After days of searching, I finally stood before the tree. It was as massive and imposing as the legends described—its towering branches stretched toward the heavens, but something about it seemed hollow. Though majestic on the outside, it felt dead within, as if its life had long since been drained away. Climbing it was easy after all i survived Master Lilias training. My body moved with practiced precision, and before long, I had reached the top.

              From one side of the tree, the world was as beautiful as the stories Master had told me—vast and breathtaking, the horizon kissed by sunlight and endless stretches of green forest. But when I turned my gaze to the other side, my breath caught in my throat. It was desolate. Dead. The trees below were leafless, their branches like skeletal fingers clawing at the sky. The ground was barren, devoid of any grass or life. And the sky—it was a suffocating darkness, despite it being noon.

             The sight should have filled me with fear, but instead, I felt a strange sense of resonance with the lifeless landscape. As if part of me belonged to it.

             While I was taking it all in, the sun finally broke through the clouds, casting light upon the darkened forest. And there, glimmering faintly at the far end of the cursed wood, something caught my eye—a shimmering barrier. A magical one.

            Magic. It was not like aura, which comes from within oneself. Magic draws its power from the external world, mana, the life force within. I didn’t know much about magic, but I had to believe that this barrier was significant—it had to be the end of the forest, the boundary I needed to cross.

Without a second thought, I made up my mind to reach it. However, as soon as I descended from the tree and started my journey, the ground rumbled beneath me. A low, guttural growl echoed through the cursed forest. Before I could react, I found myself surrounded by ten hellhounds, their eyes glowing a menacing red, flames licking at their mouths.

I didn’t want to fight them, not at first. But they are in my way.

Unsheathing my sword, I charged toward them. My movements were instinctive, honed by years of training. With a single sweep of my blade, I severed their heads in one swift motion. Blood splattered across the dead forest floor, staining it crimson. The scent of burning flesh hung in the air, but it didn’t bother me. Life is hard, and anything in my way must be eliminated.

            Afterward, I used the remaining meat from the hellhounds to prepare a meal. The skin of the creatures was still searing from their flames, but I was resourceful. Once I had eaten, I allowed myself a few hours of sleep. The day was coming to a close, and I needed my strength for the final stretch.

            The morning of August 21st greeted me with a biting chill, but the cold didn’t faze me. I had long grown accustomed to it; in fact, I found it comforting. The real problem was my gloves—they had become dirty during the fight, and the nearby water was poisonous. While I was resistant to the toxins, the gloves would have melted if I tried to wash them. I left them as they were.

            It took me half a day to reach the barrier, its faint shimmer distorting the air around it. Standing before it, I realized I didn’t know how to dispel magic. Still, I couldn’t back down. Unsheathing my sword, I slashed at the barrier, expecting some reaction. But nothing happened. No crack, no sound, not even a ripple.

               My thoughts spun wildly, and I glanced down at my sword. That’s when I noticed something alarming—it wasn’t its usual night-blue shade with golden highlights. It was red. Blood red.

               The sword wasn’t just reflecting the blood from earlier. It was like the blade itself had transformed, tainted by something far darker. It was comforting it reminded me of my eyes. I like it.

               And more importantly—how was I supposed to break through this barrier?