"Kroowww..."
The forest was alive with the sounds of snapping twigs and rustling leaves as a sleek, cat-like beast darted through the underbrush. Its padded paws hit the ground in rhythmic thuds, each step almost silent, though the occasional crack of a dry branch betrayed its path.
The beast let out a guttural roar, deep and wild, sending birds flapping noisily out of the trees.
It leapt onto the nearest trunk, claws scraping against the bark with a sharp (scritch). Perched high, it paused for a split second, its ears swiveling at the faintest sound.
(Whizz!)
An arrow shot through the air, barely missing the beast and burying itself into the tree with a solid thunk.
The creature hissed, its golden eyes narrowing. Without hesitation, it sprang to the next tree, its tail flicking like a whip as another arrow sliced past its flank.
"Missed again!" a voice muttered somewhere in the shadows, low but sharp with focus.
The predator moved faster now, weaving through the forest in a blur of fur and muscle. Arrows rained down like hailstones, digging into tree trunks and the soft earth with dull thuds. The beast twisted mid-leap to avoid one, the feathers of the arrow brushing its fur.But it wasn't just running—it was hunting. Its sharp gaze locked onto a figure standing atop a small ridge. The archer was young, his small frame cloaked in shadow, but his stance was steady. The faint light caught his grey hair and the slight curve of his weapon—a bent stick that seemed almost too humble for the precision with which it was being used.
The beast growled, a low, rolling sound that seemed to shake the leaves around it. And then it lunged.
(Swish!)
Another arrow flew past, but the beast was ready. It juked to the side, its paws barely touching the ground before it launched itself toward the archer, claws outstretched.But the boy was faster than he looked. He ducked, spinning his bow with a sharp whoosh and cracking it against the beast's side.
(Thwack!)
The impact sent the creature sprawling, but it wasn't done yet. It snarled and scrambled to its feet, only for the boy to pivot, pull an arrow from his quiver, and shoot it point-blank.
(Thud.)
The arrow sank deep into the beast's chest. It let out one last, guttural roar before collapsing onto the forest floor with a heavy whump.
For a moment, everything was still. The boy stepped closer, bow lowered but still in hand. His breathing was steady, his expression calm despite the ferocity of the fight.He crouched beside the beast, one hand resting gently on its head. "You fought well," he said quietly, almost casually, his tone carrying a strange mix of respect and finality. "Rest now. The flame takes you."The forest was silent again, save for the faint rustle of leaves in the wind.
The boy joined his hands in a respectful Namaskar, bowing his head briefly over the fallen beast. A solemn moment passed before he shifted his stance. With practiced ease, he grabbed the beast by its legs, hoisting it up.
The animal's body vanished under his robe of rough animal skins, the fabric stretching slightly to accommodate the weight. A faint smirk crossed his mud-streaked face as he muttered to himself, "Alright, my breakfast is ready."
He adjusted his robe and straightened up, his voice brightening.
"My name is Veer Flameforge. I'm twelve years old." His tone carried a strange mix of pride and casual ease."Veer means brave," he continued, "and Flameforge—that's the name of our tribe."
Veer's eyes scanned the forest around him, his sharp gaze taking in every shadow, every flicker of movement among the trees. "There are always special regions in this world," he said, gesturing broadly, "each with its own crazy qualities."
"Like deserts that burn endlessly, or seas frozen solid. Islands that float in the sky, and even mountains that move. But this place—"
He swept his arm out at the dense, overgrown wilderness.
"This is the forest. The one that births dungeons and ruins."His voice dropped a little, tinged with a mixture of pride and caution. "Because of... well, circumstances, we live in the most hidden—and the most dangerous—part of this forest. We hunt, we farm, and we maintain this entire region just to survive."
Veer crouched near a patch of soft dirt, tracing invisible patterns with his finger as he explained, "This forest is alive in ways most people can't even imagine. Its dungeons don't just sit still. No, they move. They shift around like they've got minds of their own.
