Under a twisted and oppressive dark sky, the grim and eerie forest stretched endlessly. Shadows of trees blurred in the dense woodland, and the rustling sound of the deep, shadowy grove whispered like the murmurs of phantoms.
The overlapping trees formed a labyrinth, and there was no trace of life in the gloomy forest—no birds chirped, no insects buzzed. Only the eerie stench of decay lingered around Leon and his two companions.
The trio muttered under their breath. Azerian and Lohak recited the prayers of the Holy Sun Church.
As for their leader, Leon, what he murmured was far more peculiar. Upon careful listening, one would find he was softly singing… The Internationale.
This was the best solution Leon could come up with. As a transmigrator who didn't believe in the Holy Sun or the Prophet of Serian, the church prayers embedded in the original owner's memory couldn't help him focus and ward off intrusive thoughts.
After much consideration, the only things that could stabilize his mind and reduce the chance of attracting "demons" were remnants of his former life—songs and phrases full of conviction.
One round of The Internationale, another of the national anthem, followed by reciting the core socialist values. Whatever worked. According to the mysterious voice that guided him, as long as he kept his willpower steady and his thoughts focused, it would suffice.
Thus, the group pressed on, each chanting their own mantras, navigating around obstacles and retracing their steps when hitting dead ends. In this eerie domain, direction and destination were meaningless. Even their perception of time seemed distorted.
This wasn't just a sense of being lost—it was as though the "pseudo-spiritual field" itself was disrupting their senses, making everything blur into chaos.
Ten minutes earlier, by the riverbank—
"I've saved you multiple times. This time, let's make a deal," the mysterious girl's voice proposed.
"What kind of deal?" Leon asked.
"I'll help you escape from here, but in return, you must promise to do something for me once you're out."
Without hesitation, Leon agreed. "I owe you two lives already, so it's not really a deal. I promise, as long as it's not something immoral, I'll do my best to help you."
"Good. It's settled then."
"So, can you explain what this 'pseudo-spiritual field' is? And how exactly do we get out of this cursed place?" Leon pressed eagerly.
"The pseudo-spiritual field is one of the tragic ends awaiting a spirit mage," the girl explained.
"When a spirit mage's chaotic energy surpasses the limits of their willpower and body, the backlash transforms them into a rift—a gateway between the physical and spirit worlds.
The chaos that flows through them corrodes the surrounding space-time, gradually pulling it into the spirit world…"
"That's… hard to follow," Leon admitted, feeling both awed and confused by her explanation.
"The cause is too complex to explain in a few words," she sighed. "Besides, you weren't a mage before you took over this body, right? Discussing spirit-world theories with you would be pointless."
Her words sent a jolt through Leon.
"You… you know I'm not the original Leon?"
"Isn't it obvious?" she replied matter-of-factly.
Leon felt a wave of discomfort. Was she not only able to communicate with him mentally but also read his memories?
"Relax. Like you, I've inherited the memories of the deceased boy," she reassured him.
Her explanation was unsettling yet oddly relieving. "I've been observing your actions all along. It's clear from your behavior that you're not the same as the hunter boy who died.
Don't worry, though. In my current state, I don't have the strength to read your soul even if I wanted to."
That's a relief, Leon thought. He decided to tentatively trust her, though staying cautious about his privacy. After all, who wouldn't have some embarrassing or personal memories they'd prefer to keep hidden?
"So, this cursed land—is it as endless as the legends say?" he redirected the conversation.
"While the legends exaggerate, I'm afraid this realm is far more dangerous than folklore suggests.
Pray that the spirit mage who created this pseudo-spiritual field wasn't too powerful, or you'll be in real trouble," she warned gravely.
Leon's unease grew as the girl continued. The corrupted realm was a chaotic liminal space—distorted directions, nonsensical positions. Walking, flying, or any attempt to leave was futile. Even looking at the projection of the chaos sea above was as good as courting death.
"And about the monsters—are there really man-eating creatures like the stories say?"
"Not quite," she said. "Most magic-sensitive creatures avoid pseudo-spiritual fields. Even those that stumble in don't survive long; they die and become wandering souls, trapped in limbo.
If you encounter anything, it's just another victim like yourselves."
"You mean they're killed? By what?" Leon pressed.
"By other lost souls, of course—those who've perished here before you. But that's not the worst fate," she said ominously.
If being a trapped, restless soul wasn't the worst, Leon dreaded to think what was.
"The greater danger in a pseudo-spiritual field," she explained, her tone serious, "is the spirit demons—beings born from the spirit world, preying on souls."
Spirit demons.
She skipped the details, focusing instead on the immediate threat. Spirit demons couldn't enter the physical world, but in a pseudo-spiritual field, where chaos merged the realms, they could manifest.
What drew them in? The rich emotions, desires, and mental fluctuations of intelligent beings who wandered into their domain.
Leon listened intently, realizing that in a world of magic and monsters, demons were just another layer of supernatural danger.
"In this place, the only way to minimize the risk of being targeted by demons is to control your emotions and willpower," the girl advised. "Abandon greed, fear, and rage. The calmer and more focused your mind, the harder it is for them to spot you.
If you have faith in a god, pray to them. For believers, that helps."
Leon glanced at Azerian and Lohak.
Unlike him, they were devout followers of the Holy Sun Church.
He, on the other hand, was a godless modern man from Earth. How was he supposed to suppress his chaotic thoughts in such a place?
"So, you're saying if we stay perfectly focused, we can leave this place safely?" Leon asked skeptically.
"Of course not," the girl replied flatly. "That only helps you move unnoticed. To escape, you'll need to gather materials to craft a 'Geolight Lantern'—a device that can guide you back to reality."
"And you think we can find these materials here?"
"Let's see… Patiss Crystals? Probably not. But Flintglow stones, river sandstones, eucalyptus wood… yes, they should be here.
The only tricky part will be the power source."
"What kind of power source?"
"I'll need a soul—a trapped one, yearning to return home."