Two days passed like two centuries of unending torment. The cave, with its dampness and cold, had become both my prison and my refuge. The days were a hell of grueling, primitive training. I pushed my body to its limits, wielding the silver dagger in clumsy stabs and blocks, imagining invisible enemies. My muscles tore and healed slowly, leaving behind sharp pain with every movement. The bruises from my battle with the Shadow Wolves had turned into painful blotches of purple and yellow—a constant reminder of my weakness.
The nights were no better. I sat before a feeble fire, fueled by dry branches barely enough to repel the overwhelming darkness, desperately trying to dive into the memories of the original Nir—to extract any useful information, any sword technique, any glimpse of the shadow magic he was rumored to have mastered. But his memories were blurred, tainted by a sickening romanticism, as if his mind refused to remember anything unrelated to "Selene" or his past emotional delusions. Every attempt I made to summon magic failed miserably. I felt no spark, no echo of power—only emptiness and a growing headache from fruitless focus.
My meals consisted of bitter roots that barely kept me alive and remnants of dried meat as hard as stone. The water from the nearby spring had a strange metallic taste, and every time I drank from it, I feared it might be tainted with some poison from this cursed forest. The isolation pressed down on my mind like an iron grip, and the suffocating silence of the forest—interrupted only by unsettling, unidentified sounds—slowly gnawed at my sanity.
At dawn on the third day, after yet another night of fragmented sleep and nightmares filled with dancing monster shadows and twisted faces, I awoke with a crushing sense of hopelessness. I crouched, my face in my hands, wondering if this was all just a never-ending nightmare I'd never wake from. I was about to give up, to scream until my voice gave out—when something stirred deep in my consciousness.
A sharp sensation—like an electric shock—shot up from the base of my skull into my brain. I lifted my head, eyes wide with surprise and faint pain. Then, for the first time since I arrived in this cursed world, the system spoke in its flat, emotionless voice:
‹‹Preliminary conditions met: prolonged exposure to a reality-saturated environment and existential threats, along with a persistent will to survive.››
‹‹Unlocking the first level of inherited trait: "Eye of Truth."››
‹‹Current Level: Eye of Truth – Initial Perception: Detection of primary energy flows and surface-level hidden truths.››
I froze for several seconds, trying to grasp what I'd just heard.
The system! It responded!
"Eye of Truth... Unlocked..." I muttered, a strange mixture of awe and desperate hope surging through me. "Initial perception... What the hell does that mean?"
I leapt to my feet, ignoring the pain screaming from every muscle. "System! How do I use this? What can I see now?"
As usual—no answer.
"Damn you, stingy system!" I yelled. But this time, there was a flicker of excitement in my voice. I was no longer completely alone. I had… something. A tool. Maybe even a weapon.
I decided not to waste time. I had to test this "Eye" immediately.
Exiting the cave felt like stepping into another world. The forest was no longer just black trees and ominous shadows. Now, with intense focus, I began to see differently. Colors appeared deeper, and the air itself seemed to shimmer with hidden energy. Thin threads—silver and dark blue—twisted around everything like a cosmic spiderweb. Some trees pulsed with a faint green glow, while others—many of them—were surrounded by dead black auras, radiating an unnatural cold.
A faint prickle stirred in my eyes, and a dull headache began to build behind my forehead, but I ignored it. The important thing was—I could see. I could finally see what had been hidden.
I remembered a region to the north, one the original Nir had been warned to avoid, even by the palace's most seasoned guards. A place said to be cursed by eternal storms. Now, with the Eye of Truth, I felt it calling—not as an invitation, but as a warning. A display of terrifying power.
I moved cautiously, using my new perception to avoid areas with dense black auras. The closer I got to the north, the heavier the air became—charged with static electricity that made the hair on my arms stand up. The sharp scent of ozone, mixed with something burnt and acidic, filled my nostrils.
Then I reached the edge of a rocky cliff overlooking a vast valley. What I saw froze the blood in my veins.
The valley was liquid hell.
The sky above wasn't a sky at all—it was a swirling mass of bluish-black clouds, like a massive bruise on the world's flesh, glowing from within with a sinister purple light. And from that diseased sky, rain was falling.
But it wasn't rain.
It was torrents of thick, oily black liquid, falling in an unimaginable downpour. I remembered the novel mentioning in passing that a single drop of this rain could kill a Rank Four human—a "Novice Lord"—by dissolving them in seconds.
Now, seeing this hell with my own eyes, I realized that description was grotesquely understated.
