13 – Rusckan village – Mantra

The forest. Already upon entering the forest, just a few meters after the shore of the dark swamp, a tremendous pressure assailed David. It was like trying to walk with ten times gravity, and all movements and thoughts were hindered by the invisible force that was trying to force him down.

He gritted his teeth. He had to be quick.

There was a fine mist that permeated the thick underbrush, coming from where the plants seemed thicker, and vanishing where the gnarled trunks and twisted roots gave a little bit of space and allowed a view of the night sky.

It was a clear night, over the forest. The stars were bright and shone in many colors like ripe jewels. And yet, apart from these little patches of respite, the forest was blacker than the blackest nights.

Whispers came from the old trees. Faint voices populated the misty leaves. The forest was alive and watched David as he slowly made his way though, like Atlas carrying the weight of a world on his back.

Rustle. Something was approaching from behind.

With incredibly quick movements, he turned around to face the incoming threat. His right hand was already filled with the incredibly dense fire of a charged fireball, ready to be unleashed upon his foe as soon as he decided to.

But there was nothing there. He spun around, trying to see if his senses were being tricked but saw that the whole forest was silent and immobile. Even the wind seemed to stop, and the pale moonlight just reached deeper than ever before.

He kept the magic ready, and took a careful step forward. His foot made no sound as it sunk a few millimeters into the damp soil, where the rotten leaves hid under a thin carpet of fresh green.

A gust of wind. Behind. He spun, nothing.

Something was not right.

It was too silent, too eerie, even for this forest. His steps made no sounds, the forest was still. Even his fireball cast no heat, he realized.

He tried to speak out loud, but his voice did not reach his ears. He tried to run away, but he always arrived back to the spot he was, in the middle of a small clearing. The grove all around, unchanging and seamless. Repeated. Fractal shaped.

An illusion. He was trapped in a fictitious space, be it an illusion of the mind or a funky property of space. He was trapped here and there was no going out by just walking in a direction.

Even his fireball seemed to just exist as a pale imitation of the real thing, and the more he concentrated the more he understood that all he was seeing here was just that. Imitation, a copy of the real, but worse. Tasteless, without texture or detail.

He slumped to the ground. He had tried running, firing magic, navigating the thing to see if it was a maze, standing still. But nothing. He was trapped here.

In truth, he had no idea just for how long he had been. For how long he was just pretending to be in the forest, while his body was somewhere else, maybe unconscious.

Was there even a forest?

He felt tired.

Why fight it?

Why bother?

The village? It wasn’t his business.

Wait.

Something was not right.

His thoughts.

They were strange.

Like they were not his own.

An illusion!

Yeah, he was not in a real forest, maybe.

He had to get out.

Maybe by running, or using magic?

No use.

Maybe it was a maze.

The village.

He was trapped?

An illusion!

Wait.

Wait.

Wait.

Pain? Release? Peace.

The white room.

22° Reincarnation.

>Choose target location. Current mission; Silverscale forest.

He had succumbed to an illusion. And the white room didn’t give him anything new this time. it was his fault, for being so stupid. How could he be so easily fooled?

“Current mission.”

>Confirmed.

>Mission is respawn type. Complete objective to unlock new area.

Process complete. Namaste, and good luck!

The pain. This time, he made sure to make the best of his situation. The pain would help him focus, and get out of the mind trap.

A crack in reality appeared before him, like he had been watching the surface of a mirror and then a crack split the glassy surface. The world, behind the crack, seemed different. Almost better than what was all around, and that reminded him that indeed it was, because that was real and this was not.

He had to escape.

Another crack, the pain was now subsiding. He had not even screamed this time, but there was no time for a distraction.

Another crack, the final one. Just one last push and he could be free.

Shatter. The glass broke, and he was back on the shore of the swamp. It felt good to be back, and the rich sounds and smells came to him in a symphony that he thought he had forgotten forever.

His body, he could feel the heat coming from it. And he saw, all around, the charred remains of many trees that were his by his fireballs. He threw them from inside the illusion, and the damage he caused was great and yet so useless in there.

He needed to get a stronger will, a stronger mind.

He looked at the edge of the trees. An impenetrable fortress of darkness, it felt. The pressure, he could almost touch it.

But he entered nonetheless. This time, he knew what was in there, and that he had to overcome it.

The more he walked, the heavier he felt. He could see his thoughts shorten, the trains get more and more lost before they could carry their messages to destination. But there was one word that was ever present in his mind, one thing to remind him of the real danger. Illusion. Illusion. Illusion.

None of this is real, it’s all an illusion.

But, he felt himself asking, why bother?

Illusion.

Yes, illusion. But even then, why was he fighting against it?

Illusion.