Elias approached Edmund, adopting a formal tone in his voice.
"Mr. Edmund, I need to ask you a few questions. First, what is the situation with the damsel?"
The old man, hunched over and leaning on a cane, gave a toothless smile before replying:
"Dear traveler, the damsel was captured by an evil mage. He resides in the depths of the Cursed Forest, west of the village."
Curious, Elias asked:
"Evil? I assume he's of ill intent, but the title seems to suggest something related to his powers."
With a calm expression, Edmund answered:
"Indeed. He is called evil for his vile actions. This mage defiles corpses—a disgusting necromancer who violates human morality."
Elias's heart raced. He himself was a necromancer, and revealing this could make him a target of prejudice, whether from the locals or other candidates.
Without much thought, he decided to hide his true class and pass as a warrior. Not even Art should know the truth.
It was better to be safe than sorry.
Pondering another issue, Elias made a request:
"If we are to venture into the Cursed Forest, we'll need supplies. Could you provide us with provisions?"
Edmund calmly nodded.
"Of course. Wait here for a moment. I'll have someone bring what you need."
With that, he hobbled away, leaning on his cane. Moments later, Art emerged from the armory, clad in full armor and carrying a sword and shield.
Seeing him, Elias smiled.
"I see you've changed your mind. So, you've decided to go with a Western style, then?"
Art responded calmly:
"Yes. I thought it over and realized that since you fight at mid-range, having a tank on the team would be useful."
Confused, Elias furrowed his brow and asked:
"What's a tank?"
Art was incredulous for a moment but quickly regained his composure and explained:
"A tank is a class in RPG games. It's the one who takes the front line and absorbs the damage, protecting the rest of the group."
Elias reflected on the explanation as he glanced at the supplies being brought over.
Elias observed the provisions for a moment before declaring:
"We should split the supplies equally. You store half in your inventory, and I'll take the other half."
Art, without objections, nodded in agreement.
After storing the supplies in their inventories, the two set out toward the Cursed Forest.
From a high vantage point, observing the pair intently, stood the daemon who had guided them there.
As he prepared to follow the duo, a dark and purple rift appeared in the air, pulsing with shadowy energy.
From it emerged a figure similar to Abyssion but with markedly different traits.
His skin was a deep red, his eyes glowed an intense crimson, and long black wings adorned his back. His dark hair matched his equally somber attire, exuding an imposing and menacing presence.
With a calm smile, he said:
"Greetings, Lord Abyssion. I came because I was informed that all your candidates had been eliminated. Yet, you continue to carry out this mission."
Abyssion replied, his expression remaining impassive:
"Lord Velkaris, two candidates strayed from the path but returned to course after the others were eliminated."
Velkaris's smile vanished, and he replied in a stern tone:
"Finish your work quickly and stop meddling. I've noticed that you added a dark magic grimoire to the arsenal."
"Damned be you, Abyssion! Your irresponsibility knows no bounds!" Velkaris shouted, feeling the tension ease slightly as he unleashed his fury on him.
After scolding Abyssion, Velkaris activated the portal and disappeared, leaving the place in complete silence.
Meanwhile, Art and Elias walked through the Cursed Forest. The shadows of the twisted trees formed sinister shapes, and the atmosphere seemed heavy and oppressive.
Art sneezed, looking around uneasily, and commented:
"This forest is creepy... Look at these trees; they seem to exude death."
Elias, with a mocking smile, replied:
"The only thing exuding death here is your bad breath."
Irritated, Art frowned and retorted:
"I haven't brushed my teeth in days. And you, Mr. Zombie Apocalypse Survivor? Do you even remember what toothpaste tastes like?"
Before Elias could fire back, he stopped abruptly, his eyes narrowing in alertness. A disquieting sensation crept down his spine. He spoke in a grave, serious tone:
"Shut up. Someone's watching us."
Suddenly, from the dense vegetation, a shambling zombie emerged. Its medieval clothing was tattered and ragged, and its decomposing flesh emitted a putrid stench.
Elias remained calm, his experienced eyes assessing the enemy. He had faced countless undead before and knew exactly what to do.
With a firm voice, he instructed Art:
"This is your chance to learn something. Take that sword and drive it through the zombie's skull."
Frightened, Art replied:
"What? Just like that? I'm not ready!"
Elias, with a grumpy tone and a steady gaze, retorted:
"This is your opportunity. It's perfect! It's just one zombie, and you're armed and ready."
Swallowing hard, Art mustered his courage and cautiously approached the zombie. He raised his longsword, holding it like a baseball bat.
As the zombie shuffled closer, arms outstretched, Art took a deep breath, twisted his body, and swung the blade horizontally with all his strength.
The sword sliced cleanly through the creature's neck, and its head flew through the air like a home run ball.
The zombie's body fell slowly to the ground, twitching in spasms.
However, Art knew he couldn't relax. With determination, he approached the decapitated head, its jaw still opening and closing reflexively.
