The wind howled low through the twisted trees, their bark warped and lifeless. Pale mist clung to the ground like creeping fingers, shifting with every breath of wind. The Dead Forest—its name alone was warning enough. This is not a place to overstay your welcome. The whispers of lost and forsaken souls seeped through the stillness of the dense treeline.

  I crouched low beneath the skeletal remains of an old oak, my fingers tightening around the rough grip of the bow I had crafted. It wasn’t perfect, far from it, but times were tough, and it was better than trying to run up with my daggers. I knew my prize was just ahead. I've been tracking it for hours.

  A deer. A real, breathing, living deer.

  My stomach knotted with hunger so sharp it almost hurt. If I missed this shot, I doubt I'd get another chance. I'd probably have to start stealing again. I'd survived that way once. I know firsthand how bad that could end up.

  Its spectral-white fur shimmered in the pale light filtering through the twisted trees. It was thin, ribs pressing against its sunken hide, but it was alive. Unlike the cursed remnants lurking deeper in the woods, this one still had warmth, had a pulse. It grazed cautiously on a patch of withered grass, ears twitching, ready to bolt at the first sign of danger.

  I steadied the arrow, exhaling slowly. Bow fully drawn, my gaze lingered on the deer when a moment of reflection crossed my mind. It was desperate, surviving off what little it could find, just like me. Alone, wary, clinging to life in a place where the dead far outnumbered the living. For a fleeting second, I felt a strange kinship with it—two creatures trapped in a world that had long since abandoned us.

  “Sorry…seems there is only enough life here for one of us,” I whispered under my breath before finally letting the arrow fly.

  The arrow rebounded off the side of a dark tree inches above the deer’s neck, disappearing into the thick fog and brush.

  I missed!

  The deer’s head sprang up. Like lightning, it darted through the brush in a blur. I got to my feet just as fast. I may have been weak from starvation, but I had to believe I was fast enough to get another shot.

  Just as I stood… a guttural roar ripped through the stillness.

  My heart seized at the panic-inducing sound. It had come from up ahead, past where the deer had bolted, right in the accidental path of my arrow.

  I crouched again. Shit! That can't be good. An image of the ghostly spirits back in the city, sitting down to a grand meal, flashed in my mind. Focus! What was that roar? Peering past the tall grass, I saw nothing but brush… no, it doesn’t matter. I didn’t need to see it, the sound was enough to know it was bad. Really bad.

  The howl wasn’t like an animal’s. Too deep. Too…wet.

  Fighting is not worth the risk. Run? That could work…Hide? I'm already doing that.

  No, I had to get out of here… but maybe it hadn't seen me…whatever it was.

  Something massive loomed in the mist ahead, its shape barely visible through the pale fog. I swallowed hard. Then, it moved, enough to distinguish itself from the thick forest foliage.

  My pulse stopped.

  Towering. Rotting. Hulking through the trees on limbs too large for a corpse.

  I shot a troll. I am so fucked!

  Thick, dark blood seeped from its open wounds, trailing down its arms and pooling at its clawed fingers. The color was wrong—too dark, almost black, and sluggish. Though the troll was obviously undead, the blood pulsed from it, horrific and unnatural, as if it were also alive somehow.

  The troll’s hollow, glazed eyes lifted into the air, sniffing. Then, its gaping mouth twisted into something between a snarl and a grin.

  My instincts screamed. Run.

  I pushed off the ground, but the troll had already closed the distance.

  Quick with fury, it lunged at me with jagged claws.

  I barely threw myself out of the way, rolling hard across the damp earth as claws raked through the ground where I had stood just moments before. I hit the ground harder than expected. My grip almost slipped from the bow, but I held on, scrambling back to my feet. My Honey-streaked brunette hair blurred my vision, now sifting back and forth in front of my face.

  I loaded another arrow, aiming at center mass this time.

  The arrow struck the troll’s chest as it turned, its grotesque body pulsing, leaking that strange, oozing blood with every movement. It didn’t slow down.

  My hand drifted to the daggers stationed at my hips—the only thing I had brought with me from my home on Floor 5. Unlike the bow, the daggers were of decent quality.

  No time to think. I have to fight. I need to injure it enough to slip away.

  The troll lunged again. I barely ducked in time, rolling under its outstretched arm, unhooking and stabbing with one of my daggers. The blade bit into the troll's flesh, but instead of the usual dead rot, the black ooze clung to my weapon, thick and sticky.

  A cold chill crawled up my spine.

  The troll didn’t even flinch.

  Its other arm came down in a brutal arc. I twisted away, but not fast enough. A heavy claw raked across my side, tearing through the hide and loose leather armor I’d been living in for the past few weeks. Cold, icy pain radiated from the wound. Breath-catching, I stumbled backward.

  Adrenaline began flooding my mind.

  Just run!

  I turned, bolting into the trees as fast as my legs could carry me. Vines whipped at my arms as I sprinted like the doe I had missed. I could feel my heart pounding hard in my chest. I looked down to my

  dismay, finally getting a look at the slice the nasty troll gave me. That's when I realized my heart was desperately trying to make up for the fact that bright red blood was now spurting from the wound in my side. Feeling the breath of the hulking creature behind me, it didn't matter. I couldn't slow down even for a second. I could only cover the hole in my torso, pressing down firmly as I sprinted through the brush.

  Blood began to coat just about everything I wore. So much blood.

  Could I get any more unlucky? It only hit me once…but that's all it needed

  A tingling sensation began to spread as I spotted something in the distance. Just ahead, another figure came barreling through the fog.

  A bear. A massive, brown, grizzly bear, running straight toward me. Deciding not to stray from my path, I continued forward.

  The bear let out a rough, commanding growl as the distance between us closed rapidly.

  I slid to a stop just as the bear leaped clear over me. Its claws outstretched, snout wide with snarling teeth, catapulting its massive body into the troll's chest.

  The troll reeled back, dark blood splattering against the dead leaves. The bear ripped at its throat, its snout coated in that strange liquid. The troll didn’t flinch, didn’t scream, howl—nothing. It just …went limp.

  So strange

  Then, as the troll's head began rolling away down the sloped forest, the beast shifted.

  Bones cracked. Claws retracted. Its massive form melted into something smaller, more human.

  I fell back against a tree, stuffing cloth into my wound.

  "You look like shit," the figure muttered.

  My mind was still reeling, my breath too fast, the pain in my side all-consuming. I forced myself to blink at the figure—tall, sturdy, absolutely dripping in black troll blood.

  And very, very naked.

  Oh…my…god…

  He scratched at his thick brown hair absentmindedly, then seemed to realize my wide-eyed stare. "Oh—right…Clothes don't survive the shift."

  He must have looked just as horrid as I did, covered in dead “undead” troll and all. I couldn't help but blush as I made a quick effort to turn away, trying not to peek as I reached for my pack. "Here. Just... put this on before I throw up."

  As he wrapped himself in the cloth, I forced my focus to the wound at my side. His deep voice pulled me back. "You need healing."

  I spit words like venom before I could register what they were, "You think I don't know that you big oaf!"

  He shrugged. "I wouldn't have said it if I couldn't help.”

  As he pressed a hand over my side, warmth flooded through my skin. I exhaled in relief and let out a sigh, "...sorry…and thank you…It seems I owe you my life."

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  He grinned. "Name's Dent. I live out here."

  I raised an eyebrow. "In the Dead Forest?"

  "Yeah?” he said far too casually. All while eyeing the protruding ribs that began pushing against my pale skin in recent weeks.

  “Are you hungry?..."

  I started to shake my head, but then he gestured to the ground. A small tree sprouted at an alarming speed, bearing ripe apples. I blinked. "Okay, that's not fair."

  He smirked. "That's all I can make here, but my camp’s not far."

  I hesitated, remembering all the bedtime riddles read to me as a child. Following strange men into the woods… great idea. I sighed, too tired to say no. "Lead the way”

  I followed him through the trees.

  “My name’s Remy, by the way.”

  His voice was deep and monotone, “Pleasure to meet you…Remy”

  The woods had quieted by the time we reached the camp. That was both a relief and a warning. I’d rather deal with silence than another undead troll, but silence stalks like the grave; it never means you are safe.

  Dent had led the way with an easy stride, barefoot and unbothered by the terrain. Meanwhile, I had limped behind, exhaustion creeping into my bones now that the adrenaline had burned out. My side still ached where the troll had caught me, but the wound was sealed. I’d definitely be sore tomorrow, but at least I wouldn’t be bleeding out in the dirt.

  His camp was minimalist but strangely inviting, a clearing tucked into the hillside, just far enough from the trees to let in light but still covered from the open sky. There was no tent, no walls, or many barriers at all. Just two decent-sized hammocks swaying between trees, a modest fire pit, and a surprising abundance of greenery.

  Fruit trees, real, thriving fruit trees, dotted the perimeter, their trunks unnaturally smooth as if they had sprouted overnight. Thick stalks of various nuts and leafy vegetables grew in neat patches near a small wooden bench, where a handful of clay pots and wooden bowls were stacked haphazardly.

