Chapter 22: A Trap Tentacle Box? Posing as the Sword in the Stone…
The Cliff’s Edge Sea breeze mingled with the forest, carrying a damp, salty scent. Winger stood high but couldn’t see below the cliff. Perhaps a deserted beach lay thousands of feet down. Or maybe towering stones dotted the shore. She’d need to get closer to know. Yet the distant view held her still. The vastness made her feel small, almost despairing. The far continent loomed large, filling most of her vision. Waves surged tens of meters, mere ripples from afar. The chasm stood indifferently. Centuries of effort seemed insignificant. Indeed, they were. Winger smiled, then frowned with worry. She couldn’t track the demons’ movements. War offered opportunities to exploit. Ordinary people couldn’t cross this sea. But that distant race might. Scaling thousands of meters wasn’t impossible. The terrain favored defense, but preparation was key. She regretted not bringing Reila for setups.
An Unnatural Forest Few magical beasts roamed near the coast. Mines had more, which felt odd. Magic essence was abundant here. Winger frowned, noticing a glint at her vision’s edge. She set aside doubts and leaped toward it. Minutes later, she landed by a strange forest. Trees elsewhere grew unevenly, but here they formed a dense wall. She marked the path and stepped forward, extending her senses. Treasure-hunting sounded thrilling. Why not explore now? Surprisingly, the forest brightened as she entered. Soon, collapsed quartz pillars appeared, wrapped in vines and moss. She brushed off dust, revealing unclear carvings. Sunlight streamed from an unseen source. No danger stirred in the calm air. It felt oddly peaceful. Winger pressed deeper, reaching a hall-like ruin. Dense branches arched overhead, with no ceiling left. Most stone pillars still stood.
The Stone Sword Light and shadow danced in the hall. Green and soft yellow mingled. Winger’s steps stirred dust, glowing in the light. Time seemed to whisper of centuries past. Why was this ruin here? Her gaze locked on a central stone sword. Light bathed its blade, its hilt dusted with age. Likely a decorative or ceremonial piece. Valuable items wouldn’t be displayed openly. They’d be hidden, hard to find. She stayed cautious. What if a trap sprang up? A tentacle box or a snapping plant? Alone in the deep forest, screaming was useless. Lacking telekinesis, she used wind magic instead. A breeze gripped the untouched hilt, trying to lift it. No movement. She pushed her magic to the limit. Her circuits nearly overloaded, but the sword stayed put. “Seriously—Sword in the Stone?” The sword took itself too seriously.
A Cautious Approach At least no traps triggered. Winger wasn’t certain. She tossed stones at the sword. Circling it dozens of times, she found no issues. “Scaring myself…” she muttered. She wiped imaginary sweat from her brow. A useless ornament wouldn’t have traps. Too much effort for nothing. Still cautious, she wrapped her hand in magical water. She gripped the hilt and pulled. Instantly, an unbearable weight hit her. Her blood surged hot, then cold. Her mind stayed clear, but was it an illusion? Visions flickered before her. A black-robed figure stood in the hall. The air felt sacred, serene. No one else was present. Light radiated a calm, divine aura. Torches flared, and the figure plunged a plain sword into the altar. The vision cut off. Only light and dust remained.
A Strange Binding What were those scenes? Echoes of time or deliberate messages? This felt like a side quest, and Winger wasn’t thrilled. She turned, then froze. The sword shed its stone coating. Blood-red vines, sharp as rose thorns, coiled around her arm. The faint sting was negligible. Flames bloomed, engulfing the vines. Normally, she’d scream, but alone, it was pointless. Maybe nerves made her too rational. Tentacle-like vines pierced her body. Terrifying, right? She tried pulling the thick vines. They didn’t budge. No discomfort, but she couldn’t carry a sword forever. Magic, strength, senses—nothing worked. Helpless, Winger closed her eyes. She slipped into meditation. In her dark mind, a plain stone sword appeared. It matched reality, but no vines bound her. She grabbed it—and vines wrapped her again.
An Unexpected Bond A strange feeling stirred. She sensed the sword without magic. Opening her eyes, the vines were gone. The heavy sword lay silent in her hand. “It feels… brighter?” Winger doubted her judgment. Poison, maybe? But [Sanctity] didn’t trigger, so probably not. The sword’s stone coating was likely ancient dust. She tapped it—definitely no toy. No sheath, though. Suddenly, she could store it in her inventory. Its name appeared as just—*.