Without hesitation, he drove the sword through its temple, ending the grotesque movements for good.
Elias, smiling with satisfaction, praised him:
"You did really well, congratulations!"
Art smiled, relieved and proud of himself. For the first time, he felt confident in his abilities.
Suddenly, a notification rang in Elias's mind:
[Your disciple has eliminated a zombie. +5 XP.]
The sound echoed in his mind, and an idea began to take shape. Elias frowned for a moment, deep in thought.
He realized that he could gain experience not only by eliminating monsters himself but also through Art's actions as his "disciple."
This realization changed his plans. Instead of blindly pushing deeper into the forest to confront the evil mage, it made more sense to spend time clearing the surrounding area, strengthening themselves, and only then facing the enemy.
With a cunning look, Elias explained the situation to Art:
"Look, on second thought, I think we should clear the outer area before moving deeper into the forest. The stronger we get, the better our chances against that mage."
Art, still excited from his victory, readily agreed.
Without objection, he followed Elias, ready to explore and face the dangers of the cursed forest.
From a high vantage point, Abyssion observed the two, a curious smile forming on his lips. He opened his book and jotted down notes as he murmured to himself:
"This Elias is truly cunning. The previous group advanced, relying only on their superior numbers... and failed miserably. Perhaps these two stand a chance."
The duo moved slowly through the forest, their eyes alert for any signs of movement.
When they finally spotted a group of zombies—valuable targets to accumulate experience—Elias raised his fist, signaling Art to stop.
However, Art, unaware of the gesture's meaning, kept walking as if nothing had happened.
Annoyed, Elias whispered harshly:
"Are you stupid or what? Didn't anyone invent hand signals in your world?"
Art frowned in confusion and asked, "Signal? What signal? A fist?"
Elias sighed, exasperated:
"Yes, you idiot! Now they've noticed us because of this pointless conversation."
Art finally realized the danger when he saw the zombies, drawn by the sound of their voices, shambling toward them.
He quickly drew his sword and adjusted his shield, preparing for combat.
Meanwhile, Elias took his position, gripping his spear firmly. He held it in front of his body, his feet planted securely on the ground.
When the first zombie came into his range, Elias struck with precision, the spearhead piercing the creature's skull. The lifeless body wobbled and fell, but the blade became lodged in the bone.
Without hesitation, Elias pressed his foot against the creature's shoulder and yanked the spear free in a swift motion. Turning, he prepared to face the next enemy.
While Elias handled the zombies with calculated efficiency, Art took a more defensive approach.
He used his shield to block the clumsy attacks of the undead, taking advantage of openings to deliver precise sword strikes.
Each slash decapitated a zombie, and little by little, the two began to gain the upper hand.
The sound of blades cutting through flesh and bone echoed through the forest as they continued to whittle down the undead surrounding them.
As Elias and Art battled the relentless horde of zombies, a notification rang in Elias's mind.
Without much thought, he deduced that he had leveled up, but he completely ignored the message, focusing on the fight.
The biggest problem with these creatures wasn't the individual threat they posed but the fact that they always attacked in groups. Zombies didn't need rest, didn't feel pain, and could fight indefinitely.
To kill them, you had to destroy their brain, and this need for precision made each strike exhausting for the combatant.
Elias began to feel fatigue weighing on his movements. And if it was difficult for him, imagine Art, who lacked the same training or experience.
The number of enemies didn't seem to decrease, and the two started to become cornered. Panicking, Art shouted in desperation:
"Elias, we need to retreat! There are too many of them!"
Realizing the gravity of the situation, Elias quickly agreed and responded:
"They're slow but persistent. Let's fight in bursts: attack and retreat!"
Without waiting, Elias turned and began running away from the group of zombies. Seeing his companion flee like a dog with its tail between its legs, Art didn't hesitate and followed, even though his body protested.
Exhausted, Art felt every step as a battle. Panting and nearly out of breath, he shouted desperately:
"Elias... I need... I need to stop! Buy me some time!"
With no other choice, Art simply collapsed to the ground, breathing heavily as he tried to recover.
Elias stopped at a safe distance, spinning his spear with trembling hands.
He was breathing hard but knew he had to keep the zombies at bay to give Art a chance to recover.
With a precise strike, he pierced another zombie's skull, but the number seemed endless.
Panting, he began murmuring, almost reflexively:
"Protect me, fallen bodies..."
To his surprise, the decapitated zombie he had just killed started to rise.
Headless, the creature turned and attacked another nearby zombie, moving with unexpected ferocity.
Art, who had witnessed the scene in disbelief, shouted:
"What is that? That zombie's gone crazy?! What kind of abomination is this?!"
Elias, unconcerned with explaining, simply replied:
"Right. This must be the mage's doing. Let's let them fight each other and retreat for now."
Art got up with difficulty, not even bothering to shake off the dust clinging to his clothes. Still visibly exhausted, he hurriedly followed Elias while the creatures continued to attack each other in the background.