Chapter 702

In distant memories, there lay a vast wilderness, where the recollections of childhood were filled with trekking and travel. The blue backdrop of the mountain where the storm ceased still etched deeply in the recesses of my memory as I crossed the edge of the “Shallow Sea.” At the boundary of water and wind, two planes strangely overlapped in my vision.

That was the most profound impression of my youth.

But all distant landscapes have disappeared. After a long journey, travel, and more travel, I finally arrived in this world—

It was a strange beginning, a memory passed down through generations among my kin, as if flowing in the bloodline, nurturing magic, and forming a sacred forest. In the dark and distant ages, gentle magic attracted beings from the shadows—frost faeries, weeping monsters, and the undead, fighting to protect this forest against them.

Thus, unending battles seemed to have lasted for many years.

Until one day, I saw a glowing orb of light fly toward me.

“Hello, my name is Lolo. This place is beautiful; may I stay here?”

“No, you cannot,” I replied seriously.

“Why?” The little bud’s blue eyes widened with curiosity, as if it were a strange thing for me to deny her a place in this forest.

“Because you will, like them, pry into the sacred magic.”

“No, no, no! I only feel that it’s cooler here.”

“Cooler?”

“Uh-huh! Besides, you can’t fight them alone all the time; you need companions, right? I can help you!”

It seemed that from that moment on, I had a companion. The word ‘companion,’ when pronounced in the language of the elements, carried far more weight than human vocabulary, yet its meaning was profound.

“Malorcha, let’s build a lake so they can’t come here.”

“A lake?”

“Uh-huh, a lake. You’ve never seen one, right? It’s like the scenery of the Shallow Sea—of course, not as magnificent as my homeland, but still beautiful,”

Remembering my homeland, I nodded.

“Malorcha, is the lake beautiful?”

“Not like the Shallow Sea,” I pondered for a while before replying earnestly.

“Then let’s make it bigger. Boundless,” she said with excitement. “By the way, when I die, please bury me under the largest Mist Tree, so I can return to my homeland.”

“Die?”

I narrowed my eyes slightly, a piece of information hidden within the distant blood seemed to flutter in my memory—a phrase imprinted on my soul flashed within: ‘New life and extinction, the elements cycle endlessly—’

“Uh-huh,” the little sprite narrowed her eyes as well, “New life and extinction, the elements cycle endlessly. There can be no new life without death.”

I gazed at the dark night sky as shooting stars vanished in an instant, a symbol of yet another fallen hero in the turbulent civil world above this flourishing starry sky. The war of mortals began one hundred thirty-seven years ago, and it will continue for three hundred years, ending twelve years after that, as the prophecy stated.

Buried beneath the earth at the center of the forest, a year later, glowing buds sprouted, then slowly bore fruit. Within the fruits, two new lives were born.

Those were the continuations of Lolo’s life; they were called Mia and Tis.

Faeries always had names from birth; this is indeed a strange thing.

And then the faeries multiplied, the forest grew livelier and more prosperous day by day. But every night thereafter, looking at the thriving starry sky, I always recalled that phrase:

“Malorcha, let’s build a lake so they can’t come here.”

At the silvery lakeside, the frost faeries indeed dared not cross the lake’s surface anymore—

The war of the human world finally ended, one hundred thirty years ago. Malorcha looked up at the night sky as a shooting star streaked by; the last hero of the civilized world, Saint Ausoor, finished her final journey.

The world suddenly became strange.

…

The magic core is the source of life for magical beings. But for creatures like the crystal stag, which harmoniously coexist with magic, it merely represents the core of their power. A magical creature that loses its magic core instantly turns to ash, but for Malorcha, it only meant losing power down to her youth.

Brendel soon saw the crystalline prism embedded in Malorcha’s spine. As soon as Brendel laid eyes on it, he couldn’t help but narrow them slightly.

The magic core of a healthy crystal stag should contain a blue hue like the sea, reminiscent of their homeland, the Shallow Sea, the most beautiful place within the water element world. Yet what he saw was a pitch-black crystal.

The magic erosion was severe.

Brendel couldn’t help but gently hold his breath.

The world of Vaunte was built atop a sea of magic; most of the powers mortals come into contact with originate from dark magic. But Martha established Tiamat’s laws, using the power of rules to constrain these wild, dark primordial forces—making them tame, peaceful.

This was the mother’s grace.

Yet some refused this grace.

Astrologers pursue the path of the divine people, as if cutting through the thorns of darkness to walk like sages. Like the goddess they worship, the Abyss Goddess Yilian, they transform dark magic into mirrors, sacrificing their sight in search of glimpsing through the mist of the future. Darkness erodes their bodies and minds, yet they remain steadfast.

Witches progress further than the astrologers; the sages of the twelve witches vowed to conquer the powers of darkness—though their descendants adhere to this vow, madness, chilliness, eccentricity, and temperamental shifts accompany them throughout their lives. For this reason, coupled with their identity as followers of the dark dragon, they are repudiated by the entire continent.

And then there are those who walk in the shadows, cultists, worshipers of demons, madmen, and murderers. They venerate dark magic and do not hesitate to please those sinister, evil beings through sacrifices. These are the limping wanderers of civilization’s shadow, but no one denies their existence.

Dark magic is like a potent poison; its harm to anyone is irreversible. Brendel, with the feeling of having glimpsed the answer, gently reached out toward the magic core.

A jolt coursed through him.

“Human, stop—”

A gentle voice, entirely different from the previous chaotic, furious tones, echoed in Brendel’s mind.

“Guardian of the Saint’s Mark Forest, you know what I’m doing—” Brendel’s hand paused slightly, then he whispered, “Have you seen the state of this forest?”

“You driving out the dark magic would change nothing.” The voice did not directly answer him but responded, “Instead, you will regret your actions.”

“I need to know why,” Brendel asked. “If you do not relinquish this magic core, you will be assimilated into a monster by the dark magic. This forest has begun to wither, and dark magic will erode everything, including your faerie companions—”

The voice fell silent.

After a moment, it spoke again: “No, the forest will never wither. Everything you say will never happen, human. You have not seen the Shallow Sea; you cannot understand how great nature is—”

“The Shallow Sea?”

Malorcha paused, her body battered and near death. A hint of fatigue flickered in her crimson eyes, yet they burned with intense fire: “Human, I know what you want, the crystallized blood; you can take it, but please leave this forest. This forest belongs to no one; it only belongs to history, to the faeries who have witnessed all that has passed—”

Brendel didn’t understand her words, but he cast a glance at the glimmering crystalline blood on the ground, then looked at Nemeses not far away. The Lady Knight was watching the little faerie in her hands, who was crying profusely.

“Thank you for your generosity, Guardian,” Brendel replied, “But what I am curious about is your choice.”

A gentle breeze seemed to stir through the forest, rustling the brittle branches, causing them to snap and fall.

The forest was nearing its death.

Malorcha’s body ignited in fierce black flames, the crystal stag lying quietly there as if reminiscing about something. Brendel watched her gaze, looking past his shoulder toward the flourishing, splendid night sky of the Vaunte world.

There were many constellations, composing countless epic tales belonging to mortals.

“Why did you actively extract all the magic from the forest? Is it because the Saint’s Mark Valley is being eroded by dark magic?”

“About what you guessed, human,” the weakening voice responded, “the forest is stirring, not just here. Dark magic is surging from beneath the entire world; the Moon of Magic has grown bright like never before, human—”

Brendel remained silent, knowing that Malorcha was referring to the Great Magic Tide.

“So you willingly absorbed the dark magic into your being to prevent it from tainting the entire forest.”

“But isn’t what you’re doing futile? Ultimately, you will become a puppet of dark magic. As the last guardian of this forest dies, it will wither and decay, just like what you see today.” Brendel replied slowly, pondering all the clues about the task in his mind.

But his words were interrupted.

“That is because you have not seen the Shallow Sea, human,” Malorcha answered quietly. “That beautiful and magnificent sea, at the boundary of wind and water. The tides rise and fall endlessly, cycling without stop. Just like our lives—”

“Your life?”

“Newborn extinction, endless cycles—”

“This is the fate of the elements.”

Brendel suddenly understood—

He stared in shock at the fallen crystal stag before him. The aged elemental life expired, while a newborn elemental being was born upon its carcass. Generation after generation, that ancient knowledge was thus transmitted.

It was like a poem from the ancient era, resonating within what is called the bloodline of inheritance—quiet yet majestic.

“The old order departs, taking with it many memories. New life will be reborn from the withering ashes. Dark magic will burn away with me, and at that moment, pure magic will once again fill this land, nourishing every root of the Mist Trees, evoking the vibrancy of life anew.”

Brendel stood there, unmoving. For a moment, he felt his thoughts about the task fading. He asked, “Is this your choice?”

Malorcha did not reply.

The voice merely whispered: “I should have left. When that shooting star crossed the night sky, I understood that this era no longer belongs to me.”

“It’s been so long.”

“But the lake still doesn’t look like the Shallow Sea.”

“Indeed, it’s really beautiful—” Brendel lowered his eyelids slightly.

He felt a surge of emotion, but more so, confusion. Why did the system set up such a scene? Was there a hidden task here? Was it merely to let him act as a bystander?

No, there must be something that could be changed.

He watched the crystal stag lying on the ground gradually closing its eyes, dark magic trying to break free from it but was firmly locked within the magic core.

In that instant, Brendel seemed to feel the last image conveyed by the guardian of the Saint’s Mark Forest:

A vast sea, endless. Jagged cliffs, waves crashing against the rocks. Far off in the sky, the storm-ceasing holy mountain seemed like a subtle blue ink painting.

Clouds floated in the sky.

He saw the traveling fawn, crossing the coast with its kin, embarking on a long journey, no one knew where their destination would be.

Long years flickered through Brendel’s mind in a blink, as if a thousand years had passed in an instant; he saw many things. He saw the faerie named Lolo.

“I saw my homeland.”

“It’s beautiful, just as it was when I left. It has never changed, waiting for my return.”

…

Brendel blinked hard, his eyes feeling dry.

When he opened his eyes, the body of Malorcha was radiating a blazing white light, becoming transparent and ethereal. The magic swirling around her seemed to undergo a rebirth; in the dazzling flash resembling a new star, the black magic was drawn by a force transcending the boundaries of life and death, and an invisible law descended from above.

At that moment, he and Nemeses lifted their heads, their hearts trembling in unison, feeling the power from Martha.

Gentle yet penetrating to the heart.

All languages and sounds seemed to lose color.

The faeries looked up at this scene; they were astonished to see the forest breaking apart, but a familiar and warm power was emerging.

Brendel saw the little faerie in Nemeses’ hand, face soaked with tears, rushing toward the corpse of the crystal stag. Her mouth opened and closed as she cried out, but no sound was heard.

Between heaven and earth, only law and power remained.

Brendel saw golden magic erupting from Malorcha’s corpse, infusing into the ground, spreading along the paths in the forest like a spiderweb. Then he saw a wisp of faint smoke rising from the now-turned-ash body of the crystal stag, forming Malorcha’s likeness in life—a mighty and beautiful being gazing up at the night sky.

Then this wisp of smoke also began to dissipate gently.

But in that moment, Brendel suddenly realized something. He raised his head and shouted at the smoky form of the soul: “Malorcha, wait! Your magic core won’t completely turn to ash; a part will be inherited by the newborn elements!”

The crystal stag clearly also realized something.

It trembled slightly, turning to look at Brendel. As its form began to dissolve, Brendel couldn’t even see its expression, but he read its final message from Malorcha’s gaze—

Help it.

The magic core had been fully corrupted; even if only a portion was inherited by the newborn crystal stag, it would still assimilate it. The newly birthed elemental life would only turn into a completely bloodthirsty monster.

And this forest would subsequently become a wilderness buried with horror and dread.

This was where the task lay.

Brendel suddenly realized this in his heart. Yet at this moment, he felt no relaxation; he watched Malorcha’s form slowly dissolve into nothingness, her anxious gaze fixed upon him, yet he was powerless.

No.

Wait.

There was one more way. Brendel suddenly raised his head, looking at the crystal stag, his mind filled with the scene he had seen earlier. A vast sea, endless. Jagged cliffs, waves crashing against the rocks—this was the Shallow Sea, the source of elemental life.

“I can help you, Malorcha.”

He suddenly said loudly: “Are you willing to accept?”

In his palm, a blank card had begun to manifest; upon seeing that card, Malorcha seemed to understand something. Her long and ancient life had accumulated bits of knowledge since some era.

“Are you willing?” Brendel shouted.

Golden magic was flooding the entire forest, but the black flames also reignited from the center of the golden light. Both human and stag had only one final chance left.

“What do you intend to do, human?” was the meaning in Malorcha’s gaze.

“To use dark magic as the source and seal you together with it. I will extract it from the magic core using the laws of the fate card; perhaps it will succeed!”

“How certain are you?”

“I don’t know—”

Malorcha nodded gently, a layer of mist remaining only below her neck. The entirety of her body had already vanished, but her four hooves still stood proudly on the ground.

Brendel took out the fate card and presented it toward Malorcha’s soul: “Charles, help me calculate how much wealth this sealing card will require!”

“My lord, can’t you calculate something so simple yourself?” came Charles’ drowsy voice from the other end of the mind link. He yawned, clearly unaware of what had transpired.

“Cut the nonsense, just tell me—” Brendel gritted his teeth and scolded.

Charles snapped to attention and finally responded: “Ah, then my lord, quickly grant me a portion of the sealing permissions and let me see what kind of card you’re attempting to seal—”

Brendel immediately complied.

“Crystal stag,” Charles slightly paused: “This is much stronger than that little princess back then. Although its soul has approved, significantly reducing the sealing costs, it still requires nearly a thousand wealth.”

“Ah, wait—what is this?” Charles’ tone became hurried: “Dark magic? My lord, you want to extract it from here—this is the law of chaos, and in terms of permissions, it is not inferior to that of a traveling mage. Are you sure you want to do this? I’m a bit confused…”

“No need for you to understand!” Brendel was nearly going mad; Malorcha’s head had already begun to seem ghostly: “Just tell me how much we need!”

“There’s too much dark magic…”

“That’s already very little!” Brendel’s second statement was cut off. Most of the dark magic had been purified by Malorcha, transformed into the power of order.

“Well, alright, I understand, it requires a total of 2720 wealth.”

“So much!?”

“I mentioned…” Charles replied, but he was abruptly cut off by Brendel: “Enough! Tell me if I have enough wealth now.”

“…Barely, but my lord, aren’t you planning to leave a bit for yourself? Did you not say that in the Frost-Laden Forest, you might encounter some better materials? This place is still within the borders of Alnasol Forest, right?” Charles asked curiously, not understanding why his lord seemed to be in trouble.

But Brendel no longer had time to care.

He pressed his thumb and index finger against the card face, shouting toward Malorcha’s soul: “Seal!”

Yet the expected situation did not occur. It was completely different from what happened when he sealed Medisa last time. The fate card simply floated quietly in mid-air, not moving at all.

“What’s going on?” Brendel’s hand holding the card tensed slightly.

“My lord… the soul of the target you want to seal is too weak. The dark magic is insufficient to compensate for this flaw in the rules… more wealth is needed to create a virtual law.” Charles’ voice suddenly cried out anxiously.

“How much more is needed?” Brendel asked through gritted teeth, nearly missing the final chance.

“Not enough…”

Brendel’s heart sank, but just at that moment, Charles suddenly exclaimed: “Ah… a new power has been injected in! What’s going on?”

The young wizard servant clearly did not comprehend the situation, nor did Brendel; he only saw the blank card shimmering before exploding like a flashbang.

A blinding, white light surged forth from all directions.

Brendel squinted slightly; when the light gradually faded, he saw a card swaying down from mid-air.

“In darkness yet aspiring towards the light, forever a song—”

The card landed in his hand:

“New life and extinction, the elements cycle endlessly—”

Brendel looked at the card depicting the white stag, with the faerie upon its back, momentarily in a daze. In that instant, he realized what had transpired earlier.

He raised his head and saw golden magic enveloping the entire forest; the dead Mist Trees were collapsing in droves. But new branches sprouted from the ashes, rapidly growing a dense thicket of trees.

A young crystal stag lay amidst these clusters, half-closed eyes resting.

The forest seemed to cradle it protectively.

With a soft buzzing sound, Brendel saw a light green panel pop up before him: