Rigor's hooves thundered against the dirt road, each powerful stride echoing through the open path as they pressed forward.
Dust rose behind them in soft clouds, trailing their journey toward the enchanted forest known as Nordrassil.
Mounted atop him, Danir unfolded the enchanted map—its surface shimmering faintly like a living thing.
The markings shifted and moved, guiding their path with precision, ensuring they would not lose their way.
Behind them, the scent of the mermaid kingdom slowly faded, carried away by distance and time.
The salty breeze of the sea was replaced by something different—cooler, quieter—unfamiliar.
The air grew colder as they advanced deeper into the continent's tropical stretch, the wind brushing against Danir's face with a chilling whisper.
It was as if the land itself was changing with every step Rigor took.
They rode to the west direction.
Until—Rigor slowed.
A fork in the road ahead!
Danir pulled the reins gently, bringing him to a halt as he studied the worn wooden sign planted at the center of the split path.
Facing west, he observed the directions carefully.
To the left—the road sloped downward, leading south—leading toThe land of beasts just a couple of miles ahead.
To the right—the path stretched forward, quieter… almost beckoning—Nordrassil.
Danir's eyes lingered for a moment, weighing the choice—though he already knew the answer.
According to the map, Nordrassil was only a few miles ahead. A forest resting at the boundary between the northern and middle regions of the Middle Continent—a place where two climates collided.
Half of it breathed in tropical warmth.
The other half endured the full cycle of the four seasons.
A forest… divided by nature itself.
Danir tightened his grip on the reins.
"…Let's go, Rigor."
And without hesitation, they turned toward the path that led to Nordrassil.
They continued along the chosen path, the rhythm of Rigor's gallop steady and sure as the road stretched deeper into unfamiliar lands.
After a while, Danir folded the enchanted map and slipped it back into his backpack.
For once, he allowed himself to simply look—to take in everything around him without thinking about directions or distance.
The world unfolded before his eyes.
Wild greenery.
Sunlight filtering through swaying branches.
The quiet hum of life hidden within the forest's edge.
Then his gaze drifted.
To the sides of Rigor's saddle—where several bags of fried salted seaweeds were tied securely.
Danir's expression softened.
"...Thanks to them, we've got more than enough food for the journey," he murmured, gently patting Rigor's neck.
The memory of the vendor… and his daughter… lingered warmly in his chest.
And somehow, that alone was enough to push away the weight of fatigue.
They rode on—motivated, lighthearted—until time slipped by almost unnoticed.
Then—the air changed.
Rigor slowed.
Before them stood the entrance
.
A massive arch of intertwined vines rose from the earth, not carved nor built—but grown, shaped by magic itself.
The vines twisted elegantly overhead, glowing faintly as if alive, forming words that shimmered in natural light—Welcome to Nordrassil.
Danir's breath caught.
"…So this is it…"
Beyond the arch, the forest stretched endlessly—lush, vibrant, and impossibly alive.
Layers of green vegetation blanketed everything, towering tropical trees reaching skyward while their leaves shimmered with traces of pixie-like magic.
Tiny motes of light floated in the air like drifting stars, dancing between branches, illuminating the forest in a dreamlike glow.
It was untouched.
Untamed.
Beautiful in a way that didn't feel real.
A place Danir once believed could only exist in fairy tales.
And now—he was standing right in front of it.
At the very entrance, the forest revealed its first guardians.
From the rooted earth itself, figures began to move—slow, deliberate, and ancient.
They were the tree-people.
Humanoid in form, yet entirely made of wood and living bark. Their bodies were shaped by twisting trunks and branching limbs, their existence neither male nor female—only beings born from the magic of the land.
It was said they were blessings of the Mother-Goddess, life given to the forest so it may protect itself.
They were called the Treants.
Standing over eight feet tall, they walked with heavy, creaking steps, as if every movement echoed through the roots beneath the soil.
Most of them lingered near the entrance of Nordrassil, patrolling slowly, silently watching all who dared to enter.
Their presence alone was enough to make even seasoned adventurers lower their guard—and their voices.
Danir felt it too.
That quiet pressure.
As if the forest was judging him.
He tightened his grip on Rigor's reins as they continued forward.
Deeper.
Further in, the world grew heavier.
And then—the ground trembled.
Not violently… but with a deep, ancient rhythm.
Ahead stood towering figures of stone—the Stone Giants!