With the Eye of Truth, I saw more than just deadly rain. Each drop glowed with destructive, pure energy—energy that devoured the soul before the flesh. In flickering glimpses, I saw faint ghosts, tormented faces writhing inside the falling droplets—as if the souls of previous victims had been condemned to fall eternally with the cursed rain.
The ground was a swamp of sticky black mud, spewing toxic fumes. The few remaining trees were nothing more than charred, twisted husks—frozen mid-scream. When drops touched them, a hiss would sound, and they'd slowly melt, like black wax.
Then the thunder came.
It wasn't just sound—it was a seismic shock that shook the earth beneath my feet. I felt it in my chest, in my bones—like a god pounding on the gates of my soul.
And then came the lightning.
My god, the lightning!
They weren't flashes—they were tears in the fabric of reality. Colossal pillars of violet energy split the sky and struck the earth, leaving burning craters behind, reeking of sulfur and death.
With the Eye of Truth, every bolt revealed things no human mind should witness. Not just impossible geometric shapes—but brief glimpses, split-second visions, of other worlds… dimensions beyond understanding. Massive, indescribable entities moved through endless black voids. Only their shadows. Only hints.
But enough to make my mind scream.
I shut my eyes tight, nausea and vertigo overwhelming me. This place... it wasn't just dangerous. It was a wound in the world, bleeding madness and cosmic terror.
When I dared to open my eyes again, I saw something that stopped my heart.
The black rain—when it struck the ground—it didn't vanish. It pooled. Formed small puddles. And these puddles… moved. They took primitive shapes—arms, mouths—trying to crawl, to escape this hell.
I backed away from the cliff, trembling uncontrollably. I didn't dare stay another second. Just observing from afar was enough to nearly break my sanity.
Once I put enough distance between myself and the eternal storm, and my heartbeat started to settle, I chose to explore another direction. There was a strange, morbid curiosity driving me—a desire to understand just how horrifying this world truly was.
The Eye of Truth still active, its dull ache now a constant companion.
I entered a part of the forest that looked… different. The trees here were sparser, but far stranger. Their trunks weren't wooden in the usual sense. They appeared to be made of hardened gray flesh, crisscrossed with slow-pulsing dark veins.
Their branches were long, thin—spiderlike—and carried thick, bluish-green leaves that resembled stretched skin.
The air was heavy, stagnant, and carried a sickly sweet scent—like rotting flowers. And the silence… it wasn't the silence of death. It was the silence of anticipation, like something was listening. Waiting.
Suddenly, I began to hear them.
Whispers.
At first, they were faint—like leaves rustling in the wind. But they quickly grew clearer. Not words. Just sounds. Sighs. Suppressed laughter. Quiet weeping. Coming from every direction—from the trees, from the earth, from the air itself.
With the Eye of Truth, I saw the source.
The trees were whispering. Their fleshy bark subtly shifted, forming tiny cavities resembling mouths. From these mouths, the sounds escaped. And their leathery leaves trembled—not from wind—but from the whispers.
Then the voices became targeted. Personal.
"Nir…" whispered a voice like an old woman's. "Why are you here alone? Are you afraid?"
"They left you, didn't they?" whispered a child's voice. "No one loves you."
"You're weak…" groaned a dying man's voice. "You'll die here. Alone."
The whispers toyed with my fears, my memories. I heard my father, the Duke of Shadows, accusing me of weakness. I heard Alistair threatening punishment. I even heard voices from my past life—people I'd forgotten—reminding me of my failures. My loneliness.
Cold crept into my bones.
These whispers weren't just sound—they were threads of dark energy, sneaking out of the trees, trying to pierce my aura (which I hadn't even known existed).
I saw the ground wasn't just soil—it was soft, elastic, like walking on the skin of a giant sleeping creature. And it was trying to grab me, to pull me under.
"These trees… they feed on the mind. The soul," I realized in horror.
I tried to ignore the voices—to focus on my breathing, my steps. But they grew louder. Sharper. I began to see images in my mind—twisted faces, horrific visions, nightmares I didn't know I had.
Panic seized me. I wanted to run. To scream. But my legs felt rooted to the spot.
"No…" I muttered, teeth chattering. "I won't let you…"
I gathered all my will, all my rage, all my fear—and hurled it at the whispers.
"Get out of my head, you bastards!" I screamed in my mind.
For a moment—they faltered. As if surprised by my resistance.
I seized the opportunity, tearing my feet free from the sticky earth. Then I turned and ran.
I ran blindly, stumbling over roots, crashing into trees. The whispers chased me—laughing, mocking, threatening—but I didn't stop. I ran until my lungs were ready to burst and my heart felt like it would fail.
Eventually, I burst out into a "normal" part of the forest. Wooden trees. Air that didn't reek of death.
I collapsed, panting, soaked in sweat and shaking.
I had survived. Again.
But I felt… tainted. Corrupted by those vile whispers.
After catching my breath and deciding I'd seen enough horror for one day, I began searching for a way back to the cave.
But the Black Forest, I'd learned, doesn't release its prey easily.
I soon found myself standing before a lake. Not a large one, but disturbing in an indescribable way. Its water was pitch black and utterly still, like a slab of polished obsidian. There were no ripples on its surface, and it reflected neither the sky nor the surrounding trees. It reflected… nothing. Just an empty void.
A shiver ran down my spine.
This place was not natural.
With the Eye of Truth, I saw that the water was no ordinary liquid. It was a strange, viscous substance emanating chaotic energy. And the lakebed wasn't visible—it stretched downward into a bottomless abyss, a darkness that swallowed all light and sense.
I was about to back away when something caught my eye—a reflection.
Not a reflection of my surroundings, but of myself.
Only… it wasn't really me.
On the surface of the black lake, I saw myself—but distorted. Horrifying. In one moment, I was a skeleton, hollow-eyed, with a grotesque grin stretched across my skull. In another, I was a monstrous creature of the forest—skin black as tar, claws long and jagged, eyes glowing with malevolent red light. Then, I saw myself dying—my body torn apart, blood gushing out in waves.
Each time I tried to look away, the reflection changed—becoming more terrifying. My worst fears, my most hellish nightmares, materialized before me in that cursed mirror of water.
I felt my mind beginning to fracture.
These reflections… they weren't just images.
They were trying to convince me.
That this was my fate.
That this was who I truly was.
"No… That's not me," I whispered, my voice trembling.
With the Eye of Truth, I saw the truth behind the illusions.
The reflections were not mere tricks of the mind.
They were psychological energy—trying to penetrate my defenses, to seed despair and madness in my soul.
And deep within the black water, I saw faint shapes—like the ghosts of others who had gazed into these depths and lost themselves.
I wanted to flee, but my feet felt nailed to the ground. Something in those reflections was pulling me in—fascinating me despite the horror.
Then, suddenly—
The reflection moved.
It reached out its hand toward me.
Trying to pull me in.
I screamed and stumbled backward, falling hard onto my back.
I crawled away frantically, not daring to look back at the lake.
When I was finally at a safe distance, I got to my feet and ran.
I ran until all I could hear was my ragged breathing and the pounding of my heart.
---
When I finally returned to the cave, I was a wreck.
My body was exhausted.
My mind—on the brink of collapse.
I collapsed to the ground, and hot tears spilled down my cheeks, uncontrollably.
They weren't tears of sadness.
They were tears of rage. Of despair. Of pure terror.
The Black Forest…
This was its true face.
Not just some "scary place" as that damned novel had described.
It was a trap, a living nightmare, a hell on earth that could devour your soul, your mind, your body—and leave behind no trace.
"The way the novel described this forest… and the way I've seen it… they're not the same. Damn it! Damn that author! Damn this whole world!"
I screamed, my voice echoing through the empty cave.
How could anyone write about such a place with such carelessness?
Was it just a plot device to bring the "romantic protagonists" together?
Just a "cool backdrop" for their pathetic love story?
I realized then—this novel wasn't just bad fiction.
It was a lie.
A dangerous, deadly lie.
If I had relied on what I read, I'd be dead.
Or insane.
Or worse.
"Eye of Truth…" I muttered, feeling a faint sting in my eyes.
"It's painful. It's terrifying. But it's the only thing I can trust in this cursed world."
A new wave of resolve washed over me—cold and unyielding.
It was no longer just about survival.
It was about uncovering the truth.
The truth of this world.
The truth of the Verton family.
The truth behind this mysterious system.
And the truth of that tyrannical monster who would soon awaken.
"I will not be a victim," I said to myself, voice steady as steel.
"I won't be just a background character in some ridiculous story. I will fight. I will survive. And I will make this world pay for every moment of horror it forced upon me."
I closed my eyes, focusing on the pain in my body, the fear in my heart.
I turned it all into fuel.
Fuel for my will.
Fuel for my rage.
The Black Forest did not break me.
It awakened something inside me.
Something dark.
Something defiant.
Something willing to do anything to survive.
I opened my eyes, staring into the darkness around me.
"I'm ready," I whispered.
"Let hell come."