The thirty-two riders mounted their horses at the forest's edge—animals provided by the royal court specifically for this competition. The beasts were well-trained, able to navigate the treacherous forest paths, but even they seemed nervous as the massive gates creaked shut behind the group.
For the first hour, all thirty-two riders moved together in an uneasy procession, no one wanting to be the first to break away and show weakness. But as the forest grew denser and darker, the paths began to diverge, and the groups naturally separated.
Yi Hyeon-seong's group broke off first, heading northwest with loud confidence that echoed through the trees.
Yi Kang-mu's disciplined warriors moved northeast, their formation precise and military.
Yi Seong-ryu's protective bodyguards took the youngest prince southeast, clearly planning to avoid confrontation as long as possible.
And Yi Ji-won's group continued straight ahead, deeper into the heart of the forest, toward the darkest shadows.
The previous evening, before the gates had opened, Ji-won had gathered his seven warriors in a private courtyard away from prying eyes.
Laurel had arrived first, observing the space and noting the exits—old habits from his training. Slowly, the others filtered in.
When the full group had assembled, Laurel found himself studying his temporary allies with careful attention.
Marvel stood with perfect posture, his cold eyes scanning each person methodically. Something about him set off warning bells in Laurel's mind, though he couldn't place why.
Itachi was there, calm and composed as always, his hands in his pockets. When his eyes met Laurel's, there was a flicker of recognition.
Beto stood beside Itachi, still wearing his hood despite the evening heat, his presence somehow more intimidating in the shadows.
A man who introduced himself as Carl, clearly another adventurer based on his modern mannerisms barely concealed beneath period clothing, nodded at the group.
And finally, two locals—ji-ho Sung-min—both skilled warriors recommended to the Crown Prince by the court.
Laurel stepped forward. "I'm Laurel. Looking forward to working with all of you."
He waved casually at Itachi and Beto. Both returned the gesture slightly, their expressions suggesting they recognized him from somewhere but weren't quite placing it.
Marvel's eyes narrowed slightly at the exchange but said nothing.
Ji-won watched all of this silently, his black clothing making him almost invisible in the courtyard's shadows. After a moment, he spoke.
"Itachi. A word. Privately."
The two moved to the far corner of the courtyard, just out of earshot. Ji-won's voice was low but direct.
"I have concerns about spies in my group. The other princes would benefit greatly from having someone report my movements and weaknesses. I need to know who I can trust."
Itachi nodded slowly. "I understand your caution. Let me be direct—Marvel is my ally from the other world. We work together frequently. I vouch for him completely."
"And Laurel?"
"I've encountered him before in the outside world. He's... capable. An adventurer like myself. We're not allies, but we're not enemies either."
"Carl?"
"Also an adventurer. I don't know him personally, but his presence here isn't surprising given the mission parameters."
Ji-won's eyes flickered toward the remaining two locals. "So Ji-ho and Sung-min are the concerns."
"Possibly. Court recommendations often come with strings attached." Itachi paused. "If you'd like, I can form a temporary alliance with Laurel and Carl. We adventurers have mutual interests in this mission."
"And what happens after?" Ji-won asked sharply. "When we have the sword, what stops you three from stealing it and returning to your world?"
Itachi's smile was cold. "That won't be a problem."
"Why not?"
"Because they won't be leaving this dimension alive if they try."
The statement hung in the air between them. Ji-won studied Itachi's face carefully.
"You and Marvel have no interest in the sword?" Ji-won asked.
"None. Our deal stands as agreed. The sword is yours. But Laurel and Carl are unknown—they might have orders to steal it. If they try, Marvel and I will handle them. You focus on claiming your throne."
Ji-won was quiet for a long moment, then nodded. "I trust you, Itachi. Our year-long arrangement has proven your loyalty. But if those two become problems..."
"They won't survive to become problems. I give you my word."
"Good. Then we understand each other perfectly."
The flashback faded as Laurel refocused on the present. Ji-won's group had made good progress on the first day, moving steadily deeper into the Forest of Ten Thousand Shadows. They encountered no other groups, no threats—just increasingly dense foliage and an oppressive atmosphere that seemed to drain energy from everyone except Ji-won himself.
As night fell, they made camp in a small clearing. No one spoke much. The tension between knowing they might have to fight each other eventually and needing to cooperate now created an uncomfortable silence.
Laurel noticed Itachi and Marvel conferring quietly, Beto standing watch nearby. Carl kept to himself, sharpening a blade with methodical precision. The two locals, Ji-ho and Sung-min, maintained their positions near the Crown Prince, dutiful but clearly uneasy.
The next morning, they broke camp and continued deeper into the forest.
It was mid-afternoon on the second day when they found the bodies.
Seven soldiers in armor lay scattered across the path, their equipment ancient and rusted, the bodies themselves appearing to have been dead for years rather than days. Vegetation had begun growing through the gaps in their armor.
