After casting the necessary formations to induce blissful sleep in Yddra—patterns designed not just to give rest but to repair mental energy—I proceeded to craft additional arrays that would extend similar effects to any other split consciousness that might be nearby in this universe.
Normally, I would have used more precise tracking methods to locate her other fragments, but my current capabilities, though substantial, remained insufficient when considering the entities hunting me. Such a widespread search would have been like lighting a beacon announcing my presence to the Proteras, essentially painting a cosmic target on my back.
The myriad formations floated around me like translucent stained glass suspended in air, each one a complex pattern of glowing sigils in shades of blue, gold, and emerald. They rotated slowly, occasionally intersecting with one another to create new, more complex patterns that shimmered with deeper meaning. With each gesture of my hands, the sigils realigned themselves, the script rewriting itself according to my will until the entire network formed a perfect mandala of power.
As the final formation slid into place, interlocking with the others with an almost audible click, Yddra—who had taken a seat at the base of her tree self—visibly surrendered to the sensation of comfort and relief washing over her. I could practically hear the release of tension she'd been carrying for who knows how long, all for the single chance of meeting me. Now that she had, she could relax, knowing full well that my capabilities, limited as they might currently be, represented her best hope.
The moment of her relaxation manifested physically in her main body, the magnificent tree whose ethereal glow intensified, taking on an even healthier shade of magenta and indigo. The already beautiful space of the cavern transformed further, the crystalline formations in the ceiling catching and amplifying the enhanced light, creating a celestial display that rivaled the night sky. Small motes of energy began to drift upward from the ground, like luminous fireflies ascending in perfect spiral patterns.
Then, without warning or fanfare, her humanoid form dissolved into motes of golden-green light that flowed back into the tree. The process wasn't violent or dramatic—more like watching a sandcastle gently reclaimed by the tide, returning to its original state in a dance of inevitability. Within seconds, she was gone, fully reabsorbed into the tree, which continued to pulse gently in a rhythmic manner as the leaves brightened and dimmed in sequence.
The silence that followed was profound, broken only by the soft breathing of the Groove Guardian family and the distant, barely perceptible sounds of water flowing through the tree's internal systems.
"Is... is she... gone?" The gruff male voice of the alpha Guardian broke the silence, his tone shaky with uncertainty. The transformation from fierce protector to confused witness was almost comical, his massive frame seeming smaller somehow as he struggled to process what he'd witnessed.
"Not per se... she's still here as you can see," I replied, tilting my head back to observe the living tree, its gentle pulsing almost mimicking human respiration. "She's just in a more comfortable sleep, a much-needed temporary rest considering her suffering for gods know how many eons."
I turned to face the Groove Guardian family directly. The massive alpha male had subtly positioned himself slightly in front of his mate and child, an instinctive protective gesture that persisted despite the dramatic shift in our power dynamic. His antler crown had dimmed to a soft glow, the tiny buds at each tip closed like flowers at nightfall. His mate cradled their injured child with a tenderness that contrasted sharply with her earlier ferocity, her star-pupiled eyes now reflecting confusion and cautious hope rather than murderous intent.
Judging from their gazes, their hostility and wariness had completely vanished—a good sign, considering the next step Yddra had communicated to me before beginning her temporary sleep: 'Please, Guardian, please save their child's core. She won't be able to survive this planet's dangers otherwise.'
"Though she's asleep, she can easily wake up," I added with a casual shrug, curious to see their reaction. "Think of it like hitting someone with the intention of knocking them unconscious... but this time apply the same situation to a stronger goddess."
The parents visibly reeled in shock, awe, and a tiny bit of fear—exactly the reaction I'd hoped for. That should keep them on their toes and prevent any troublesome behavior.
"I... I see. Thank... thank you then... sir?" the male responded with an awkward slight bow, clearly uncertain how to address me. The cognitive dissonance was written across his features—one moment I had been an intruder to be eliminated, the next a mysterious being with power over their deity. His confusion was understandable, even somewhat amusing.
"Please raise your head and don't sweat it," I replied, waving off his formality. "If anything, I need to apologize for my slight mistake that caused harm to your daughter." I approached the massive tree, tapping its trunk lightly with my knuckles. The leaves above brightened momentarily in response, as if Yddra was listening while enjoying her well-deserved rest. "Also, call me Ryan. I'd rather be on peaceful and speaking terms with the creatures this hunk of wood cared for so much."
The alpha straightened, relief evident in the way his massive shoulders relaxed, though wariness remained in the set of his jaw. His mate, however, stepped forward slightly, her gaze fixed not on me but on her injured child.
"About that... what... what exactly happened?" she asked cautiously, her voice softer than I would have expected from such a formidable being. The concern in her tone was universal—a mother's worry transcending species barriers.
I considered how best to explain without revealing too much about primordial mana or my true nature. The truth would be incomprehensible to them, possibly terrifying. A simplified version would serve better.
"Well, back at the spot where we met, I had been cultivating there for around... 1,799 years," I began, noting their surprise at the time frame. "Once done, I was in the process of releasing the barriers that had maintained the necessary environment for my cultivation. In that process, I failed to account for the massive difference in mana gradient—inside my cultivation area, mana existed at a completely different level, higher even than the mana geyser beneath your domain."
As I spoke, I used subtle hand gestures to illustrate the concept of differing mana densities, creating miniature visualizations of energy gradients in the air between us. The illusion wasn't necessary for explanation, but it helped focus their attention and reinforced my position as something more than a mere human.
"Even after absorbing the larger portion of what surrounded me, some leaked out. It's that small mana wave that hit your child." I paused, letting the implication sink in. "Simply think of her being infused with so much mana that ordinary mana poisoning would look manageable by comparison—despite how dreadful that condition usually is for anyone, even demigods."
With each word, the parents' expressions transformed into pure horror, the mother pulling her child closer to her chest with trembling arms. If they only knew that the type of mana their daughter had been exposed to would have vaporized her without leaving a trace of her existence, their horror would have been incalculable.
"Luckily for her—and truly by absolutely sheer luck—my response time is absurd, and I was able to cast a protective shield around her and immediately approach to cure the high infusion. Her body was shutting down, and her soul began to crack mere seconds after exposure." The mother's eyes widened further, her arms tightening around her child as if she could retroactively protect her. "It was at that time when you found me completing the final stages of removing the excess mana. Even though it's simply energy, her S-rank body and core couldn't handle such massive amounts."
Though they visibly relaxed somewhat at my explanation, worry still etched deep lines in their features as they looked down at their child, who remained silent and unnaturally still despite being clearly awake.
"Then what's wrong with her now?" the mother asked, her voice breaking with worry and pain. "She hasn't spoken, hasn't said a single word at all..."
The thought of losing her only cub was clearly beyond heartbreaking—it was complete and utter devastation. Both parents looked at me with desperate pleading in their eyes, silently begging for a solution. The proud, fierce guardians of before were nowhere to be seen, replaced by two terrified parents facing their worst nightmare.
Without a word, I approached them and outstretched both hands, clearly indicating I wanted to hold the child. When I expected reluctance from the mother, she surprised me by almost pushing her daughter into my arms, the speed of her compliance revealing the depth of her desperation.
With the young Guardian cradled against my chest, I cast my mystical senses to assess her condition. She had recovered slightly, likely due to Yddra's preservation efforts. The tree-like deity had been maintaining the child's state, probably anticipating my arrival to complete what I had started. The fact that Yddra had been supplying the cub with healing energy while enduring her own excruciating pain spoke volumes about her care for this species, raising questions I would need to explore later.
The young Guardian felt unnaturally light in my arms, as if the very essence of her being had been partially drained. Her fur, though still the beautiful golden-brown characteristic of her species, lacked luster, appearing dull and brittle in places. The runic patterns that should have glowed vibrantly across her coat were dim, some barely visible. Most concerning were her eyes—still technically open, but vacant, the six-pointed star pupils neither contracting nor dilating in response to the changing light.
"Not that I'm blaming you," I began softly, commanding the mana around me with one of my sub-cores to gently surround the child in a protective cocoon, gradually shifting its elemental nature to that of life essence. "But the moment you prevented me from completing the procedure, you were sealing your child's fate."
The golden-green energy enveloped the young Guardian, creating a translucent shell that pulsed in harmony with her faint heartbeat. Within this protective field, tiny motes of light began to circulate, seeking damaged areas and gathering there like glowing platelets at a wound site.
"Were it not for Yddra supporting her with the proper amount of life force, your child would have died within the week." The bluntness of my statement caused both parents to flinch, but sugar-coating would serve no purpose here. "Like I said, her body and soul are completely healed and okay. The issue is with her core and mind, which I was in the process of cleansing and patching up before I had to temporarily halt and put in stasis because of your immediate presence back then."
At my words, the female Guardian—still in her massive beast form—suddenly shimmered with golden light, her outline blurring as she transformed. The metamorphosis was fluid and graceful, her massive form compressing and reshaping itself until a stunning humanoid woman stood in her place.
She stood nearly seven feet tall, her powerful frame maintaining the perfect proportions of her species even in this more compact form. Her skin held the same golden-brown hue as her fur had been, but now appeared smooth and supple, marked with subtle patterns that resembled the runic designs of her beast form. Her face combined human and ursine features in perfect harmony—high cheekbones, a strong jawline, and eyes that remained unchanged, large and expressive with their distinctive star-shaped pupils. Hair that resembled her fur cascaded down her back in thick waves, sections of it naturally forming into small braids adorned with tiny blooming flowers. A simple garment of woven leaves covered her form, similar to what her mate wore but more elaborate in its patterning.
Yet despite her remarkable beauty, my attention was drawn to the horror and shock contorting her features. Her husband gripped her arms in consolation, supporting her physically and emotionally, ensuring she didn't collapse under the weight of the revelation that she had nearly been responsible for her child's death.
"Can... can you heal her... please..." the male asked, bowing his head slightly while maintaining his grip on his wife, who seemed locked in a daze of conflicting emotions—guilt, fear, hope, and desperation all warring for dominance.
"That's what I'm here for, aren't I?" I replied with a soft smile, genuinely admiring the father's fortitude in this crisis.
Without further delay, I focused on healing the child in my arms. The primordial mana had done catastrophic damage to her developing core and neural systems—essentially hollowing her out from within. After removing the dangerous energy, I had left an empty void where once vibrant neural connections and core pathways had existed. No wonder she was effectively brain-dead, a shell of consciousness without the architecture to express it.
This child possessed an uncanny miraculous luck indeed, as I was possibly the only being in this entire plane of existence who could restore her to normalcy—and perhaps even more.
I expanded the mana field surrounding her, strengthening and refining it until it formed a perfect sphere of light green and golden energy that encapsulated us both. Within this protective cocoon, I began crafting the necessary formations for healing and reformation, intricate patterns of light that hovered above her small form. Each formation represented a different aspect of restoration—neural pathway reconstruction, core regeneration, memory preservation, and energy pathway realignment.
The process was delicate and complex, requiring precision that would have been impossible for most beings. Fortunately, my extensive training and the knowledge inherited from my variants made such fine manipulation second nature. As I worked, I occasionally glanced at the parents, who watched with a mixture of awe and trepidation, clearly understanding that their child's existence hung in the balance.
Considering the extreme procedures I had undergone during my own evolution in the cultivation abode, I possessed unique insights into core formation and neural architecture. What I was effectively doing was not merely healing this young Guardian but rebuilding her from the inside out—creating what would likely become one of the strongest beings on this planet, judged by the standards of Gaia itself.
But hey, consider it a form of apology to the child for my carelessness.
As the healing formations began to take effect, small changes became visible even to the naked eye. The dull fur regained its luster, the runic patterns across her coat brightening to their proper luminescence. Her breathing deepened and regularized, and most encouraging of all, her star-pupiled eyes began to track movement, the vacant stare replaced by focused awareness.
"She's responding," I announced to the parents, whose tense postures immediately relaxed slightly. "The damage was extensive but not irreparable. She'll need time to fully recover, but the worst has passed."
The mother stepped forward, her transformed face a mask of cautious hope. "Will she... will she be the same?" The question carried all the weight of a parent's deepest fear—that even if their child survived, something essential might have been lost forever.
"She'll be herself," I assured her, "though perhaps a bit more than before. The reconstruction I'm performing will enhance her natural abilities while preserving her core personality. Consider it a silver lining to an unfortunate accident."
As I continued the delicate work, my thoughts drifted to the peculiar circumstances that had brought me here. The random chance that had placed this young Guardian in harm's way had created an unexpected connection—a debt of gratitude from beings whose power and knowledge might prove valuable in the future. Sometimes what begins as disaster can transform into opportunity.
---
Thousands of miles away, at the opposite end of the continent, in a chamber of polished marble and ancient stone, a woman paced restlessly beneath vaulted ceilings adorned with celestial murals. Her movements were fluid and graceful despite her agitation, each step barely making a sound against the mosaic floor depicting the creation of Gaia.
"One thousand seven hundred and ninety-nine," she murmured, her melodious voice echoing softly in the spacious private chamber. "It's been that long since I felt it." She paused mid-stride, slender fingers pressed against her temples. "Could it be that…elder brother did not lie?"
Moonlight streamed through stained glass windows, casting multi-colored patterns across her beautiful features and elegant form. She was a vision of otherworldly beauty—the kind that inspired both devotion and fear in equal measure. Her flowing black hair cascaded down to the small of her back like liquid darkness, framing a face of porcelain perfection—high cheekbones, full lips naturally tinted like ripe berries, and eyes of such intense violet they seemed to contain galaxies.
Her priestly robes, though modest in design, did little to conceal the sinful curves beneath—a body that seemed crafted specifically to tempt and torment. The white and gold garments designated her elevated status, embroidered with symbols of divine significance that glowed faintly in the moonlight, responding to the power contained within her form.
This was no ordinary priestess. This was Wystra Vorigan, current Saintess and spokesperson of the planet itself—a figure of tremendous religious and political significance within the Houdatar Empire, the strongest human dominion on Gaia. Despite her exalted position, which would normally have granted her freedom and privileges beyond mortal dreams, her chambers were subtly but undeniably a gilded cage. The guards posted outside her door were as much wardens as protectors, their loyalty pledged not to her but to the imperial family and church that both revered and feared her.
Yet it was not her confinement that caused her current distress. After more than a millennium and a half, that unmistakable feeling had returned—a sensation so specific, so tied to her blood and lineage, that it could not be misinterpreted. The blood call—a technique unique to her family—had activated spontaneously, sending ripples of recognition through her very being.
Her family, the once-proud Vorigan Ducal House, had been among the most powerful within the empire despite their ostensibly mid-tier status. Their territory in the north, near the Glacial Borderlands and separated from the mainland by a vast ocean, had been prosperous and peaceful under her grandfather's wise leadership. What set them apart, what ultimately led to their downfall, was their blood—ordinary to outsiders but possessing extraordinary properties for those who shared it.
Wystra's grandfather, a genius beyond his generation, had discovered the true potential within their bloodline, developing techniques that allowed them to harness its power. Under his guidance, the family had achieved what many thought impossible—producing a demigod from within their ranks, the patriarch himself ascending to this exalted status. This achievement, rather than bringing honor, had painted a target on their backs.
The political machinations that followed had been swift and merciless. Accusations of collusion with "enemies beyond the plane" provided the flimsy justification needed for a purge. The family was systematically hunted and eradicated, their ancestral lands seized, their achievements erased from official records. All under the transparent guise of imperial security.
Wystra had survived only because of her value as a potential Saintess, her unique connection to Gaia itself making her too valuable to dispose of. Instead, she was "adopted" into the imperial religious order, kept under constant surveillance, her power harnessed for the empire's benefit while her spirit was slowly crushed under the weight of isolation and grief.
Or so they believed.
Behind her placid exterior and performance of religious duties, Wystra nursed a wrath so profound it would have made the gods themselves tremble. For centuries, she had maintained her facade of serene piety while internally cultivating her strength and waiting for any sign, any opportunity for the vengeance she had sworn on the blood of her massacred family.
And now, against all odds, that sign had appeared. The blood call technique—taught to her by her grandfather as a means of tracking family members—had activated on its own. The sensation had been brief but unmistakable, and unlike the momentary flicker she had experienced 1,799 years ago, this time it had lasted a full minute before fading—and even then, not disappearing entirely.
This persistence could mean only one thing: a survivor of her bloodline not only existed but was actively using mana, their power growing to the point where the blood call could establish a more stable connection.
"But who?" she whispered, pacing faster now, her brow furrowed in concentration. "There wasn't any..."
Her voice trailed off as ancient memories surfaced—memories she had buried deep within her mind, protecting them from telepaths and soul-readers under the service of royalty and high ranking members of the current branch of the church she was in, who might use them against her. Images crystallized in her consciousness: a tiny infant, barely three days old, with eyes that already seemed to hold wisdom beyond his years. Chubby fingers had wrapped around her own with surprising strength, a toothless smile radiating pure joy and innocence.
The child of her eldest brother and his wife—her best friend—born just before the purge began.
"It... it can't... it can't be..." she murmured, frozen in the center of her chamber, the moonlight casting her shadow in stark relief against the mosaic floor. She dared not hope, yet the evidence was undeniable. Somehow, impossibly, her nephew had survived the massacre that had claimed his parents and everyone else she had ever loved.
How? She had no idea. Why had he remained hidden for so long? What circumstances had suddenly brought him into the open? These questions whirled through her mind, demanding answers she couldn't provide.
What she did know was that she could find him through the very technique that had alerted her to his existence. Blood call wasn't merely a passive notification system—it was a sophisticated tracking method that could locate those with strong blood ties across vast distances. The memory of her nephew's unique aura and blood scent remained vivid in her mind, imprinted during those precious few days she had spent cradling the bubbly, joyous child before their world was shattered.
"Ryan," she whispered, the name a prayer and a promise combined. "Please, please hang on. Aunty is coming."
With that declaration, she began the complex process of casting the blood call technique in its active form. Her movements were precise and deliberate, each gesture accompanied by the faintest whisper of power as she carefully limited her aura to avoid alerting the imperial guards constantly monitoring her chambers. The technique required significant energy but, when properly executed, was virtually undetectable to those not of Vorigan blood.
As the final components of the tracking spell slid into place, a faint smile curved Wystra's lips—the first genuine expression of happiness to grace her features in centuries. For someone designated as the embodiment of joy and benevolence to the masses, the current Saintess was known among the imperial court for her coldness and distance, her beauty untouchable, her smile never reaching her eyes.
That was about to change. She had found a glimmering hope in this cold, dark world—a reason beyond vengeance to continue her centuries-long struggle. She had lost everything once; she would be damned to the deepest hells before allowing her only surviving family to be taken from her again.
A silent prayer rose from her heart, not to the gods or to Gaia, but to the universe itself: mercy for her nephew, and none whatsoever for anyone foolish enough to stand in her way.