(The character will be introduced immediately after the episode concludes.)

Scene 1: Ambush in the Grim Groves

The Grim Groves rise before them like a slumbering beast ready to awaken. Towering trees twist into grotesque shapes, their bark marred with glowing etchings that pulse with an eerie, hypnotic blue light. A thick, ghostly mist coils around their ankles, and the cold air is alive with unsettling whispers—voices that seem to belong to the forest itself. In the distance, inhuman cries echo from hidden depths, transforming the woods into a living nightmare.

Mechan clenches his fists, his eyes darting wildly as he scans the darkness.
Mechan: (voice low and tense)
"I think it might be better to go back and head directly to Mercenfold."

Xero, with a mischievous smirk, teases as he takes a step forward.
Xero:
"So confident and strong in battle, yet terrified of eerie places? Come on, Mechan, don't be such a scaredy-cat."

Mechan shoots him a glare, his voice gruff and edged with genuine fear.
Mechan:
"This place is haunted, damn it!"

Wicca tilts her head with a playful smile, her tone light yet mysterious.
Wicca:
"Don’t worry, there are no ghosts here… maybe. But if there are, they like to follow those who fear them the most."

Mechan shudders, his nerves fraying.
Mechan: (muttering irritably)
"Shut up,"
still on edge as he grips his weapon tighter.

Xero turns to look for Cloud, expecting his usual teasing remark, but finds the spot empty. His stomach drops as he calls out,
Xero:
"Cloud?"

At that moment, tension ripples through the group. Mechan’s earlier fear morphs into raw battle readiness, his eyes narrowing as he scans the dark. Wicca’s fingers twitch, and her Soul Ring begins to pulse with quiet energy. Then, as if the very ground has had enough of their intrusion, the air thickens and the earth trembles. Without warning, roots explode from the ground, twisting and writhing like venomous serpents, their movements swift and predatory.

Mechan: (roaring)
"Ambush!"

Mechan leaps back with animalistic agility as a thick vine lashes out and wraps around Xero’s wrist. Xero struggles, yanking fiercely, but another sinewy root shoots up and entangles his ankle, dragging him down. Desperation etches his face as he twists, swinging his Arcane Staff with all his might—but the staff remains inert, as useless as ever.

Suddenly, Cloud reappears from the trees, his arrival marked by a series of acrobatic flips. He hurls a volley of kunai at the advancing roots, each blade slicing through the air. Yet, the weapons barely penetrate the thick, enchanted vines before they tighten their grip, ensnaring him mid-air.

Mechan, now fully in combat mode, bellows with fury. His massive fists fly like wrecking balls, pummeling the constricting roots. Several are shattered by his blows, only for new ones to sprout instantly, a relentless tide of living wood and vine that seems to defy nature.

Meanwhile, Wicca fights her own desperate battle. She frantically attempts to inscribe a protective rune in the air, her fingers aglow with Soul Energy. But the roots, as if aware of her intentions, pulse rhythmically and siphon the energy from her, leaving her gasping as exhaustion overtakes her focus.

Xero grits his teeth, his frustration boiling over as he bites down on a thick, invasive root in a desperate bid to free himself—but his efforts are futile, the root’s grip unyielding.

The struggle escalates into chaotic turmoil. They fight with every ounce of strength, their shouts and the sounds of clashing resistance echoing in the grim forest. Yet, despite their combined efforts, the roots overwhelm them—each attempt met with new, more aggressive growth. One by one, as the forest reclaims its dominion, they are dragged into the dark depths of the Grim Groves, their vision dimming until all that remains is the encroaching darkness.

Scene 2: Captives of the Forgotten

A rough jolt awakened Xero.

His body ached, limbs heavy as if drained of energy. Blinking against the dim firelight, he realized he was inside a cage woven from thick, entwined branches. He groaned, sitting up, and glanced to his left—Wicca lay there, still unconscious. In another cage, Cloud and Mechan stirred awake.

A deep, resonant voice rumbled through the clearing.

???: “So, you’re awake.”

Xero turned—and nearly jumped.

A massive Treant loomed before them, its bark-like skin creaking with every movement. Glowing green veins pulsed along its limbs, and its ancient eyes regarded them with curiosity rather than hostility.

