Chapter 53: The Link
A Stagnant World
The cavern world was shrouded in lingering deathly aura. Like roots silently mourning their own demise. Such a tree must be vaster than all of Softwind Ridge. Sadly, its full scope was hidden, leaving only the awe of gazing at mountain-like roots. Here, the deathly aura shackled mana, stalling all flow. Even igniting a flame was difficult.
Wenger couldn’t survive here long—stagnation eroded everything. The swaying sunflowers beside her were the only color in this world. Planted by Aranold. Vick stood by her, staring at the roots in a daze. The courtyard’s breeze was gentle, the external blizzard paused. Yet the air remained stagnant. Deadly still.
He turned, hesitating to speak, then looked back down at the sunflowers. “Go outside, and disaster and death will swallow you instantly.” Vick spoke bluntly. Trying to save everyone would save no one, only dragging herself down. Weeping for suffering, suffering weeps for you. Staying in Maple Whisper Village was her best choice.
“Thanks for the reminder, Mr. Vick.” She didn’t mind—doing what she wanted was enough. Indecision wasn’t her style. They needed to make a choice now. Stepping outside helped, as they recalled overlooked details and returned to ask more.
Aranold thought for a moment, then remembered. “There is a way to undo it… but it’s extremely difficult. Without mana supplements, Vick could die anytime.” She didn’t finish, but everyone understood. Wenger and Vick exchanged a glance, confirming the ritual’s proceed. Handing the white flower to Aranold, preparations began immediately.
The ritual was simpler than expected—at least for those within it. They stood in a magic circle, mana particles rising as light specks, condensing in the center. Wenger’s right hand ached faintly, but she bit her fingertip, squeezing out blood. Vick mirrored her. Her mana drifted along the blood, branching out in the air, while Vick’s blood pulsed with vigor, forming a scarlet mist that clung to it. Their faint connection materialized.
Aranold’s left eye glowed faintly white, seeing the invisible flow linking them. She also noticed something on Wenger she’d overlooked before. Slightly shocked, she focused on maintaining the ritual. It lasted a long time, with Edward guarding outside to prevent mishaps. Wenger felt a change, subtle. Perhaps because of this, she didn’t realize the ritual was done until her mana was sharply drawn away.
Though the amount was small for her, even one percent, if recovery couldn’t offset the loss, she’d face the same fate. The magic circle glowed beneath them. The white flower from the cliff floated, radiating pure, sacred light. Their blood had fused into a hazy dew, touching the petals and dyeing them vibrant. Aranold swiftly plucked it.
The ritual was half-complete—she had more work to do. Wenger stepped out, greeting Edward, standing among sunflowers, breathing their fresh scent. She could feel her mana flowing to Vick in a strange way. Through a path even she couldn’t detect. Their eyes met, then silently shifted to other sights. But what scenery was there in this world?
Half an hour later, Aranold pulled her inside, placing a pink-white bracelet on her left wrist. Wenger felt her mana recovery rate surge dramatically. “How do you feel?” “…Fine?” She wasn’t sure what counted as bad—she’d likely return to peak condition soon.
“Good, but supplying mana won’t cure mana sickness.” Aranold reminded her again. There was no cure. The ritual only eased pain, delaying the inevitable. Like most, they absorbed ambient mana—just in different amounts. Wenger understood. At least it was progress, resolving something.
She wanted to know more about their story’s missing details. Like, where was the “holy sword”? Stepping outside, asking Aranold would’ve been easier, but she looked exhausted. Taking off the bracelet, its details appeared as expected. A crimson border adorned it. [Heartgrass Bracelet: Adjusts frequency, wearer’s mana recovery +1000%, mental strength +100%. Ember Era, crafted by Aranold.]
Numbers, as always. Superior items might lack mechanics but never lacked stats. Purely effective. The description likely meant mana compatibility—her gentle mana might still face rejection in Vick’s body. But it didn’t feel like just tenfold. When she removed the bracelet, her mana drained noticeably. Wearing it again, the boost was far beyond tenfold—not even a hundredfold! It was boosted by [Harvest].
A bug in the code somewhere. The item’s mana recovery boost was treated as output, amplified a hundredfold by [Harvest]. Then the bracelet’s boost stacked again. Classic left-foot-on-right-foot trick. Her base recovery mattered—without it, even multiplicative boosts wouldn’t be much. This was both skill and stats.
The downside? Linked to Vick, her mana recovered constantly. Though too efficient to overwhelm her, some mana inevitably dissipated. She was like a walking potion, exuding an alluring aura. ≡ω≡ Something was off by at least ten out of twelve-and-a-half points. Like missing a ton.
Finding Edward, he sat on the hill facing the giant roots. The dry, gray grass wasn’t pleasant to touch. “Mr. Leon.” “Hm, all done?” “Thanks for your trouble.” Edward recalled her resolve in the snowfield, shaking his head without saying more.
Wenger exchanged pleasantries, probing his identity and the holy sword’s fate, subtly asking about its curse. But Edward seemed unaware of it. “That sword was useless to me. Aranold gave it to someone else.” He paused, studying her face. “A girl with silver hair like yours.” About a few decades ago. He couldn’t recall much, only her hair—likely because Aranold had jet-black locks.