Colossal humanoid beings, rising over twenty feet high, their bodies sculpted from raw rock and earth. Moss clung to their surfaces, vines wrapped around their limbs, as though the forest itself had claimed them as its own.
Like the Treants, they bore no gender. No identity.
Only purpose—to protect.
They moved slowly, each step deliberate—like guardians who had stood there for centuries and would continue to stand for centuries more.
Danir felt small.
Insignificant.
Yet strangely… safe.
Then—the atmosphere shifted again.
From heavy… to light.
Tiny figures fluttered into view, glowing softly as they danced through the air.
Fairies!
Delicate, radiant beings no larger than a hand, with butterfly wings shimmering in hues of gold, blue, and green.
They were born from the blooming tropical flowers that surrounded the heart of Nordrassil—the Tree of Life.
All of them female.
All of them smiling.
And all of them… watching.
They were known as the providers of Aetherdew—the sacred essence of the Tree of Life.
Danir's eyes widened.
Because now—he wasn't alone.
Adventurers from different kingdoms filled the area around the Tree of Life. Some stood confidently, others hesitated, and a few… looked utterly broken.
Some had already consumed more than five Aetherdews.
Others—Couldn't even finish one.
Danir swallowed.
A faint unease crept into his chest.
"…How painful is it…?" he thought.
His gaze slowly lifted.
And then—he saw it.
The Tree of Life.
His breath hitched.
"…That's…?"
It was… familiar.
Too familiar.
A coconut tree.
The same kind he knew from his former world.
But this one—was monstrous.
Its trunk was massive, wide as a fortress tower. Branches extended unnaturally in all directions—far more than any normal coconut tree ever could. It rose endlessly upward, its peak disappearing into the clouds, as if it pierced the heavens themselves.
Alive.
Majestic.
Overwhelming!
At its roots, a stone tablet stood firmly planted in the earth.
Words were carved into its surface:
"You shall ask for it, and it will be given."
Danir remained silent.
But others—did not.
"I want an Aetherdew!" one adventurer shouted.
"Give me an Aetherdew!" another demanded.
In response—The fairies moved.
They fluttered upward toward the towering tree, gently retrieving glowing fruits—Aetherdews—and bringing them down to those who called.
Danir didn't step forward.
Not yet.
He watched.
Carefully.
Patiently.
As one adventurer received an Aetherdew, the fairies hovered around him and delicately opened a small hole in the fruit's surface.
From within—A radiant blue liquid surged out, glowing with power.
The man drank.
At first—Relief.
Satisfaction.
The Aetherdew quenched both hunger and thirst instantly.
But then— His body froze.
His expression twisted!
And then—Pain!
Pure, excruciating pain!
Danir's eyes widened as the man collapsed to his knees, trembling violently, veins bulging as if something inside him was tearing itself apart.
"…So this is the price…" Danir whispered.
And worse—
He learned the rule.
You must consume every drop.
Every single drop.
Fail to do so—
And the fairies would decide your punishment.
The Fairy's Curse!
Danir felt a chill crawl up his spine.
"They take… parts of you…" he muttered under his breath.
Eyes.
Ears.
Arms.
Legs.
Even hair.
Whatever they chose—You lose.
And the worst part?
Those who truly failed…
Would no longer remain human.
They would be turned into insects.
Forever!
Remembering all about it from Yuri's diary.
Danir clenched his fists.
This wasn't a blessing.
This was a trial.
A gamble.
A cruel exchange between power… and consequence.
And now—He stood right in front of it.
Danir slowly dropped to his knees before the towering Tree of Life.
The world around him seemed to quiet down—as if even the forest itself was listening.
With trembling hands, he pressed his palms together and bowed his head.
"Tree of Life… please grant me your fruit of power," he whispered, his voice steady despite the storm raging inside his chest.
For a brief moment—nothing!
Then, a soft flutter.
A fairy descended before him, glowing gently, carrying a single Aetherdew in her tiny hands.
It shimmered with a deep, radiant blue—like liquid magic trapped inside a fragile shell.
Danir reached for it.
Carefully.
Reverently.
This… was his first step.His first gamble. His first true test.
He raised the Aetherdew to his lips and drank.
At first—nothing happened. Relief almost came but then—it hit. The pain!
Not ordinary pain.
Not something the body could prepare for.
It surged through him like a thousand needles stabbing into every vein at once—burning, tearing, spreading through his entire being as if his body was being rewritten from the inside.
