It stretched as a living, dense wall, sharing borders with three kingdoms, a corruption biome, and a crimson biome. Above the forest, Plantera kept watch—not as a ruler, but as the very will of the jungle, hidden in the vines, leaves, and poisonous silence. Underground, there was a settlement of lizardfolk, and among them stood a ancient golem, old as the forgotten stone foundations of the world. It stood silently, a sentinel, a warning to anyone daring to disturb the forest's peace.
The Crimson and Corruption wanted to devour the forest, but even they were reluctant to start a war here. Too dangerous. Too unpredictable.
Suddenly, amidst the trees, a tear in space appeared. It happened in an instant, as if the world had blinked. The air shivered. Leaves lifted. And out of the rift fell a man.
He collapsed onto the grass, emaciated, his body looking more dead than alive—skin stretched over bones. Yet his breath still trembled.
No empire, no monster, no small creature noticed him. Only the Moonlord and the last dryad sensed a strange ripple in the forest.
He lay motionless until night fell. When darkness cloaked the forest, he felt the first sensation of pain—in his right leg. A tiny green slime, barely visible in the grass, had started probing his skin. Its acid only damaged the surface layer, but that was enough to make his body respond.
— Oh… my whole body hurts… I… I can feel! Yes! Yes! Finally!
The sound alarmed the forest. Animals froze, monsters stirred toward the source. A chill ran down his spine, his heart pounding.
— But why does my leg hurt like I stepped on a sharp stone?
He began to recall. Void. Darkness. Fragments of memories from another world.
— No way… this is another world?..
Then he remembered the system.
A window appeared in front of his eyes:
Name: Arthur
Race: Doppelganger
Subrace: Human
No hints, no instructions, no actions. Just name and essence, a reminder of who he was.
At that moment, a zombie emerged from the trees. The dead body staggered, arms outstretched, empty gaze. Arthur sprinted away. Fireflies barely lit his path.
Soon he encountered a lurker of the living forest—Plantera's offspring, root-like but mobile and dangerous.
— Damn… that's not a root!
Nearby, among the giant flowers, gigantic Terraria bees hovered—the size of his body, their wings trembling, stingers sharp. They collected pollen for their queen, but any misstep could be fatal. He froze, watching them, feeling the dangerous beauty of the forest, where every life was both exquisite and deadly.
He reached the edge of the thick undergrowth and froze. The Erlinor Forest stretched around him in all its terrifying beauty. If not a hundred, then dozens of giant trees rose upward, their canopies lost in the night fog. Each tree was like a tower, mighty and ancient, as if any horror could hide behind it—from lurking slimes to sleeping giant bees.
Arthur tensed and ran toward the nearest massive tree. It was closer than the rest, almost in a straight line ahead, and he realized: if he wanted to survive the night, he had to climb it or at least find shelter among its roots.
A narrow crack gaped among the tree's roots, like a door. He quickly peeked inside and saw a table, a chair, and a chest. Checking for mimics, he threw the chair at the chest—nothing happened.
The chest opened: an iron axe and a chestplate. The heavy metal felt satisfying in his hands, giving at least some sense of security.
Beyond the crack, the forest lived its life: Plantera above, underground lizardfolk and the ancient golem, slimes, zombies, giant bees, flowers, vines—part of a living, dangerous world that showed no mercy and expected no intruders.
Arthur gripped the axe, lifted the chestplate. He was still alone, naked, facing the Erlinor Forest. But now he had his past, his name, his essence, and his weapons, giving him at least a chance to survive.