Reincarnated in a novel: I am the villain!-Chapter 256: Nightmare

Time soon passed and the fire continued to crackle, casting long, dancing shadows against the rib-bone cages.

The surviving Drifters, about fifteen of them stood in a loose semi-circle, clutching the bone spears and dried meat Damien had allowed them to scavenge.

They looked at the masked figure in the black coat, waiting for orders. Waiting to be told they were saved.

Damien stood up from the log, dusting off his trench coat.

"I am leaving," Damien announced, his metallic voice cutting through the hope in the air.

A murmur of panic went through the group. An Elf woman stepped forward, her hands clasping a rusted knife.

"Take us with you!" she begged. "Please! We won’t make it alone!"

"You’re right," Damien said coldly. "You won’t."

He reached into his void gem and pulled out a small, flat piece of the obsidian axe he had shattered earlier.

He pressed his thumb against the stone.

VWMMM.

A pulse of Will surged from his thumb, burning a complex, glowing violet 0 sigil into the rock.

He tossed the stone to the Elf woman. She caught it, nearly dropping it as she felt the heavy, suffocating pressure radiating from the object.

"I am not a babysitter," Damien said. "And I don’t need refugees nor do I need extra dead weight."

He pointed back toward the way he had come, toward the cliffs leading up to the Layer 1 vortex.

"If you want to live, fight your way back to Abysshaven. Find a tavern called the Rust Bucket. Give this token to the Dwarf bartender, Gorim."

He looked at the shivering group.

"Tell him Zero sent you. If you survive the journey... you have a place in my ranks."

Elian, standing nearby with his bone cane, shook his head in disbelief.

"You are recruiting trash?" Elian whispered.

"They are all hopless and broken, Kid it’s pointless. They will die before they even reach the bridge."

"If they die, they were indeed trash," Damien replied, turning his back on them.

"But if they survive?."

He adjusted his mask.

"Let’s go."

..................

Damien, Isabelle, and Elian left the clearing, plunging deeper into the fungal jungle.

As they moved away from the settlement, the environment began to change. The vibrant, neon bioluminescence of the outer jungle faded.

The air grew heavier, thicker. A choking grey fog rolled in, reducing visibility to a few meters.

Wary of the change, he used his consumed some DP to analyse the surrounding change.

[System Warning: Airborne Toxin Level Increasing.]

[Filtration System: Active.]

Damien’s mask hissed softly as it scrubbed the air.

Elian pulled a rag soaked in neutralizing alchemy over his mouth. Isabelle, however, had no mask.

"Watch your step," Elian wheezed, stopping suddenly and pointing his cane at a patch of moss that looked identical to the rest of the ground.

"Mana Trap," the old Arch-Mage warned.

"Look closely at the veins."

Damien hearing this looked closer and sure enough something was strange.

The veins in the moss were vibrating rapidly, hungry for contact.

"Carnivorous," Elian explained.

"It senses mana signatures. If you step there, it snaps shut with enough force to break a leg bone. Then it’ll digests you alive."

Damien nodded, impressed. "Good eye."

They skirted the trap.

Without Elian, Damien might have walked right into it, relying too much on his high defense. The old man was proving his worth.

Silence....

An hour later, the fog was so thick it felt like walking through soup.

The silence was oppressive. No insects buzzed. No wind blew. There was only the sound of their boots squelching in the mud.

Then, the whispers started.

...useless... ...monster... ...he will leave you...

Isabelle stopped.

Her breathing hitched. She grabbed her head, her claws digging into her scalp.

"No," she whimpered. "I... I locked the door."

Damien stopped and turned. "Isabelle?"

Isabelle wasn’t looking at him. Her eyes were wide, staring at empty space.

Her pupils were dilating rapidly, the red of her irises bleeding into the whites.

"The cage," she mumbled, trembling violently. "It’s cold. Why is it so cold? Master... don’t leave me in the dark."

The spores were psychoactive. They were reacting to her demon blood, bypassing her natural resistance and dragging her deepest fears to the surface.

To her, the jungle had vanished. She was back in the rusted cage where Elizabeth had found her, small, starving, and alone.

She dropped to her knees, hyperventilating. Her aura flared uncontrollably, scorching the nearby ferns.

"Isabelle!" Elian shouted, backing away.

"She’s losing it! The Demon Blood is reacting!"

Damien However didn’t back away.

He deactivated the Scourge of the Rat King, letting the chains retract fully.

He stepped forward, ignoring the scorching heat of her aura, and grabbed her by the shoulders.

"Isabelle."

[Will Art: Sensory Intent].

Withough hesitation, he began to focuss using his mind. He expanded his own consciousness, his absolute, unshakable confidence, and wrapped it around her fracturing mind like a warm blanket.

He forced his reality onto hers.

There is no cage. There is no cold. I am here.

Isabelle gasped. The red glow in her eyes stabilized. The vision of the rusted bars shattered, replaced by the sight of Damien’s metal mask reflecting the grey fog.

"Master?" she choked out, tears streaming down her face.

"I’m here," Damien said, his voice firm.

"The spores are lying to you. Focus on my Intent. As long as you feel me, you are not lost."

Isabelle took a shuddering breath, grounding herself in the weight of his presence. She nodded slowly, wiping her eyes.

"I... I’m sorry, Master...."

"No," Damien pulled her up. "Don’t say anything more its fine"

Saying this, after Damien gave Elian a look and confirmed Isabelle was okay, they pushed forward

Not only that but he bade sure to keep a mental link open with Isabelle to shield her mind.

Finally, the trees opened up.

They stood at the edge of a massive, bowl-shaped clearing.

In the center, pulsating with a sickening, rhythmic beat, was a colossal root system.

It looked like a heart made of wood and rotting flesh, easily the size of a house. Massive arteries of green light pumped mana from the earth into the canopy.

The Vein of the Earth.

But it wasn’t just a plant.

As they stepped into the clearing, the air rippled.

The shadows stretching from the roots began to twist. They looked like people.

Elian gasped, clutching his Sanity Potion. "It’s starting... the immune system is reacting."

The trees around the clearing seemed to lean in, their branches turning into grasping hands. The wind howled, but it sounded like the voices of dead friends.

...Elian... why did you leave us... ...Zero... you failed...

Damien tightened his grip on the Pantheon Sword.

The Guardian of Layer 2 wasn’t a monster that roared, this time it was the atmosphere itself.

"Don’t listen," Damien ordered, his Will flaring like a lighthouse in the fog.

"It’s all fake."

He drew his sword. The white blade glowed, cutting through the gloom.

"Come out," Damien challenged the shifting air.

"Let’s see what nightmares you have for me."