Chapter 19 The Croak That Shook the Forest （2）
Sylendra planted her feet firmly in the earth, her hands glowing with emerald light as she chanted in a sharp, commanding tone.
The ground trembled beneath us, and within seconds, enormous thorn-covered vines burst from the soil, weaving themselves into a towering wall.
It surged upward like a living fortress, slamming shut between us and the advancing swarm.
The air filled with the hiss and screeches of the Gloomcroaks on the other side, their claws scraping against the vine wall in a frenzy. Sylendra’s breathing was heavy, sweat dripping down her brow.
“That won’t hold them for long,” she warned, her voice low but urgent.
Before I could respond, heavy footsteps approached from behind. Captain Darruk appeared—towering, broad-shouldered, and still streaked with dirt and blood from the fight. Without a word, he crouched down, hooked an arm under me, and hoisted me effortlessly onto his shoulder.
“Hold on, kid,” he grunted before breaking into a run. Sylendra didn’t hesitate to follow, her cloak snapping in the wind as she kept pace beside him I put my sword back in my item box.
As we raced down the uneven path, Darruk’s voice cut through the sound of my pounding heartbeat.
“That was stupid—charging straight into the swarm and attacking the Molgurath like that.” For a moment, I thought he was furious.
But then, to my surprise, a small grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“Still… you bought the soldiers enough time to escape. For that, I thank you.”
I was stunned. A compliment—from him—was the last thing I’d expected in this moment.
The ground shook faintly behind us, and I glanced over my shoulder.
My stomach tightened. The wall Sylendra had conjured was already withering, the once-verdant vines turning black and brittle as the Gloomcroaks’ corruption spread.
Their twisted, frog-like forms were breaking through, their glowing eyes fixed on us.
We reached the shore of the lake just as the shouts of soldiers and the screeches of monsters blurred into chaos behind us.
A wooden boat was waiting, bobbing gently in the dark water.
Several soldiers ushered us aboard in haste, and the oars splashed almost instantly, driving us away from the shore.
As the distance grew, I turned one last time. The village was barely visible now, swallowed by the swarm. The faint glow of burning homes flickered through the haze, and the screams had faded into an eerie, unnatural silence.
“What about the villagers?” I asked quietly, my voice tight.
Darruk didn’t look at me. His eyes stayed fixed on the darkening horizon. “They all made it to the other side safely before the Gloomcroaks reached them,” he said, his tone firm but edged with something I couldn’t quite name—relief, perhaps, or regret.
I exhaled slowly, the tension in my chest easing just a fraction.
The rhythmic splash of the oars against the dark water and the distant, muffled cries of the soldiers began to blur together.
My eyelids grew heavy, the weight of exhaustion pulling me down.
As the ruined village faded from view behind us, my vision dimmed, and the sounds of the lake became a distant hum.
Before I could think any further, everything went black—I’d fallen unconscious in the boat.
When I woke, the air was cool and heavy with the scent of pine and damp earth. Night had fallen, and the gentle crackle of a campfire drew my attention. I pushed myself up from the blanket someone had laid over me, my muscles still sore, and glanced toward the glow.
The villagers were gathered close around the flames, their faces lit in shifting shades of orange and gold.
Some whispered quietly to one another, others simply stared into the fire as if trying to forget what lay beyond its light.
Children clung to their parents, their small hands gripping tightly.
“It’s sad, isn’t it?”
I turned at the sound of the voice. Darruk stood beside me, his broad frame casting a long shadow across the grass. His tone was low, almost reluctant, but there was a glimmer of sincerity in his eyes.
Seeing my confusion, he lowered himself to sit beside me. “Seeing them like that,” he continued, nodding toward the villagers, “knowing what they’ve lost… it never gets easier.”
For a moment, we simply sat there, the quiet between us filled by the crackle of burning wood. Then he glanced at me, his expression softening. “You know… I still want to thank you for what you did back there.”
I gave a small smile and shook my head. “Don’t mention it. I was just doing what I thought was right.”
Darruk’s lips curved into a rare, faint smile. “Then keep doing that.”
I looked up at the night sky. It stretched endlessly above us, scattered with countless stars, their light shimmering faintly on the rippling surface of the lake nearby. For a moment, it was almost peaceful—if not for the knowledge of what lurked beyond.
“Where’s Sylendra?” I asked.
“She’s at the cliff,” Darruk replied, his gaze shifting toward the far end of camp. “Overseeing the lake… and the village.”
I nodded and rose to my feet. “Alright. I’ll go see how she’s doing.”
The grass whispered under my boots as I made my way toward the cliffside. The air grew cooler the closer I got, and I could hear the faint lapping of waves far below.
There she was—standing near the edge, her silhouette framed by moonlight, cloak fluttering gently in the breeze. For a moment, she didn’t move, her gaze fixed on the dark horizon where the ruined village lay hidden in the night.
I approached quietly, then spoke just loud enough for her to hear. “How are you holding up?”
Sylendra glanced over her shoulder at me, her expression unreadable in the pale light. After a pause, she gave a faint, tired smile. “I’ve been better… but I’m still standing.”
I stepped up beside her, the wind tugging lightly at my clothes.
From the cliff, the lake stretched out like a sheet of black glass, reflecting the moonlight in fractured ripples.
But the beauty of the water was marred by the dark shapes moving within it—the Gloomcroaks, their pale eyes gleaming faintly as they claimed what had once been safe ground.
Beyond the far shore, the village lay in ruins, its charred remains silhouetted against the faint glow of dying embers.
Sylendra’s voice broke the silence.
“I’m… sorry.”
The words caught me off guard. I turned to look at her, frowning. She wasn’t facing me, but her shoulders trembled.
Then she said, voice cracking, “I wasn’t able to protect the village.”
Her breath hitched, and a tear slid down her cheek, catching the moonlight before falling. Another followed, then another, until she raised a gloved hand to wipe at her eyes, only to smear the dampness across her skin.
“I promised them…” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the wind. “I told them they’d be safe if they stayed under our watch. But in the end… all I did was buy them time to run.”
Her knees bent slightly as if the weight of her own words pressed down on her. I could hear the raw grief in her breathing—uneven, shaky, each inhale a struggle. She clenched her jaw, trying to steady herself, but her tears refused to stop, slipping down her face in silent streaks.
For a long moment, we stood there in silence, the distant calls of the Gloomcroaks echoing faintly across the water, a haunting reminder of what had been lost. The smell of ash drifted faintly on the breeze, carried from the still-smoking ruins on the far shore.
When her tears finally slowed, Sylendra wiped her face with the back of her hand. She kept her gaze on the lake for a long moment before speaking again, her voice quieter than before.
“I’m… sorry I dragged you into this,” she said, not meeting my eyes. “I thought there’d only be a few of them. I guessed wrong.” She let out a shaky breath, her shoulders sagging. “There’s no point in fighting anymore. I’ll take the villagers somewhere else… somewhere safer. We’ll start over.”
She turned away from the cliffside, her boots crunching lightly against the grass. But before she left, she paused and glanced back at me.
“I’m sorry, Raito, for what happened here.” Her expression was shadowed, weighed down by something more than exhaustion. “When the sun rises… you can leave, if you want.”
Then she walked into the forest, her figure swallowed by the darkness between the trees.
I stood there for a while, looking out over the still, black lake. The moon reflected in the ripples like a pale, broken coin. The distant calls of the Gloomcroaks carried across the water, their voices echoing through the ruined silence.
Finally, I sank down onto the grass and let out a long breath. Is this really the end? I muttered the words without meaning to.
No. It couldn’t be.
I opened my status window, the familiar glowing panels unfolding before me in the air. My eyes scanned over the skills and stats, mind racing. What should I do…?
Then I saw it—the skill I’d begun working on almost a week ago. The progress bar was nearly full.
Almost done.
My pulse quickened. This is it. This is what I need to kill those things.
I checked the timer: 25 hours left. That was all. If I could hold out just long enough, I’d have the power I needed.
A grin tugged at my lips for the first time that night. “Alright… I just need to last until then.”
I opened my Online Shop interface, the familiar display popping up in front of me. My fingers moved quickly, purchasing bundles of food—bread, dried meat, fruit—until I’d spent nearly 100 gold coins. The items appeared instantly in my inventory, and I transferred them into a large leather pack.
Hoisting it onto my shoulder, I started back toward camp. The glow of the villagers’ campfire grew brighter between the trees. When I stepped into the clearing, I called out, “Sylendra!”
She looked up from where she’d been speaking to Darruk and approached me, her brows furrowed. “Is something the matter?”
Without a word, I handed her the pack. “Give this to the villagers.”
Sylendra glanced down at it, curiosity flickering in her eyes. She pulled the flap open and froze when she saw the contents—an abundance of food, far more than they’d had before. She looked back at me, confusion deepening. “Where did you…?”
I was already turning away.
“Where are you going?” she called after me.
“I just need to finish something,” I replied over my shoulder, my voice steady. Then I walked past the edge of the firelight and into the waiting dark.
I gave Sylendra a faint smile—just enough to hide the storm brewing inside me—before turning away and letting the darkness swallow me.
The campfire’s glow faded behind me, replaced by the soft silver of moonlight filtering through the trees. My boots crunched over damp soil and scattered leaves as I made my way toward the lake. The air was colder here, the faint scent of ash mingling with the earthy aroma of wet grass.
When I reached the shoreline, the water lay still, disturbed only by the occasional ripple. In the distance, faint splashes and guttural croaks echoed across the lake—the Gloomcroaks still lingered in their new domain.
As I stood there, watching the dark shapes move in the water, a memory stirred.
My mind drifted back to a classroom, to the dull hum of a ceiling fan and the steady voice of my old biology teacher.
He had been talking about amphibians—about how frogs, being cold-blooded, could survive freezing temperatures by entering a suspended state during winter like there frozen.
At the time, I had barely been paying attention, doodling in the margins of my notebook. But the words had stuck somewhere in the back of my mind.
And now… now those words might save an entire village.
A small, grim smile curved my lips. “Guess listening when your teacher’s talking can actually come in handy,” I murmured to myself.