Sitting Bull took a pipe out of his pocket, put tobacco in it, lit up, and looked at the endless forest, at the huge trees, at the lonely gap that broke through the closed crowns and illuminated a small hill. He felt he began to appreciate it much more than before. His spirit was about to connect with the nature of these dark places. Let it be a game, but the feelings and experiences come from him real, which means they are real. He saw how everyone looked at him with the eyes of fading hope but did not say in words what they felt. If he would give up, Sitting Bull reasoned, none of them would go through this forest to the end.

They took the road to the east. No one in sight. Every five minutes, Latludious would release a tracking eye in different directions, looking for the enemy with all his might. Nevertheless, everywhere there were only twisted and dry branches, mighty trunks of nameless dark coniferous trees, and lifeless emptiness. Was Dark magic saturating everything? It oozed from the bark, from the ground, even a passing bug inspired fear.

After a while, Latludious stopped and pointed to an oak tree - clearly standing out among the other trees - three meters high with still green foliage and said:

"This is an Ent."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

They came closer to the magical creature. The tree came to life, turned and looked at them with round eyes, its mouth opened and made a hum, long and rough. Ona brought Sitting Bull forward and pointed at him. Ent froze, its pupils darted. One of its thick branches turned into a kind of human hand. It pointed to the north and mumbled something.

"What do you think this log wants to tell us?" Ona asked.

"I don't know. Let's go."

All five of them made a bow, turned off the path and left in the indicated direction, going straight through the wilds. Latludious examined the condition of the group: Sitting Bull holds on with all his might - well, sets an example, Faolandan is afraid, Ona is at a loss, Ronnie does not trust the Ent, but I do not want to start another argument.

Ten minutes later they came to a small river, about twenty yards wide. Black branches and rotten leaves floated along with its weak current. Down the slope, a strange dark blue color was reflected in the waters. In the northern part, the whole group saw an unusual creature with black and purple skin, white moss on its chest and tail, a head shaped like a Greyhound dog and deer horns, long and ornate, overgrown with bone tissue.

"The color of its skin… It's infected," Ona muttered in a plaintive voice.

"Leave it alone. We can't help even ourselves," Latludious said and built a bridge. "Watch out for the traps on trees. We don't need anyone else to get cursed."

Again silence, stillness. No one ran past, no one sat on the branches and no longer stared at the mortal travelers with their eyes. That's always a bad sign, Ronnie thought. The light of the sun remained behind. Now there were dark brown bushes, bare ground, and dead trunks of Hessataule on the way. They crossed a ravine with trees piled at the very bottom, walked about a mile, and heard a noise, they stopped and hid behind the nearest cover.

Latludious released the eye spell forward. There he saw about twenty orcs, they circled around either a stone pillar or a totem - in the center of which a dark red heart with translucent veins pulsed, and its surface was enveloped from top to bottom by vines - it let out black, magical streams of smoke. Everything within fifty yards was rotting and decaying.

The magician looked at the others and told them what he saw.

"We need to try to protect the totem," Faolandan said. "Maybe the black magic of the orcs is the reason that is infecting the forest."

Ronnie looked at him with a tired look and said:

"Then why wasn't the forest guard rescued? Killing twenty orcs is hardly a problem for the forest brotherhood."

"We didn't give you the word."

"Something is wrong here Latludious. We'd better get out of here, and quickly."

The magician sat in contemplation, his thoughts did not assemble into a single picture in his head, everything was messed up again.

"We'll deal with them. There’s a reason why that Ent showed us this way."

Ronnie spat and moved closer to the giant roots of the Hessataule and put Barrett’s titanium bipods on them. The terrain was barely visible: on the left, a crooked tree bending like a guilty treasurer before the king, driftwood, rocks, and undulating hills. Branches and those intertwined with each other, creating a protective grid. Orcs need to be lured closer. The group did so. Latludious used a flash of light and attracted the enemy's attention. They burst at the light like a pack of uncouth barbarians, axes, and swords in their hands, drool flying from their mouths. The monsters howled and hooted. As soon as Faolandan saw them, he pushed the branches of the bush in front of him, pulled the trigger, and fired a barrage of 7.62 x 51 mm R bullets from a DP with a silencer. A dozen orcs died in a moment. Ona smiled, she was on the sidelines and watched, whispering encouragement to her friends. Sitting Bull put a blade of grass in his mouth and pointed the muzzle of the same machine gun and managed to kill a couple of monsters before the magicians created a protective field. Ronnie waited, didn't shoot. Cartridges .50 BMG was unlikely to be found in the nearest, or in any other checkpoint. He was cold and calculating, not a single crease on his face trembled.

The Orc mages standing behind the enemy lines differed in appearance from the swordsmen. The torso was open, a long black beard to the chest and loose long hair. Their hands lit up with a dark flame and then brought down a dozen spears on the opponents. None of the players were injured, but Sitting Bull's DP shattered into small parts. He spat, pursed his lips and pulled out a bow from behind his back, and fired two arrows in response, the protective field did not break.

Latludious feared that powerful spells would attract unnecessary attention, whether it was orcs or cursed forest dwellers. Actions required secrecy. He transformed a blade of grass into a snake, shoved the penultimate lighter into its mouth, and let it go forward.

One of the Orc magicians took out a small block flute from its pocket and played a melody. Its fallen brothers, wounded and bloody, rose up. Their pupils were rolled back, bodies cold. Ona got scared and pulled a fragmentation grenade out of her backpack and prepared to throw it. Others winced in surprise. The dead orcs swayed from side to side and went forward. Faolandan fired at them, but now the bullets did no damage. They cut into the dead flesh and stayed there. Latludious grinned and his eyes lit up, he shouted:

"Die!"

There was an explosion under the feet of the magicians, but no one heard or saw the sounds and smoke. Everything was swallowed up by the protective dome, which disappeared a second later. Zombie orcs fell to the ground. Ronnie put the safety on the rifle and hung it on his back. They came closer and began to search the enemy's bodies. There were no items found. They set up DNA-reading scanners and headed for the magic totem.