Danir's eyes widened.
His breath shattered.
His body trembled violently!
"Ghh—!!"
He almost dropped the fruit.
Almost gave up.
Almost stopped.
But then—a memory flashe—
His brothers. His father.
The legends he admired.
The version of himself he wanted to become.
So his teeth clenched!
"I… won't… stop…"
With sheer will, he forced himself to finish every last drop.
The moment the final drop slid down his throat—the pain peaked.
And then—it faded just like that.
Danir collapsed forward, gasping for air, his entire body drenched in sweat.
"…I'm… still alive…" he whispered. Shaking, but smiling.
Then—he did something insane.
He reached for another.
Even as his body screamed in protest, Danir's mind sharpened.
He started counting.
One… two… three!
Even in agony, he observed. Measured. Learned.
"A minute… and a half…" he muttered through gritted teeth, enduring the second wave of pain.
By the time he finished his second Aetherdew, his body was already on the verge of collapse.
Still—he took a third.
That day—Three.
Only three Aetherdews his limits.
And yet, it felt like he had walked through death itself.
As night fell, Danir set up a small camp near the Tree of Life, too exhausted to move any further.
With trembling hands, he opened his grimoire.
His eyes widened.
"+3000…?"
Each Aetherdew had granted him +1000 to his MP, Intelligence, and Endurance.
Power.
Real power.
But the cost—he understood it now.
Endurance didn't reduce the pain.
It only made sure you survived it.
"That's… cruel…" he whispered.
But fair!
In a brutal way.
That night, as the forest darkened, another kind of beauty revealed itself.
Lights.
Soft, floating lights.
Danir lifted his gaze.
Wisps.
They drifted through the air like living stars—small, glowing orbs of pure white light, hovering gently above the forest floor.
They illuminated the darkness, blending seamlessly with the faint glow of pixie magic that filled Nordrassil.
They were known as the guides of the night.
And under their silent watch—The forest became something else entirely.
Dreamlike.
Peaceful.
Almost sacred.
Danir lay back on the soft grass, his body still aching, his mind still racing.
Beside him, Rigor quietly munched on the fried salted seaweeds they had brought along.
Danir didn't need food.
The Aetherdew had already filled him completely.
He stared up at the glowing wisps, watching them dance across the sky like fireflies caught between worlds.
"…I'm really here…" he whispered.
Not Earth.
Not a dream.
This world.
This life.
And this path—he chose it.
The next day, he continued.
Three more Aetherdews.
Then again.
And again!
Day after day, pushing himself beyond his limits, enduring pain that would break most adventurers.
Until finally—he reached his goal.
Ten!
Ten Aetherdews.
Ten trials.
Ten victories over himself.
Now—his grimoire reflected it.
+10,000 to MP.
+10,000 to Intelligence.
+10,000 to Endurance.
Danir Granger was no longer the same boy who entered Nordrassil.
On the fourth night, he lay once more at his campsite, the familiar glow of the wisps surrounding him.
Rigor rested nearby.
The forest breathed quietly around them.
Danir raised his grimoire again.
Slowly.
Silently.
"…Let's see…" he murmured.
Grimoire's 1st page:
Danir Granger — Level 39 BladeMagus:
BP: 7,675
MP: 3,400+10,000=13,400
STR: 6,479
SPD: 6,577
END: 6,475+10,000=16,475
INT: 1,905+10,000=11,905
Grimoire's 2nd page: Ice Shards Daggers.
Grimoire's 3rd page: Water-Cannon & Fever-Moist
Grimoire's 4th page: "Nature's Touch. Low-heal." (Can only heal minor wounds).
"Nature's Touch. High-heal." (Can heal deeper wounds.) And, (Will be unlock after reaching level 50).
Grimoire's 5th page and the rest: (Still empty)
Deep within his heart, something stirred.
A quiet flame.
Not loud, not overwhelming—but steady.
Warm.
Danir stared at the numbers written across his grimoire, his fingers brushing lightly against the page as if making sure it was real.
All that pain.
All those nights.
All those moments where he thought he might break—they meant something.
A faint smile slowly formed on his lips.
"This… will do for now," he whispered.
It wasn't pride.
Not yet, but it was enough. Enough to keep going. Enough to believe that he was finally moving forward.
For the first time since stepping into this world, Danir felt it clearly—PROGRESS!
And with it…a quiet, burning happiness that settled deep within his chest.