abnabooks Chapter 117: Whisper of the Forest Ghost
Chapter 117: Whisper of the Forest Ghost
Chapter 117: Whisper of the Forest GhostGrunt.
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
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.