Chapter 117: Whisper of the Forest Ghost - Transmigrated As An SSS Ranked MILF Overlord - NovelsTime

Transmigrated As An SSS Ranked MILF Overlord

Chapter 117: Whisper of the Forest Ghost

Author: RuneNest
updatedAt: 2025-07-13

CHAPTER 117: WHISPER OF THE FOREST GHOST

Grunt.

Sit.

The sound tore through the silence as Steve collapsed onto one of the cold rocks nestled deep within the interior of Cave.

A shaky hand rubbed across his face, dragging against the sweat-slicked skin and the crusted lines of dried blood and fatigue. On the outside, he looked composed—quiet, deliberate—but within, his thoughts were a roaring storm.

’I don’t have the notebook.’

His jaw clenched. The realization slammed through him again, harder this time.

’... I left it. Back in the damned carriage.’

He let out a harsh breath, one hand running down his face again, slower this time.

’When the carriage stopped, I wasn’t even thinking. After I saw the whole town of Mirrors had been turned to ash and broken glass.’ His eyes darkened.

’It never even crossed my mind again...’

But now...

"I’ve done it before." he murmured, his voice low, just above a whisper.

"I literally unlocked the Puppeteer’s String with my ability. So if I could do that... then maybe... maybe I can use the Author’s Notebook too."

He shifted forward, elbows on knees, the cave’s faint blue glow catching the tremble in his fingers.

’If I can use the notebook like I did with Tonya, then maybe...’

His thoughts churned, rapid and desperate.

’ I could create a mission. Anything. Hunting. Scouting. A fucking game, I don’t care. And in return... I’d ask for a healing potion.’

He bit his bottom lip, hard.

’It would work faster than searching for Maggie out here with no plan....and besides I have to act quick and supress this...’

His breathing slowed, becoming cold and focused.

’... this hunch that this isn’t random. The town being destroyed. Goblins sneaking into our world undetected?

His eyes flicked upward, glazed but piercing, staring at the jagged ceiling of the cave.

’How the hell did that even happen?’

There were three Houses in the realm—each with dominion over vast territories—and Mirrors was in the heart of the Witcher’s land. The town wasn’t coastal, wasn’t near any natural pass where creatures could slip through. It was buried deep inland, surrounded by dense forest and rocky hillsides. A fortress of sorts. Known best for its blacksmithing. Coals, stones, molten fire. Its people forged iron like it was a birthright.

But even fire had failed them.

Outposts had been placed by the Queen Witcher herself, high-alert patrols established centuries ago for this exact kind of threat. Not once had those precautions failed. Not in all of Mirror’s long history.

Until now.

’So how did they get through?’ Steve’s eyes narrowed.

’How did the goblins sneak past every single guard post, every magical sensor... and kill everyone without a single soul escaping?’

It didn’t add up.

It couldn’t.

Unless they weren’t sneaking in...

They were brought.

His chest tightened, and for a moment, all he could hear was his own heartbeat.

’Teleported... summoned... something. It’s like someone opened a fucking door and just let them pour in.’

His lips twisted into a bitter scowl.

"What the fuck is going on in this world?"

The cave was still and hollow. Silent, except for the faint rhythmic breaths of Sir Ira sleeping nearby. Steve turned toward the sound, his eyes softening just slightly. Then he turned away again, gathering his thoughts.

’Today’s going to be long. I need to sort this out—clear it all, at least in my head.’

He slowly stood, stretching his legs.

’If I can get to the carriage before nightfall, I can sneak in and grab the notebook.’

He turned once again to Ira’s sleeping form.

’Fiona, too, would be resting. They’d only slow him down.’

This has to be clean. In-and-out.

Steve’s breath steadied as he crouched near a cluster of smooth rocks. Drawing his dagger, he picked one up and began to carve something onto its surface with the blade—silent strokes forming the message of his temporary departure.

He placed the stone gently near the slab where Ira slept, close enough to be seen. Then, without another glance, he sheathed his dagger and rose.

His footsteps were soft as he slipped through the entrance, one hand steadying against the cool rock wall. Each step was measured. Controlled.

He disappeared into the forest.

He had one goal.

To retrieve the Author’s Notebook.

***

The forest welcomed him with a stillness that felt unnatural.

His boots pressed softly against the damp earth, the soft rustle of leaves underfoot barely audible beneath the distant chirping of early birds. Thin beams of morning sunlight cut through the mist, casting shafts of golden light across his path.

Steve moved with caution, every movement precise.

’Stay alert... just keep moving.’

His eyes scanned constantly—left, right, and occasionally behind. The Puppeteer’s Strength lingered faintly in his limbs, ready to ignite if needed. But there was no sign of goblins.

’None so far... but that doesn’t mean they aren’t out there.’

His heart beat in his throat.

He passed beneath low-hanging branches, ducking through underbrush, pushing aside creeping vines. The world smelled of moss, wet bark, and old secrets.

Peace and quiet. That’s all I need right now. Just a little fucking peace and quiet.

The thoughts echoed in his head with every step.

But the forest did not care for peace.

He kept walking. And walking. And walking, gracefully sure he was alone as he moved.

Until—

"Don’t take another step."

The voice stabbed through the calm.

Steve froze.

A shiver crawled up his spine as a massive surge of energy blasted through the trees, slamming into his senses like a hammer.

It was... familiar.

Too familiar.

His heart seized, muscles tensing instantly. The mana... it wasn’t human. And it wasn’t Ser Ira’s. Not even close.

It was heavier. Older. Hungrier.

Steve turned slowly, his eyes narrowing.

And then he saw it.

The Ghost.

A spectral shape, floating just above the forest floor.

Steve’s breath caught in his throat, just momentarily before he released a soft sigh of relief.

"What the hell do you want? I thought you-" he muttered aloud, more to himself than to the apparition.

His body stayed still, but his hand instinctively hovered near his blade.

’Wait...why...why is it here? I didn’t summon it...’

His blood turned cold.

The Ghost was a servant of his ability, a tool that only appeared when Steve called it forth—or when it sensed his life was in danger.

But this time...

He had not summoned it.

The realization dawned like ice cracking across his chest.

’Danger...’

If the Ghost was here on its own...

Then something worse was coming.

Something very close.

Steve’s glare sharpened, staring straight into the dark flames of the Ghost’s gaze.

"What...What requires your presence here?" he asked, voice hushed, trembling slightly despite himself.

The Ghost said nothing. But its presence was answer enough.

Steve felt it in his bones.

He wasn’t alone.

Not anymore.

And something... was watching.

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