Beyond the barrier of the academy lay a region of infamy the Evil Forest.

    This forest was not merely a patch of wilderness surrounding the academy. It spanned vast swaths of land across the continent of Soltheon, stretching relentlessly until it met the shores of the Centros Sea. A domain of death, it harbored countless monsters of varying strengths, with their power and danger increasing the deeper one ventured into its shadowed depths.

    The Evil Forest was one of the many unexplored regions in the mystical world of Aetherus, brimming with untapped dungeons and ancient ruins. It was a place teeming with peril—and promise.

    The forest''s monstrous inhabitants bred uncontrollably, often triggering catastrophic monster stampedes when their populations outgrew their territories. These stampedes unleashed hordes of creatures onto the lands of mankind, destroying everything in their path.

    To counter this ever-looming threat, the heroes and wise men of the goddess races in ages past came together. With divine guidance, they constructed a massive barrier to confine the Evil Forest. This barrier, powered by multiple nodes scattered across the continent, acted as a bulwark against the encroaching chaos. Among these legendary figures was Athor, the founder of the academy itself, who devoted his life to fortifying one of these critical nodes.

    The presence of the barrier was the very reason the academy and the capital city of Valerion stood so close to the forest. The empire''s strategy was clear: establish its military at the heart of danger, ready to confront any creatures that breached the barrier. This proximity allowed adventurers, scholars, and soldiers to venture into the forest to cull the monster population, keeping it in check.

    It was also a proving ground for senior students of the academy, who honed their skills in outposts and garrisons built to monitor and suppress the forest''s influence.

    This responsibility wasn''t Valerion''s alone. Every nation bordering the Evil Forest contributed to its containment, recognizing it as a shared burden—a hideous gift.

    Why such a grim name? Because, despite the endless perils, the Evil Forest tempted adventurers and kingdoms alike with its vast riches. Hidden within its depths were treasures beyond imagination: ancient relics, magical mines, rare herbs, monster parts, and enchanted tomes. Dungeons within the forest promised unimaginable rewards for those brave—or foolish—enough to enter.

    The deeper one ventured, the greater the rewards, but the price was steep. Millions of lives had been lost to the forest, their dreams of fame and fortune shattered in its unforgiving embrace.

    Yet still, the call persisted.

    For some, it was the promise of glory. For others, it was the lure of unimaginable wealth. But for all who entered, the forest whispered the same challenge:

    Come, if you dare.

    Of course, Damon couldn''t afford to focus on such thoughts, not while staring at the antlers of the monstrous creature before him. Its thin, bony claws twitched as its crimson eyes glowed with a menacing light. The hairy, towering form of the wendigo loomed, its jagged fangs glistening with thick, viscous saliva that dripped onto the ground like acid.

    Instead, he kept his eyes locked on the wendigo, his shadow perception extending outward like radar, monitoring the creature''s every move.

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    The wendigo''s shadow was strange. It lacked the same reactive energy as human shadows, a muted thing that barely triggerd his shadow''s hunger. It wasn''t worth the risk of hunting, not that he could hunt a wendigo even if he tried.

    ''Fleeing is the only choice,'' he concluded.

    He encased the cursed arrows in their shell, erasing any traces of their aura. Keeping his shadow perception stretched to its limits, Damon slowly retreated, never taking his focus off the wendigo.

    In a few minutes, he returned to the area where his skirmish had begun, carefully collecting his belongings and ensuring no evidence remained. His eyes scanned the tattered uniform he wore—ripped sleeves, sliced edges. It wasn''t his uniform, which gave him some relief.

    ''Marcus''s uniform,'' Damon mused with a faint smirk. ''He''ll be the one in trouble if the academy investigates.''

    Still, Damon wasn''t careless. He erased what evidence he could but left subtle traces that only a professional investigator might notice. His days surviving in the capital''s backstreets and working with smugglers were proving useful once again.

    With everything handled, Damon retracted his shadow perception and walked out of the forest, pulling his blindfold over his eyes as he disappeared into the night.

    ---

    By the time he reached his room, the perfect crime had been completed in under 15 minutes. Enough time to take a bath and maybe enjoy a midnight snack with Leona.

    But first, Damon needed to check his new skill. He hadn''t felt its effects, not like [Remorseless]. There was also the strange sensation of his shadow feeding yet not feeling full.

    Avoiding detection, he snuck into the war halls. Moving through the laundry basket, he switched the uniforms, slipping back into his own. Satisfied, he returned to his room and brought up the system panel.

    [Water Celebration]