Chapter 132: The Forest Dungeon [ 1 ]

After claiming the first dungeon, Sage moved through the wilderness with an unusual, sharpened awareness, as if the world had been peeled open to reveal its hidden veins.

The air was noticeably colder than in the city, and the trees lining the road stood like silent sentinels, their branches leaning inward as if listening to the rhythm of his footsteps.

A projected map from the system hovered faintly in his vision, an invisible compass guiding him away from the newly claimed portal platform and deeper into the outskirts where his next destination awaited.

The three moons hung high in the sky, seemingly watching over him as he navigated the terrain.

He felt invigorated, his body brimming with energy. He knew he owed this burst of vitality to Mana Liquid; without it, he would have been forced to stop due to his earlier injuries.

Delaying now could mean trouble, time was not a luxury for him. Thankfully, that Mana Liquid had healed his wounds and replenished his mana pool.

The bottles of liquid mana stored by the system felt like a weightless fortune behind his eyes; envisioning a “Dungeon Pass” wrapped around Greyvale’s throat fueled his ambition.

The prospect of two more dungeons, two more sources of wealth and power, kept his pulse steady even as fatigue threatened to pull him down.

The forest housing the second portal was smaller than its surrounding wilderness, a dense pocket of greenery where trees grew thickly together, as if guarding something deep within their heart.

Moonlight barely penetrated this area; shadows layered over one another until the air felt damp.

Sage slowed as he approached, carefully stepping around exposed roots and low shrubs while tuning into a faint distortion ahead.

Gregor had warned him that portal-like breaches always carried an unsettling quality, a boundary where everything appeared ordinary but felt misaligned, like a door painted onto a wall that didn’t belong.

He found it nestled between two gnarled trees: a shimmering oval hovering half a meter above ground level.

Its edges rippled like heat haze, while its center absorbed light rather than reflecting it, a dark void holding moonlight at bay like an expectant mouth.

Surrounding plants were unnaturally still; no insects buzzed or leaves rustled. Even the wind seemed hesitant, as if silenced by the portal’s presence.

Sage stood before it for a moment, breathing slowly.

“So this is number two,” he murmured before allowing himself a smirk driven by greed, the most honest part of him tonight. “Alright then. Let’s see how you try to kill me.”

He stepped through. The sensation was immediate and familiar now, pressure squeezing his skull followed by a stomach-lurching drop before reality snapped back into place around him.

Blinking twice for clarity, he gasped, not because this dungeon looked terrifying but because it appeared… alive.

It was a forest. Not an underground cavern like the first dungeon, nor stone corridors or torchlit tunnels. This forest felt too vivid, too saturated; the trees towered higher than any natural ones, their trunks wide and gnarled, with bark patterned by faint glowing lines that resembled veins of mana trapped beneath the surface.

The air was humid and warm, carrying the earthy scent of wet soil and crushed leaves. Everywhere Sage looked, there was green, layers upon layers of it. The canopy above was so thick that it obscured whatever sky might exist beyond.

Strange flowers bloomed on vines wrapping around boulders, their petals shimmering with a subtle inner light. Ferns the size of shields clustered in damp patches, while mushrooms grew in circles like ancient ritual marks.

Even the mist drifting between the trees seemed textured, moving in slow ribbons as if it had weight.

Sage narrowed his gaze as realization dawned on him: the environment had completely transformed because the portal’s coordinates had shifted.

This wasn’t random. The dungeon had formed in a forest, its interior reflected that essence, amplified and exaggerated by whatever principles governed dungeon creation. It was as if the dungeon took inspiration from the outer world and crafted its own version using mana as ink and reality’s laws as a rough draft to be rewritten.

He could almost grasp its logic: a dungeon wasn’t merely a box filled with monsters and treasure; it constructed an ecosystem, a contained world with its own rules, resources, and cycles influenced by where its portal originated.

A dungeon emerging from rocky terrain would mimic stone and produce monsters with hard shells and earth-based traits; one born near rivers might evolve into wet labyrinths teeming with aquatic predators; but this one, this one was a forest, so its monsters wouldn’t just inhabit it, they would embody it.

Sage exhaled slowly and moved forward. At first glance, the first floor appeared deceptively peaceful. Trees rose like pillars, bushes clustered densely, and moss cushioned his steps.

But as he ventured deeper into this verdant realm, the forest shifted in attitude, as if recognizing his presence, then came the first wave of attackers.

Small hunched creatures emerged from hiding spots; their bodies twisted like roots with far too many limbs for their size. Their skin bore bark-like armor adorned with tiny leaf blades sprouting along their shoulders.

Their eyes glowed dim green while their mouths opened like cracked knots in wood to reveal rows of thorn-like teeth. They didn’t roar; they clicked and hissed instead, a sound reminiscent of branches rubbing together in wind, and then surged toward him in a pack of ten, low to the ground as their clawed hands scraped against mossy earth.

Sage’s instinct screamed at him to retreat, but he forced himself to stand firm and breathe deeply, reminding himself that panic was how mages met their end.

He lifted his hand, focused his mana as the geometry materializing in luminous lines. It formed a three-layered ring adorned with intersecting triangles, runes weaving around the edges like living script.

Sage immediately began chanting a spell. His voice steadied as he recited the incantation, and the circle brightened, spinning once before his palm.

“Level 2 Fire Spell — Falling Flame!”

The circle flashed, unleashing fire, not just a simple burst but a cascade, as if a pocket of burning sky had opened above him. A rain of dense flame droplets fell forward in a wide arc.

BOOOM!

The impact illuminated the forest floor. The monsters at the front were engulfed in flames; bark cracked, leaf blades ignited, and their bodies shrieked silently before collapsing into smoking heaps that dissolved into faint green motes.

The smell hit him immediately, burnt sap and scorched moss, thick enough to sting his nostrils. The remaining creatures hesitated for half a heartbeat before leaping forward anyway, skirting around the edges of flame like insects avoiding a torch.

Sage’s pulse quickened. He stepped sideways to create distance and quickly formed another circle with sharper speed.

“Level 2 Wind Spell — Gale Step!”

The magic circle snapped into being near his boots. The wind exploded beneath him, propelling him sideways in a blur.

WHOOSH!

Claws slashed through where he had been standing. The creatures collided with one another, momentarily confused by his sudden movement. Sage seized that opportunity to raise his other hand and build a new circle, this one tighter, with denser runes and sharper lines.

He forced mana into the structure until it vibrated.

“Level 2 Lightning Spell — Piercing Bolt!”

The circle flared brightly.

A spear of lightning shot forward, so brilliant it bleached the green from the air.

BANG!

It pierced through two monsters in a straight line, leaving smoking holes where bark met flesh. The remaining creatures scattered, not exactly fleeing but repositioning as if following an instinctive script: surround, overwhelm, bite, drag down.

Sage’s breath quickened; yet his hands moved more smoothly now than they had at the start of this dungeon run. He was still clumsy and learning to time spell construction under pressure but no longer froze up when faced with danger.

Each kill taught him about rhythm: monsters approached in patterns; the forest provided cover; he needed to choose moments wisely, burning ground to control movement, using wind to disrupt formations, employing lightning to puncture their densest lines.

As he progressed through each floor of this dungeon-like forest, everything changed around him. On the second floor, plants grew thicker; on the third floor appeared vine-hounds, wolf-shaped beasts made of braided vines with thorny jaws snapping hungrily at anything within reach.

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