At the start, the road lay calm, like a lake under morning light.

To avoid eyes and rumors, Varie led them through untouched forest, a green maze under birdcall. No stone road underfoot is trouble for a caravan, but a light squad slips like foxes through brush. They were far from Lama City, so they didn’t have to leash their body-strengthening spells yet.

With that freedom, beasts felt like windbreaks in a wheat field—noticed, then passed. Aside from the Chaos Dragon sleeping at their destination, what monster could truly threaten a team carrying four heavy hitters?

Their camp life was rich as a traveling palace. Varie, a veteran drifter, had supplies packed tight, food tucked in long-term frost enchantment canisters—Adelaide just called them portable iceboxes—that kept grapes dewy and greens crisp even far from town. Most of all, with Queen Dreamlan—an Elf of the First Generation who seemed to touch every element—night brought a man-made hot spring, steam like silk, and Adelaide’s hunger for hot baths melted away.

In such comfort, even pampered Adelaide found little to complain about. The road felt so easy, so sun-dappled and kind, she drifted into a sweet mistake—thinking the challenge ahead would be just as smooth.

One evening in the hot spring, steam blurred the stars and softened their bones, and dizzy warmth loosened Adelaide’s tongue.

Varie sat across from her, rolled her eyes, and snorted, fingers pinching her towel. Oddly, she showed less skin wrapped in terry than in her usual hot pants and shawl. “Hey hey, looks like our young lady still doesn’t know what happens once we step into the Echo of the Forsaken Souls.”

“The Echo of the… what?” Adelaide tipped her half-soaked head, eyes fogged with soft confusion.

“That’s Soul Devourer Sormaidon’s magic domain, sis.” Mira, at her shoulder, set the fact down like a pebble in a pond. Adelaide still looked blissed and lost.

“Oh… so that’s the no-casting zone…” She tried to think, then sighed into the warm water and let her head fall on Mira’s shoulder. “But how do I know we’re inside it? What if we cross the border and cast by accident…?”

“Ha. You won’t. Trust me.” Varie stroked Barni in the water and got a faceful of splash for her trouble. “Ugh, ugh—bad girl, quit—” Her lion cub shook water like rain off a roof. Varie pinned the wriggling fuzzball and, impatient, flicked, “Anyway—once you’re in, you’ll get it.”

Once you’re in, you’ll get it—Adelaide bristled at the mystic tone, but truth arrived quick and heavy.

History said that after Sormaidon devoured hundreds of thousands of Nacha souls, his domain spread wide as a city. That was a conservative guess. They entered the Echo before the ruins of Lama City even rose like broken teeth on the horizon.

Comfort died at that border. Big magic like the hot spring was forbidden; the portable iceboxes had to stay outside the line like loyal dogs left at the gate. Inside, they chewed coarse rations that scratched the throat. The road turned cruel—the trees and grass thinned to nothing, replaced by thorny vines and a ground not earth but gel, a sticky mire worse than a swamp.

Yet none of that was the real lesson. It lay in the moment they stepped in—the pressure, a weight like deep water.

Adelaide walked point, chatting lazy with Mira. Then both stopped as if a wire had caught their ankles. Birdsong cut off mid-chirp. Noon light dulled, as if a gray palm covered the sun. Color leaked from bark and blade, and only drifting dust hung, brown as ash, clear against the hush.

They had crossed an invisible line. The proof wasn’t the dead palette, but the sudden heaviness pressing from every side. One heartbeat earlier, the air’s magic had been playful, chiming with them. The next, chaos breathed from every corner, whispering wicked script into their ears.

Inside, you understand—Varie had nailed it. That pressure couldn’t be missed.

It dragged Adelaide back to the soul tide from the fight with the Gaol‑Wraith Golem. The force here spread wider, less focused, but it felt like a flood of vengeful ghosts and chaos poured over her head. Even a deep breath became a stubborn stone to lift. Kabos, the least resistant, crumpled to one knee and retched into the mud.

She watched the lanky one rub Kabos’s back and count his breaths, and the truth slotted in cold—this journey’s real challenge had just begun.

“Ha… ha… ha… Hero boss-lady, can we take a break? I can’t catch my breath…” Within the first hour inside the Echo, Kabos begged Varie, chest heaving like a bellows.

