Following the brimming of the mana heart, Tyrus carried out some light stretches to uncover any issues with his body. Thanks to Elder Treants’ healing, nothing was out of the ordinary. He had fully regained the use of his left arm and experienced no adverse effects. A slight sensation of weariness occurred, but he could overlook it. Whatever spell Elder Treant used, it was way better than Healing Touch.
"With what element did you use to restore my arm? The green light fixed me up in no time."
"Earth, but it requires a certain proficiency to accomplish that task. I employed it to mend your bones. In addition, I channeled some of my life force to remedy any supplementary physical injuries."
Tyrus contorted his forehead and massaged his arm. “It sounds like you did something terrible to heal me.”
“A trifling amount to honor the Hero of Wildwood. Each element has its own set of limitations in terms of its healing capabilities. Mending a broken bone will not remedy the consequences of illnesses such as fever and important fluid depletion, such as blood. To act as a replacement for those things, I have imparted a portion of my essence for this purpose. It is a task reserved for those who are attuned to the earth and its symbolic significance in representing the constancy of life.”
Earth is more amazing than I thought, Tyrus pondered. It could manipulate plants, rocks, and even heal broken bones; abilities he had underestimated. It was a powerful reminder that no element is worthless or less capable than the rest. Depending on the user, all elements can have the same strength. He’d have to think twice about badmouthing things he didn’t understand.
“Just remember,” Elder Treant continued. “Giving your own life force is no laughing matter. The extent to which you offer it will dictate the number of years it saps away from your life. One can not only give life force, but also extract it through force. Beware of those who have a proclivity for the dark element. In my view, it is one of the most sinister practices, as it can unleash wickedness and unspeakable terrors.”
Tyrus rubbed his jaw, reflecting, until the realization dawned on him. The book solely documented one incantation for the dark element. He considered it odd that the others had significantly more, yet Elder Treant's depiction of the element suggested it could be a spell that many shun. The most fitting word he could use to describe it was taboo. A kind of craft that sorcerers steer clear of, longing to have no connection with it.
“No wonder there’s only Shadow Bolt,” he mumbled. “Someone must be hiding the spells. Learning those things could lead to a lot of damage if it were an evil sorcerer doing it. But that makes little sense. Fire can cause a lot more damage, and there are many spells to choose from.”
He locked eyes with Elder Treant, who promptly answered. “Have you heard of the Mad Sorcerer?”
“Only once by some people,” Tyrus replied. “They didn’t go into detail about them, only mentioning their name.”
“That is because of its infamous reputation that instills fear in many, even presently. Being one of the oldest entities, I possess a vague remembrance of the occurrences that unfolded. The Mad Sorcerer was a figure with a primary affinity for the dark element, identified as the first in existence. While their beginnings remain a mystery, their activities have become widespread.”
The tree's attention turned skyward, observing a massive cloud drifting by. A vast shadow glided through the sanctuary, impeding the comforting light.
“Over the years, they have gained significant power through the exploration and honing of their element. Naturally, upon deducing the potential of the element, they turned to live experiments.”
“In the beginning, they would control the victims' shadows to compel them into executing actions against their volition. Then, they opted for sapping their life force, observing how they responded to the gradual decay of their corporeal existence, writhing in excruciating pain while confined in a pitch-black room.”
“The Mad Sorcerer, after countless attempts and failures, unearthed a chilling truth that would leave other sorcerers aghast. Through precise and noiseless spellcasting, the Mad Sorcerer could potentially generate a zone that incapacitates mana: nullification.”
Shortly thereafter, the ominous shadow dissipated, and the sun's warm glow resumed. The scowl on Tyrus' face deepened as his neck grew warm, replaying what he had just heard.
In order to not frighten him, the Elder Treant avoided bringing up additional atrocities committed by the Mad Sorcerer. He also noted that it only grazed the surface of a lot of information. When did the battle take place and who put an end to it? It would be hard to fight a person who could disrupt mana that easily. Also, the sorcerer could cause that much damage with silent casting alone? Elemental Sorcerers can be quite scary…
When Tyrus was seated, on the verge of asking the pressing questions, a figure in the distance caught his eye. Following some rustling shrubbery, a treant materialized, toting a sizable carcass. Meadow was floating near the treant's face.
“We’re here!” she announced. She and the treant ambled towards Tyrus and deposited the creature beside him. They splayed the drake out, its eyes devoid of vitality. Meadow held a hilt in her hands and placed it on Tyrus's lap.
