Fariella and Zarkrion walked for a long while among the twisted trees of the Black Forest, moving forward without knowing for sure how much time had passed since they started moving. There, time seemed to warp.
The sky was always covered by dark clouds, the fog clung to the ground like a living creature, and the narrow, tall trunks prevented even a single ray of sunlight from slipping through their branches.
But then it happened.
A golden line appeared ahead.
Real light.
The sun.
When they finally crossed the last wall of blackened trees and set foot outside the Black Forest, the sunlight hit Zarkrion's eyes hard.
"Ugh…!" he grunted, instinctively raising a hand to cover his face.
It was obvious. After spending so much time in a place where light practically didn't exist, where darkness was the norm and the sky was barely glimpsed, that glare felt almost violent. His pupils burned, his vision blurred for a few seconds, and an uncomfortable sensation ran through his skull.
"This is gonna blind me…" he muttered ironically. "So this is how Dracula feels."
Beside him, Fariella took a deep breath.
The elf, with long blonde hair that fell like a golden waterfall down her back, carried her half-repaired bow hung carefully. Her blue eyes shone as they reflected the clear sky, and for the first time in days, fresh wind brushed her face without being loaded with dark miasma.
She inhaled deeply.
It had been four days since she was trapped in the Black Forest. Four days since Zarkrion Volcanius had saved her, protected her, and cared for her, even when he had no obligation to do so.
"At last… I'm free," she said with a sincere smile. "How I missed the fresh air… and the greenish color of the landscape."
Zarkrion glanced at her sideways, still with one hand covering his eyes.
"Hey, don't say it like that," he replied, somewhat uncomfortable. "You make it sound like I kidnapped you."
Fariella let out a small laugh, light, almost musical.
After a good while, both began walking again, venturing into the outside world. The contrast was overwhelming. Zarkrion, the Dragon King, observed the landscape with a mix of curiosity and a certain nostalgia he didn't fully understand.
The surroundings were alive.
Translucent slimes bounced among the corners of the tall grass, shining under the sun. In the distance, small groups of goblins fought among themselves, arguing and hitting each other with rudimentary sticks. Large birds soared through the skies with sharp cries, while deer ran among the trees, disappearing into the bushes.
It was a vibrant world. A world that didn't hate him… at least, not yet.
Zarkrion walked following Fariella, who guided him confidently toward the Day Forest. However, it didn't take long for him to realize that the journey wouldn't be short.
As they advanced, a worry began to grow in his chest, a heavy unease, hard to ignore.
Zarkrion Volcanius had an appearance impossible to overlook.
In his human form, his long red semi-orange hair fell over his shoulders. He wore his obsidian-black kitchen uniform, resistant and elegant at the same time. From his head protruded intense red draconic horns, and though he tried to keep them discreet, his scaly wings and tail gave him away completely. His deep, sharp red eyes observed the world with caution.
Finally, he broke the silence.
"By the way, Fariella…" he said in a serious tone. "What will happen when your family sees me? You don't think they'll get scared… you know, I'm a dragon."
Fariella turned her head and looked at him calmly.
"Lord Zarkrion, you don't have to worry about that," she replied confidently. "Even if they know you're a dragon, I'll explain everything. You came to help me. That's what matters."
Zarkrion frowned.
"How can you be so calm? We'll never know how they'll react."
His thoughts began to spin out of control.
Ever since he reincarnated into the body of the failed Dragon King, Zarkrion had understood a cruel truth: he wasn't just a threat… he was a symbol of hatred.
All humans, and even many living beings, hated Zarkrion Volcanius for the massacres committed in the past.
The original Zarkrion hadn't been a powerful and proud villain. Yes, he was a Tyrant King, but a cowardly, incompetent one who took advantage of the weak and fled from the problems he himself caused. However, the blame always fell on the entire kingdom.
He used other dragons as puppets, dragging them into senseless wars, which led to the deaths of many of his own race. He didn't know how to govern, he didn't know how to lead, and yet he was named King blindly.
The result was inevitable.
Humanity hated him.
His own dragon kingdom despised him.
And that despise ended in exile.
Anyone would think a dragon could survive alone. After all, they were mythical creatures, superior in strength, magic, intelligence, and power.
But the original Zarkrion didn't even reach the standard of an average dragon.
Weak.
Incompetent.
Cowardly.
A disgrace.
The Legendary Hunter had decapitated him so easily that he even doubted he was a real dragon.
Park Suho, now in that body, didn't carry those decisions… but he did carry their consequences.
