After hunting down three Puppets, Oliver had increased his Fragments to a total of seventy, and with only three more kills, he would finally achieve his first goal.

The young man rested against the mountain wall where he had slain the last Puppet, his breathing slow and heavy as exhaustion settled deep into his muscles. After remaining there for several minutes, he eventually made his way back down toward the former spot where Rook had remained behind.

Rook had stayed on high alert the entire time.

The moment it heard approaching footsteps, the beast jolted awake and immediately turned toward the sound, only to see Oliver emerging silently from the darkness.

Oliver groaned softly while rolling his shoulders in fatigue.

’Perhaps I should head back down the mountain soon. I really don’t want to encounter a distinct creature.’

He glanced toward the path he had descended from before slowly lifting his gaze higher toward the summit looming above.

Despite his enhanced vision granting him greater clarity through darkness than ordinary people, his eyes still failed to penetrate the oppressive veil shadowing the mountain peak.

The darkness there was suffocatingly dense.

And at the summit of that mountain resided the home of a distinct creature.

Naturally, Puppets and deranged humans were not the only horrors inhabiting the Garden of Death. The cursed land birthed countless abominations known as Distinct Creatures, and unlike Puppets, slaying them granted no Fragments whatsoever.

However, these creatures were overwhelmingly powerful.

Ghouls, Demons, Dreadful Wild Beasts, and all manners of monstrous evil roamed the Garden. They were walking sources of death, and power within this world was absolute, meaning weaker Puppets would never willingly remain near such creatures.

The further Oliver ascended the mountain, the less likely he was to encounter Puppets to hunt, and the closer he would drift toward confronting a being he simply was not prepared to face.

Not that hunting them was entirely pointless.

Most Distinct Creatures yielded Keepsakes of unimaginable power upon death, though only the truly powerful ones possessed anything worth obtaining. That alone was the sole reason people dared risk their lives challenging such monstrosities.

Besides, the Distinct Creature dwelling atop this mountain was a Dreadful Wild Beast known as the Mourn Wyrm, a creature described in the novel as terrifying even among its own kind. Its body was long and serpentine, while its hide resembled ancient bone, pale and fractured with countless cracks stretching across its flesh.

Most people who climbed this mountain blindly ended up dying to it, assuming they even managed to survive the numerous Puppets wandering the lower cliffs before nearing the summit.

Oliver only knew the beast resided here because the novel had mentioned it briefly, merely a passing line describing a mountain peak that served as the beloved dwelling place of the creature.

Right now, however, he wanted nothing more than to rest, properly plan the path ahead of him step by step, and perhaps steal a little sleep afterward.

With Rook beside him, he knew he would remain safe even if he drifted off.

And honestly, he desperately needed the rest before his body eventually collapsed beneath the crushing weight of exhaustion.

Oliver slowly exhaled while resting his back against the rough surface of the mountain wall as faint winds drifted across the dark terrain around him. Rook quietly remained nearby with sharpened vigilance, occasionally glancing in different directions while its ears twitched at the slightest disturbance echoing across the mountain.

Even within the heavy silence blanketing the area, neither of them truly relaxed because this was still the Garden of Death, and a single careless moment here was enough to turn an idiot into another corpse rotting somewhere beneath the darkness.

Oliver lowered his gaze slightly while organizing the fragmented knowledge inside his head. The path ahead was not entirely clear within his memories because most details from the novel existed only in scattered descriptions and brief mentions rather than complete explanations, forcing him to mentally piece everything together one fragment after another while separating useful information from meaningless narration.

From what he remembered, the mountain eventually descended toward a narrow valley called the Serpent’s Hollow. The terrain there was strange compared to the jagged cliffs and vine covered rocks surrounding the mountain because the Hollow itself was unnaturally silent and empty.

Vast stretches of dead grey grass spread endlessly across the valley floor while twisted trees rose from the earth like malformed remains abandoned by something ancient and violent. Several trunks leaned sideways at unnatural angles while others had split apart near the middle as though some immense force had twisted them long ago before leaving them behind to decay beneath the cold atmosphere of the Garden.

Their bark appeared pale and fractured beneath the darkness, while dry branches stretched outward in tangled masses without a single leaf growing from them. The grass itself carried no trace of life either, every blade appearing faded and brittle while weak winds occasionally swept through the valley, causing entire patches to sway together in a slow and deeply unsettling motion.

In several places, the ground beneath the grass appeared hollow and darkened, almost as though the earth itself had been poisoned long ago by something hidden beneath the valley floor.