“Thank you. I didn’t have the chance to place the corpse and hilt in my ring because of the pain.” He paused for a moment, remembering the boar. “On second thought, I don’t think the corpse would’ve fit.”
Puffing out a grunt, he stood up and strode over to the drake, circling it. He examined the dull-colored scales that were covered in wounds of different sizes and even gave a gentle tap on the collar. The surface was marred with scratches and grooves, while the protruding chain appeared to be severed in two. The more he fixated on the collar, the more his stomach weighed him down.
It was unmistakable that the drake had been imprisoned, but by whose hand? Its aggression and hatred were impossible to ignore during the battle. As soon as it saw his ears, the anger escalated. The creature targeted him first, which left Meadow alone and suggested that it had a strong dislike for him–or he was just a bigger target.
The drake's hostility towards Tyrus allowed Meadow to save him from serious injuries frequently. If he had faced it alone, he would have surely perished. Allowing the fairy to stay with him turned out to be a smart decision.
“I think the drake was a slave,” Meadow spoke up. “A shackle, scars all over its scales, and more aggressive than usual? No wonder it was so agitated and caused bloodshed in Wildwood.”
“Slave or not, it shouldn’t have done so much damage,” Tyrus said. Despite his sympathy towards the drake, it should not justify its actions towards others or their lives. Whether the drake was smart enough to know that remained a mystery.
Would I have been like that if Wanderer hadn’t saved me?
What could have been his future had him shuddering. Picturing himself toiling for someone else with no semblance of freedom. Bearing scars as nasty and plentiful as the drakes just for disobedience, and wearing suffocating shackles that dug into his skin.
Tyrus resorted to deep breaths to pacify his nerves. He needed something else to think about. “About helping with those goblins and lesser hounds,” he uttered slowly. “I’m fit enough to deal with them even without a blade. I am a sorcerer, after all.”
In a sudden flight, Meadow settled on his shoulder. “And I’ll be joining you, savior. Well, if you grant me permission. I am determined to lend a helping hand to Wildwood in every way I can.”
“After seeing you in action, I want to see more. Also, you don’t have to ask, Meadow. You live here, but I'm a stranger.”
“Stranger? No, you’re the Hero of Wildwood! This is practically your home now.”
Tyrus's cheeks reddened as he chuckled. “That’s nice to know. Elder Treant, are you fine with that?”
"I do not object to your decision. Keep an open mind about what you may encounter. Although we welcome all kinds of beasts as long as they do not disturb the balance, we will not hesitate to reduce the difficulties."
Even though Elder Treant's tone was menacing, Tyrus maintained his composure and gave a nod. Swiveling, he complied with Meadow's instruction as before and sprinted towards the regions with the highest concentration of creatures. He intended to ease Wildwood's problems out of the goodness of his heart, but the primary benefit was using the slaying of goblins and lesser hounds as training. Mimicking the sensation of silent casting was essential, and the creatures would be used as targets to deepen his understanding.
He would prioritize learning silent casting, dedicating himself to its mastery with his primary affinity. The ability to exercise full control over a spell's strength was far more helpful than a rigid level, and saving mana would be a resourceful approach. Knowing its limitations quickly would help him identify what he could or could not do, and there were several positives he could draw from it.
He’d still further the fire element, that he did not forget. Additionally, he aimed to investigate the chance of silent casting fire and light spells. Until now, his attention should be silent casting, enhancing the might of fire, training his body, and bolstering his mana heart. Lots to do in a short amount of time…
“Sorcerers do spend most of their time training and studying,” he whispered.
“What was that?” Meadow asked over the rushing wind.
“Nothing. Just talking to myself.”
“Oh, okay.” She glanced to the side. “By the way, have you considered getting a haircut? It looks way too uneven and wild.”
Tyrus played with his limp bangs. “It never really mattered to me. Occasionally, I'd trim it with whatever I could find, but lately, I've been forgetting.”
“I can help with that. I'm rather proficient at it, if I may say so myself.” To emphasize her point, she swung her warm brown hair around like a cord. The flower wreath clung tenaciously.
“You would? I would appreciate it.”
“It’s a deal then. Once we’re finished, I’ll provide you with the most exceptional haircut you'll ever experience in your lifetime.”
Tyrus nodded at her excitement, quickening his stride as he jogged through the forest; thoughts about the Mad Sorcerer still fresh on his mind.
