Chapter 6

Chain of the Key Holder (1)

    At 11.48 pm, on the path leading into the heart of the forest.

      "It's almost time, isn't it?"

    A young man bound in chains wearily stated. His face, drenched in sweat, was terribly pale. Normally, a trek through the wilderness wouldn't faze him, but his current endeavor seemed to push him to the limits of human endurance. Never before had anyone endured both the onslaught of his own weapon and a vampire's frenzied bloodlust. Even the spirit within him didn't differ much in intensity. Esther himself was bewildered at how he had survived to this point.

    Help me!!

    The voice carried by the wind began anew, becoming clearer as time passed, yet unnoticed by those around him as if he was the only one losing his mind. Esther tried to muster the courage to continue forward, ignoring the haunting whispers in his ear, even though he felt an urge to flee.

    ‘A man of the Devald family... must move forward.’

    “I’ll help if I could. If not, then just let it be.” The unfortunate prisoner muttered, quietly walking on the grass.

    The deeper he ventured, the more ominous the forest appeared. The previously low vegetation now towered, obscuring the moonlight and leaving only dim glimmers like dying candles. Shrouded in darkness, the forest seemed even more expansive and foreboding. The usual ambient sounds of wildlife were eerily absent, amplifying the silence and solitude. Now and then, he thought he saw the trees grinning malevolently at him. Amidst this, Esther, the sole human in the group, trembled with fear, unnoticed by the women around him.

    One of them could see in the dark, lived with it, and used it to survive.

    Another didn't need to observe anything; perception was unnecessary.

    The last was already a spirit, with no reason to fear.

    The three girls had all forgotten one crucial thing...

    Humans fear the darkness, always had, unless accustomed to or living with it from childhood. Silence bred fear, and lone footsteps made for a desolate companion. With no conversation to lighten the mood, they failed to realize why they had ventured into the forest in the first place.

    "Victoria," Esther called out to the spirit leading the way.

    "Yes? What’s up?"

    "I just want to know what's at the heart of this forest. I'm getting impatient," he said, desperate to block out the eerie whispers and screams.

    "It's better if you see it for yourself. We're in the heart of the forest now," her luminescent face slightly annoyed at his urgency to venture in. "The exit is just ahead."

    A few steps later, the group emerged from the dense forest.

    Before them laid a vast circular clearing of a football field size filled with flowers, with a massive tree reaching the moonlit night at its center, so large that ten people could not encompass it. The flowers, blooming vibrantly even at night, seemed indifferent to the passage of time. Around the clearing, mysterious symbols were marked, their meanings obscure.

    “Oops”

    exclaimed the vampire woman suddenly, causing the group to whirl around. Grace was enveloped in a glowing golden magic ring; she had a stunned expression on her face before she vanished within seconds.

    "Game over, right at midnight," the chain spirit remarked, leaving its master puzzled.

    "A spell to return everyone to the great castle. Everyone who survived should have been called back by now, except for you," Tartarus explained as if it were a routine occurrence, leaving Esther quite stunned.

    Regaining his composure, he asked the fundamental question of humanity,

    "Why is that?"

    A scoff followed his question, but Esther pretended not to hear.

    "Why haven't I been called back? Can you explain?" Esther asked, suppressing his emotions. The sight of the flower garden eased the tension somewhat, but not enough to make it vanish with the wind. Now, his mind raced with stress, and the wounds from his own cross began to throb anew after a long period of numbness.

    "The key around your neck," Tartarus began, "is the reason you haven't been called back."

    "Is it another curse, then?"

    "Not exactly. It's hard to explain, but to put it simply, it's due to the creator's resentment." She paused, noticing his puzzled look. "Owning the key affects you in several ways. One of which declares that you refuse to rely on the masters, no matter what happens. So, anything that would be considered help from the masters automatically gets nullified. Even if you die, the key will revive you on the spot, not back at the castle like everyone else."

    "Hey, that's insane," the young man exclaimed, trying to remove the necklace, but no matter what he did, the key chain wouldn't budge from his grasp. "This is cheating, bringing another curse along like this."

    After struggling for a while, Esther grew tired. His left hand started to hurt again, so he stopped, but he didn't give up on finding a way to remove it. If it was something so detrimental to him, it was nothing but a parasite.

    "Don't waste your time... Let’s go," Victoria called.

