The forest seemed to hold its breath.
After the conversation with Darren and the promises made around the campfire, the groups gathered and followed the narrow trail leading toward Eden's forbidden heart. The packed earth sank beneath their boots, damp and tangled with thick roots, while the sun vanished behind the colossal canopies.
The sound of birds faded.
The cicadas fell silent.
It was as if something ahead intimidated nature itself.
Two hundred people walked together… yet no one spoke. The sound of footsteps felt too loud. Shallow breaths. Weapons adjusted in sweaty hands. Spells initiated and canceled before taking form, killed by involuntary trembling fingers.
Jay advanced at the front line, golden shield raised, alert to every minimal sound. Marcus followed close behind, sword resting on his shoulder, his gaze far too fixed to be casual. Elenya kept her bow low but ready, eyes trying to map a battlefield that did not yet exist. Sienna walked a few steps behind, her confident smile still there… but for once, without provoking anyone.
And Ethan… tried not to think about what dying here would truly mean.
"Do you hear that?" Jay murmured.
"What?" Ethan replied, barely audible.
"Nothing," Jay swallowed hard. "Exactly nothing."
Even the wind seemed to have withdrawn.
Marcus brushed his hand against the bark of a nearby tree. The contact sent a shiver through him. The wood was warm. Too alive.
"It's close," he said quietly.
The trail narrowed, becoming a natural corridor formed by twisted trunks and interwoven roots overhead. The air grew heavy, dense. Every breath felt like passing through an invisible mist of ancient mana.
Elenya was the first to stop.
"Fall back… slowly," she whispered. "There's something massive just ahead."
The clearing opened.
And the world trembled.
There was no explosion. No immediate roar. There was movement.
Branches twisted and intertwined in the air, creaking like bones being forced back into place. The forest itself seemed to fold inward; roots pulling, molding, rising, fusing into an impossible humanoid silhouette.
It did not rise from the ground.
It was formed from it.
The Warden.
A colossus of living wood shaped by the forest itself. Interwoven trunks formed dense muscles. Twisted branches became arms far too long. A skeletal wooden mask revealed three glowing blue eyes—cold, attentive, aware.
At the center of its chest, pulsing like an exposed heart, a blue core shone, protected by shifting layers of branches that rearranged slowly, as if breathing.
A wave of energy spread outward. Leaves trembled. Sunlight dimmed. The air became impossibly heavy.
Jay stepped forward instinctively, shield raised.
"That's not a boss," he muttered. "That's a living wall."
Marcus planted his sword into the ground.
"If this is the first floor," he said, "then what comes after doesn't want to be beaten."
Sienna smiled faintly. For the first time, it wasn't provocation.
"Interesting," she murmured. "It doesn't look… stupid."
Darren stood farther back with other group leaders, watching in absolute silence. When his eyes met Ethan's, he raised a hand and gave a short thumbs-up. No words. No promises.
The Warden tilted its head.
It observed the humans as a collective—not as individuals.
Then it spoke.
Its voice didn't come from a single point. It echoed through the entire forest, deep and slow, like trunks splitting under pressure.
"INTRUDERS."
A pause—too long.
"THE FOREST REJECTS YOUR FLESH."
The ground vibrated.
The silence that followed lasted only a second.
Kael broke it first.
"IT'S JUST WOOD!" shouted the leader of a swordsman subgroup, stepping forward. "IT LOOKS BIG BECAUSE IT WANTS TO SCARE US!"
Nine men answered the call without hesitation.
"Burn it before it moves!" Kael roared, raising his silver blade.
The ten charged.
The Warden did not advance. Did not retreat.
It simply raised its right hand.
The wood of its arm cracked and twisted. The five fingers didn't close.
They exploded outward.
The hand split into ten sharp, independent roots, firing horizontally like living projectiles.
It was too fast.
Kael didn't even scream.
The roots pierced the chest armor of all ten swordsmen simultaneously.
THUNK.
THUNK.
THUNK.
A dry, brutal, final sound.
Their bodies lifted off the ground, struggling for a single second before going still, suspended like broken puppets.
The Warden pulled the roots back with a sharp motion.
The corpses fell in a twisted heap.
Silence.
One second.
Then—
"THEY'RE DEAD!" someone screamed from the rear, voice breaking. "THEY DIED FOR REAL!"
Panic exploded.
"NO! NO!"
"I DON'T WANT TO DIE!"
"GET ME OUT OF HERE!"
"RUN!"
The formation collapsed.
Around forty players dropped weapons, bags, shields, and ran back into the dark forest, tripping over each other, crying, screaming names that no one answered.
Another fifty stepped back… and froze.
Paralyzed.
An army of two hundred was falling apart before a single arrow had been fired.
Jay saw it all.
Saw defeat taking shape.