Following the brimming of the mana heart, Tyrus carried out some light stretches to uncover any issues with his body. Thanks to Elder Treants’ healing, nothing was out of the ordinary. He had fully regained the use of his left arm and experienced no adverse effects. A slight sensation of weariness occurred, but he could overlook it. Whatever spell Elder Treant used, it was way better than Healing Touch.
"With what element did you use to restore my arm? The green light fixed me up in no time."
"Earth, but it requires a certain proficiency to accomplish that task. I employed it to mend your bones. In addition, I channeled some of my life force to remedy any supplementary physical injuries."
Tyrus contorted his forehead and massaged his arm. “It sounds like you did something terrible to heal me.”
“A trifling amount to honor the Hero of Wildwood. Each element has its own set of limitations in terms of its healing capabilities. Mending a broken bone will not remedy the consequences of illnesses such as fever and important fluid depletion, such as blood. To act as a replacement for those things, I have imparted a portion of my essence for this purpose. It is a task reserved for those who are attuned to the earth and its symbolic significance in representing the constancy of life.”
Earth is more amazing than I thought, Tyrus pondered. It could manipulate plants, rocks, and even heal broken bones; abilities he had underestimated. It was a powerful reminder that no element is worthless or less capable than the rest. Depending on the user, all elements can have the same strength. He’d have to think twice about badmouthing things he didn’t understand.
“Just remember,” Elder Treant continued. “Giving your own life force is no laughing matter. The extent to which you offer it will dictate the number of years it saps away from your life. One can not only give life force, but also extract it through force. Beware of those who have a proclivity for the dark element. In my view, it is one of the most sinister practices, as it can unleash wickedness and unspeakable terrors.”
Tyrus rubbed his jaw, reflecting, until the realization dawned on him. The book solely documented one incantation for the dark element. He considered it odd that the others had significantly more, yet Elder Treant's depiction of the element suggested it could be a spell that many shun. The most fitting word he could use to describe it was taboo. A kind of craft that sorcerers steer clear of, longing to have no connection with it.
“No wonder there’s only Shadow Bolt,” he mumbled. “Someone must be hiding the spells. Learning those things could lead to a lot of damage if it were an evil sorcerer doing it. But that makes little sense. Fire can cause a lot more damage, and there are many spells to choose from.”
He locked eyes with Elder Treant, who promptly answered. “Have you heard of the Mad Sorcerer?”
“Only once by some people,” Tyrus replied. “They didn’t go into detail about them, only mentioning their name.”
“That is because of its infamous reputation that instills fear in many, even presently. Being one of the oldest entities, I possess a vague remembrance of the occurrences that unfolded. The Mad Sorcerer was a figure with a primary affinity for the dark element, identified as the first in existence. While their beginnings remain a mystery, their activities have become widespread.”
The tree's attention turned skyward, observing a massive cloud drifting by. A vast shadow glided through the sanctuary, impeding the comforting light.
“Over the years, they have gained significant power through the exploration and honing of their element. Naturally, upon deducing the potential of the element, they turned to live experiments.”
“In the beginning, they would control the victims' shadows to compel them into executing actions against their volition. Then, they opted for sapping their life force, observing how they responded to the gradual decay of their corporeal existence, writhing in excruciating pain while confined in a pitch-black room.”
“The Mad Sorcerer, after countless attempts and failures, unearthed a chilling truth that would leave other sorcerers aghast. Through precise and noiseless spellcasting, the Mad Sorcerer could potentially generate a zone that incapacitates mana: nullification.”
Shortly thereafter, the ominous shadow dissipated, and the sun's warm glow resumed. The scowl on Tyrus' face deepened as his neck grew warm, replaying what he had just heard.
In order to not frighten him, the Elder Treant avoided bringing up additional atrocities committed by the Mad Sorcerer. He also noted that it only grazed the surface of a lot of information. When did the battle take place and who put an end to it? It would be hard to fight a person who could disrupt mana that easily. Also, the sorcerer could cause that much damage with silent casting alone? Elemental Sorcerers can be quite scary…
When Tyrus was seated, on the verge of asking the pressing questions, a figure in the distance caught his eye. Following some rustling shrubbery, a treant materialized, toting a sizable carcass. Meadow was floating near the treant's face.
“We’re here!” she announced. She and the treant ambled towards Tyrus and deposited the creature beside him. They splayed the drake out, its eyes devoid of vitality. Meadow held a hilt in her hands and placed it on Tyrus's lap.
