Reincarnated As A Hero But I Choose to Become The Villain-Chapter 33: Black Forest

I felt it the moment I took a step forward. What they called the boundary line was not a physical threshold. There was no stone wall, no magically glowing barrier. Yet the difference between inside and outside made itself known like pressure seeping beneath the skin. The air was heavier. The silence was more deliberate.

The Black Forest was never silent. It listened.

The trees stood too close together. Their trunks were thick, their bark dark and coarse. Some bore marks carved long ago, now worn past recognition. Warnings. Fragments of prayers. Names. Most of them belonged to those who had never left after carving them.

As I moved on, I measured my steps. I did not try to tread lightly, nor did I obsess over avoiding broken branches. Excessive caution was the easiest way to be noticed here. What was required was balance. A normal walking pace, but conscious. Judging the ground before placing my foot, skirting piles of rotting leaves, using the natural thresholds formed by exposed roots.

My sword was on my back. Not in my hand. I had secured it so it would not make a sound. I wore no armor. Instead, I had chosen light, quiet clothing. Giving up defense meant living longer in this place.

It did not take long to see the first creature.

Between two trees, a silhouette shifted, nearly the same color as the shadows. It was about the size of a wolf, but its posture was different. Lower. More patient. Its breathing was steady. Something waiting for its prey.

I did not stop.

I altered my direction ever so slightly. I stayed true to the route I had marked on the map, but did not follow it exactly. Creatures like this caught linear movement more easily. So I behaved in a way that was ordinary even by their standards.

After a while, the silhouette vanished.

I kept going.

As I pushed deeper into the forest, signs of similar beings became more frequent. Broken branches. Paw prints larger than they should have been. Sometimes, only a sense of movement, felt but not seen. None of it stopped me. It merely reminded me to be more careful.

At one point, I heard a faint metallic sound in the distance. Very light. Not like someone drawing a sword, more like something scraping against a hard surface. There was another living presence nearby. Most likely not an adventurer like me. Those who ventured this deep rarely came alone.

I changed direction.

Avoiding an encounter was always better than fighting, especially here. Killing a creature was not the problem. What followed was. The noise, the scent of blood, sudden movement. All of it drew unnecessary attention.

After some time, the ground changed. The soil grew firmer. The layer of leaves thinned. That was a sign I was heading the right way. I took out the map for a brief moment, checked it, then put it away again. Keeping it open longer than necessary served no purpose.

I paused behind a rock to catch my breath. Only for a few seconds. I checked my pulse. I was not rushing. But I was not lingering either.

The goal here was to pass unseen. Not to display strength.

A few small creatures crossed my path. One I avoided by making a wide arc around it. For another, I stayed perfectly still and waited for it to pass. Patience was at least as useful as a sword.

Hours passed like this.

Eventually, the distance between the trees began to widen.

Light filtered through more clearly. On the ground were irregular but repeating marks. Not natural. Something had passed through here many times.

I was close to the target.

From here on, the margin for error would shrink even further. Still, there was no need to hurry. In the Black Forest, those who died most often were the ones who thought they had already arrived.

Then the ground beneath my steps simply ended.

It was not the sensation of a sudden drop. It felt more like the forest had stopped pushing me forward. The trees thinned, the roots withdrew, and ahead of me appeared that line where the leaves abruptly ended. A cliff.

I did not rush toward the edge. I bent my knees, shifted my weight back, and crouched first. I pressed my palm to the soil. The edge was solid, but the surface was deceptive. The top layer was dry, the layer beneath damp. Step at the wrong angle, and it would give way.

I leaned forward and looked down.

The cliff was deep. Its bottom was not immediately visible. But through the mist drifting downward, I could make out unnatural lines. Straight edges. Step-like protrusions. And most importantly, a surface that did not match the surrounding rock.

"The temple... at last."

It was not fully visible. Only a portion of it. Half-buried in the cliff wall, as if swallowed by stone over time but never completely erased. A wide arch, the upper half of a cracked column, and a platform coated in moss. It bore the mark of human hands. Or at least, of something made by human hands.

It was clearly not designed to be accessed from above. But there was no other way.

I stepped back.

When I opened my storage space, a neat list appeared in the corner of my mind. I had brought nothing unnecessary. Everything had its place. Silent rope. Grappling hook. Shock-absorbing gloves. A harness prepared for light descent. And a single-use slowing talisman.

I took them all out.

I looped the rope around the nearest rock outcrop that looked both solid and close to the edge. I checked the knot twice. Pulled hard. It did not move. Trust was not an abstract concept here. It either existed or it did not.

I fastened the harness. Slipped on the gloves. Weighed the talisman in my palm. I did not want to use it, but changing my mind halfway through a fall would be too late. Keeping it ready was the only sensible choice.

I looked down once more.

The visible platform of the temple lay about two thirds of the way down the cliff. I had no idea what lay beneath it. Which meant I would have to break the descent midway. Free, but controlled. The rope was for guidance, not a full descent.

I steadied my breathing.

Then I let myself fall forward, not back.

The first sensation was weightlessness. Then wind. The rope went taut but did not stop me. It only fixed my trajectory. I turned my feet toward the cliff wall, bent my knees slightly. The first contact was hard but controlled. The gloves absorbed the impact. No sparks flew from the stone. That was good.

I slid downward.

When the speed began to increase, I activated the talisman. The air thickened, as if I were moving through an invisible liquid. The fall slowed, but did not stop. Exactly as intended.

A few meters before the platform, I detached from the rope.

The final stretch was a free drop. When my feet hit the platform, I dropped to one knee with them. The stone did not crack. The surface was solid. Ancient symbols covered it, though time had worn most of them away.

I rose silently.

I looked up. The edge of the cliff was no longer visible. I looked down. The mist was still thick.

And behind me stood the dark entrance of the temple.

This was the temple spoken of even in the covenants of this world.

The infamous temple consecrated to the Supreme Vampire God.