That's why he had to hide.
Use his knowledge of the game.
Survive.
Improve his reputation at any cost.
He didn't know where the Legendary Hunter was, the true protagonist of this story, his former avatar, with all stats maxed out.
"The Hunter could appear at any moment…" he murmured. "The most reliable thing for me is not to reveal my identity. Keep a low profile."
He looked at Fariella.
"If I can help you and cure your people's disease with my unique skill… that could give me reputation among the elves."
It would be good for him.
He wouldn't have to hide forever in the Black Forest.
Though that place was safe, with zones of different levels and lethal monsters that kept hunters and adventurers away… the loneliness weighed heavy.
"But well…" he sighed. "It's that, or be sold as furniture and rug by adventurers."
Then he shook his head.
"And all this with such an over-the-top class as chef mage…"
As they walked, they encountered goblins and carnivorous birds. They were defeated easily. Fariella took them down with precise arrow shots, while Zarkrion hit them with pan strikes until knocking them unconscious.
For about two days they walked without rest. They fed on what they found, and Zarkrion cooked birds and monsters, storing provisions in his infinite inventory.
Finally, they arrived at a deserted area.
Ancient ruins.
There didn't seem to be anything… and that made it even more unsettling.
Zarkrion, exhausted, asked:
"Fariella… this isn't the Day Forest. What are we doing in these ruins?"
"We're still a ways off," she replied. "We should spend the night here."
The sky was turning orange. The sun was about to set.
"You're right…" he said. "But we have to be careful. At night there'll be monsters."
"We'll take turns keeping watch," she agreed.
"But not on an empty stomach. I'll go look for something to cook."
He pointed to a dark forest covered in fog.
That forest looks suspiciously ominous…
Fariella nodded.
"Go carefully."
Zarkrion left his backpack with her, taking only his frying pan and knife.
Upon entering, he saw fireflies, glowing mushrooms, greenish moss. It was eerie… but quiet.
"Not so bad," he murmured. "Better than the Black Forest."
He had explored the forest for a good while, gathering firewood and, among other things, seasonings for cooking. He gathered firewood, cut reddish mushrooms that illuminated the surroundings.
"This should be enough…"
Zarkrion slowly stood up, brushing the dirt off his knees as he looked at the firewood and mushrooms he had collected. The faint reddish glow of the neon mushrooms illuminated his hands and part of the ground, casting irregular shadows on the nearby trunks.
Instinctively, he turned on his heels to head back the way he came.
But something didn't fit.
The fog, which before had remained static and dense, began to move slowly, as if breathing. It dispersed just enough to reveal the surroundings… and at that moment, Zarkrion's heart skipped a beat.
The forest had changed.
The trees no longer seemed to be in the same position. The paths he remembered, those small spaces between roots and trunks that he had passed through just minutes ago, simply weren't there.
Zarkrion frowned.
"Huh…?"
He took a few steps, carefully, looking around. He turned his head to the left, then to the right. Everything looked strangely similar, but at the same time completely different, as if the forest had turned on itself while he wasn't looking.
He couldn't see the exit.
The silence began to weigh on his ears.
He decided to walk faster, convinced it was just a momentary confusion. He quickened his pace, pushing aside low branches with his forearm, going around protruding roots, trying to recognize any familiar spot.
But the more he advanced…
The more tangled he got.
The fog closed in around him again, the trees seemed to repeat, and the ground under his feet felt increasingly uneven. It was like walking inside a living maze that rearranged itself with every step.
Zarkrion stopped dead in his tracks.
His breathing grew heavier.
Then, understanding hit him with full force.
"Damn it…" he murmured, clenching his teeth, with a mix of frustration and helplessness. "I can't find the way out!!"
...
...
Zarkrion had already been walking aimlessly for quite a while, moving through the thick fog of the forest. He didn't have a fixed point to head toward; he simply followed the faint glow of the mushrooms growing on the ground and the soft flickering of the fireflies floating around him, like small stars trapped among the trees.
Each step he took felt heavier than the previous one.
Regret began to settle slowly in his chest, like a thorn hard to ignore.
It had been stupid.
He knew it from the start.
It was obvious he would get lost. Still, he decided to ignore that possibility. He let himself be carried away by curiosity, by the deceptive tranquility of the forest, and now he was paying the consequences.
"I was so distracted exploring and gathering…" he murmured in frustration, "that I didn't notice how far I'd gone."
