Chapter 105: Cha.105 Old Team (2)

The mission was simple.

At least, that was what the letter said.

Juris Village.

A human settlement near the borders of the Goblin World, close enough to its forest that travelers rarely stayed there for long.

Recently, strange roots had begun appearing around the village.

They attacked travelers.

No one knew where they came from.

And no one had managed to find their source.

Team Four had been sent to investigate.

By the time they arrived, the sun was already high.

Juris Village looked ordinary.

Too ordinary.

A few small houses stood along a dirt road. A handful of villagers moved between them, while travelers rested near the village’s small inn.

Nasun walked through the streets, carefully observing everything.

Nothing.

No strange roots.

No damaged buildings.

No signs of an attack.

"Maybe the roots got scared after hearing Team Four was coming," Marek said lazily.

Syran glanced at him.

"Or maybe they realized they were dealing with idiots."

Marek placed a hand over his chest.

"That hurt."

Gareth said nothing.

He simply kept walking.

Nasun sighed.

"Focus."

They continued investigating.

They questioned villagers.

They searched the roads.

They checked the surrounding houses.

Still nothing.

Then Nasun’s giant dog stopped.

Its ears rose.

Its nose moved rapidly.

"What’s wrong?" Nasun asked.

The dog suddenly turned toward a small house at the edge of the village.

It began walking.

"Looks like someone found something," Syran said.

The others followed.

The house looked abandoned.

Old.

Almost forgotten.

Nasun knocked on the door.

An elderly villager approached them.

"That house?" he asked.

"Yes," Nasun replied. "Who lives there?"

"No one."

"Has anyone ever lived there?"

The old man shook his head.

"Not that I know of. It’s been there for as long as I can remember."

Nasun looked at the house.

His dog was still sniffing the door.

"Then let’s take a look."

The door opened with a long creak.

The smell hit them immediately.

Dirt.

Moisture.

And something green.

Nasun stepped inside.

The others followed.

Then Syran stopped.

"What the..."

The entire house was covered in roots.

Long, green roots crawled across the floor and walls.

They twisted around furniture, squeezed through cracks, and disappeared beneath the wooden floorboards.

They looked like ordinary plant roots.

Except they were moving.

One suddenly snapped toward Nasun.

"Move!"

Nasun jumped aside.

The root smashed into the wall.

More followed.

Dozens of them burst from the floor and walls, whipping through the room like living vines.

Marek drew his bow.

"Finally."

An arrow flew.

It cut through a thick root.

Gareth stepped forward and raised his shield.

Several roots struck him at once.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

His shield barely moved.

Syran raised her hand.

"Fire."

A burst of flames tore through the room.

The roots shriveled instantly.

Nasun summoned his weapon and cut another one apart.

The battle lasted less than a minute.

The roots were dangerous to ordinary people.

But Team Four wasn’t ordinary.

The surviving roots suddenly retreated.

They crawled beneath the floor.

Nasun’s eyes narrowed.

"After them."

The team tore open the floorboards.

A hole appeared beneath them.

A staircase.

Leading downward.

They descended.

At the bottom, they found something far more interesting.

A tunnel.

A secret tunnel.

The walls were made of old stone, and roots covered almost every surface.

Some were thin.

Others were as thick as a man’s arm.

The team moved forward.

Every few minutes, the roots attacked.

But they were no match for Team Four.

Slash.

Burn.

Crush.

The roots fell one after another.

Yet the farther they went, the stronger they became.

The roots grew thicker.

Longer.

Faster.

Still, Team Four continued without much trouble.

Until the tunnel split into two.

Left.

Right.

Marek looked at both paths.

"Which one?"

Nasun crouched down.

He examined the ground.

The answer was obvious.

Roots emerged from the left tunnel.

Then crossed the intersection and disappeared into the right.

Nasun stood.

"The roots are coming from the left."

He pointed toward it.

"We follow the source."

They took the left tunnel.

The deeper they went, the more aggressive the roots became.

But eventually—

They stopped.

A wall.

Dead end.

Marek stretched his arms.

"I can destroy it."

"No."

Nasun pointed upward.

Everyone looked.

A small stream of sunlight entered through a narrow opening in the ceiling.

Syran’s eyes widened.

"That’s..."

"We’re going up," Nasun said.

Gareth moved first.

The team climbed.

Moments later, they emerged from the ground.

Syran looked around.

Then froze.

"We’re in the Goblin Forest."

Nasun nodded.

Syran turned around.

"There are roots behind us too."

She looked toward the tunnel entrance.

There were fewer than underground.

But they were there.

Gareth suddenly pointed ahead.

"Look."

The others turned.

A temple stood among the trees.

It was large, built from what appeared to be ordinary stone.

A long staircase rose from the ground, leading toward a single door at the top.

And there wasn’t a single root around it.

Not even one.

"That’s suspicious," Marek muttered.

"Everything here is suspicious," Syran replied.

They climbed.

The massive door opened with surprising ease.

Inside, the air was cold.

They moved through the first chamber.

Then Syran stopped.

Drawings covered the walls.

She stared at them carefully.

"This is an old form of communication."

Marek looked at the drawings.

"Written language?"

"No. Pictures."

She stepped closer.

"It was once popular among humans. The beastkin didn’t use it. Neither did the goblins."

She pointed at one of the drawings.

"But these aren’t humans."

The figures had strange bodies.

Long limbs.

Unnatural shapes.

And horns.

Syran’s voice became quieter.

"They’re the Tree Race."

Nobody spoke.

They continued.

Chamber after chamber.

Drawing after drawing.

The pictures showed what looked like an entire civilization.

The Tree Race.

Living.

Building.

Gathering.

Dancing beneath enormous trees.

Until eventually—

They reached the end.

A huge stone slab blocked the path.

A tree symbol was engraved in its center, surrounded by countless strange symbols.

There was no knob.

No gap between the slab and the walls.

And there wasn’t even another path around it.

Marek stepped forward.

"Let me try."

He fired an arrow.

BOOM!

The arrow shattered.

The stone didn’t even crack.

Syran tried magic.

Nothing.

Gareth struck it with his shield.

Nothing.

Nasun examined the symbols.

Then sighed.

"We’re not getting through."

Marek frowned.

"So we go back?"

Nasun turned around.

"Yes."

They walked back toward the tunnels.

Syran looked at their captain.

"So what now?"

Nasun stopped.

He looked toward the darkness behind them.

"We came here to find the source of these roots."

His eyes narrowed.

"Now we’re going to find where they’re going."

Everyone understood.

Nasun pointed toward the other tunnel.

The right one.

"Let’s go."

They turned around.

And walked back into the darkness.