Then, Wicca gasped—sharp and breathless, as if waking from a dream she had waited her whole life to see.

Wicca (whispering in awe): “…A Treant…”

(She pressed a hand over her heart, her pulse racing. A living piece of history stood before her—ancient beyond reckoning, a being that had witnessed eras lost to time.)

Fingers trembling, she reached for her journal, flipping it open with feverish excitement.

Wicca (muttering to herself): “This… this is incredible. A direct link to the past… I have to record everything.”

(The others barely had time to react before she launched into a flurry of questions.)

Wicca (excitedly): “Your kind—how long have you existed? Did you witness the Age of Concord? What of the First Rupture? Did you see the fall of the Ancient Houses?”

The Treant, Roothel, let out a low, rumbling chuckle, a sound like rustling leaves in a storm.

Roothel (amused): "You are… different. Not just curious—seeking something beyond mere knowledge."

Xero sighed.

Xero (deadpan): “And she’s gone.”

Mechan (grinning): “She’s in her happy place.”

Cloud, still regaining his senses, frowned at the Treant.

Cloud: “Why are you here in the Mortal Domain? Shouldn’t you be in…”

Roothel: “…the Mythical Domain?” (His voice turned solemn.) “I was captured by humans. But I was freed.”

Wicca’s pen froze mid-word.

Wicca (sharply): “Freed? By whom?”

A voice chuckled from the shadows.

???: “That would be my doing.”

A figure stepped into the firelight—short but sturdy, with sharp elven features softened by a rugged beard. His pointed ears marked him as something inhuman, yet his stocky build was unmistakably dwarven.

Wicca’s breath hitched.

Wicca (whispering, stunned): “…A Dwarf?”

The figure smirked.

Elvorn: “Dwelven. Half-elf, half-dwarf.”

Something flickered in Wicca’s eyes—an understanding, a recognition of something rare.

Wicca (more to herself than anyone): “A fusion of two legacies… Bound by two histories…” (She glanced between Elvorn and Roothel.) “…like lost time converging.”

Elvorn chuckled.

Elvorn (grinning): “Well, aren’t you a curious one?”

Wicca’s fingers tightened around her quill.

Wicca (intensely): “I don’t just study history. I preserve time itself.” (She looked up, determination gleaming in her gaze.) “And you… you are both living proof of lost stories.”

Cloud groaned, rubbing his temples.

Cloud (to Xero, exasperated): “She’s going to write a whole book before we even get out of here, isn’t she?”

Xero chuckled, shaking his head.

Xero: “Wouldn’t be surprised.”

Cloud’s gaze drifted toward the pile of human bones near a small hut. His stomach twisted. “What happened to the first humans who passed through here?”

Elvorn caught his glance and burst into laughter. “You think we ate them? Please, humans aren’t exactly my preferred meal.” He smirked, then added in a teasing tone, “Though, to be fair, you don’t look half bad roasted.”

Mechan snarled. “How dare you—”

Xero quickly held him back. “Calm down, Mechan. He’s obviously joking.”

Elvorn gave an exaggerated bow. “See? Your friend understands humor.” He sobered slightly, nodding toward the bones. “Those poor souls? They were food for the beasts that roam this forest. Roothel simply gathers the remains.”

The Treant rumbled in agreement. “Humans rarely pass through the Groves. Those who do, seldom leave.”

Elvorn scratched his beard. “You lot, however, are lucky. Roothel can tell good from bad, and he says you’re not the cruel, ruthless type.” He turned to the Treant. “Go ahead, let them out.”

With a wave of his branch-like hand, Roothel caused the cages to unravel, freeing them.

Elvorn gestured toward his hut. “Come inside. Be my guests.”

Cloud hesitated. “And if we say no?”

Elvorn smirked. “Then you’re welcome to try your luck surviving the night. But between the lurking beasts and the residual enchantments, I’d wager you wouldn’t last until dawn.”

A long silence followed.

Xero sighed. “Fine. But if you try anything…”

Elvorn grinned. “Then by all means, fight me. It’ll be fun.”

With no other choice, the group followed the Dwelven inside, stepping into yet another unknown challenge.