Eventually, after what felt like four individual soul-crushing heart attacks and two miles of continuous internal crying, the dense forest gave way to a towering stone archway.
The air grew instantly frigid. A dark rift split the earth ahead, plunging deep into a misty canyon that smelled faintly of dead bodies rotting. Right beside the entrance stood a massive, weathered granite monument. Carved directly into the stone were glowing red runes that burned bright enough to read even through the thick fog:
DANGER: WHISPERING RAVINE
STRICT RESTRICTION: BEASTMEN BELOW LEVEL 30 ARE FORBIDDEN ENTRY. DEATH IS GUARANTEED.
Ingrid paused, resting her hands on her knees while trying to drag air back into her burning lungs. Her eyes lingered on the numbers. In this weird world, Beastmen leveled up their Beast Cores through hunting, training, and absorbing spirit herbs. A Level 1 was basically a toddler with claws, Level 10 was a full warrior like Falcon, and Level 30... well, Level 30 meant you could probably tear down a small house with your bare hands.
She turned her head, wiping sweat from her forehead with her filthy sleeve, and squinted at the tall snake man standing beside her.
"I’m just curious," Ingrid panted, leaning her shoulder against a tree trunk. "What level beastman are you, exactly?"
Lysander turned to face her. At some point during their miserable trek, he had tied a dark sheer veil across his face, covering the black marks on his right cheek. The light breeze made the cloth flutter slightly, obscuring his features. She couldn’t see his expression clearly, but as he tilted his head, the veil pressed tightly against his mouth, and she clearly saw two elongated white fangs sliding down past his lower lip, glinting slightly under the light.
Slowly, Lysander leaned down. His height was intimidating on a good day, but bending over until his face was mere inches from hers made her heart skip a beat. His single purple eye glowed with an eerie, predatory light.
"Why don’t you guess?" he rasped, his voice smooth, low, and vibrating right through her chest.
Ingrid deadpanned. She stared at his glowing eye, blinked twice, and then reached out, shoving his chest away with both hands.
"Keep your secrets then, drama queen. You’re probably trash like me anyway." She squared her thick shoulders and patted her massive belly with an unbothered grin. "But hey, don’t worry about it. I’m fatter trash. So at least fatter trash can crush our enemies into pancakes."
Lysander stumbled back half a step from her blunt shove, shaking his head slowly. He didn’t say a word, turning his back to her to lead the way past the warning stone. But as he stepped through the archway, Ingrid caught a tiny detail, the thin veil over his mouth twitched, his lips curving upward a fraction of an inch before his face went completely stone-cold again.
The moment they descended into the Whispering Ravine, the sunlight vanished. The canyon walls towered above them, casting long shadows over a carpet of strange, glowing violet moss. Spiky vines clung to the rocks, and every few seconds, a strange, hollow whistle echoed through the dark crevices, like a thousand voices whispering at once.
’Oh, this is why it’s called the Whispering Ravine. Because it literally whispers.’ Ingrid thought to herself.
After what looked like hours, Ingrid spun around in circles, her eyes wide as she scanned the floor, the walls, and the twisted roots sticking out of the mud.
Nothing. Not a single glowing orchid, dragon root, or golden flower. Just rocks, mud, and weird creeping weeds.
’Lorna!’ Ingrid yelled in her mind, her hands flying to her hips. ’I don’t see a single thing! I am not wandering around this creepy digestive tract blind! Give me a map!’
{ SYSTEM NOTE: What, do I look like Google Maps to you? You think I just carry a GPS for every death valley in the realm? } Lorna’s voice sneered in her head, though a bright translucent holographic grid immediately popped up in Ingrid’s line of sight anyway. { Fine. Take it, you entitled potato. Follow the red blinking path and try not to step on anything that bites. }
"Thanks for the stellar customer service," Ingrid muttered under her breath, following the glowing red line floating in the air.
Lysander walked a few paces ahead of her, his steps completely silent against the moss, his hand resting casually near the hilt of a curved bone dagger strapped to his waist. They walked deeper into the canyon, the fog growing so thick Ingrid could barely see five feet in front of her face.
Suddenly, Lysander stopped dead in his tracks. He held up one long, clawed hand, his posture going instantly rigid. Ingrid almost crashed right into his back, pulling her frame to a screeching halt just in time. She immediately inched closer, practically sticking herself to his arm like a giant human shadow, her eyes darting frantically around the dark mist.
"What?" she whispered loudly, her voice trembling slightly. "What’s happening?"
"Stop walking," Lysander commanded softly, his single purple eye narrowing as he swept his gaze across the dense fog. "Can’t you hear it? Can’t you smell it?"
Ingrid sniffed the air aggressively. She strained her ears, holding her breath. "I... I don’t hear anything? It just smells like wet dirt and expired broccoli." She shook her head. "I don’t get it."
Before Lysander could answer, a violent, blaring red siren shrieked directly inside Ingrid’s skull, nearly making her jump out of her skin.
{ ALERT! EXTREME DANGER! HOSTILES APPROACHING AT HIGH SPEED! }
’Hostiles?!’ Ingrid screamed internally, her jaw locking up in pure terror. ’Is it the giant man-eating flytraps?! Are the plants coming for us?!’
{ Worse! They aren’t normal Beastmen, and they certainly aren’t plants! } Lorna shouted, the golden system panel turning a flashing, angry crimson red. { HOST, LOOK ALIVE! THEY’RE ZOMBIES! UNDEAD BEASTMEN ARE SURROUNDING YOU! }
"Zomb—?!"
Before the word could fully leave Ingrid’s mouth, the fog in front of them tore open.
A sickening, wet squelching sound echoed through the ravine, followed by a low, rattling groan that sent a wave of horror straight down her spine. Out of the darkness dragged a horrific, grey-skinned creature, a rotting wolf beastman with half its jaw missing, milky white eyes, and black liquid oozing from its open chest cavity.
And right behind it, dozens more snap-cracked out of the shadows, their twisted, decayed claws dragging along the stone floor as their milky white eyes locked onto the two living bodies in their domain.
"Run..." Lysander shifted back, his frame rigid but Ingrid could undoubtedly hear the panic in his voice, "RUN!"