...Even stranger was the silence surrounding that region.

The novel had described the Serpent’s Hollow as one of the safer routes across this territory despite its disturbing appearance because the Mourn-Wyrm never descended from the summit above, while the Puppets themselves avoided wandering across the valley entirely.

No explanation had ever been given for that.

That alone made Oliver wary because nothing within the Garden avoided territory without reason.

Beyond the Hollow rested another dangerous region known as the Scorched Plains, and according to the fragmented knowledge he recalled, the distance between both regions would take approximately an hour even while riding atop Rook at full pace. The terrain there lacked cover entirely as charred earth stretched endlessly beneath the open sky while shattered stones and blackened remnants of ancient structures littered the land like the remains of a forgotten battlefield.

The heat trapped beneath the cracked ground reportedly lingered even during nighttime, causing the entire region to resemble a wasteland endlessly ravaged by fire.

Hidden somewhere within those plains stood an old collapsed watchtower, or rather, what remained of one after centuries of decay and destruction.

A Still Point existed beneath the ruined structure.

That location mattered greatly.

If he failed to reach it before the next nightfall, then remaining exposed within the plains after darkness settled would practically become suicide because the true numbers of the Garden only revealed themselves once night fully consumed the land.

Oliver slowly rubbed his tired eyes while leaning his head back slightly against the stone wall behind him.

’Three more String Puppets,’ he thought inwardly while staring toward the darkness ahead. ’Once I reach one hundred Fragments, my chances of surviving the Hollow and whatever mystery hides there will improve greatly. Entering that place while weakened would simply mean death.’

Knowledge mattered within the Garden.

Power mattered even more.

His exhaustion had deepened considerably after continuously climbing the mountain while hunting Puppets across the lower slopes of the upper region, though they were rare to encounter around here.

Although his body had improved physically, fatigue still accumulated naturally after prolonged tension and combat.

Especially mental fatigue.

Constant vigilance slowly exhausted the mind no matter how strong the body became.

The Scorched Plains would at least offer one major advantage. Visibility across the terrain was nearly endless, meaning if Puppets from the Settlement or even stronger enemies somehow tracked him this far, he would notice them crossing the exposed land from a considerable distance away.

The ruined watchtower itself would also provide a defensive advantage alongside clean water from the hidden Still Point beneath it.

Apart from the Still Points closer toward the Middle Ring, reliable water sources remained exceptionally rare throughout the Garden, making locations like that valuable enough for people to slaughter each other over without hesitation.

The mere thought of accidentally drawing the creature’s attention caused Oliver’s expression to harden slightly.

After remaining silent for several more moments, Oliver finally pushed himself away from the wall before glancing toward Rook again.

The beast quietly lowered itself slightly once he stepped closer while maintaining its alert stare toward the surrounding darkness.

"You’re probably exhausted too after climbing and running around this cursed place with me for hours," Oliver muttered quietly while resting a hand briefly against the creature’s soft fur.

Rook released a low sound in response while remaining completely vigilant.

The young man settled himself beside the beast before carefully leaning against its warm flank.

Compared to the frigid mountain air surrounding them, the warmth radiating from Rook’s body felt unexpectedly comforting against his exhausted muscles.

Oliver adjusted his Sword beside himself before releasing another weary breath.

"Wake me immediately if anything approaches our position because I truly don’t feel like dying in my sleep tonight," he muttered quietly while closing his eyes.

Rook remained utterly alert.

Satisfied enough, Oliver finally allowed exhaustion to drag his consciousness downward as darkness slowly swallowed his senses little by little beneath the silent atmosphere of the mountain.

Then everything changed.

Without warning, Oliver found himself standing inside a massive stone hall that stretched endlessly beneath dim golden light cast from towering braziers mounted along distant walls. Vast pillars carved from pale stone lined both sides of the enormous chamber while intricate markings spread across the polished floor beneath his feet.

Oliver frowned slightly while glancing around the unfamiliar surroundings because he immediately understood one thing.

This was not his memory.

...It was a dream.

Before he could properly comprehend what was happening, soft footsteps suddenly echoed somewhere behind him across the massive hall.

Then a voice spoke gently from the darkness behind him.

"Oliver, you wandered off again even after promising me you wouldn’t."

The unfamiliar voice carried a warmth that struck him strangely, filled with tenderness and affection so genuine that it caused an unbearable tightness to slowly spread through his chest for reasons he could not understand at all.