a warm-up. His sword slashed through the air, cutting through decayed flesh with brutal efficiency.

His movements were precise—dodging, countering, killing—as if his body already knew how to fight the dead. And maybe it did.

He was one of them, after all.

A ghoul swiped at his side—he twisted, severing its arm at the elbow before kicking it back into the horde. Another lunged from behind—he ducked, driving his blade upward through its ribcage, twisting until its spine snapped. Blood and gore painted the ruins, but Aldric didn't stop.

He couldn't.

Because for the first time in a long time, he felt alive. 

The final ghoul lunged at him—he met it with a single downward slash, splitting its skull in two.

Then silence settle in.

Aldric exhaled, rolling his shoulders. His body screamed with power.

Then, the familiar chime echoed in his mind.

[Experience Gained: 800]

[Level Up!]

[New Skill Acquired: Deathstalker's Instinct]

Aldric grinned.

He was only getting started. Without another word, he stepped deeper into the ruins of Whitebridge—toward whatever lay ahead.