Chapter 33: A Duel on the Horizon
Arc awoke long before dawn, the sky still cloaked in darkness. The sky outside the window was still blanketed in deep twilight, the stars faint against the encroaching morning haze. He blinked a few times, his vision adjusting as he scanned his surroundings.
"Still not daytime yet," he muttered as he scanned the unfamiliar room. The layout was different from what he remembered. "Looks like they moved me to an infirmary this time," he said, stretching slightly. "I seem to have the room to myself along with all my belongings." The atmosphere felt unusual, but the scent of herbs and fresh linens offered some comfort. A small table beside the bed held his possessions, including a slightly burned journal with charred edges that stood out against the pristine white sheets.
He picked up the book and ran a finger along its cover. "Technically Not mine," he mused, flipping through the pages. "But it came in handy when I needed it. I must thank its owner later."
Arc sat up, stretching his stiff limbs and taking a deep breath. Though he had been badly injured, the lingering pain had faded into a dull ache across his body. He felt no grogginess, just a manageable prickling sensation.
As his fingers traced his arms, he realized, "Strange… All healed?"
He recalled his past injuries: deep gashes from a dire wolf and wounds from a goblin fight. Surprisingly, his skin was smooth and unblemished.
"The pain is still there, but weaker. Did they sedate me or did my body adapt?"
He looked at his arm, seeing no scars, not even from past battles.
"They must have used magic like the last time."
Standing, he moved to a mirror. His reflection appeared clearer, and his eyesight had sharpened. "So they used magic to heal me. Unlike the last time though the injuries are healed rather clearly. Maybe this has to do with me taming my ability, it has to be that for sure. One less thing to worry but I must say that my vision is still not completely tuned. Slightly better than before but not entirely corrected like it used to be. "
Shaking off his thoughts, he returned to the bed, sitting cross-legged in a meditative posture. He had time before dawn -- time to refine his mana core. "Unlike others, I have to work twice as hard, especially since most of my mana channels are sealed," he reminded himself.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, focusing on his mana core. Unlike most casters, who could easily refine their mana reserves, Arc faced greater challenges. His ability had blocked off most of his natural mana pathways, leaving only a few channels to work with. That limitation made refining his core a painstaking process.
Mana naturally bled from a caster's body over time, much like air escaping through breath, albeit much slower. However, through intense focus, mana could be condensed and trapped in a single, concentrated spot of the caster's choosing. Over time after repeated efforts, this process would lead to the emergence of a lump of condensed mana often referred to as mana core.
The more refined the Core, the greater the caster's ability to harness mana. Arc concentrated, pulling what little mana he had into the foundation he had been painstakingly carving within himself. Most of his body's natural flow had become ineffective, so the little he could control needed further refinement. He created a basic space for his core in his prior attempts when he first forged his mana channels with Sharla which now required improvement. Immersed in training, he lost track of time until dawn arrived.
As the first rays of sunlight crept through the infirmary windows, a group of maids entered to begin their cleaning. They paused upon seeing him but, recognizing his meditative state, quietly tidied the area without disturbing him. Arc maintained his focus, breathing slowly and connecting with the steady pulse of his mana.
Suddenly, the quiet was broken by hurried footsteps. Another maid hurried in, carrying cleaning supplies, and slipped on the polished floor, causing her tools to tumble. The noise snapped Arc back to reality, and he opened his eyes just in time to see the chaos. The maid scrambled to her feet, flustered, as their gazes met.
Arc blinked, his mind still adjusting from meditation to reality. Then, recognition dawned on him.
"Oh… it's you again," Arc said, recognizing her instantly.
It was the same maid from before -- the one he had the awkward encounter with after waking up in the mansion. The maid's eyes widened as she registered who she had just interrupted. A deep crimson flush crept up her cheeks before she spun on her heels and bolted out of the room, leaving behind a blur of movement and the soft echoes of her retreating footsteps.
Arc stared after her, momentarily bewildered blinking in surprise. "What's up with her anyway?"
A stifled giggle drew his attention to the other side of the room, He turned his gaze toward the remaining maids, who were all struggling -- and failing -- to suppress their amusement. "They were trying yet and failing to suppress their amusement." Arc thought.
Their glances exchanged between each other, their lips pressed together as they tried to hide knowing smirks. The silence that followed only made it worse. Their knowing looks made him realize exactly what they were thinking, and he sighed. Arc exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face.
"It's not what you're thinking," he muttered, already knowing it was pointless to explain as their expressions didn't change even in the slightest.
The maids exchanged another round of amused glances before returning to their work, though the stifled laughter lingered in the air.
The awkwardness in the room quickly became unbearable as silence returned. Deciding he had spent enough time in the infirmary, Arc swung his legs over the bed and stood. If nothing else, it was a good excuse to leave to escape the awkward atmosphere.
Arc wandered through the quiet mansion courtyard as dawn began to break. The crisp morning air surrounded him while maids and butlers busied themselves with their routines. As he walked past the tall glass windows, Arc glimpsed the front yard bathed in a soft, pre-dawn glow -- an impressive sight that showcased the estate's grandeur. His gaze, however, was drawn to a damaged section of the mansion. "I'm still inside… but what do the surrounding lands look like?" he wondered, intrigued.
Determined to get a clearer view, he sought out the terrace not knowing whether the building even had one as this was his first time visiting this place. He asked passing servants for directions but chose to explore on his own, appreciating their warm treatment, which contrasted sharply with his reception at the main house. He pushed the thought aside as he continued his way.
Upon reaching the terrace, Arc enjoyed a clear view of the landscape. The sun had not yet risen, casting the sky in deep blue and orange hues. Rolling clouds stretched across the horizon, their edges glowing with the first light of dawn. The Cascade of clouds clung to the valleys, with the jagged peaks of distant, snow-capped mountains piercing through. The estate's vast walls stretched across the horizon, enclosing the land like silent sentinels.
His eyes wandered to the eastern section of the walls that encircled the periphery of the estate eventually his attention was dragged towards where the damage from the recent attack was still evident. Though the structural harm was not severe, the repairs were already underway, and the surrounding area -- once bustling with barracks and a series of encampments -- lay in ruins. The remnants of makeshift defences and charred ground painted a grim picture.
"Beautiful view, isn't it?" A familiar voice broke the silence. Arc turned to see Sharla approaching with her arms crossed. "By the way, you slept like a baby for an entire day."
"Did I?" Arc raised an eyebrow, realizing how much time he had lost. "But setting aside the damage, I'd agree it's beautiful."
Sharla leaned on the intricately designed railing beside him. "It's unfortunate. Most of the wall's defences were manned by fresh recruits, which is why the damage is so extensive."
Arc frowned. "This level of destruction seems excessive."
Sharla sighed. "There were casualties, but we managed to push back the goblins despite their surprise attack."
"Even so, the damage is concerning," Arc replied.
"Yes, but how do you plan to develop your magic now that you can use it?" she asked attempting to shift the Subject. "Focus on strengthening your core before tackling anything complex. That should help you use your limited mana more efficiently."
Arc nodded, then his gaze fell on the funeral pyres burning in the distance. "Why are they burning the deceased? Isn't burial traditional in Helvetia?"
Sharla nodded in agreement. "Yes, but outside the country's borders, it's not an option."
"Is it due to grave robbers or monsters?" he asked.
"That's part of it, but not the main reason. Have you heard of 'Necrolumia Spiralis'?"
"Sounds botanical. I haven't encountered that. I'm more into magical tools and engineering," he replied.
Sharla smirked. "I figured. It's a bioluminescent mushroom found in these lands, useful for navigating dark caves. You'll find plenty in the cave systems around here.
"Glowing fungus?" Arc tilted his head. "Sounds useful. But it hardly warrants such precautions. What do they have to do with this?"
That's where things take a darker turn," Sharla said, her expression growing serious. "These mushrooms are harmless to living beings. They're edible -- adventurers often use them to supplement their rations. They even provide hydration. But their true nature lies in how they reproduce."
Arc listened intently as she continued.
"The name "Necrolumia Spiralis" hints at its trait. When the spores settle into a corpse, they rapidly spread by feeding on the decaying flesh. The resulting fungus outgrowth animates the host, controlling it like a puppet. The more fresher and intact the corpse is, especially when the brain is not completely rotten; that's when it proves to be more Fatal, especially in groups. The infected dead become mindless husks, attacking anything that moves. If left unchecked, an outbreak can quickly spiral out of control."
Arc exhaled sharply. "That sounds… creepy and problematic. So that's why... that explains a lot."
Sharla nodded. "Which is why burial is not an option here. Burning is the only way to prevent the spores from taking hold."
A thought crossed Arc's mind. "If they're so dangerous, wouldn't they be a threat to Helvetia as well?"
Sharla waved a hand dismissively. "Not at all. These mushrooms require two things to thrive -- dark, damp environments and a high concentration of mana. Helvetia is a mana-dead zone, unlike the fluctuating energies here. The mana levels in that area remain low throughout the year, dropping even further during the festival season. Without magic to sustain them, the mushrooms can't spread. And besides, they avoid plants entirely -- one touch from a plant sapling, and they wither."
Arc processed the information, his mind racing with possibilities. Before he could delve further, Sharla suddenly clapped her hands together as if remembering something.
"Oh, right! Arc, the head weaponsmith at the workshop has requested to see you. I don't know the details, but it has something to do with your project."
Arc's gaze finally broke from the smouldering view of the eastern wall. "My project?"
Sharla shrugged. "You'd best go find out."
The morning light crept higher over the horizon as Arc turned his back on the ruined grounds below, setting his sights on whatever awaited him next.
The sun rose, casting a golden glow over the estate, but the morning air retained its crisp chill. Arc followed the dirt path as Sharla had instructed from the terrace. The route took him past groups of soldiers engaged in their morning drills, their rhythmic movements and synchronized strikes filling the air with the sound of steel meeting steel.
As he moved farther from the mansion, he passed a worn-down path toward the mansion district. The place looked abandoned, with overgrown vines creeping over the stone structures and broken windows left unrepaired. It was clear that most of the buildings had been unoccupied for years. Though curious, Arc ignored the path -- this wasn't his destination.
Navigating the winding trail, he soon found himself at a crossroads. The directions had seemed simple at first, but the terrain was unfamiliar. He hesitated, glancing around, uncertain of which way to go. Just as he considered turning back, he caught sight of a figure ahead, a young soldier stood by the path. She looked about his age, clad in military garb. When he saw her face, his breath caught. Arc's eyes widened in recognition.
"It's her…" he murmured.
The resemblance was uncanny -- she looked exactly like the maid he had encountered earlier in the infirmary. Without thinking, he called out, his tone casual, almost relieved. "Hey, it's you again! I didn't expect to see you here."
Confused, Arc stepped forward continuing to speak as if the person who stood in front of him was that maid. "Hey, are you perhaps..."
The young soldier turned, her sharp gaze locking onto him. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she studied his face. She listened to the words Arc Spoke but soon realized had mistaken her for someone else.
"My name is Mica Mistwood, I am afraid you have mistaken me for someone else." she interrupted "Who are you anyway?" he inquired.
The name rang a bell, but he was too distracted by her resemblance to the maid. Then, he noticed the journal in his hands.
"you are Mica Mistwood. Could you perhaps be the owner of this journal?..."
"Wait… is this yours?" he asked, holding it up. "If so, I appreciate it. It's been -- "
Are spoke spontaneously not stopping at all.
Mica's expression shifted from confusion to something far more severe.
"That's my journal?" she repeated, her voice dangerously low.
Mica's eyes flashed with realization -- and then, fury. "You read it?!"
Arc nodded, oblivious to the rising tension in her tone. "Yeah, it was with me when I woke up after the attack. I read through it -- insightful stuff."
Mica's jaw clenched, her eyes flashing with anger.
"how much of it did you read?" she inquired.
"not entirely but I did skim through most of the stuff."
Arc spoke out, only now realizing the full weight of his words. "Wait, hold on -- "
"And," she said, stepping forward, "your mess destroyed my quarters at the mansion!"
"Wait, what? I think there's a misunderstanding..." Arc started to explain, but it was too late.
Before he could finish, she drew her sword with one hand and pulled the journal in the other. Then, she kicked him in the solar plexus, sending him crashing to the ground.
"You destroyed my room, stole my journal, and dared to read it? You better prepare yourself -- because I'm challenging you to a duel!"
To be Continued...
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