    Esther was inadvertently captivated by the glowing figure bathed in moonlight, looking beautiful in a strange way. Though not clearly visible, he felt something grand within her. The image of a knightly woman swinging her sword at demons on the battlefield quietly surfaced in his mind.

    He followed the dusky spirit as it floated towards the giant tree at the center of the clearing.

    At the base of the tree, there was a peculiar opening that allowed moonlight to seep through. Upon closer inspection, they found a grave there, resting quietly with grass and flowers less dense around it than elsewhere. The gray stone plaque in front of the grave was weathered, its letters fading but still legible.

    Sanctus Windell, the Selfless warrior lies in eternal slumber here, in the timber that rests the slumbered.

    "It's so eye-catching; 'Warrior's Grave' might be a more fitting name," Esther remarked casually, bowing his head in a moment of respect.

    "Paying respects without a second thought? I don't often encounter something like this. This year's juniors are indeed unusual," a voice interrupted the silence from below.

    "Don’t be bothered with me," the young man replied with a sense of familiarity.

    Seconds later, he became wary of something. The voice he heard was that of a man... In his group at the moment, there were only two women and himself. If there was another man, it must undoubtedly be an unwelcome visitor.

    His dark eyes darted around in fear, nearly forgetting that he, too, had a spirit trailing him. The wind around them began to howl with increasing ferocity, hinting at an impending calamity. A wailing sound whispered into Esther's ears before everything gradually calmed down.

    "This year's successor is interesting. Let's see if you can beat me," a familiar voice carried by the gusting wind made Esther suspect something. Although more blusterous, the tone couldn't deceive him forever. It was similar to the cries for help he had heard earlier in the forest; only that voice had sounded more tormented and had been altered to sound feminine.

    "Welcome to The Timber of the Slumbered."

    The ground in front of him trembled violently, causing a large fissure to form. A young man with red hair, dressed in a white fighter's outfit with red trim and flame symbols around, slowly rose from the hole. The air gradually warmed, as if the seasons changed abruptly.

    It wasn't hot like when encountering squirrels earlier; it seemed more like everything was drying out rather than being burned in the usual manner.

    Behind him was a silver sword with a black grip and flame patterns on the blade, and at his waist hung a katana with a white pearl sheath.

    "Sanctus Windell, the slumbered, pleased to meet you..."

    'Why wake up, senior... It was good with you asleep,' Esther blinked rapidly.

    "First, I should apologize for calling you out so abruptly," the red-haired man pointed to the key hanging around Esther's neck. "I used to own that thing. Now that it's accidentally ended up with you, there's a need for a little test. I'm not too pleased if the weak ones end up holding such an item. I wanted to drag others from different generations to test you too, but I guess they're all resting in peace by now... So, by the way, I'm just a fragment of a soul."

    "Do you know this guy?" Esther whispered to Tartarus, ignoring the opponent's speech completely. "An anachronistic warrior like this."

    Tartarus paused for a moment as if contemplating, then replied, "Nah... I've never met a redhead zombie like this. Must be from a different era."

    Sanctus laughed heartily as if he could hear what they were discussing. The gaze of the red-haired man fell on Tartarus, seemingly more pleased to encounter someone familiar than a stranger. This only made Esther more suspicious, but he couldn't say much. He was more curious about the identity of the man before him.

    "Can't we just not test?" the successor asked hopefully.

    "You could just die instead," was the reply, accompanied by a smile. "It would be much easier."

    Esther nearly facepalmed at the response and said nothing more. Aside from his unrefined psychic powers, he was fairly confident in his hand-to-hand combat skills, even though his opponent was already armed. However, the young man thought that time might have dulled the other's abilities.

    "Alright then... We don't have much time. Let's remove that chain and get started," the freshly awakened senior pointed at the black chains on his legs.

    "No, thanks. Consider it my handicap," Esther immediately responded.

    'Removing them would mean death anyway... no difference.'

    'Such courage fits the bill. Morale, passed,' Sanctus rated in his mind without much thought, 'Even though it's a bit annoying.'

    'Two things left... combat skills and how much I like you.'

The slumbered warrior remembered the first time he received the key on the battlefield. The woman who handed it to him wanted it to belong to someone worthy. Each person who had come through, though not exceptional, was still a good person. Something in Sanctus silently suggested that the man before him was the last rightful bearer of the key.