Chapter 37: Nando's Path

Nando stood just outside the towering stone gates of the Tower, gazing out at the vast expanse of forest that stretched beyond the perimeter. The early morning mist clung to the trees like a veil, the dense, twisted branches casting long shadows on the ground. The task he had taken—harvesting golden duckweed—was, on paper, a simple one. But in truth, it was only a cover for his true objective: the Black Alchemist ruins, a long-lost site rumored to contain dark, forgotten knowledge.

He adjusted the sack slung over his shoulder, feeling the dead weight of the small magical chickens inside—the necessary components for the luck ritual he'd memorized. The ritual was dangerous, but he'd be foolish to go on such an expedition without it. His family had ensured he was prepared with a few additional trump cards, and as he stood there, watching groups of recruits laugh and talk among themselves in front of the tower, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of resentment.

The gifted students, with their smug expressions and easy camaraderie, were worlds apart from him. For them, the process of forming a mana pool would be as natural as breathing. They could take their time, and explore the Tower’s secrets at their leisure, knowing that the power they sought would come to them without the same peril that Nando faced. They didn't have to worry about the looming deadline of their twenty-third birthday—the age at which a non-gifted recruit would become locked out of the potential to form a mana pool entirely. That cruel fate hovered over Nando like a storm cloud, pushing him to act with urgency, knowing that failure would mean not only stagnation but also the possibility of being forever powerless.

He clenched his fists, feeling the cool metal of the silver ring on his finger, a reminder of his family’s last gift to him. The ring was an offensive weapon, capable of transforming his hand into solid silver, granting him immense strength. But like all things in this world, power came at a cost. Overuse of the ring could leave his hand a disfigured mess, perhaps even cripple him if he wasn’t careful. He looked down at the ring for a moment, his jaw tightening. It would have to be a last resort. His other trump card—a magical necklace that heightened his senses—was a more passive tool. It allowed him to be more alert, and his awareness sharper, but it too came with drawbacks. Prolonged use had a way of souring his mood, leaving him irritable and, at times, unstable.

He exhaled slowly, reminding himself that this was a calculated risk. As much as he hated it, this was the world they lived in. A cruel one, where only the strongest or most cunning could rise. He adjusted the sack on his shoulder, giving the laughing recruits one last glance, before stepping into the shadowed forest, disappearing from sight.

The forest within the inner perimeter was vast, a labyrinth of trees that stretched for miles. The journey would take hours, maybe more, on foot. Nando moved swiftly, his eyes scanning the dense brush for any signs of danger. He had prepared well, pouring over maps and books in the Tower’s library, cross-referencing ancient texts with more recent reports. His search for the Black Alchemists’ ruins had led him to several potential sites, all within the western territories bordering the outer perimeter. These locations matched the descriptions he had found, and he was determined to visit each one.

As he walked, the sounds of the forest surrounded him—the rustling of leaves, the occasional snap of a twig underfoot. The wind carried with it a cool, earthy scent, mingled with the distant smell of pine. His thoughts turned to the stories he had read about Fiendfinger, the treacherous apostle who had once been a thorn in the Tower’s side. The rumors painted Fiendfinger as a figure of defiance, a non-gifted who had somehow clawed his way to power through dark and forbidden means. It was said that he harbored a deep resentment toward the Tower’s gifted recruits, a hatred born from years of conflict and perceived injustice.

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Nando couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of connection to the long-gone apostle. He too had felt the sting of being overlooked, of being told that his potential was lesser simply because he wasn’t born with a natural gift. But unlike Fiendfinger, Nando had no desire to challenge the Tower directly. He was smart enough to know that any overt opposition would be suicide. Still, the thought of Fiendfinger’s rebellion gnawed at him. What had he found there that had made him so dangerous?

Nando shook his head, pushing the thoughts away. It didn’t matter now. Fiendfinger was long dead, and whatever secrets he had uncovered were buried with him. This was Nando’s journey now, and he wouldn’t allow the specter of a long-gone apostle to haunt his steps.

As he ventured deeper into the forest, the trees began to thin, giving way to a more rocky terrain. The ground beneath his feet became uneven, littered with stones and patches of dry grass. He paused for a moment, glancing around at the changing landscape. This was one of the areas he had marked on his map, a place that matched the descriptions of the ruins’ potential location. His pulse quickened as he scanned the area for any signs of old structures, hidden pathways, or anything that could indicate he was close to his goal.

But there was nothing. Just rocks and dry grass.

Nando cursed under his breath. He had known this search wouldn’t be easy, but still, the disappointment stung. He pressed on, his eyes sharp and focused, hoping that the next location would yield better results.

The hours passed slowly, the forest growing darker as the sun dipped lower in the sky. Nando’s feet ached, but he kept moving, driven by a mixture of determination and desperation. The ruins had to be out here, somewhere. They had to be.

As he walked, his thoughts drifted again to the rumors of Fiendfinger. The apostle had been obsessed with unlocking the secrets of the Black Alchemists, a group known for their dark experiments and forbidden magic. They had once delved into the deepest, most treacherous corners of the magical world, manipulating life and death itself. Nando had read enough to know that their methods were dangerous, their research steeped in cruelty and madness. But he also knew that power often came at a cost. If the Black Alchemists held the key to creating a mana pool for the non-gifted, then the risk was worth it.

He glanced down at the silver ring on his finger, feeling its weight. He would use it if he had to. If the ruins were as dangerous as the rumors suggested, then he would need every advantage he had. His necklace, too, would come in handy, heightening his senses as he explored the ancient structures—if he could find them.

The sun was beginning to set now, casting long shadows through the trees. Nando knew he would have to set up camp soon, but something urged him to keep going, a nagging feeling in the back of his mind. It was as though the forest itself was pulling him forward, guiding him toward something just out of reach.

And then, in the distance, he saw it—a faint glimmer of light, just barely visible through the trees.

Nando’s heart leaped in his chest. Could it be?

He quickened his pace, moving toward the light, his pulse racing. As he drew closer, the trees parted, revealing a small clearing. In the center of the clearing stood a crumbling stone archway, half-buried in the earth. The structure was old, ancient even, its stones weathered and cracked, covered in moss and vines. But there was no mistaking what it was.

The ruins.

Nando stood at the edge of the clearing, his breath catching in his throat. He had found it. After all the hours of searching, after all the doubts and frustrations, he had finally found the Black Alchemist ruins.

But as he stepped closer, a strange feeling washed over him—a sense of unease, as though something was watching him from the shadows. The air grew colder, and the wind seemed to whisper through the trees, carrying with it a faint, eerie hum.

Nando’s hand instinctively moved to the sack at his waist, his fingers brushing against the dead chickens inside. He had a feeling he might need that luck ritual sooner than he thought.

With a deep breath, he stepped into the clearing, ready to uncover the secrets that lay hidden within the ancient stones.