Chapter 6: Asa Raybond

Moments later, two more people fell unconscious. Panic set in among the remaining participants. They turned back toward the door, but it wouldn’t open. In a frenzy, they began banging on it, shouting, kicking, and trying everything to force it open. But it was all in vain. More people collapsed as they struggled, and the hall grew quieter. Suddenly, the door opened, and two people rushed toward it—only to fall unconscious the moment they crossed the threshold. Darin quickly realized there was no escape.

As he assessed the situation, only five people remained, including himself. The tension in the room was palpable. Darin studied those who had collapsed earlier, noting a possible pattern. He calculated that if the trend continued, it wouldn’t be long before the next person fell—and after that, it might be his turn. A sense of dread crept over him.

When the next person collapsed, Darin knew he had little time left. He cautiously moved closer to the edge of the poison river and sat down. If something went wrong, he was ready to jump back into the river and let the flow carry him away from this deadly place. It was a desperate plan, but it was the only option he had left.

That was the safest option Darin had. He knew the poison river wouldn’t harm him, but the mysterious force inside the hall was terrifying. No one understood what was happening—no one could see or feel the danger, yet it was there. They had been stuck in the hall for almost an hour, and still, no one could figure out what was going on. Darin took a deep breath and waited, counting the minutes. He knew he had only seven minutes left before he might be attacked.

Most of the others were gone, fallen unconscious without warning. Fear hung in the air, as those who remained had no idea who would be next. Only four cultists were still standing, including Darin. As time ticked by, Darin suddenly felt his body grow heavy, his mind clouded by an odd sensation—a creeping sense of something amiss. But just as quickly as it started, it was cut off by a notification in his mind:

[Curse has been nullified.]

Darin's heart leapt. It was a curse! None of them had realized it until now. For a brief moment, relief washed over him. He was safe, spared by his reincarnation powers. Not only was he immune to poison, but he was also immune to curses. The realization calmed him, and he exhaled in relief. He had survived this mysterious trial.

With a clearer mind, Darin began searching for the path to the next stage. He stood and cautiously stepped forward. The moment he did, his surroundings shifted. He found himself in an entirely new and unfamiliar space. Unlike the dark and eerie hall, this place was bright and beautiful—a lush green garden filled with life. Darin blinked in confusion, unsure of what had just happened. He had somehow been teleported to another realm, though he had no idea what kind of power had brought him here.

He found himself standing in a garden filled with vibrant flowers and aromatic herbs stretching out in every direction. Towering trees and lush green grass surrounded him, the landscape unfolding as far as his eyes could see. The sun was setting, and a few golden rays gently touched his skin. Curiosity bloomed within him—just moments earlier, he had been in the inheritance trial, and now he had been teleported to this mysterious garden.

Questions flooded his mind as he looked around, realizing he was completely alone in this tranquil space. The scene was peaceful, with butterflies fluttering and tiny insects playfully dancing among the blossoms. Despite the beauty, he couldn't shake the feeling that this was another challenge in the trial of inheritance.

His thoughts briefly turned to the last trial, which no one had passed before him. He shuddered, recalling the terrifying curse. If not for the power granted by his reincarnation, he knew he wouldn't have survived.

Taking a deep breath, he started to walk through the garden, observing the various herbs around him. Many were familiar, but some stood out—unlike anything he had ever seen before. Thanks to a bit of knowledge he had received from Aaron, he could sense the extraordinary nature of these plants. They were clearly not ordinary.

As he wandered deeper into the garden, a sudden voice—soft yet commanding—interrupted his thoughts. It was a female voice, speaking words he couldn’t initially understand. Then, the language shifted to one he could comprehend.

"You have passed the challenge. You are worthy of my inheritance. You shall be my disciple. This place, and all my memories from my years of training, now belong to you."

You are the sole inheritor of Asa Raybond

The voice continued, declaring him the sole heir to the inheritance of Asa Raybond. The name struck a chord within him; he had heard it before but couldn’t immediately place it. It was familiar, perhaps even famous.

Before he could dwell on the thought, the voice spoke again: "Find me if you can. I will accept you as my disciple and teach you all the arts I have mastered."

With that, the voice faded, leaving Aaron with the realization that he had been chosen to inherit the legacy of a powerful sorcerer.

He didn’t feel any changes in his body and wondered what she meant when she said he would inherit all her training skills. His mind was flooded with questions, leaving him uncertain about what to do next. He tried to summon magic, but nothing happened. He didn’t even know where to begin, how to raise a flame from his finger, or cast a simple spell.

As he stood there, roots began to creep up from the ground, slowly winding around his legs. At first, he was confused, unaware of what was happening. But when he finally realized, it was too late—the roots had already begun wrapping around his body, climbing higher. He struggled to move, but the plants were faster, covering him with their stems, leaves, and flowers until he was completely entangled.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

The grip of the roots was tight, constricting him from head to toe. He tried everything he could to free himself—he struggled, attempted to use poison, even broke a bottle of powder—but none of it had any effect on the plants. They seemed impervious, growing even stronger despite his efforts.

Suddenly, he noticed something in the air. A strange, invisible force was neutralizing the poison. He felt a warm sensation spread through his body, as though something was being absorbed into him. At first, it was unsettling, but then he started to feel comfortable, even sleepy. His mind grew hazy, and before he knew it, he had drifted into unconsciousness.

As he slept, the plants that had ensnared him began to change. Their colors shifted from golden to blue, then to green and yellow. In an instant, they vanished into the air, leaving his body floating gently above the ground. Slowly, he was lowered back down, resting softly on a bed of grass, flowers, and herbs.

When he woke up, he found himself lying in the same garden, but something felt different. His body hadn’t changed—at least, not outwardly—but he sensed a new warmth inside, as if something within him had transformed. Glancing down at his right hand, he noticed a black tattoo of a snake. Its head rested in his palm, while its body coiled around his wrist. Ancient text was etched around it, but the language was foreign to him.

Moments later, a flood of information surged into his mind. Spells, runes, knowledge—everything began to make sense. He could now understand and apply what had once been mysterious. He learned that spells could be cast without a medium, while runes required specific conditions. Runes were drawn as circles, either in the air, on the ground, or using a particular medium. This newfound understanding filled him with a sense of power and possibility.

He only needed to chant the spells, but the experience felt vastly different from what he had imagined. Surprised but understanding what was about to happen, he quickly raised his hand and murmured a small incantation. A flicker of fire appeared in his palm. Now, it all made sense—what she had meant when she said he would inherit all her training skills. With newfound confidence, he hurled the fireball, causing a small explosion that left a charred circle in the garden. Quickly, he summoned water magic to douse the flames, effortlessly erasing the damage he had caused.

He realized how easily he could control these elemental powers, though there was a drawback: he had to chant each spell, which would cost him valuable seconds in a real battle. Those moments could be critical, as battles often turned in the blink of an eye. Despite this limitation, he reveled in the simplicity of casting spells—creating fireballs, manipulating plants, and even summoning rain over small areas. He could control the elements, capture enemies with vines, and shape the forces of nature with ease.

As he experimented with these abilities, he felt a deep satisfaction. After trying out several spells, he decided he’d had enough. It was time to leave this magical garden. The exit, as he quickly understood, was simple. He just needed to step out, and he would be transported back to Elves Mountain.

Leaving the garden felt like a monumental achievement—he had gained the inheritance on his first try. With a smile, he walked out through the portal, and in an instant, he found himself on Elves Mountain once again.

As soon as he arrived, he noticed familiar faces—people who had accompanied him during the earlier trials. They were alive, but as soon as they saw him, their expressions darkened with anger. They immediately understood that he had claimed the inheritance, and jealousy flared in their eyes.