  I took a quick stroll around, secretly scanning the area for warning signs. Despite it all, I did not want to trust him so easily. Though I felt it would be very easy to do so.

  Not a single dried fish, not a scrap of jerky. A druid who could turn into a massive bear, and yet not a single trace of a kill.

  “You don’t eat meat?” I asked, still looking.

  Dent tossed a bag of his onto a rock near the fire. “I obviously could, but no, I don’t.”

  I raised a brow. “You could?”

  He shrugged, tossing some wood into the pit. “I mean, I am a bear sometimes.”

  “That’s exactly what I was thinking.”

  He gave me a sideways glance, then knelt to strike a flint against the stone, sending sparks onto the dried leaves. “I suppose you’ve never shifted, but I can turn into all manner of beasts.” “I've even been hunted myself, at times.”... “Don't get me wrong, I have tried it, stopped after killing my first deer. It just felt weird. There’s just too much overlap between me and it.”

  I thought about the doe I’d missed earlier, the way I had seen myself in its gaunt, wary frame. It made more sense than I wanted to admit. “Fair enough.”

  The camp sat uphill from a river, one I recognized immediately. It was the same river that fed into the city, cutting through the forest like a vein. I suspect if you followed it upstream, you’d reach the southern gate in half a day’s hike, not that I’d be testing that theory. Not tonight, at least.

  I walked to the river’s edge and let out a breath as I pulled at the clasps of my ill-fitting armor, peeling it away from skin still sticky with blood and sweat. Both the hide and the leather I wore underneath are basically ruined now. Not a huge loss, the leather barely fit to begin with. It was not meant for me, I had hurriedly stolen it on my way out of floor 5.

  The cool air on my side stung, but I could finally breathe properly.

  Dent was already knee-deep in the water, dunking his head before shaking it out like an animal. Water ran through his thick brown hair, catching in his beard before dripping onto his tanned skin. He was built like someone who didn’t try to be strong—he just was.

  I looked at my reflection in the water—honey-streaked brunette hair, a little too long, a little too messy, tangled from a rough day without proper care. Green eyes, pale skin, half-elf ears rising into peaks through my hair, and thinner than I should have been. I hated that fact and would surely make gaining weight a priority as soon as I could get steady meals. I reached down, splashing water on my face and rubbing at the grime on my arms.

  “I've never seen that kind of blood on an undead before. I should take some when I head back to the city…It’s probably nothing, but I know someone who can test it. I said, reflecting on the absurdity of the day.

  Seeing as your beastliness probably ingested some, I thought to myself

  Dent glanced at me from the corner of his eye. “You look less like you just got mauled.”

  “Thanks. And you look slightly less like you just beheaded a troll with your teeth.”

  He grinned, rolling his shoulders. “Good times.”

  I couldn’t help but shake my head with amusement.

  My eyes were already growing heavy when we returned, the hammocks swaying gently in the low evening breeze. The fire crackled between us as we settled in, golden light flickering against the now evening light. Dent leaned back against a tree, one arm behind his head, watching the flames lazily. Noticing the air’s chill, I sat across from him, one knee propped up, chewing on another apple from his seemingly endless supply.

  “So,” he said after a stretch of quiet. “You new here?”

  I chewed for a moment before nodding. “Stumbled in a few weeks ago. You?”

  “Same.”

  That caught my interest. “Same?”

  He grinned. “Guess that means we got here around the same time.”

  I tapped my fingers against my knee, watching him carefully. “That probably means you're here for…”

  Dent stretched out his legs. “The Ascension Challenge.”

  I stilled at its mention.

  He said it so casually. The Ascension Challenge—A deadly series of trials and the only way to traverse the various floors of the tower, loosely, the reason we had both come to Floor 1. I may be here for that on paper, but I am not interested in actually doing it. I just needed a way to get off my floor, get someplace I could never be found.

  “Not in a hurry to get started?” I asked, studying his expression.

  He snorted. “Nah. I mean, I’m gonna do it, but I’m in no rush. I’d like to stay here a while, get a chance to explore this place a bit.”

  I hesitated, then exhaled, leaning back against my pack. I could have lied, could have avoided the topic entirely, but I let the moment hang, watching the flames.

  Maybe I’d tell him in the morning.

  For now, I needed sleep.

  Sleep quickly became as rough as the day before it.

