CHAPTER 8: TOWARD THE BLACK FOREST

Chapter 8 – Toward the Black Forest

The morning sun slipped lazily through the curtains of the inn, its golden rays spilling across the wooden floorboards. Michael opened his eyes, stretching out with a groan. His body still carried traces of fatigue from the dungeon and the train ride, but his mind was sharper than ever. The cliffhanger thought from last night lingered like a weight in his chest—the Drakran Sword.

If the lore from the game was correct, that sealed weapon could change everything. A Divine weapon wasn’t something ordinary hunters stumbled upon. Even Leon, the protagonist, never obtained this one in the main storyline—it had only been a whispered "what-if" in an extra side story.

Michael ran a hand through his hair and sat up. If I can find it, it’ll give me a huge edge before the Academy exam. Maybe even guarantee Class A.

The faint scent of baking bread drifted up from below. His stomach growled. "Guess it’s time to face the innkeeper couple."

---

When he came downstairs, the innkeeper’s wife was already bustling about, laying plates of steaming eggs and bread for early risers. The moment she spotted him, her face broke into a relieved smile.

"Oh, Michael! You’re awake!" she exclaimed, wiping her flour-dusted hands on her apron before rushing over. "Come Fast , Today a made some new dishes for breakfast "

Her warmth made Michael chuckle awkwardly. "I had... some work to do before the entrance exam. Sorry if I will not being staying here now, I will leave today."

The innkeeper himself, a , leaned against the counter. " So , you are leaving, don’t forget us kid when you become a good hunter."

Michael nodded firmly. "I know. Don’t worry, I’ll not forget Aunty and uncle"

The couple exchanged a glance, then the innkeeper’s wife patted his shoulder. "Eat something first. You look like you’re about to run headlong into a storm."

Michael smiled faintly. She’s not wrong.

He ate quickly, savoring the simple but hearty food. Every bite grounded him in the reality of this world—warm bread, spiced eggs, a cup of steaming herbal tea. It was different from the fast-food world he had come from, yet oddly comforting.

When he was finished, he thanked them both and excused himself, heading back to his room. He couldn’t afford to waste time. Today was the day he would begin his journey toward the Black Forest.

---

The Hunter Market District was already alive when Michael arrived. The streets buzzed with voices, mana-cars whirred past on glowing tracks, and neon-blue signs floated above shops advertising enchanted gear, potions, and weapons. It was a strange blend of medieval and futuristic aesthetics stone roads beneath hovering crystal lamps, blacksmiths hammering at glowing steel beside vendors selling mechanical gadgets powered by mana.

Michael tightened his cloak and made his way through the crowd.

Hunters in leather armor bartered with potion vendors. Mages in flowing robes consulted rune-engravers for talismans. He even spotted a dwarf blacksmith adjusting a mana-powered rifle for a human client. The air itself hummed with magic, thick with the smell of oil, sweat, and sizzling mana crystals.

"Health potions, two for five silver! Don’t risk your life for a few coins!" shouted one vendor.

"Mana stones, fresh from the mines! Stable output, guaranteed quality!" cried another.

Michael ignored most of it, focusing on essentials. He picked up a few health and mana potions, some dried rations, and a sturdy map of the region. He considered browsing the weapon stalls but shook his head.

Pointless. No weapon here will matter once I get the Drakran Sword.

Still, he needed to look inconspicuous. Buying nothing at all would draw suspicion. So he grabbed a plain steel short sword as a backup, strapping it to his side.

By the time he left the district, his coin pouch felt significantly lighter. But he was prepared.

[ Currency

1 platinum= 100 Gold

1 Gold Coin = 100 Sliver

1 Sliver Coin = 100 Copper Coin]

CASH currency

1 Sliver = 100 Ryo

Ryo is similar to Dollar.

---

Location: Train Station

The train station loomed ahead like a giant glass-and-steel fortress, its crystalline pillars shimmering with embedded runes. A line of passengers shuffled forward, tickets glowing faintly as they passed through magical scanners.

