Chapter 47: An Expected Surprise

The Weight of Chantless Magic

Chantless magic. Most magic required a specific medium to activate. Prayers were no exception. The structure of spells and incantations served as that medium. To cast without them, achieving instant effects, naturally required another conduit. The advantage of instant casting could amplify a mage’s threat level several times over. Many extremists, driven by different motives, walked the same radical path.

The most infamous was a witch from the border decades ago, who refined an entire city into a Philosopher’s Stone, believing it could serve as a medium for chantless magic. So the rumors went. She was later executed by the Tribunal. Vick hadn’t met her, but he’d fought other witches. The madness of one woman before her death lingered in his memory. For her goals, she spared no means… Life to her was a toy to trample, a resource to exploit at will.

Vick disliked that feeling, reminiscent of years ago in the magic-sealing forest—a helplessness etched into his spine. The recent disturbance, felt even deep in the mountains, wasn’t just the eclipse but a suffocating pressure of magic in the air. Wenger’s aura had subtly changed—Vick noticed. His guess that she’d taken the next step was naturally confirmed, though she might not realize it.

Chantless magic, advancement, magic-sealing barriers—these converging made relaxation impossible. No one wanted to stumble where they’d fallen before. Even if strength rendered all schemes futile, Vick no longer feared the magic-sealing forest, but the thought of it made him wary. In the distance, the two played in the river, soaked. Wenger’s horse grazed, occasionally glancing at him with almost human-like eyes.

It was amusing, these days in Maple Whisper Village. Vick recalled his encounters with Wenger—mundane, their swordplay spar just days ago. Before that, their talks were like those of ordinary people. Eating, drinking afternoon tea, fishing, chatting. Perhaps one day, it’d end just as ordinarily. He thought it was fine, to meet such an end. He hoped his suspicions were overthinking. The magic-sealing forest was harsher on mages—unless that was a lie, his guesses didn’t hold. Used to solitude, he was harsh on himself.

“Sorry for wasting time.” The two returned, clothes dried, and Wenger apologized. “But we got a fish.” Vick smiled, watching Viyi clumsily tie it to the horse. Wenger smiled faintly, finding Mr. Vick surprisingly approachable. Would she be like that as a powerhouse? She was already daydreaming. With an escort, she couldn’t help but feel a bit smug.

Her lazy aura seemed contagious—Viyi and Vick couldn’t help relaxing. Vick critiqued himself, though he enjoyed it. The trio headed north, most time spent waiting for Viyi, who carried the most luggage, as it wasn’t a short trip. Wenger was used to it, constantly channeling magic so dust couldn’t touch her. Forget being a transcendent—her physique spared her such hassles. A lazy person’s blessing.

But counting her “inventory,” she carried far more than Viyi. When she pulled out several seasoning bottles to prep the grilled fish, Vick’s brows twitched. Who brought those for serious business? The spatial crystal he gave her wasn’t that big… Some misunderstandings were best left alone.

Wenger didn’t dwell on it. One fish was hard to split, and though the kid could skip eating, watching others eat felt odd. She waded in, grabbing two more fish. Condensed water was like a cage—capturing them was effortless. Not that she feared failing at fishing, just worried about wasting time. They traveled leisurely, reaching the deep primal forest without trouble.

Magic and vigor could be concealed, but danger was sensed instinctively. Creatures without that sense died countless times over. Leaving horses in the wild wasn’t ideal—beasts roamed the mountains. Wenger glanced at her horse, which looked back. Fine, it was clever sometimes, but if it ran off, finding it would be a pain. So, the plan was to tie them at the magic-sealing forest.

In her magic sense, a region turned into a black void. Her mental energy registered it as normal, but mana was indeed blocked. The magic-sealing runes were active. Yet, recalling last time, she hadn’t felt anything. Strange… No point delaying now—her plan was to act fast and return to the main hall. If possible, she’d put the Nameless Sword back.

A good weapon was nice, but her philosophy differed. A weapon’s value lay in its ceiling—skilled players could handle high enhancements and some downsides. But Wenger was her own ceiling. She was confident in reaching the transcendent path’s end—she was the limit, needing no external aid. Especially not a cursed sword. Bringing misfortune to others wasn’t her wish.

She didn’t think herself naive. She’d always thought this way, though she might regret it in a few dozen minutes… Stepping into the stone forest, the muddy sensation of mana was clear. Viyi frowned, uncomfortable. Vick appeared unfazed. Wenger glanced at them, blinking. Raising her hand, a wind orb formed instantly. Mana flowed smoothly.

The sealing runes were like wires, creating a zone, but she only felt a faint effect when standing on them. Now, she felt nothing. Odd. Was this a negative status? [Sacredness]’s reduction and [Affinity]’s boost nearly nullified it. But no experience points… She didn’t get it, leading the two through the ruins.

Their shocked looks stemmed from different thoughts, but neither spoke. Stone pillars, etched with varied runes, clashed, eroded by time and the forest’s depths. Moss crawled over every detail, wild and unrestrained. After wandering, she found the familiar path. Stepping through the gate, it was as if she revisited past times.

She strode toward the altar, the silver sword appearing in her hand. Wenger inserted it back into the altar. Nothing happened. No visions, no bloodvines, not even a sound. Viyi curiously scanned the surroundings. Vick stepped closer, about to speak.

A faint tremor came from beneath, growing stronger. Wenger met his gaze, unease surging in her chest. The next moment, the ancient hall’s tiles dissolved, swallowing them into boundless void.