"And when dungeons go uncleared for too long, The Dungeon breaks. They, uh... let out monsters." He glanced up, his expression suddenly serious. "That's why this forest is crawling with them. Real monsters. The kind you don't want to meet in the dark."
He stood and brushed off his hands, a wry smile creeping back onto his face. "Not that we get many visitors here anyway. None in the past twelve years, at least. A hundred years ago, though? There was a city nearby."
Veer's gaze drifted toward the horizon, his eyes softening. "That city thrived off clearing the dungeons, trading, growing... But look at it now. Not a single proper wall is left. The forest has swallowed it whole."
He shook his head and snapped back to his usual tone. "Back then, there were maybe ten dungeons around here. Now?" He raised an eyebrow. "I counted 118. Yep, you heard me. One hundred and eighteen dungeons. And they're still multiplying."Veer sighed, scratching his head. "It's our job to balance the forest's ecology. To protect it from invaders. This place—it's our safe haven."
He paused, then smirked. "Well, 'safe' is a bit of a stretch.""You want to know what's the most dangerous thing here?" His voice dropped, and a chill seemed to settle in the air. "It's not the beasts or the multiplying dungeons. It's that dungeon. The one that showed up a hundred years ago and changed everything. The one that doesn't break, no matter how much time has passed.
"The Dungeon of Guilt."
Veer's smile faltered for a moment, replaced by a flicker of unease. "That thing's scary. Always has been. It doesn't just sit there, either. It rotates, shifts, and messes with the other dungeons. It's like the forest's beating heart—and its curse.
"I pray it never breaks," he said with a dry laugh, though his eyes betrayed a sliver of genuine fear. "Because if it does? Humanity's doomed. Heheheh."
Veer turned and started walking deeper into the forest, his steps light and measured. "There are other villages in this forest," he added, his tone casual again. "But they're not like ours. No humans in those ones."
He glanced back briefly, as if checking for unseen eyes. "This forest... it's home. But it's got a way of reminding us who's really in charge."
As Veer spoke, his gaze shifted toward a commotion in the forest. A group of orcs was returning to their village, hauling a massive snake they had hunted. These creatures were colossal, towering three times the height of any human, their grey and green skin shimmering with sweat and blood. Their thick, muscular bodies moved with a weighty, deliberate gait. Wild hair tumbled to their waists, unbound and untamed, and long tusks curled out from their mouths like weapons of their own.
Veer chuckled under his breath, raising an eyebrow at their appearance."Hahaha, they look super strong... and pretty ugly. Like oversized hairy boulders with tusks."
The amusement in his eyes turned to curiosity as he noticed a group of goblins blocking the orcs' path.
The goblins stood much smaller, their lean bodies twitching with nervous energy. They held crude weapons—spears carved from wood, knives made of sharp stones—and wore a determined look.
Veer smirked, shaking his head."Ahh, how stupid. Even if they're three times the number, they don't stand a chance against orcs."
He leaned against a tree, watching intently as the goblins held their ground. That's when his sharp eyes caught movement behind the orcs. A second group of goblins was creeping closer, hidden in the bushes, their eyes glinting with cunning.
"Oh, so that's the plan. Distract with the front group while the second ambushes from behind. Clever little pests... But—"
The goblins launched their attack before Veer could finish his thought. Chaos erupted in the clearing.
The first group shouted and charged, drawing the orcs' attention, while the second group leaped from behind, hurling stones and stabbing with their makeshift weapons.
The orcs responded with raw, brutal power. Their fists smashed through wooden spears, sending goblins flying into trees with sickening thuds.
One goblin managed to climb an orc's back and jab at its neck, but the orc roared and slammed him to the ground with bone-cracking force.
Veer's grin widened as he took in the scene. The air was thick with the sounds of snarling, screaming, and the dull thud of bodies hitting the ground.
"What a show. They're fast and coordinated, but those stone weapons? Useless against orc skin".
The fight ended as swiftly as it began. The goblins, bloodied and battered, scattered into the forest, retreating with yelps of terror. The orcs roared in victory, lifting their massive arms in triumph.But as Veer scanned the scene, his sharp eyes caught two young orcs lying lifeless in the dirt, their massive bodies unmoving.
He tilted his head, a flicker of respect crossing his face."Well, look at that. Five times the numbers and they still got stomped, but they managed to take down two young ones. Not bad, goblins. Not bad at all."With that, Veer stretched and turned back to his path.
"Now, where was I? Oh, right—"
The Forest Villages
"This forest has nine villages in total," Veer began, his voice slipping back into its usual calm cadence.
"Two of them belong to the orcs.
The first is Orga, and the second is Ortra. The orcs are fierce warriors, and their villages are heavily fortified. Most outsiders stay far away from them unless they're looking for trouble—or a death wish."
He glanced over his shoulder, as if imagining the goblins who dared to challenge the orcs.
"Then we have four goblin villages. Goblins are the most numerous and scattered across the forest. Each village has its own quirks.
"The Greyhelem goblins are clever little things, quick and resourceful. Then there's Grandtrunk, where green goblins live up in the trees like monkeys. They're agile and annoying. Up in the mountains, you'll find the Miletts goblins—tough, cold, and hardy. Lastly, there's Roders, home to swamp goblins. Slimy little creatures who thrive in the muck."
Veer's tone shifted slightly as he mentioned the next village, one tinged with a mix of respect and irritation.
"Then there's the dwarves. The grey dwarves have only one village, Valheimer. They're talented, no doubt about it. They've dug out countless dungeons in search of rare metals and gemstones. They craft some of the strongest weapons and tools in the forest. Our village often trades with them for weapons and utensils."
But then Veer clicked his tongue and muttered bitterly.
"Still… they're greedy, money-loving cheapskates. Always trying to swindle you if you're not careful."He bit his tongue as if the thought annoyed him more than he cared to admit.
(You deserve the trouble you get, you thieves.)
"Ah, and then there's the forest elves,"
Veer continued as he wandered through the dense undergrowth, his tone carrying a mix of intrigue and disdain.
"They're the rarest beings in this forest, mostly because they hardly reproduce. They live for thousands of years, their tall, slender forms untouched by time. Their smooth, pale skin gleams in the sunlight, and their hair, in various shades of green, seems to merge with the forest around them."
He paused, his expression darkening slightly."Don't let their wisdom fool you, though. Forest elves are arrogant and stuck in their old ways. They consider themselves the rightful rulers of these lands, and maybe they once were, but that attitude hasn't earned them any friends. No one here trusts them, and they trust no one."
Veer crouched by a tree, brushing away a cluster of leaves to reveal faint carvings etched into the bark. He traced the patterns with his fingers—a language long forgotten, one the elves still clung to.
"They've been here for centuries. Some say they were once slaves in the great city that thrived before the Cataclysm. When everything fell apart, they survived, retreating into the forest. Now they control every inch of this place, from the animals to the plants. It's their domain, and they don't let anyone forget it."
With a dismissive shake of his head, Veer stood and continued walking.
After hours of wandering and surveying the forest, Veer finally reached a familiar landmark: a waterfall cascading into a sparkling river below. The air here was cool and fresh, the roar of the water drowning out the forest's usual hum. His village lay just beyond the river, a short but slippery crossing.
Veer knelt by the water's edge, washing his hands and the muddy remains of his hunt. He stared at his reflection for a moment before splashing the image away with a flick of his fingers.
Gripping his stick tightly, he stepped into the river. The cold water rushed around his legs as he used the stick to steady himself on the slippery rocks beneath.
…[Splasshhhhh!]…
The sound of splashing water made him freeze. His sharp eyes darted toward the waterfall. For a moment, he thought it was just a rock dislodged by the current. But then he saw it—
a black mass of fur caught against a jagged stone near the base of the falls.
He frowned, curiosity piqued.
The thing was drenched and motionless, its lifeless form tangled in the water's relentless flow. Veer cautiously approached, his stick extended. With a quick, practiced swing, he nudged the black ball of fur, expecting it to tumble away.
Nothing...
No movement, no reaction.
Veer's gaze narrowed as he took a step closer, the cold water rising higher around his knees.
"What is this? Some kind of dead animal? Or... something else?"
He reached out again, this time determined to get a better look.Veer crouched down and grabbed the drenched black blob by its fur, lifting it with one hand. Water dripped from its tangled mass as he turned it over, examining the strange creature.
"Oh what is this?" "A wolf cub? Or... a hairy slime?"
As he looked closer, his sharp eyes caught a faint rise and fall of its chest."It's still breathing... barely. It's alive."
For the past twelve years of living in this forest, Veer had seen countless creatures, but this one was unlike anything he'd encountered.
The blob had the round, squishy body of a slime but was covered in thick, matted fur. Its ears were pointed, resembling those of a wolf, while its face was bear-like. Its eyes, though closed, were unnaturally large, like a cat's.
What puzzled him more was its anatomy—or lack thereof. It had only two stubby paws, a flat, barely visible tail, and two tiny, hidden hands buried deep within its fur.
"What kind of weird beast are you?" Veer wondered, tilting his head.
As Veer's fingers brushed over the fur, they came away wet with blood."It's bleeding... and badly wounded."
His eyes softened for a moment before narrowing again. He knew how the forest worked—anything left vulnerable at night would either freeze to death or become some beast's midnight snack.
"Hahhhhhhhhhhh..."
Veer exhaled loudly, annoyed with himself. He knew what he had to do. Pulling off his robe, he wrapped the strange creature tightly and slung it over his side.
"Guess you're coming with me," he muttered.Veer trudged through the forest until he reached a fortified wall hidden deep within the trees. The gate loomed large, flanked by two muscular men armed with long spears.
"Hey, guysssss!!! I'm back!" Veer shouted, his voice echoing through the trees.
One of the gatekeepers squinted and grinned."Oh, if it isn't the young guardian himself. Lord Veer, returning from his hunt. Did you get something good this time?"
Veer puffed out his cheeks in mock irritation, his voice dripping with sarcasm."Yeah! I did, but you're not even getting to look at it."
The other guard laughed, poking fun."Owww, such a small man you are. Always hiding your treasures, huh?"
Veer rolled his eyes and walked past them, muttering, "jealous much?"
He passed through the gates and entered Pinto the final village—Agni-mandir, the ninth and only human settlement in the forest. The population barely scraped past 200, but they survived, carving out a modest life amidst the dangers of the wild.
Veer rushed straight to his hut, a modest wooden structure on the edge of the village. Once inside, he carefully unwrapped the black furball from his robe and set it on the floor. The creature was still and silent, its tiny body trembling slightly from the cold.
Veer rummaged around the hut, gathering twigs, husks, and scraps of fabric to fashion a makeshift bed.
Once satisfied, he laid the creature down gently, covering it with a dusty, dried animal skin to provide extra warmth.
The furball still didn't move.
Veer frowned.(It's probably freezing. Drenched and bleeding like this, it doesn't stand a chance without heat.)
Determined, Veer turned to the empty fireplace in the center of his hut. He threw in every piece of wood he could find, piling it high. Then, he grabbed his bent stick and held it firmly in both hands.
[Fwoosh...]
The stick transformed instantly into a rugged, battle-worn bow. Veer pulled the string lightly, aiming at the unlit fireplace. He whispered a single word under his breath:
""OM~Samindhe.""
A glowing arrow materialized from thin air, its flame flickering softly in the dim light. Without hesitation, Veer released the arrow.
[Fwoosh! Crackle!]
The fire roared to life, its warmth spreading through the hut. Veer leaned back, watching the flames dance. The creature on the bed stirred ever so slightly, its small body relaxing under the growing warmth.
"Don't die on me, little slime-dog-bear-whatever-you-are," Veer muttered."I just went through all this trouble. You better survive."
He sat down near the fire, his bow resting across his knees, and watched the strange creature with a mix of curiosity and wariness.
"What are you?" he wondered, as the flames reflected in his sharp, grey eyes.His tired eyes gets ready to take a wink of sleep.