The continent of Aris, though vast and filled with beings of unimaginable strength, was still infected by the Abyss and the demonic entities clawing their way into the mortal realm.
Towering mountain ranges, endless forests, vast empires, and forgotten echoes of the past stretched across the land, yet beneath all of that grandeur lingered a curse that never truly disappeared.
Tens of thousands of years had passed since the apocalypse had descended here, but the corruption of demonic energy still lingered like a festering wound.
The scars of that catastrophe had never fully healed on the face of Aris.
Some regions on this continent lingered with corruption, indicating the threat of an outbreak that could happen at any moment if not balanced by the mana of this world.
Whenever a land is corrupted by demonic energy, the soil will refuse to grow any crops, and the rivers will turn dark like the abyss itself.
And the reason why these abyssal forces still held influence here?
The natives.
Humans, elves, beast kin, dwarves, dragons, vampires, and other races had once fought proudly for survival. Yet as time passed, the heroic legends of their ancestors were forgotten.
Within every civilisation and race, there were always those who hungered for power after facing fates they had never wished for.
Individuals who would sell their race, their soul, even their existence for a taste of forbidden strength due to the lack of which they had faced hardships and suffering.
The promise of power whispered elluringly in their desperate ears; it promised strength beyond limits, longevity that mocked death and, most importantly, a will, a free will that these poor could never have under the current setting of society.
Over generations, these traitors of Aris gathered to form demonic cults, each of which worshipped a specific Demon Lord.
They thirst for dominance in the shadows.
In the novel, William had read about entire villages that had vanished into thin air and later discovered to have been sacrifices for Abyss dwellers.
And he knew he wouldn't be able to avoid crossing paths with them in his journey.
The protagonist inevitably became involved with multiple cults, often being targeted or manipulated, which resulted in battles that shaped his journey.
Will, wanting to bind the protagonist early, understood that he'd be dragged into the conflicts regardless of his choice, though he didn't complain about going against them.
But he didn't expect his first encounter with something cult-related to happen this soon.
He stood inside the same cave he had been cautious about earlier. The entrance behind him allowed only a thin beam of sunlight to creep into the cavern, illuminating patches of damp stone and moss along the walls.
After many attempts to provoke an imaginary beast out of the cave, Will had finally concluded that the cave was empty. He had thrown stones, snapped branches loudly, even waited in silence for nearly half an hour, yet he saw nothing emerging from the dark.
Right now, his expression was twisted grimly.
In his hands was a tattered diary covered in demonic symbols. The pages were brittle and stained, indicating that they were decades old and could fall off his hands; they demanded careful handling.
The leather cover was cracked and shredded, and the edges were infected with moss. William feared getting a nasty infection from the book.
[Don't worry, host, I wouldn't let you die]
"Tsk, but will you cure a nasty infection if I get one?"
[Ahh!!, that would require some Shop Points, hehe!!]
Will shook his head and looked at the contents of the journal, wondering how he had found it.
Simple, he had stumbled upon a corpse of a cultist he thought had been dead for too long.
Only bones and partially rotted clothing remained. The body had been resting against the cave wall as if the man had died sitting down and lamenting his fate.
Will expected some treasure, weapons, artefacts, or something remotely useful that he could sell or maybe something that might be of use to him.
Instead of inspecting the corpse, he found what was basically a cultist's daily journal.
Filled with personal as well as confidential information that might be useful to him later.
He flipped through the messy pages again, incredulous. The handwriting varied wildly, some lines neatly written, while some seemed rushed and jagged as if they were written under stress or while doing some heavy activity.
"Which fool writes sensitive cult secrets in a journal?" Will muttered.
[Well, nobody ever expects that they will die until they really do]
The cultist, whoever he had been, hadn't expected such an untimely death. Nor that his secrets would be discovered by a random wandering 12-year-old decades later.
According to the contents of the diary, the man had been quite high-ranking. He wrote about his daily life, mission logs, assassination plans, hidden bases, and even the cult's next targets.
Some pages contained rough maps. Others mentioned coded names and ritual schedules.
Will massaged his forehead. It was good yet troublesome at the same time.
He crouched down again, examining the corpse more carefully. The bones were dry and pale, and the remaining fabric of the robe faded into dull grey. Dust coated the skeleton as if it had not been disturbed for years.
He saw no broken bones, nor any signs of struggle. So it definitely wasn't any physical trauma.