  I jolted awake not more than an hour after drifting off, my body wracked with shivers. The cold had settled in, creeping past my half-dried clothes and biting into my skin like needles. My thin cloak did little to stop it. I curled up tighter in the hammock, pulling what little fabric I had over me, but it barely helped. Not cold enough to freeze to death, I thought grimly, but definitely cold enough to guarantee I wouldn’t be getting any sleep.

  I turned slightly, glancing toward the other hammock where Dent lay. He wasn’t asleep, just resting on his back, one arm folded behind his head, staring at the treetops like he didn’t have a care in the world. He wasn’t even using a blanket.

  Figures. Of course, the guy who could turn into a bear didn’t feel the cold.

  I clenched my teeth to keep them from chattering, but it didn’t do much good. Dent’s gaze flicked toward me in the low firelight, assessing my miserable state.

  “Cold?” he asked, though it wasn’t really a question.

  “No, I always vibrate like this,” I muttered, voice tight.

  He exhaled through his nose—something close to a laugh, though he didn’t push the joke. “Sorry to say it, but I don’t have any blankets,” he said simply.

  I sighed with a slight chuckle, already knowing that would be the answer. “Of course you don’t.”

  Dent shifted, turning his head to look at me more fully. “I can share my hammock.”

  My body stiffened…

  “AS IF!” The words shot out of my mouth before I could stop them.

  Dent just shrugged, completely unfazed. “Fair.” He adjusted his position slightly, unconcerned. “I know you have no reason to trust me. Also, no reason not to. But still.”

  I opened my mouth to fire back another snarky response, but nothing came. He wasn’t wrong.

  It wasn’t necessary. I’d survive the night, miserable or not. But that didn’t change the fact that while I lay here freezing, he looked completely unbothered, warm as ever. The contrast was enough to make me grit my teeth.

  I hesitated. This is stupid.

  But I was so damn cold.

  With a heavy sigh, I kicked off what little covering I had and dragged myself over to his hammock, muttering curses under my breath. “Move over.”

  Dent scooted slightly, making space without saying a word. I climbed in cautiously, stiff and uncertain at first, but the moment I let my head rest against his shoulder, I felt it—radiating warmth, like an oven.

  My whole body shuddered from the contrast, heat sinking into my frozen limbs. The exhaustion caught up with me fast. What in the aether am I doing? But I could finally relax, the tension in my muscles fading as the warmth settled in. My eyelids grew heavy, and my thoughts muddled.

  Dent didn’t move, didn’t comment. He was just there, solid and steady, like the heat of a campfire in the middle of a frozen night.

  For the first time since arriving on this forsaken floor, I slept deeply.

  The morning came gently, sunlight filtering through the branches in soft golden beams. The usual eerie weight of the Dead Forest felt lighter in the early glow. Peaceful even.

  I stirred, blinking against the light, my body unusually warm despite the night’s chill. I shifted slightly and found the hammock empty.

  I sat up fast, heart almost pounding, before I realized, Dent wasn’t here anymore. But the space beside me is still warm.

  I scrubbed a hand over my face, groggy but well-rested for the first time in days.

  This was the first time I’d seen the forest in anything other than survival mode. The usual oppressive weight was gone, replaced by birdsong and the scent of damp earth. No moaning spirits. No rustling dead. Just a quiet morning.

  Dent returned with a bushel of vegetables, herbs, and the like. I climbed out of the hammock, stretched, and made my way toward the campfire.

  Dent sat by the fire, casually making a salad out of the greens and berries. He glanced up as I approached, offering me a lopsided grin.

  “Morning.”

  I rubbed my eyes. “Morning.”

  He pushed a wooden bowl toward me. “Here, you should eat.”

  I sat down, taking the bowl without argument. I was too tired to question what I was eating, and too hungry to care.

  For a while, neither of us spoke, just eating in comfortable silence. I churned the idea over in my mind, debating if I should or even wanted to say what I was thinking. I had never mastered this part of the conversation.

  Finally, I exhaled and set the bowl down. “I’m also here for the Ascension Challenge.”

  Dent didn’t look surprised. “Figured.”

  I shot him a look.

  He smirked. “Well, you obviously didn't just end up here.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Fair.”

  A beat of silence passed before I spoke again. “You want to team up?”

  He leaned back on his hands, considering it. “We’ll need a couple more. There’s always four to a party.”

  I nodded. “I guess that's the plan then. No hurry, right?”

  Dent grinned. “Right, and when we’re ready, I want to see everything the aether has to offer.”

  I stood up to shake his hand, feeling a newfound confidence exuding from me.

  I found someone worth sticking with.