Afternoon settled over the Sylven Forest like a heavy veil.

The air was thick with the smell of iron and damp earth. Leaves were torn, branches snapped, and the ground itself looked wounded. Blood soaked into the soil in dark uneven patches. Men stood bent over, hands on their knees, breathing hard, chests rising and falling like bellows pushed to their limits.

Maddock stood at the center of it all, his blade angled downward, crimson dripping from its edge and vanishing into the dirt. Around him, bullet shells lay scattered like fallen seeds, catching fragments of sunlight through the canopy.

Several men sat or lay against trees, faces pale, limbs wrapped hastily with cloth and gauze. Groans were swallowed by the forest almost instantly, as if even pain was not allowed to linger here.

On the ground nearby, the massive bodies of jaguars lay still. Their golden fur was stained dark, muscles once coiled with lethal grace now slack and lifeless. Claw marks scarred tree trunks and soil alike, proof of how close death had come for everyone present.

It had been a war between men and monsters.

And the forest had watched without choosing sides.

The final echo of gunfire faded into silence.

For a long moment no one spoke.

Medical kits were torn open, supplies spread across rocks and logs. Hands worked quickly, efficiently, pressing bandages, tightening wraps, injecting painkillers. Fear still clung to the men’s eyes, but training and survival instinct kept them moving.

Maddock turned toward Miles.

“Are you fine young master?”

Miles took a slow breath, letting it settle deep in his chest before releasing it. His clothes were marked, his skin smeared with dirt and sweat, but his posture remained steady.

“I am alright,” he said calmly. “It has been a while since I am seeing blood that does not come from humans killing other humans”

Maddock nodded once, understanding more than he said.

The wounded were finally secured. Weapons were checked. Magazines replaced. Silence returned, heavier than before.

Basil wiped his mouth after drinking water from his canteen. His eyes swept the surroundings, calculating, impatient.

“Let us move again”

No one argued.

They gathered their gear and resumed their march, boots crunching softly as they pushed deeper into the forest. Every step felt watched. Every shadow felt alive.

As they moved, Miles lifted his wrist slightly and tapped on his watch.

Once.

Twice.

A pause.

Then a precise rhythm repeated, deliberate and unmistakable.

Far away, in Star Harbor, deep inside the Sterling Security base, a screen flickered.

The signal was received.

The Morse code translated instantly.

Charles leaned forward, eyes narrowing as the pattern resolved.

“They are close”

Monica straightened, her expression sharp.

“Alert Chief Zela”

Charles was already moving.

“Okay”.

The day was moving fast.

So was the treasure hunt.

By the time the sun climbed past its cruel midpoint, the forest began to change. Trees thinned, roots surfaced like bones, and the ground beneath their boots softened with every step. The air grew humid, heavy, clinging to skin and lungs alike.

Then the smell hit them.

Rotting vegetation. Stagnant water. Something old and suffocating.

Basil raised his hand slowly.

“Stop”

The group halted almost instinctively.

Before them stretched a wide swamp, murky and deceptively calm. Dark water reflected broken pieces of sky through the canopy. Thick reeds swayed gently, hiding what lay beneath. Every step forward felt like an invitation to vanish.

Artem frowned. “This was not on the route”

Basil scanned the surroundings. “The forest reroutes itself. Maps do not matter here”

Elias clicked his tongue. “So what now. We go around”

Kaelo crouched, touching the mud with two fingers, then sniffed them. “Going around will cost us half a day”

Hilda hugged her rifle closer. “And going through might cost us lives”

The zoologist spoke carefully. “Swamps like this have uneven depth. Some areas may be shallow. Others can swallow a man whole. The mud creates suction. Panic makes it worse”

Monk stood silently near the edge, eyes fixed on the water. His face showed no fear, no hesitation, only thought.

Basil looked at him. “What do you see”

Monk spoke softly. “The ground is alive. It waits”

Elias scoffed. “Poetic words do not get us across”

Monk stepped forward.

Several heads snapped toward him.

Artem raised his voice. “Wait. Do not move alone”

Too late.

The monk placed one foot into the swamp.

At first nothing happened.

Then the ground beneath him shifted.

A wet sucking sound echoed as his leg sank suddenly, far deeper than expected.

Monk’s body tilted forward.

One of his men shouted. “Master”

The monk’s second step never landed.

The mud gave way violently, pulling him down to his knees in an instant.

The calm finally cracked.

“Do not move,” Basil shouted.

But instinct beats reason.

Two of Monk’s men rushed forward.

They grabbed his arms, pulling hard.

The swamp answered.

The moment they applied force, the mud tightened its grip like a living thing. One man lost his footing and fell forward, chest hitting the surface with a sickening splash.

He screamed once.

Then his mouth filled.

The second man tried to pull him back, desperation flooding his voice. “Hold on. Hold on”

The swamp did not listen.

The trapped man was dragged under slowly, fingers clawing at nothing, eyes wide with terror. The water swallowed him without a ripple.

Hilda screamed. “He is gone”

The second man panicked, pulling harder on the monk.

That was his mistake.

The suction snapped.

The swamp claimed him too.

He vanished faster than the first.

Silence fell like a blade.

Monk was sinking deeper now, mud pressing against his waist, his chest. His breathing remained controlled but strained.

Elias shouted. “Do something”

Basil’s voice thundered. “No one rushed. Anyone who steps blindly will die”

Miles had not moved.

