Wonderful Insane World-Chapter 44: When it Come to Decide

Dylan listened to her explanation and nodded to show he understood.

Élisa slid her finger further down, hopping over the chasm with a swift motion, and pointed at something that vaguely looked like a pierced rock. According to her, it was a cave.

Then her finger drifted again, this time toward another zone, far from the chasm. There, she had drawn a crazy density of trees — even exaggerated a bit to make it look more oppressive.

Right in the middle of that sea of trees, she had sketched another skull, smaller this time.

Seeing confusion flicker in Dylan’s eyes, Élisa quickly jumped in to clarify:

"That skull’s not from some giant beast or anything. Nah... That skull could be ours if we’re dumb enough to wander in there."

She locked eyes with him, deadly serious.

"That’s the deadliest part of the forest. Besides the flipped skull zone, obviously. Over there... everything you could dream up in a nightmare? You’ll find it. And usually worse."

She gave the map a quick glance, letting the heavy silence hammer her point home for Dylan and Maggie.

Then, without a word, her finger traced back up the map, hopping again over the chasm, skirting the flipped skull, flying past the heroes’ graveyard, all the way to an area marked by stacked triangles — classic mountain symbol.

"This here is the Douclas mountain range," she explained calmly. "If we cross it, we’ll end up right at the western castle."

She paused briefly to pinpoint the spot.

"That part belongs to the county of Grigus. It’s one of the biggest cities in the region."

Her finger slid a bit southeast on the map, toward another small castle she had drawn.

"And here’s the viscount Martissant’s castle."

She glanced up at Dylan and Maggie, making sure they were still following.

"But to avoid too much attention," she continued, "I’d rather aim for Martissant city."

She flashed a small, half-serious, half-sly smile:

"Way less controlled than Grigus. Way easier for us to move around without raising any red flags."

Dylan figured she was done explaining. Calmly, he said:

"So I guess that’s everything you remember. Now it’s on us to make a plan. And most importantly — steer clear of that southern forest, alright?"

Then he turned to Maggie. She seemed deeply focused on the map... or at least that’s what Dylan thought, seeing her brown eyes locked onto the ground like she was solving world hunger.

Finally, she moved slightly and declared:

"I’ve got a plan."

Dylan nodded, trusting her. When their commander spoke, it was rarely for fun — it usually meant life or death. He sat down next to Élisa, who casually reached over and ruffled his braids without saying a word.

Once everyone was ready, Maggie copied Élisa’s move: She slid her hand across the map to the three little drawings representing them.

"There," she said, marking the spot, "hard to admit it... but that’s us."

Her fingers then traced along the river:

"We’ll cross here. Then head down to the cave and camp there for the night."

Her hand flowed up the map, brushing near the chasm and stopping by the graveyard.

"Next, we’ll head up to the heroes’ graveyard. We’ll search the place for weapons... if any are still usable."

Then, in a smooth move, her hand slid toward the mountain range.

"From there, we’ll cross the mountains and head south to reach Martissant."

Now, weirdly enough, all eyes turned to Élisa — like she was the ultimate fate-decider. Even Dylan, usually chill as hell, felt a lump in his throat. He was getting seriously sick of these damn woods. Here, even a rock could morph into a monster if you stared at it wrong.

"I wonder what she’s gonna say," he thought, already picturing a comment like: "Cool map, but heads up, there’s a demon living here and a death worm lurking there..."

Élisa looked at them, a tiny smirk playing on her lips, and finally answered, melting the tension with just one word:

"Actually..." she said, toying with one of Dylan’s braids, "this plan’s absolutely perfect."

Dylan raised an eyebrow, suspicious. Of course, she wasn’t gonna leave it at that.

"But," she added lightly, "you’ll need at least a formed spirit core to cross the heroes’ graveyard... and even more to survive the mountains."

She tapped the map, right where their path passed after the river.

"So once we cross the river, we’ll have to go on a hunt. A real one. Might last three days, maybe more."

She paused, giving them a moment to let the idea sink in.

"And just to be clear: we’re talking first-rank creatures."

Dylan’s stomach twisted. Fantastic. A "touristic stroll," they said...

Élisa carried on, like she was announcing a friendly picnic:

"Once we’ve formed our cores, we head up to the heroes’ graveyard. Grabbing weapons? Brilliant idea — hadn’t even thought of that. And after that, straight to the mountains."

She wrapped it up with a cheeky wink, like she was pitching a sunny Sunday hike.

Dylan stared at her for a moment, absolutely dead inside. Then he let out a long sigh that probably shook the trees around them.

"Great... amazing... fantastic..." he muttered, rolling his eyes. "A wild hunt against first-rank monsters just so we might survive a haunted graveyard and climb a deathtrap mountain... I’ve heard cozier plans."

Maggie didn’t flinch. She was still laser-focused on the map, calm like a sniper before pulling the trigger. Then, with the serenity of a chaos priestess, she dropped:

"Could be worse."

Dylan shot her a death glare.

"Worse how? Seriously, worse than this?"

She shrugged, totally unfazed:

"We could’ve had to cross the southern forest. It leads straight to the eastern castle."

A collective shiver ran through the trio. Even Élisa clenched her jaw briefly, like an old memory had sucker-punched her brain.

"Yup..." Dylan breathed out. "Okay. You win. I’ll stop whining."

He patted his knees and got up, half-heartedly dusting off his pants covered in dirt and dead leaves.

"Well..." he said, stretching like a tired cat, "if I’m gonna risk my life in a random monster hunt, I’d at least like to start with a full stomach."

He turned to Maggie and Élisa, flashing a mischievous grin.

"Tell me you at least packed a picnic before the slaughter."

Élisa burst out laughing — a pure, bell-like sound, almost mocking.

"The hunt is for that," she replied with a wink. "First lesson in survival: you wanna eat? Catch it yourself."

Dylan threw his arms up.

"God above, what am I even doing here... I’m surrounded by psychos."

Maggie, still calm as hell, gave the map one last intense look before standing up too.

"Move it, Dylan," she ordered as she walked past him without looking back. "In three days, we’re either stronger... or dead. Pick your side."

He grumbled something unintelligible but followed anyway, dragging his feet like a man headed to his doom.