"Careful," Ji-won said, raising his hand to stop the group. "This feels wrong."
He was right.
As they watched, one of the corpses twitched. Then another. Slowly, impossibly, all seven dead soldiers began to rise, plants and decay falling away as they stood on legs that should not have been able to bear weight.
Their eyes were empty black voids. Their movements were jerky but purposeful. And they drew their ancient weapons with hands that had been rotting moments before.
"Defensive formation!" Ji-won commanded, drawing his sword.
What followed was chaos.
The undead soldiers attacked with no regard for their own preservation, their strength inhuman, their coordination surprising for creatures that appeared to have no intelligence. The group fought back, each member displaying skills that had earned them their place in this competition, but no one revealed the full extent of their abilities—not yet, not when potential spies might be watching.
Laurel engaged one of the undead soldiers with enhanced physical techniques, careful not to reveal too much too soon. His knife work was precise and brutal, but the creature seemed to barely notice wounds that would have killed a living person.
Across the battlefield, Itachi moved with fluid precision, avoiding attacks rather than tanking damage. Marvel fought with cold efficiency, his movements suggesting extensive combat training. Beto's raw power was evident even in his restraint.
Ji-won himself fought with surprising skill, his sword work elegant but deadly. The two locals, Ji-ho and Sung-min, displayed competent technique with their traditional weapons, clearly trained warriors even if not at the level of the others.
Carl used a combination of modern fighting techniques adapted to period weapons, marking him clearly as an outsider to anyone paying attention.
The battle lasted nearly twenty minutes before the last undead soldier fell, truly dead this time.
The group regathered, breathing hard, checking for injuries.
What none of them noticed was the figure hiding in the dense foliage fifty meters away, perched in a tree with perfect visibility of the battle. The man had a notebook open, writing rapidly, documenting every movement, every technique, every strength and weakness he could observe.
When the group moved on, the observer remained hidden, a small smile on his face as he reviewed his notes.
The night of the second day was tense. Everyone wondered what other horrors the forest might contain. But the night passed without incident, and the morning came with heavy fog that made visibility difficult.
They broke camp and continued forward, making it day three of their seven-day mission.
Ji-won led them with unwavering purpose, following some internal compass toward where he believed the sword was hidden. The path grew narrower, the trees older and more twisted, and the sense of being watched intensified with every mile.
"We're being followed," Laurel said quietly to the group.
"I know," Ji-won replied, not breaking stride. "They're testing us. Learning our capabilities. The real battles haven't started yet."
In the distance, through the trees, they could occasionally hear the sounds of other groups—shouts, weapons clashing, screams. The forest was claiming victims.
But Ji-won's group pressed on, deeper into the shadows, closer to whatever ancient power lay at the heart of the Forest of Ten Thousand Shadows.
Meanwhile, in the UXA Capital
Fourteen days remained until the presidential election.
The capital city was in turmoil. What had started as isolated protests had evolved into something approaching a national crisis. E's AI had eliminated so many jobs that entire communities had collapsed economically. The government's promises of "retraining programs" and "universal basic income" rang hollow to people who'd lost their livelihoods and their dignity.
And through it all, one figure had captured the public imagination: X.
The mysterious vigilante had struck again last night, this time disrupting a forced eviction of protesters from a government-designated "free speech zone." The operation had been carried out by private security contractors using E's AI tactical support, and it had been brutal—until X appeared.
Footage showed the masked figure moving through armed contractors like they were amateurs, disabling their weapons, neutralizing their AI support, and creating an escape route for the protesters. The entire incident lasted four minutes. By the time police arrived, X was gone, leaving behind thirty incapacitated contractors and zero civilian casualties.
A news anchor reviewed the footage on the evening broadcast:
"This marks the seventh confirmed appearance of the vigilante known as X in the past three weeks. Authorities claim they are close to identifying and apprehending the individual, but polls show that seventy-three percent of citizens view X favorably, with forty-one percent saying they would actively resist any arrest attempts."
The broadcast was cut to a political analyst:
"What we're seeing is unprecedented. X has become more influential than any of the presidential candidates. Both major parties are struggling to position themselves in relation to the vigilante. Support X, and you're endorsing lawlessness. Condemn X, and you're opposing the people's champion. It's a political nightmare."
In a darkened safehouse across the city, the man who wore the mask sat watching the broadcast, his expression unreadable.
The election consumed everything—the media, the politicians, the people. But X had his own priorities, and they had nothing to do with adventurers or portal missions or enchanted swords in parallel dimensions.
His focus was here. On the people suffering under E's AI. On the corruption choking the nation. In the election that would determine whether things got better or infinitely worse.
He stood and reached for his mask. Fourteen days until the election meant fourteen days to shift public opinion, to force the candidates to address real issues, to give the people hope that change was possible.
The Joseon Dynasty mission, the World Union's political games, the adventurer organization's schemes—none of that mattered to X.
Only the election. Only the people.
He put on the mask and disappeared into the night.