Chapter 61: Hunted in the Dark Forest

“How was your trip into the Wild Zone?” Anna asked.

Luke sat at a worn wooden table, staring into the bowl of monster stew in front of him. The smell was sharp—feral, earthy—but he’d grown used to it.

The mess hall buzzed with quiet tension. Survivors crowded around cookfires, boiling scavenged meat or patching gear. Others hunched over their bowls, eating in near silence. Survival left little room for conversation.

Luke stirred the broth with his spoon, not really hungry. “Killed a few boars,” he said, voice flat. “Tried tracking an orc too.”

Beside Anna, Cecilia immediately started signing.

Anna translated without missing a beat. “She says to be careful. Orcs are never alone. If you see one, assume there are more nearby. They use signals—horns, traps, alarms. One mistake, and you’re surrounded.”

Before Luke could reply, Allison dropped into the seat across from him. One look at her face said everything—exhausted, drained.

“How’d your day go?” Luke asked.

Allison let out a long breath. “Went out hunting with the others. Honestly thought everyone would be focused on the mission every day…”

Anna gave a quiet chuckle. “Most people here are just trying to survive. We need food, gear, someone to fix the fences, someone to tend the crops. If we stay out too long, the Haven’s defenses fall apart.”

Luke nodded. It made sense. A constant grind would burn out anyone. Low HP, no rest—even elite hunters would collapse eventually.

He glanced back at Anna. “How do you even carry what you kill? I took down some boars earlier, but there’s no way I could drag their corpses all the way back.”

Anna smiled, raising her hand to show a silver ring. “Storage items.”

With a simple snap of her fingers, a folded shirt materialized in her palm.

Luke blinked in surprise.

“I stash everything in here,” Anna said, slipping the shirt back into the ring. “Beats hauling it around in a pack.”

Cecilia lifted her own hand, showing an identical ring.

Allison frowned, leaning in. “Are those common?”

Anna shook her head. “Not even close. They’re rare. And the capacity varies. Some hold as much as a backpack. Others… as much as a small room.”

Luke’s eyes narrowed. I need one of those.

Storage meant mobility. Mobility meant survival. Carry gear, loot, emergency supplies—without dead weight slowing him down.

He opened his mouth to ask more—

“HELP! Where’s Thiara?!”

The shout cut through the air like a blade.

Instantly, the hall exploded into motion. Chairs scraped. Bowls clattered to the floor.

A group shoved through the crowd, dragging a man soaked in blood. They dropped him to the dirt. The entire room froze.

“That’s Jonathan’s team,” someone muttered.

Luke’s eyes locked onto the man’s body. One arm was gone—ripped clean off. What remained was a shredded stump, pumping blood into the ground. A blur of movement hit his peripheral. A girl sprinted through the chaos. Thiara.

She dropped to her knees, hands glowing bright green as she pressed them together.

Healing magic.

Light shimmered around her fingers, pouring into the wound. The bleeding slowed—but not enough. The magic fought to close the injury, but the damage was brutal.

“It’s not holding,” someone whispered.

“Get him to the infirmary!” Paul’s voice rang out, slicing through the panic. Calm. Commanding. Unshakeable.

A group of men lifted Jonathan’s bloodied body and rushed him toward the infirmary tent.

Luke’s eyes tracked them until movement beside him caught his attention. Cecilia’s hands flew in frantic, sharp gestures toward Anna—fast, urgent.

Even without translation, Luke caught the key words. Mission. Mechanism.

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His pulse tightened. Whatever had happened out there… it was big.

Anna signed something back, her expression darkening. Her fingers slowed—not frantic like Cecilia’s, but firm. Focused. Controlled.

Before Luke could speak, the hotel doors slammed open. Angelica strode out, her face grim, pace brisk, eyes locked forward. A mage followed close behind her, staff raised, energy already swirling at the tip.

The moment they stepped into the infirmary tent, the air shifted.

Silence.

Instant. Total.

No groans. No whispers. No wind.

Luke’s eyes narrowed. Sound barrier.

Quietly, he stepped back, blending into the edge of the crowd, making sure not to draw attention. Whatever was happening inside that tent… they didn’t want anyone hearing it. And that, in itself, was telling.

Eight years…

Eight years trapped in this so-called tutorial. The deeper he looked, the clearer it became—the veterans were hiding something.

“What do you think happened?” Allison asked, arms crossed, her gaze locked on the tent.

Luke didn’t answer.

But Anna did. “If it’s Jonathan’s team… then it’s about the mission.”

Luke turned to her, surprised by how blunt she sounded.