He wasn’t a weakling. Being picked for General Slandor’s guard meant he stood near the peak of human endurance. It wasn’t just him, or Adelaide needing Mira’s arm. Even the Nacha Tribe members showed strain, grit peeling from their faces.

Inside the Echo, their pace shrank like shadow at dusk. Everything took more effort, not only on muscle, but mind. Chaos, the enemy of life and order at the root, soaked the air. Morale dipped—jokes rotted into complaints, and Varie’s scowl sharpened like a knife edge.

Only Queen Dreamlan kept a soft smile, drifting behind Varie like a leaf on a stream. She plucked half‑yellow, half‑green withered blossoms from thornbushes, sighing little delights, the liveliest sounds in camp—and each one grated at Varie like grit in a wound.

“Fine. Five minutes. Rest.” Varie snapped, flinging her head as if to shake off flies, and glared at the queen drifting closer to sit. “Don’t come near me. Go. Sit somewhere else.”

“Mm… Varie, did I do something wrong?” Dreamlan hugged her arms, voice a thin chill in the shade.

“You—” Varie’s curse tripped, teeth bared.

You even have the face to ask—you stole my first time when I wasn’t in control—

She didn’t say it. If she kept thinking, she’d lose control and slap that vixen twice.

Not the time for infighting. She ground her molars until they sang and lifted her fingers off the stone, leaving claw‑marks scratched like tiger tracks. Then she sprang to a high ledge, out of the queen’s reach, and tilted her face to the sun, forcing her mind onto bearings.

“Brrr… so cold.” Dreamlan wrapped herself, sighed like a winter reed, then slid beside Adelaide and pressed close, heat‑seeking as a cat. “As expected, Miss Adelaide is the warm one~”

You—! Hearing that, Varie’s heart jolted. She crushed the dry leaves in her palm to powder. Yellow dust whirled up and drifted on the breeze like pollen.

Under Sormaidon’s sway, even Nacha senses bent out of true, so she was using dust to read the wind. But in that instant, a different gust took her—irritation flared, raw and bright.

Jealousy? Don’t be ridiculous. Over her? That—

Varie’s ears twitched. Not from anger, but from a feeling she couldn’t name—a bitter‑spicy liquor seeping through her chest.

No. Cut it off. She shook her head hard, scattered another pair of leaves, fixed the direction, and stamped. Her voice came out thin and sharp, like a kestrel’s cry over stone. “Break’s over. Move!”

“Ah? But it’s only been three minutes, boss-lady. It’s all mire ahead. Easy to sink.” Kabos flapped his hands like a drowning man.

“Find someone to tie a rope to your waist. Done. Less talking.” Varie turned, and met Dreamlan’s eyes—two clear pools, already watching.

The lanky guy offered Kabos his hand, and Kabos near wept thanks to have such a brother. Varie stood in a brittle stare, caught like a leaf on a thorn.

“Hmm? Varie won’t carry me?” Dreamlan’s voice was sweet rain on stone.

Stop calling me that! Varie’s face flushed dark red, the shout stuck behind her teeth. Dreamlan just propped her chin and murmured to herself.

“If Varie won’t, hm… then I’ll just…” She blinked up at Varie, lashes like fans. “Ask one of our strong men? I can’t cross this bog alone.”

“Go—find whoever you like!” Varie spat and vaulted, a swallow taking wing. She caught a dead branch, swung, and vanished beyond the line of sight, leaving teammates marooned in her wake.

With their own Lionheart Hero having barked that far, the Nacha Tribe wouldn’t dare lay a finger on the queen.

After a beat, Barni shouldered in by Dreamlan. She let out a low awooh and thumped her back with her tail, offering as a living mount.

Dreamlan only stroked her head and smiled no. Then she stepped out, calm as dawn. Her neat cloth boots kissed the soft mire, and didn’t sink at all.

“What’s wrong? Keep up.”

Adelaide’s mouth fell open. Stories rushed back—Elves light as leaves, the kind that leave no prints even on snow. A swamp that could swallow any of them wouldn’t ever trouble Queen Dreamlan.

She exhaled, breath a ribbon in the chill. “Forgive me, Your Majesty, but all this teasing… poking at her—does it actually get you anywhere?”

“Maybe.” Dreamlan’s smile carried a rare flick of mischief. “But isn’t it fun?”

She turned and flowed after Varie’s fading shadow. Adelaide understood then: she would keep serving as the fragrance in their dance for a long while yet.