"Poison? Organ failure? Or… mental attack? or a very deep flesh wound" The thought made his stomach twist. He sat back and flipped to the last entry in the diary.
***"I regret ever taking this mission. I regret it. To look beyond the veil is suicide. Now that thing won't stop hunting me down."***
The final words were dated ten years ago.
Will's brows furrowed. "What veil? What thing? Why write it so cryptically?" The phrasing felt so incomplete to William, like the cultist had been too terrified to even describe what he had seen.
He waited for the system to offer commentary, but it stayed silent, unsettlingly silent.
The diary offered no further clues. Not even the novel from his past life mentioned such an event, or something called a veil. Whatever happened here, the cultist died afraid, hunted by something he didn't even dare to name.
Will sighed heavily and stored the diary in his inventory. Maybe it would be useful later. Maybe not. Either way, keeping it wasn't a bad idea.
Searching the corpse more thoroughly, he found a small black token engraved with a crimson rune. The metal surface was cold and surprisingly intact despite the years that had passed. Will noticed a small engraving on the badge, a symbol of a cult, but he couldn't clearly remember which specific cult it was.
"Must be an identification token,"
He tossed it into the inventory and stepped away.
His clothes were dirty, and the blood scent still clung to him faintly, so he changed into fresh garments and splashed clean water on himself. The cold water ran down his face and neck, washing away dried sweat and dust.
With the cave checked and nothing else found, he picked up a stick from the ground and determined the correct direction using its shadow under the sun on the small map he had.
This method of finding directions was something he had seen in a TV show in his past life, and it was really helpful to him right now.
Without wasting time, Will resumed his journey.
***
The coming days tested his endurance. The forest stretched endlessly in every direction, the dense canopy swallowed any sunlight and left the ground below dim and humid.
He rested very little, moving under the cover of night whenever possible. Travelling at night reduced the risk of encountering hostile travellers or wandering hunters who might question his presence, although it also increased the risk of beasts that hunt at night.
Fortunately, this forest was only the outer perimeter. No magical beasts of high rank roamed here. Still, he encountered some goblins and wild boars, both of which were dangerous in their own way.
The goblins were small but vicious, lurking behind trees and attempting ambushes with crude blades or claws. Their yellow eyes glowed faintly in the dark when they spotted prey.
Thanks to the hunting and survival training his grandfather drilled into him from a young age, Will managed to survive. His grandfather was preparing him to be a knight like himself when Will grew up. If only he knew what Will was doing right now.
William's reflexes were sharp, and each strike of his was aimed at either the eyes or sensitive spots of the animals to end the fight quickly.
But he wasn't unscathed either.
A wild boar had slammed into him during an ambush, sending agony searing through his abdomen. The beast had burst from thick brush without warning, and its tusks had struck his back.
Though he ultimately killed it, the injury left him sore and stiff like he had broken a few bones or torn a few muscles.
He pressed a hand to his side as he walked, breathing shallowly. The pain radiated with every step, but he didn't stop.
More like he couldn't stop. He was regretting not being more prepared and being overconfident a bit, but not so much to the point that he needed to rethink his decision.
With every mile he crossed, he felt a strange mixture of relief and determination. Surviving the forest, the goblins, the boar - it reminded him he was far stronger than any child his age.
His vision blurred occasionally from exhaustion. His steps faltered. His throat felt dry and tight.
And then… A faint outline appeared ahead.
Redstone Town.
The distant walls stood against the horizon like a promise of safety. Thin trails of smoke rose from chimneys within the town, and faint sounds of activity carried through the air.
A wave of assurance and relief spread to his heart, at least compared to the harsh wilderness.
Will pushed himself forward, limping heavily. His legs trembled, and his vision swayed. The world spun with every breath. The crossbow strapped to his back felt like a mountain weighing him down.
Each step became harder than the last.
By the time he reached the city gate, he must have looked like a half-dead fugitive. Dirt covered his clothes, dried blood stained parts of his sleeves, and exhaustion hung over him like a shadow.
The guards eyed him cautiously when they saw a ragged boy carrying a weapon.
One guard stepped forward. "Kid, state your..."
Will did not say anything, he just smiled and collapsed.
"Hey! Oi .. he-he!! passed out!"
"Get him inside!"
The guards rushed toward him, lifting his body from the dirt.
His consciousness flickered for a moment, just long enough to see himself being carried inside the town.
Then darkness overtook him completely as he was relieved to see himself out of danger.