Days later, far from the chaos of the guild halls and whispered fears of Grandmasters, Ronan and his team arrived at the tranquil village of Eldergrove. The village of Eldergrove was known for its unique landmarks and mysterious phenomena. Nestled amidst lush greenery, it harboured two remarkable sites that drew adventurers and scholars alike: the Ancient Tree of Gravity and the High-Density Mana Zone.
The Ancient Tree of Gravity
On the eastern outskirts of the village, about 3 kilometres away, stood the Ancient Tree of Gravity. Towering over its surroundings, the tree's gnarled roots and glowing bark hinted at an otherworldly origin.
Legends whispered that this tree had been planted by an ancient warrior who wielded the power of gravity itself. It was said that the warrior fell in battle, and their essence merged with the land, creating the tree and the mysterious gravitational field within a 500-meter radius.
This gravitational field was no ordinary force. It pressed down with an intense weight, challenging anyone who entered to withstand its crushing pressure. Yet, it was this very force that made it a perfect training ground for enhancing physical strength. Only those who could use mana to shield their bodies could endure prolonged exposure.
Ronan, Tavin, Orin, and Andrea trained diligently under the tree's influence. For Ronan, however, this was a unique opportunity. Despite having less mana than his peers, he could endure the gravitational force longer due to his naturally robust physique, which was nearly double the strength of others at his level.
Orin, with his cheerful demeanour, turned their gruelling sessions into friendly competitions, pushing everyone to exceed their limits.
The High-Density Mana Zone
To the north of Eldergrove, about 4 kilometres away, lay a mystical high-density mana zone. This area was a nexus of pure magical energy, its atmosphere shimmering with an ethereal glow.
The villagers believed it was the resting place of an ancient mage who had sacrificed their life to seal a great calamity. Their lingering power enriched the land, creating an environment where mana thrived.
As the group resumed their training under the Ancient Tree, the bonds between them grew stronger. Eldergrove's mysteries, the gravitational field and the mana zone were no longer just challenges.
The warm glow of lanterns illuminated the cosy common room of the Eldergrove Inn as Tavin, Ronan, Andrea, and Orin gathered around a wooden table. The air was alive with laughter and chatter, the scent of roasted meat and spiced cider adding to the warmth of the evening.
After a few more laughs and heartfelt words, the group began to disperse, heading to their rooms for the night. As they climbed the stairs, Mr. Alden placed a hand on Ronan's shoulder. "Ronan, a moment, please."
Ronan's brow furrowed, sensing the weight behind Mr. Alden's words. He nodded and followed the older man back to the now-quiet common room. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, the once-lively atmosphere replaced by a solemn stillness.
Once they were alone, Mr. Alden's gaze softened. "Ronan, I need to tell you something. Samantha and her team encountered difficulties during their mission."
Ronan's heart dropped. His eyes widened, and he stepped closer, his voice rising with urgency. "What? Is she hurt? What happened to her?"
"Calm down," Mr. Alden said, raising a hand to steady him. "She's fine. But she pushed herself too far. Samantha overused her perception skills, and it has caused some damage to her eyes. She needs a few days of rest, but she'll recover fully."
Ronan's chest heaved as he processed the information. Relief washed over him, but it was tempered by lingering worry. "And the others? Are they okay?"
"Dorian is unconscious," Mr. Alden admitted. "He expended all of his mana reserves, but his injuries aren't serious. The entire team is alive, and they're being cared for. You needn't worry too much."
Ronan's fists clenched at his sides. He lowered his gaze, frustration flickering in his eyes. "I should have been there. I should be stronger so be the one in danger."
"Stop this," Mr. Alden interrupted firmly. "You can't be everywhere, and you can't protect everyone. Samantha is strong, stronger than you realise. And she would want you to focus on your own path right now."
Ronan swallowed hard, his throat tight. After a long moment, he nodded, though his hands still trembled. "I understand."
Mr. Alden's expression softened once more. "Good. Use this as motivation, not as a burden. Grow stronger, Ronan, so that when the time comes, you'll be ready."
Ronan exhaled slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing. "Thank you, Mr. Alden. I won't let you down."
The celebration had ended, and the inn's open field stretched out beneath a starlit sky. Ronan stood there alone, his body drenched in sweat as he swung his blade with relentless determination. Each swing of his sword cut through the cool night air, leaving trails of effort and frustration.
As the night deepened, he sheathed his weapon and knelt to build a fire. The crackling flames reflected in his weary eyes, their warmth a stark contrast to the cold pit growing in his chest. Sitting cross-legged beside the fire, Ronan leaned forward, staring into the dancing flames. His thoughts churned like a storm.
How can I become powerful? He wondered, his jaw tightening. I'm not like the others. Low mana capacity, no special element, no dual affinity. What can I even achieve? He clenched his fists, feeling the calluses rub against one another. If I keep walking this path, will I ever be strong enough to protect anyone?
He sighed and grabbed a piece of wood, feeding it to the fire. The flames surged, consuming the offering with hunger. A bitter smile played on Ronan's lips. "Look at you," he murmured, speaking to the fire as if it were alive. "You can devour anything in your path. Nothing can stop you. You're like a force of nature. I wish I had even a fraction of your power."
The flames crackled in response, a language only they could understand. The thought struck him like a spark: I have the fire element, too. Could I ever be as strong as you? He extended his hand toward the fire, attempting to control it with sheer will. But the flames refused to budge, indifferent to his efforts.
Frustration gnawed at him. They say natural fire and magical fire are different. Natural fire has less mana, harder to control. Ronan's brow furrowed. He conjured a small orb of magical fire in his palm and, with a determined glare, attempted to merge it with the natural flames. At first, only faint wisps of the fire responded, like stubborn embers resisting his call.
"Why can't I do this?" he muttered. Maybe natural fire really has no mana. Desperate for answers, Ronan activated his Keen Eye perception, a skill that had always served him well in understanding the nuances of mana. As his gaze locked onto the fire, something shifted.
A sudden pull gripped his hand, sharp and unrelenting. Before he could react, the world dissolved around him. Darkness swallowed everything. No light. No sound. Not even the faint outline of his body remained.
Ronan's breath quickened. "Where am I?" he whispered, his voice trembling. "What is this place? Why… why does it feel so… cold?"
The silence pressed in on him like an unbearable weight. He stretched his hands out, searching for anything to anchor himself, but there was nothing—just an endless void. He clenched his fists, forcing himself to summon a flame. At first, nothing happened. Panic surged, his heart pounding in his ears. But then, after what felt like an eternity, a faint spark appeared. It hovered on his palm, barely illuminating his hand.
The faint glow only amplified the darkness around him. There was nothing to see, nothing to grasp. The cold bit into his very core, a chill that wasn't just physical but seeped into his soul. "Why am I so afraid?" he asked aloud, his voice breaking. The void gave no answer.
Out of the darkness, whispers began to slither. Faint, unintelligible murmurs that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. Ronan's flame wavered, shrinking under the oppressive weight of the whispers.
"No," he growled, tightening his focus. "Stay lit. Please… stay lit." Then, a voice heavy with sorrow echoed through the void. "When will this cycle end?"
The once unintelligible murmurs sharpened, no longer distant whispers but a cry steeped in agony, raw and unrelenting. It wasn't just sound—it was grief made manifest, a scream that clawed at the edges of Ronan's mind.
The chill spread deeper, seeping into his bones until his body trembled as though the warmth of life itself were being stolen away. His breath hitched. What happened here? What kind of suffering left behind a voice like this?
With a surge of will, the flame grew slightly, and the whispers receded. But just as he began to feel a shred of relief, an unseen force yanked him back. The void collapsed around him, spinning faster and faster until he gasped and opened his eyes.
He was back by the fire in the inn's field, the familiar surroundings a stark contrast to the suffocating darkness. His right hand burned with searing pain, small blisters forming where the fire had licked his skin. He winced, clutching his hand.
"What just happened? What does that voice mean, 'When will this cycle end?' What cycle?" he thought, his mind reeling. The whispers, the void, the cold… they felt too real to be a mere hallucination. Exhaustion clawed at him, his body trembling with fatigue.
Staggering to his feet, he stumbled back to the inn. The warmth of the room felt distant as he collapsed onto the floor beside the bed, unable to muster the strength to climb in. His last thoughts before sleep claimed him were a mixture of fear and determination: I have to understand what that was… and why it felt like something was calling for help.