Michael purchased his own without trouble, then boarded.

Inside, the Mana Train was a marvel. Sleek crystal panels lined the walls, glowing faintly with circulating energy. The seats were cushioned and arranged in tiers, with transparent windows offering sweeping views of the landscape. Hunters, merchants, and travelers filled the compartments, some chatting, others meditating.

Michael settled into his seat near the window. The train gave a low hum, then shot forward with breathtaking speed, the world outside blurring into streaks of green and gold.

In the game, this was just fast travel. A few seconds of loading screen. But now... He pressed his hand against the glass, watching the countryside roll by in vivid detail. Villages nestled between hills, rivers glimmered beneath sunlight, and mana-beasts occasionally darted through the forests. Now it feels real.

Across the aisle, a group of mercenaries laughed boisterously, boasting about their last hunt. One of them wore a necklace made of fangs. Another carried a massive axe nearly as tall as himself.

Michael eyed them briefly, then looked away. F-rank, maybe D-rank at best. They wouldn’t survive five minutes in the Black Forest’s depths.

The train slowed after several hours, pulling into a station marked with glowing runes: Ironshade.

---

Ironshade Town

Michael stepped out and immediately felt the difference. The air was heavier, colder. The town of Ironshade was built like a fortress, its walls thick with iron plating and mana-wards. Hunters here looked sharper, more dangerous. Scars crisscrossed their arms and faces, and their weapons glowed faintly with enchantments.

The streets weren’t bustling like in the capital; instead, there was a constant tension in the air. People moved quickly, eyes scanning their surroundings as if danger might leap from the shadows at any moment.

Michael found a tavern to gather information. The place smelled of smoke and ale, dimly lit with only a few crystal lanterns. He slipped into a corner, listening quietly.

"...another hunting party didn’t come back yesterday."

"They went into the Black Forest, didn’t they? Idiots. That place swallows men whole."

"Not just men. Even an S-rank once disappeared in there."

Michael’s eyes narrowed. Rumors, half-truths. But they’re not wrong about the danger.

He didn’t join the conversations. Instead, he finished a simple meal, then rented a small, creaky room for the night.

Tomorrow, he would enter the Black Forest. Tomorrow, the trial of the Drakran Sword would begin.

---

The next morning, Michael left Ironshade before dawn. The sky was still a shade of indigo, the air crisp with early spring chill. Few people were on the streets, and the town gates creaked open reluctantly as the guards gave him skeptical looks.

"Going to the Black Forest?" one asked, his voice rough from lack of sleep.

Michael nodded. "Yes."

The guard gave a low whistle and shook his head. "Hope you’ve written a will, boy."

Michael didn’t respond. He pulled his cloak tighter and walked out into the wilderness.

---

By midday, he stood at the edge of the Black Forest.

The trees loomed like titans, their trunks as wide as houses, their branches twisting into the sky. A perpetual fog clung to the ground, weaving between roots and rocks. Birds were absent. The only sound was the faint rustle of unseen creatures moving in the underbrush.

Michael exhaled slowly. The game had depicted the Black Forest as a gloomy place, but here, in reality, it was suffocating. The very air carried an oppressive weight, thick with primal mana. His senses sharpened automatically, adrenaline humming through his veins.

This is no ordinary dungeon. This is nature itself, unfiltered and untamed.

He stepped inside.

Immediately, the shadows seemed to close around him. His boots sank into damp soil, the smell of moss and decay overwhelming.

He drew his sword. Its steel gleamed faintly in the dim light, steadying his nerves.

---

A/N :Shadow Wolves (Rank F+)

-----

The growl came first—low, guttural, vibrating through the fog. Then yellow eyes appeared, glowing like coals in the darkness.

Michael tightened his grip. "Shadow Wolves," he muttered. He remembered their mechanics from the game. F+ rank monsters, fast and coordinated. Always hunting in packs.

The first lunged. A blur of black fur and teeth.

Michael sidestepped, blade flashing. Steel met flesh, slicing across its flank. The wolf yelped and fell, but three more emerged immediately, circling him with fluid, practiced motions.

They’re testing me.

Michael steadied his breathing. Mana flowed through his veins as he activated Mana Manipulation, coating his sword with a faint azure glow. He stepped lightly, adjusting his stance.

The wolves struck simultaneously.

Michael moved. His sword arced in a swift, precise slash, cutting through the first wolf’s neck. He pivoted, slamming his boot into the second’s ribs before its jaws could close on his arm. The third snapped at his back, but he ducked, spinning low, and drove his blade upward through its chest.

All three collapsed in less than ten seconds.

Michael exhaled, steady but alert. "Not bad. But this is only the beginning."

Deeper in, the fog thickened. A faint clicking sound echoed through the trees. Michael recognized it instantly.

"Goblins."

They emerged in ragged clusters—green-skinned, hunched creatures with glowing red eyes and crude weapons of bone and rusted steel. Individually weak, but dangerous in groups.

Ten of them this time.

The leader screeched, raising a jagged spear. The others surged forward.

Michael’s sword flashed. His first swing severed two goblins in one motion, but the others pressed in. A club whistled toward his skull; he ducked, countering with a horizontal slash that spilled another’s innards.

One jabbed with a spear. Michael caught it with his left hand, twisting it aside, then drove his knee into the goblin’s chest before finishing it with a clean thrust.

More came from the flanks. He spun, letting mana surge down his blade, releasing a thin arc of blue light. Three goblins fell, their bodies cleaved in half.

The leader shrieked in fury and leapt at him.

Michael sidestepped, then executed a perfect overhead cut. His blade split the goblin from skull to waist.

The clearing fell silent, broken only by the sound of his steady breathing.

Hours passed as Michael pushed deeper. His cloak was torn in places, and sweat slicked his forehead, but his eyes remained sharp.

He fought more monsters along the way—giant centipedes (E rank), thorned lizards (F+), and a lone Dire Boar (E+). Each battle tested him, forcing him to refine his movements and use his mana wisely.

But none of them slowed him for long.

Because he knew what lay ahead.

The lore from the game was clear: deep within the Black Forest, beneath an ancient tree, sealed by a stone with a symbol—there lay the Drakran Sword.

Michael’s pulse quickened when he saw it.

---

The fog parted, revealing a colossal tree that dwarfed all others. Its trunk was gnarled and scarred, its roots stretching like serpents across the ground. The air here was different—heavier, charged with an almost divine presence.

At its base, half-buried in moss, lay a flat stone slab. Strange runes pulsed faintly across its surface, forming a circular seal.

Michael’s breath caught. "This is it."

He approached slowly. His heart thundered in his chest, equal parts awe and anticipation. The moment he had read about, imagined countless times in his past life, was now real before his eyes.

He knelt by the stone, brushing away moss and dirt until the runes were fully visible. At the center was a carved symbol—a hammer striking an anvil. The mark of Delora, the Saint-ranked dwarven blacksmith.

Just like the side story said.

Michael placed his hand on the symbol.

For a heartbeat, nothing happened.

Then the ground trembled. The seal flared with blinding light, runes unraveling like threads. The fog thickened, swirling violently, and the air vibrated with raw mana.

A voice boomed inside his mind, deep and resonant:

[Legacy Trial Detected.]

[Activating Hidden Quest: The Blacksmith’s Legacy.]

[Warning: Failure will result in death.]

The stone cracked, splitting open as a staircase of light descended into the earth beneath the tree.

Michael stared, his grip tightening on his sword. His pulse pounded with adrenaline.

"This is it," he whispered. "The trial of the Drakran Sword."

With one final breath, he stepped forward into the light.

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