Wisped Away: A LitRPG Adventure

Prelude

The forest was suffocating.

Jasper’s boots sank deep into the spongy earth with each step, his breath coming in shallow gasps. His arms ached from carrying the weight of his sword—it had once felt like an extension of his body, a tool of skill and strength. Now it hung uselessly by his side, dragging him down with every stride. His body screamed for rest, but the sound of something following—something stalking—kept him moving. Always just behind him, always out of sight.

Grimoria’s twisted landscape was a labyrinth of shadows. Warping and twisting in ways that made no sense. Jasper had long since lost his bearings. Stumbling through the same paths - the same trees, his head pounding, heart thudding in his chest.

But for the first time in hours, the forest was quiet. Too quiet.

Jasper stopped, leaning heavily against a tree, his fingers gripping the hilt of his sword - as if it might provide some kind of comfort. He listened, his breath ragged in his ears. The silence pressed in around him, thick and suffocating.

Maybe it’s gone...

A rustle broke the stillness.

Jasper flinched, spinning toward the sound, his pulse quickening. He unsheathed his sword with a trembling hand, the dull blade glinting weakly in the dim light. The underbrush parted, leaves rustling as something moved just beyond the trees.

His grip tightened on the hilt, his muscles tense, waiting for whatever horror was about to emerge. He braced himself.

A rabbit hopped into the clearing.

Jasper blinked, his breath catching in his throat. It was... just a rabbit. A small, white rabbit, its fur clean except for a few smudges of dirt on its paws. It stared up at him with wide, black eyes, twitching its nose as it sniffed the air.

For a long moment, Jasper could only stare. Then, a soft, incredulous laugh escaped him, shaking loose from the knot of fear in his chest.

"A rabbit?" he muttered, lowering his sword slightly. “I’ve been running from a rabbit?”

The rabbit blinked up at him, its beady eyes gleaming in the pale light. Innocent. Harmless.

Jasper shook his head, exhaling a long breath. His arms felt like lead as he sheathed his sword, the blade slipping back into its scabbard with a soft shink. "God, I’m losing it," he muttered, dragging a hand across his face.

Another rustle came from behind him.

Then another.

Jasper froze, his stomach lurching as more rabbits hopped into view. First two, then five, then ten—small, white forms emerging from the shadows, their movements slow and deliberate. They spread out in a loose arc around him, their black eyes unblinking, fixed on him.

His throat tightened. His hand moved instinctively toward the hilt of his sword but it felt heavier now, like it would be useless against this strange, growing swarm.

"What the hell is this?" he whispered, backing up a step. The forest seemed to grow darker, the shadows stretching longer as the rabbits closed in, hopping closer in perfect, eerie unison. They were watching him, hunting him.

Jasper’s breath came faster now, panic rising in his chest. He yanked the sword from its sheath, the blade trembling in his hands.

"Stay back!" he shouted, his voice cracking with desperation.

The rabbits didn’t move. For a moment, they just stared. Waiting.

Then, in unison, they attacked.

A blur of white fur and red-stained teeth surged forward, hitting Jasper like a wave. He barely had time to raise his sword before they were on him—biting, clawing, tearing at his flesh with a viciousness that didn’t belong to anything so small.

"NO!" Jasper screamed, swinging his sword wildly, but his blade met only air.

The rabbits moved too quickly, darting in and out of his reach, their sharp teeth sinking into his legs, his arms, his throat. He felt the flesh tear, hot blood pouring down his skin, soaking his clothes as the creatures shredded him piece by piece.

He stumbled back, gasping in pain, swinging the sword again with weak, frantic movements. One rabbit clamped down on his arm, its teeth digging deep into the muscle, and he screamed again, dropping the sword as his strength gave out.

The weapon fell to the ground with a dull thud, already forgotten.

Jasper collapsed into the mud, his hands clawing desperately at the earth as he tried to pull himself free, but it was no use. The bunnies were everywhere—swarming over him, their tiny bodies pushing him deeper into the muck, their claws and teeth rending his flesh.

The pain was blinding, a red-hot wave of agony that drowned out everything else. His vision blurred, the edges of his sight going dark as his body began to shut down, overwhelmed by the sheer brutality of the attack.

The last thing he saw before the darkness took him was a rabbit—a small, white creature sitting on his chest, its beady, soulless eyes staring down at him, unblinking, as it bared its blood-stained teeth.

A faint, flickering light hovered above the scene, casting soft shadows over the remains of what had once been Jasper. The wisp drifted closer, watching as the rabbits scattered back into the underbrush, their white fur now stained red.

Jasper had been promising—strong, determined, yet reckless. The wisp had kept its distance, as was required. No intervention, no assistance. Just observation.

“I followed the rules,” it murmured, its glow dimming slightly. “And look where that got him.”

The wisp circled Jasper’s discarded sword, now half-buried in the mud. It wasn’t that the rules were wrong, but maybe they weren’t meant to be so rigid. Maybe, with a small nudge, things could have been different.

“I can’t break the rules,” the wisp whispered to itself, “but perhaps... bending them wouldn’t hurt.”

A soft pulse of energy flickered through its form, a hint of excitement creeping in. It wasn’t about defying Grimoria’s balance—it was about testing the boundaries. Rules were meant to maintain order, but what if they could be... flexible? Just a little.

Jasper had been an experiment. Not a failure, but a missed opportunity. There was someone else now, someone close. The wisp could feel her presence on the edge of Grimoria’s veil—different, more adaptable.

As it floated upward, leaving Jasper’s broken body behind, the wisp considered its next move. “No matter,” it mused. “There’s always another.”

And this one—it would help. Not break the rules, no. But bending them? That was a game the wisp was eager to play.

With a final flicker, the wisp disappeared into the night, its glow fading into the shadows of the forest.