As noon approached, the serene ambiance of the Temple of Hera came alive with the laughter and shouts of children playing on the water-spilled field that surrounded the sacred grounds.
Inside the temple's modest courtyard, Elara was occupied with the task of making tea. The gentle clinking of pottery and the soothing aroma of herbs filled the air, adding a touch of homeliness to the ancient place of worship. Nearby, Princess Sera sat cross-legged on the cool stone floor, her posture relaxed yet attentive, her gaze occasionally drifting towards the playful chaos outside.
Albert stood a vigilant guard, his back against the temple gate, though he remained within earshot and eyesight of the group. His casual pose belied the constant alertness of a seasoned warrior, ready to spring into action at the slightest hint of danger.
Roland, seated close to Sera, was deep in conversation with his companions. The seriousness of their discussion contrasted sharply with the carefree joy of the children outside, highlighting the gravity of the choices they were about to make.
Meanwhile, the temple priest, a figure of routine and discipline, busied himself with washing clothes by the temple's side. His periodic scolding at the children — warning them not to dirty the freshly laundered garments — added a rhythm to the day, an echo of normalcy in the midst of their tumultuous lives.
This tranquil yet charged setting served as the backdrop for the crucial planning of their journey. Amidst the remnants of everyday life and the echoes of ancient prayers, under the watchful eyes of both the divine and the innocent, the group found a momentary haven to deliberate their fraught future. Roland and his companions deliberated their next steps, weaving their strategies and hopes into the fabric of the afternoon.
"So, what is the plan, Sir Roland?" Sera asked, breaking the calm with her clear, concerned voice.
Roland, seated near her, looked thoughtful as he replied, "Now that Albert has fully recovered, a miracle among miracles, we are ready to progress with our initial plan." His gaze swept over his companions, seeking silent assent.
Elara, standing a bit apart as she prepared the tea, interjected, "So, move to the Gaul empire and take refuge there?" Her voice carried a mix of hope and apprehension, reflecting the gravity of their decision.
Sera, ever practical, voiced a pressing concern. "But how will we cross the border? Didn't the Gaul empire close the borders?" