They Hated Me in My First Life, But Now I Have the Love System
Chapter 329: So Close to the Edge

Chapter 329: So Close to the Edge

“Now, pull!” Nnenna shouted.

All three of them pulled, muscles straining, feet digging into the forest floor. The quicksand gurgled angrily, refusing to let go.

Then pop!

Karen’s shoulder broke free. They kept pulling.

Another heave, and finally, with one last desperate tug, Karen slid out of the muck and collapsed on solid ground, coughing and gasping for air.

“You saved us again,” John said, his voice rough from exhaustion.

They all stood there, panting, coated in sweat and mud. Even Nnenna could barely speak. Her knees trembled beneath her, but not from fatigue, from what almost happened.

She had nearly lost all of them.

After everything they had endured for almost a month in the Black Forest, after countless trials, it would have ended here? So close to the edge?

She clenched her fists. She wouldn’t let that happen.

Once she caught her breath, she turned to Abuchi, who was still staring at the place Karen had almost sunk.

“We need to move,” she said quietly.

“But… how?” Abuchi asked, his voice strained. “How do we get past that?”

They all turned to look.

The quicksand was not just a patch, it was a sprawling stretch of sludge stretching out before them, almost like it was guarding the final passage.

The trees grew sparse here, the canopy cracked open above, letting in more sunlight than they had seen in weeks. But the sight wasn’t hopeful, it was mocking.

“Is this the border?” Ekene asked, narrowing his eyes. “Is this thing covering the only exit?”

“It looks like it goes all the way to the mountain ridge,” Karen said, coughing. “We would have to walk for days just to go around it.”

“Maybe not,” John cut in, pointing up toward the slope that angled gently to the left. “If we climb a bit further north, we might find a narrower path, or even a fallen tree to cross with. We can’t turn back now.”

They looked at one another, minds racing, hearts still thumping.

Nnenna stared at the endless spread of deadly sand, then up at the overgrowth. Her eyes narrowed.

There had to be a faster way across.

“It’s possible,” Abuchi said, wiping his face, “but we don’t have enough time for that. Who knows what’s happened to Ruth and her family in the past, what, almost a month now? We can’t delay anymore. We have to get to Purlit before nightfall.”

“He’s right,” Nnenna replied, her eyes tense with urgency. “Every second we lose might be the second something happens to them.”

Karen scoffed, arms folded tightly across her chest. “And what do you plan to do? Magically fly across it? You can’t always have a plan, Nnenna. You’re not some genius.”

The words landed like cold stones, harsh and unnecessary. Karen hadn’t always been like this, but the forest, the fear, the hunger, the exhaustion, had been peeling her down layer by layer.

She wasn’t willing to self reflect. She wasn’t trying to fix it. She just wanted to let the bitterness spill out, wherever it landed.

But Nnenna didn’t flinch. She had learned not to take it personally.

She ignored the sarcasm and turned slowly, eyes scanning their surroundings like they had a hundred times in the past weeks. Look, adapt, survive. She had gotten good at it, at seeing options no one else did.

And then… she spotted them.

Vines. Long, thick, coiled around sturdy trees stretching high above the quicksand.

“We can swing past it,” she said quietly, then more firmly. “Look, those trees. The vines are strong. We can make our way across without stepping into the sand at all.”

The others followed her gaze. The trees were tall, old, and deeply rooted, stable enough. The vines… it could work.

Abuchi’s brow lifted. “That’s risky.”

“Less risky than getting sucked into the earth,” John said.

“What if the vines snap?” Karen blurted out, arms folded, voice sharper than ever.

“They won’t,” Nnenna replied, firm but calm. “These trees have been here for years. The vines are thick enough to carry our weight. I checked. We can do this.”

Karen muttered something under her breath but said no more. The rest of the group exchanged anxious glances.

The tree they chose stood tall beside the quicksand field, its roots clenched deep into the earth like fists. The vine they picked was thick, rough, bark-skinned, and coiled around the trunk like a living rope. It looked old, but strong.

Abuchi was the first to step forward, clenching the vine in both hands.

“I’ll go first,” he said, jaw tight. His eyes flicked to Nnenna, briefly, before settling on the vine. He didn’t speak of fear, but his silence was heavy. He inhaled, pushed back his nerves, and leapt.

The vine strained and swayed, but held. Abuchi landed on the other side in a wide squat, stumbling but safe.

“Yes!” he shouted, adrenaline pumping.

Karen went next. She huffed, rolled her eyes, and took the vine like it insulted her. “If I fall and break something, I’ll haunt all of you.”

But her grip was tight, strong. She swung with a surprising grace, her nerves masked behind the sarcasm. She landed roughly, wobbling, but stayed upright.

“See?” she snapped. “Told you I wouldn’t die.”

John followed. He hesitated more than the others. His hands were sweaty, and his heart thundered. He didn’t say much, he rarely did, but before he jumped, he whispered, “This is insane.”

Then he flew.

His foot clipped a branch mid swing, but he adjusted midair and landed hard, rolling on the forest floor with a groan. “Still alive,” he muttered, breathless.

Finally, it was Ekene’s turn.

He gripped the vine with both hands, then paused.

Nnenna’s voice called gently from across the sand. “You’ve got this.”

Ekene nodded. He wasn’t afraid of heights, or even danger. But swinging alone, last, after watching everyone else, it pressed something cold against his spine. He took a deep breath, whispered a prayer, and jumped.