“Thank you. I didn’t have the chance to place the corpse and hilt in my ring because of the pain.” He paused for a moment, remembering the boar. “On second thought, I don’t think the corpse would’ve fit.”
Puffing out a grunt, he stood up and strode over to the drake, circling it. He examined the dull-colored scales that were covered in wounds of different sizes and even gave a gentle tap on the collar. The surface was marred with scratches and grooves, while the protruding chain appeared to be severed in two. The more he fixated on the collar, the more his stomach weighed him down.
It was unmistakable that the drake had been imprisoned, but by whose hand? Its aggression and hatred were impossible to ignore during the battle. As soon as it saw his ears, the anger escalated. The creature targeted him first, which left Meadow alone and suggested that it had a strong dislike for him–or he was just a bigger target.
The drake's hostility towards Tyrus allowed Meadow to save him from serious injuries frequently. If he had faced it alone, he would have surely perished. Allowing the fairy to stay with him turned out to be a smart decision.
“I think the drake was a slave,” Meadow spoke up. “A shackle, scars all over its scales, and more aggressive than usual? No wonder it was so agitated and caused bloodshed in Wildwood.”
“Slave or not, it shouldn’t have done so much damage,” Tyrus said. Despite his sympathy towards the drake, it should not justify its actions towards others or their lives. Whether the drake was smart enough to know that remained a mystery.
Would I have been like that if Wanderer hadn’t saved me?
What could have been his future had him shuddering. Picturing himself toiling for someone else with no semblance of freedom. Bearing scars as nasty and plentiful as the drakes just for disobedience, and wearing suffocating shackles that dug into his skin.
Tyrus resorted to deep breaths to pacify his nerves. He needed something else to think about. “About helping with those goblins and lesser hounds,” he uttered slowly. “I’m fit enough to deal with them even without a blade. I am a sorcerer, after all.”
In a sudden flight, Meadow settled on his shoulder. “And I’ll be joining you, savior. Well, if you grant me permission. I am determined to lend a helping hand to Wildwood in every way I can.”
“After seeing you in action, I want to see more. Also, you don’t have to ask, Meadow. You live here, but I'm a stranger.”
“Stranger? No, you’re the Hero of Wildwood! This is practically your home now.”
Tyrus's cheeks reddened as he chuckled. “That’s nice to know. Elder Treant, are you fine with that?”
"I do not object to your decision. Keep an open mind about what you may encounter. Although we welcome all kinds of beasts as long as they do not disturb the balance, we will not hesitate to reduce the difficulties."
Even though Elder Treant's tone was menacing, Tyrus maintained his composure and gave a nod. Swiveling, he complied with Meadow's instruction as before and sprinted towards the regions with the highest concentration of creatures. He intended to ease Wildwood's problems out of the goodness of his heart, but the primary benefit was using the slaying of goblins and lesser hounds as training. Mimicking the sensation of silent casting was essential, and the creatures would be used as targets to deepen his understanding.
He would prioritize learning silent casting, dedicating himself to its mastery with his primary affinity. The ability to exercise full control over a spell's strength was far more helpful than a rigid level, and saving mana would be a resourceful approach. Knowing its limitations quickly would help him identify what he could or could not do, and there were several positives he could draw from it.
He’d still further the fire element, that he did not forget. Additionally, he aimed to investigate the chance of silent casting fire and light spells. Until now, his attention should be silent casting, enhancing the might of fire, training his body, and bolstering his mana heart. Lots to do in a short amount of time…
“Sorcerers do spend most of their time training and studying,” he whispered.
“What was that?” Meadow asked over the rushing wind.
“Nothing. Just talking to myself.”
“Oh, okay.” She glanced to the side. “By the way, have you considered getting a haircut? It looks way too uneven and wild.”
Tyrus played with his limp bangs. “It never really mattered to me. Occasionally, I'd trim it with whatever I could find, but lately, I've been forgetting.”
“I can help with that. I'm rather proficient at it, if I may say so myself.” To emphasize her point, she swung her warm brown hair around like a cord. The flower wreath clung tenaciously.
“You would? I would appreciate it.”
“It’s a deal then. Once we’re finished, I’ll provide you with the most exceptional haircut you'll ever experience in your lifetime.”
Tyrus nodded at her excitement, quickening his stride as he jogged through the forest; thoughts about the Mad Sorcerer still fresh on his mind.