He watched.

Measured.

Then he spoke, calm, cutting through chaos.

“Ropes. Long ones”

Maddock was already uncoiling one.

Miles continued. “Spread weight. Lie flat. Do not pull vertically”

Artem blinked. “What”

Miles repeated, firmer. “Pulling straight up increases suction. We pull horizontally”

Basil understood instantly. “Everyone lies down. Spread your weight”

Men hesitated, then obeyed.

Ropes were thrown. One looped around Monk’s chest under his arms.

Monk looked at Miles. “Two are gone”

Miles met his gaze. “I know”

Monk closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them again, there was grief but no panic.

“Pull on my count,” Monk said.

Miles nodded. “Three. Two. One”

They pulled slowly, evenly, bodies pressed to the ground.

The swamp resisted, gurgling, tightening.

Monk’s breath hitched.

Then inch by inch, the mud released him.

With a final wet gasp, Monk was dragged free, collapsing onto solid ground, chest heaving.

No one cheered.

Two men were missing.

The swamp lay still again, as if nothing had happened.

Hilda whispered, voice shaking. “They died saving him”

Monk sat up slowly. Mud coated his robes. His eyes were lowered.

“They chose,” he said quietly. “I will carry that weight”

Basil stood. “We do not cross blindly”

Kaelo pointed with his machete. “There. Fallen logs. We build a path”

Using branches, broken trunks, and gear cases, they created a makeshift crossing. One by one, they moved across carefully, stepping only where the weight was supported.

It took time.

Sweat poured.

Fear lingered.

When the last man crossed, they did not look back.

….

Light began to leak through the trees ahead, not sunlight, but a pale open glow where the forest suddenly thinned.

The mist faded behind them.

And then they saw it.

The ruins.

A vast clearing opened before their eyes, as if the forest itself had stepped back in reverence. Ancient wooden boundaries stood tall, sharpened logs driven deep into the earth, forming a massive enclosure. At the center of the boundary stood a single gate, old yet intact, reinforced with iron bands darkened by age.

Watchtowers rose at the corners, their silhouettes cutting into the foggy air.

And at the heart of it all stood the tree.

Not just large.

Colossal.

Its trunk was wider than any structure they had seen, bark etched with time, roots spreading like veins across the ground, disappearing beneath stone ruins half consumed by moss and vines. The canopy rose so high it swallowed the sky above it.

They stepped out of the forest slowly.

Boots hit firmer ground.

No one spoke at first.

Faces told the story.

Awe.

Disbelief.

Fear.

Artem broke the silence first. His voice was low. “This place should not exist”

Hilda whispered, almost to herself. “This is older than anything recorded”

Basil’s eyes scanned the boundary carefully. “Manmade. Carefully planned. Maintained”

Elias narrowed his eyes, stepping closer to the wooden spikes. He ran his fingers along one. “The boundary. The tribal people must have built this. Which means they can reach here whenever they want”

Kaelo frowned. “Or they never left”

Artem exhaled slowly. “We cannot underestimate this place”

He turned to the men behind him. “We set up a base here. We use the boundary. The towers give us elevation and early warning”

Orders followed quickly.

Equipment was unpacked.

Tents unfolded within the enclosure.

Men climbed the watchtowers, rifles resting against old wood that had seen a long time without breaking.

Campfires were lit low, controlled flames licking the cold air.

Rations were distributed.

Metal clinked softly.

The ruins watched them in silence.

Monk moved aside from the group, knelt on the bare earth near a tree, and closed his eyes. His lips moved without sound.

A prayer.

For the two men lost to the swamp.

Basil stood near the central fire, his face hardened but thoughtful. “At dawn we split. Half will enter the ruins. Half will remain here to guard and monitor the forest”

He looked around deliberately. “If anything moves outside, we are warned immediately”

No one argued.

Fatigue weighed on every body.

Miles stood slightly apart, eyes fixed not on the ruins, but on the tree.

Elias, irritated by the silence, crushed a large spider beneath his boot with unnecessary force. “Disgusting place”

He stepped outside the boundary, just beyond the gate, and pulled out his radio.

He turned the dial slowly.

Static hissed.

Then he spoke. “Status”

Only noise answered him.

He adjusted the frequency.

Static again.

Then a voice broke through, distorted but present. “We are nearby”

Elias’ lips curled upward. A satisfied smirk. “Good. Be prepared”

He turned slightly, about to speak again.

Then it happened.

A sharp whistle cut through the air.

Thud.

An arrow slammed into the ground inches from his boot, the shaft still vibrating.

Elias froze.

For half a second.

Then instinct kicked in.

He stumbled backward, heart pounding, eyes wide.

“Contact,” a man shouted from the watchtower.

Another voice followed. “Movement in the forest”

All eyes snapped toward the tree line.

The darkness beyond the boundary began to glow.

Orange.

Flickering.

Dozens of fire torches emerged between the trunks.

Silent.

Steady.

Figures moved with purpose, faces hidden behind shadows and paint, torches raised high, flames dancing against the fog.

The forest itself seemed to breathe with them.

Elias turned and ran back inside the boundary. “Defensive positions”

Men scrambled.

Weapons were raised.

Fingers tightened on triggers.

Miles remained still.

Watching.

From the treeline, the torches advanced slowly.

Not charging.

Not hiding.

Marching.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep