An unknown environment requires proper attention. Haste and hesitation can equally create disaster.

~Lugh, God of Battle and Craft

Groggily, Crow shook his head, trying to clear the foggy feeling that had settled over him. He felt like his body was on fire, and tiny ants were crawling inside his skin. Every bit of him hurt and tingled. It wasn’t pleasant.

“Blergh!” Crow spat out the swamp mud that had settled in his mouth. The compost rot taste was horrible and even rinsing his mouth with water didn’t help. Pushing himself up, his hands sank further into the mud, and he tried to scuttle backward to find solid ground. It didn’t matter how reliable the ground, the mushy dead foliage remained wet, and there was no place that was dry in this awful environment.

Moss and mold covered most areas close to the ground too. White mushroom caps were the only splash of color, but Crow knew every one of them was poisonous. The creepy-looking grove was covered in webbing, vines, and other thick vegetation—it was the stuff of nightmares.

Standing on shaky legs, he looked down at his naked body and sighed.

“Grandpa Niall, did you curse me? You evil bastard,” Crow muttered under his breath, and somewhere else in the tower, an old man chuckled in his sleep. Using water from his Soulscape, Crow meticulously cleaned himself of mud before putting clothes on once more.

Before putting on his shirt, he gently probed his Shield. The wood-like texture still had the silver mirror sheen, but it also had the warmth and suppleness of his skin and flesh. It was a part of him, and until he activated the Shield, it was closer to a tattoo than a hardened object. Activating his Shield, he could feel it harden to a point it felt like a piece of bark was strapped to his chest. It practically thrummed with power, and for the first time, he no longer felt resistance drawing on his Source. Mana veins, which Crow assumed were his meridians, could be seen below his skin in all manner of patterns across his flesh. He really looked like the images he’d seen of the Draoidh, which was fascinating. Not even his grandpa or father had this same effect while using their Shield.

Crow knew the exposure of his power like that wasn’t normal. It was probably a combination of his heritage, scarification tattoos, and the martial body cultivation—chakras. Still, the smooth way the mana or Qi flowed through his body left him a little shocked. For example, if he wanted to cast his makeshift fireball now, its explosive force would be ten times more potent than before. More than that, he’d be able to form and release it ten times faster, too.

There were things he still needed to do before finding his way out of this place. So he found a large rock and burned away the moisture and foliage. He even managed to use the heat of his flames to level the top of it. Crow wasn’t a germaphobe, but this damp swamp was already getting under his skin, and he wanted a dry place to cultivate for a few days.

The reasoning was that he wasn’t used to his body anymore. He could feel the changes were profound, and if he had to fight, he feared he’d die. In combat, control might be more important than technique. If his body was something he didn’t understand or have the ability to control, he’d suffer a loss.

Not only did he practice his martial abilities, but he went through all his skills to make sure he knew how they’d operate. The most surprising was his Ghostly Aura. Used with his Ghostly Visage, he was pretty sure it wasn’t just a camouflage technique anymore because he felt incorporeal. There was no way to thoroughly test it by himself, but the main difference was that his body had no definition. He became an actual ghost which meant a solid object would pass through him. That seemed amazing, but he had doubts. Iron or salt, for example, he had a feeling that they’d harm him tremendously in that state.

Ghostly Visage’s other abilities seemed to be more potent too. Out of curiosity, he tried Faces of the Dead, and it was so chaotic he immediately stopped. It was like the dead was whispering to him and telling him things he shouldn’t know—things about the dead person’s life. Having knowledge about the deceased was creepy, and he shivered just thinking about it. It was one thing to take on their appearance, but another to take on their spirit or aura filled with memories that didn’t belong to him.

Honestly, with all his ghost and spirit-related skills, he worried about the type of Druid he was becoming. Truthfully, he’d rather be a ranger type, relying on his woodcraft, tracking, and archery skills, not playing around with powers related to the parted.

Thoughts drifted from one thing to the next until he focused on his age. Physically, he knew his birthday had recently passed, and he was now seventeen. Mentally… months in the Clocktower, years in his Soulscape, and who knows how long he’d spent in this forsaken place—it all meant he felt five times older than he was. This was something a cultivator had to face, and he didn’t shy away from his own thoughts. Understanding he embarked on a path of immortality meant time had less of a grasp on him. Even with his curse and decreased vitality, gaining his Shield had recovered most of it. There was no longer a sense of impending doom or urgency to gain power. At least not for his sake.

Coming to grips with time and the changes in him, he finally focused on the thing he’d hesitated about the most—his Constellation. Concentrating on the Stars within, each gave him an impression, and he knew everyone had made it. The Trial of Ascension was probably over at this point, and he was sure the new year had already begun. In the Constellation, he could sense Otto, Song Xue, Song Lin, Mara, Acco, and a few other stars that he was unsure about. Oddly, he couldn’t sense where any of them were. He knew they were on this floor since he could tell they were within this realm, but that was it. Only Otto registered because he was the closest.

Nin and Lily were here too, and he had a vague sense of them to the east, which meant they probably headed toward the stairs leading to the next floor. It was only a guess because he was sure Nin didn’t want to go into any human cities, and Lily would definitely avoid them.

***

Centering himself with all his knowledge, understandings, and growth took him another day.

After which, he spent his time exploring his situation. The guardian had dumped in onto a rocky outcropping that doubled as an island in some sort of swamp. The island was less than fifty meters wide, and Crow carefully tested the ground around him and marked where the edges were.

Swamp mud was waiting to swallow him whole, and he’d lost a few boots already. Once that mud grabbed hold of his leg, it was hard to pull it back out.

“Is this really the first floor?” Crow grumbled and sat down to analyze his mental map of his island. Which led to him analyzing his situation.

He had to admit it was strange not seeing his heritage on his body and stranger still not to feel the raised flesh on his back. After his metamorphosis, his body reached an entirely new level. He didn’t even need to sleep utilizing breathing techniques, but he still felt hunger and thirst.

He checked his inventory and saw everything was still there, but the Vortex Pin had even more space than before. Because he hadn’t seen what happened during his transformation, he could only assume that the increase in space was because of his increased power.

Upon reviewing his inventory, he saw the treasure that took him down the Daemon’s Rectum and grinned. Feeling assured, he opened his eyes and pulled out his trusty boat. He wasn’t sure if it’d be able to ride across this swamp, but it definitely shouldn’t sink. Once he placed it on the mud and sat down, the boat drifted. Sitting down, he paddled, and the craft slid across the muddy surface as if it was the calm waters of a lake.

“Seriously, what the fuck kind of boat is this?”

***

The tower guardian had planned to move Crow once he’d become frustrated with his location. While he wasn’t aiming to help Crow, he placed him unfairly and waited for him to recover.

Watching the boy pull out a boat, he sneered. However, his disdain turned to shock when the boat started moving about the swamp as if it was nothing more than a lake. He could not comprehend what kind of treasure it was. Outwardly, it looked like trash, but in the Cursed Forest, few things could resist the swamp’s suction.

In the end, he shrugged and left Crow alone. Since the boy found his own way off that island, he’d sit back and see if he could handle the other dangers. There was still an obligation on his part to make it fair, but if the boy escaped the Cursed Forest on his own, he’d owe the brat a favor.