As he walked, his senses sharpened. The silence wasn't absolute; it was full of unsettling sounds. In the distance, the deep hoots of owls echoed among the trees like prolonged laments. Farther away, wolf howls broke the night's quiet, long and grave, making the air seem to vibrate.
The silhouettes of the trees rose around him, completely ominous. Their twisted trunks and elongated branches looked like outstretched claws, ready to trap him. From certain angles, he'd swear some shapes were moving, though when he blinked, they disappeared.
As he advanced, Zarkrion began to feel something more.
A presence.
He couldn't see it, nor hear it clearly… but he felt it.
The forest looked worse and worse, more oppressive, more suffocating. The fog became thick, almost tangible, and an uncomfortable sensation ran down his back. As if someone—or something—was watching him from the darkness.
Shivers ran across his shoulders.
"This forest already feels like a cemetery straight out of a horror movie…" he said in a low voice, trying to break the tension.
But his own words only made things worse.
His mind, treacherous, began to imagine even worse scenarios.
"It's true…" he swallowed. "If in this world there are fictional creatures like dragons and elves… then ghosts must exist too, right?"
His voice trembled.
He looked around, turning slowly, alert to any strange sound.
"Ghosts…" he whispered. "I hope I don't run into any."
The silence answered.
Zarkrion pressed his lips together.
"Where the hell is the system when I need it?" he growled. "I never thought I'd admit it, but I miss its company… even its scoldings would be welcome in a place like this."
Suddenly, he slapped himself, annoyed.
"Enough, Zarkrion," he reprimanded himself. "You're supposed to be an adult man inside a dragon's body. You're too old to be afraid of ghosts."
But just as he was trying to convince himself, a doubt crossed his mind.
"Wait…" he murmured, frowning. "Since Fariella appeared in my life… have I noticed that the system shows up much less?"
He stroked his chin thoughtfully.
"Could it be jealous that I'm spending more time with Fariella than with it?"
He shook his head, dismissing that absurd thought, and kept walking.
A lot of time passed.
Too much.
He found absolutely nothing.
His body was starting to resent the effort. His legs were tired, his breathing heavier, and frustration grew with every step. There were no signs of an exit. He only saw the same thing over and over: glowing mushrooms, sinister trees, floating fireflies, and endless fog.
He stopped for a moment, resting his hands on his knees.
"Fariella…" he murmured. "She's out there waiting for me."
A knot formed in his throat.
"How am I going to explain all the hours I've spent here… without finding the way out?"
His mind began to play a bad trick on him.
"Fariella must be starving to death…"
In his imagination, he saw her collapsed on the ground, weak and malnourished.
"Zarkrion…" her imaginary voice said. "I haven't seen you… so I'm deteriorating from lack of nutrition…"
"No!" he shouted, shaking his head hard. "That won't happen!"
His eyes lit up with determination.
"I have to find the way out!"
Suddenly, filled with motivation, he started running.
He ran with all his strength, cutting through the thick fog, pushing it aside as if it were a curtain trying to stop him. His body moved quickly, his heart pounded hard, and his breathing became ragged.
"My duty as a cook!" he shouted while running. "Is to not let Fariella go hungry, and to get her back home safe and sound!"
He clenched his teeth.
"A true chef doesn't let anyone go hungry!" he roared. "Not even when his own stomach is empty!"
And then…
He saw it.
A light.
At the end of the path, a brightness that contrasted violently with the forest's darkness.
"At last!" he exclaimed, with relief. "I found the exit!"
Emotion overwhelmed him completely.
"That's it!" he jumped. "No ominous forest can stop a game master like me!"
Pushing himself forward, he crossed the forest's edge with an acrobatic leap, spinning in the air and landing with a clean somersault on solid ground.
But as soon as he stood up…
Something wasn't right.
Intense sunlight hit his face. He covered his eyes immediately, feeling the heat prickle his skin. Little by little, he decided to move his hand away and take a quick glance ahead.
What he saw left him completely silent.
There were no ruins.
There was no campfire.
And Fariella… wasn't there.
Instead, stretching out in front of him was a village.
Small houses and modest buildings lined well-defined paths. People walked calmly, talking to each other. Children ran laughing, playing without a care.
Zarkrion blinked, incredulous.
That was the strangest thing of all.
He didn't remember any sign of a village nearby. Nothing in the mental map he had formed suggested that behind that forest there was a settlement.
"What the hell is going on…?" he murmured, completely confused. "Wasn't it already night?"
He looked around desperately.
"Where are the ruins…?" he asked. "And why… why am I seeing a village here?"