The storm had passed by morning. The rain had stopped, yet the forest was damp with yesterday's tears. A light haze rested over the underbrush as if nature herself wanted to hide what lay inside. Varian stepped out of the shelter he'd made between two mangled roots, leaves stuck to his shoulder.
He looked at his notifications again, just to be sure it wasn't a dream.
You acquired the hidden skill: [Silent Step].
You completed the hidden condition: Survive through the Whispering Rain.
New Trait Unlocked: Whisperborn – Rain no longer slows down your senses. You have 10% increased evasion in rain or misty environments.
Not so bad. Not great, but not terrible.
"The system's throwing little bonuses at me like I'm in the early tutorial still. But every little edge helps," he muttered, walking into the dense brush.
The area he was in—somewhere between the ruins of the southern cliffs and the Ironwood border—was supposedly crawling with lower-tier beasts. But this was a dungeon border zone now. The rules of the wild were no longer stable. That's what made it dangerous—and interesting.
The air changed.
He stopped.
The mist in front of him trembled. Not because of the wind. Something heavier.
He ducked, his hand dropping to the carved ironwood bow that was tied behind his back. Not refined, but real—something he'd removed from a defeated enemy a few days ago. Not system-provided, not summoned by magic. Tangible. Uncompromising.
Then the whisper.
Not human.
From the forest.
It didn't use words— wasn't even words. Just intent. Threat.
Varian breathed slowly. His instincts flared. Not out of fear. Out of training. Or something deeper now, something older.
He extended his hand and pulled back the bowstring. The bow was empty. He had not needed one to that point.
And then it awaked.
Out of the fog, a blur of wet fur and snapping teeth lunged into view.
Lesser Whisperfang – Level 13 – Feral State
Hostile detected.
"You again."
He'd done one once. Or at least, something similar. In the outer rim of Whispergate. That was level 8. This had escalated.
The creature leaped, silent and low.
Varian dodged to the side, just so. [Silent Step] came into play—he barely made a noise as he landed, rolling across soggy moss.
His fingers wrapped around the string of the ironbow, and this time he summoned up a spectral arrow. No second-guessing.
He let fly.
Critical Hit!
The arrow went deep into the shoulder of the beast. Did not roar, did not scream. Spun just as fast as it was meant to.
"Great. Still feral."
Varian darted behind a nearby rock formation, already nocking a second arrow. The mist shifted once more. Two additional figures emerged—smaller, but fast.
Whispercub – Level 6 (x2)
So it did have a den.
He cursed under his breath. Not because he was scared. But because this wasn't the kind of fight he'd wanted to start before breakfast.
However, he smiled.
He stood with his feet apart and focused again.
This was the rhythm he'd been lacking. Not the killing—but the focus. The movement. The way his mind and body came together.
He shot once.
A cub dropped.
He shifted and moved sideways as the other attacked him.
Then—something strange.
The larger Whisperfang didn't pursue.
Instead, it tilted its head.
And then—
System Message: You are being Observed.
Varian froze.
"What the—"
Skill triggered: Intuition (Fragmented)
Danger Level: Unassessed.
He slowly rotated his head.
Far up in the trees, half-concealed behind vines and mist, was a form.
Human?
No.
Not exactly.
A woman. Or at least the shape of one. She was covered in a cloak of woven leaves and shadow over her form, and her eyes—if eyes they were—glowed with the green of wet grass blades. There was no nameplate above her.
No level.
No system presence.
She simply was.
And the animals stopped attacking.
Even the wounded one just… froze, bleeding softly, looking at her.
Then she spoke.
"You kill with rhythm," she said, her voice distant and soft, as if it was moving through many layers of forest.
Varian did not lower his bow.
"And you watch with silence," he said.
"You're not from this forest."
"No one is."
She smiled very thinly. "That's true."
Then she leapt down.
And landed silently.
The beasts did not flinch.
She moved forward, very slowly, not threatening—but not harmless either.
"Do you know what this forest used to be?" she asked.
"No."
"It was called Nythra. It wasn't just trees. It was a boundary. Between the waking world and something older. The Whispergate was its center."
Varian narrowed his eyes. "And you?"
"I am what's left of its voice."
She stopped five feet in front of him.
The system remained silent. No threat detected. No battle initiated.
"I don't kill humans," she said. "Unless they try to cut the trees for gold."
"I'm not here for gold."
"Why are you here, then?"
Varian blinked.
And for the first time in a while, he told the truth.
"I'm attempting to find out who I was prior to this world starting to lie to me."
She stared at him for a very long time.
Then she nodded.
"The forest doesn't lie. But it doesn't tell the truth, either. It simply shows you what you put into it."
Then—ding.
Quest Unlocked: The Voice Beneath the Leaves
Quest Rank: Hidden
Objective: Follow the Whisperer into the Nythra Grove. Learn the history of the Whispergate.
Reward: N/A.
Warning: Your choices may affect the boundary between worlds.
She wheeled without further word and rode into the fog.
The creatures followed behind her, spirit-silent.
Varian drew down his bow.
He did not know whether she was friend or foe.
But he knew the story just got whole lot bigger.
And for once—
He wasn't afraid.