Sensing the tension, he realized this might have been the worst possible time to return. His first instinct was to flee, but a thought crossed his mind—what if he could test his new powers against them? These people were knights, not sorcerers, and while they were formidable warriors, they lacked the magical prowess he now wielded. With his newly inherited abilities, he was already on a level that surpassed theirs.

Before he could act, they rushed him, drawing their swords and attacking with furious intent. Although Darin wasn't skilled with a sword, he quickly countered with fire magic, driving them back, and used water magic to slow their advances. Despite their numbers, he held his ground—until an arrow struck him in the back.

Crying out in pain, he dropped to one knee, but the onslaught continued. A swift kick landed on his right shoulder, knocking him off balance. Struggling to regain control, he grabbed a nearby sword, slashing at one attacker’s leg and pushing another away. Desperate, he fought with all his might, but his enemies were skilled, experienced warriors.

They fought with precision, each of them trained in martial combat, while he struggled to keep up. Arrows flew toward him at blinding speed, piercing his body in several places. With each hit, the pain intensified, and he cried out, realizing just how outmatched he was in this physical confrontation.

As he fought, his opponent swung his sword from a distance. Even though the blade didn’t touch him, the shockwave from the strike sent him tumbling backward. He quickly scrambled to his feet, feeling pain shoot through his body—several arrows had already pierced him in different places. Despite the pain, he knew he had basic healing magic and could heal himself if needed.

He turned his gaze toward the man who had knocked him down. The fighter was half-naked, wielding an enormous sword effortlessly with one hand. It was clear that this man was stronger than the others. Without wasting time, he conjured a fireball and hurled it at him, but the man deftly blocked it with his sword. Things were escalating quickly, and he wanted to run, but his escape was cut short when something struck him on the head. He collapsed to the ground.

When he regained consciousness, his hands were bound, and he was lying on the ground. The large man with the sword stood over him, grinning menacingly.

“You’re going to be the first person I kill with my sword today," the man said. "I haven’t killed anyone yet. Do you even know who I am? They call me Bronze Man Kills—one of the greatest criminals in the kingdom."

The man raised his sword, locking eyes with him. Tension filled the air as more people gathered around. But as Darin looked at the crowd, he noticed the number of enemies he had managed to injure in the battle. Despite being outnumbered, he felt some satisfaction.

The man standing over him was muscular, built like a warrior, with a large sword that could pierce Darin’s head at any moment. Darin's mind raced, considering his options. Fortunately, he realized he could still cast magic even with his hands bound.

Quickly, he summoned his water magic, blasting the crowd away from him and leaping backward to gain some distance. Everyone was thrown aside except for Bronze Man Kills, who remained standing. Darin grinned as a plan began to form in his mind.

"Thanks for giving me the solution," Darin said, facing Bronze. He shouted with defiance, "Now you'll witness the might of someone far stronger than you! My name is Darin, the Poisoned Thruster!"

As he spoke, the bottles of poison he carried began leaking, the deadly substance mixing with the water beneath his feet. Darin launched his attack, sending the poisonous water surging toward his enemies. The moment the tainted water touched them, many collapsed instantly, some even dying in the chaos, while others found themselves overwhelmed by the poison.

The only one left standing was Bronze Man Kills, but even he wasn’t immune. Though the poison didn’t kill him outright, it left him dazed and unable to fight effectively. Darin wasted no time—he summoned a fireball and launched it directly at Bronze's head. The fireball exploded on impact, and Bronze ’s head crumpled to the ground.

As the dust settled, the few remaining enemies fled in terror, leaving behind a battlefield littered with bodies. Darin took a deep breath, surveying the carnage—more than thirty bodies lay motionless around him. Exhausted but victorious, he knelt to remove the arrows lodged in his body. One by one, he pulled them out, grimacing in pain with each one. It was a slow and grueling process, but after a few hours, his wounds were fully healed, thanks to his magic.

Feeling much stronger than before, Darin stood up, ready to return to the Meyes’s palace. He knew that with the inheritance and the experience from this battle, he had grown tenfold—perhaps even a hundredfold—stronger than he had been before.

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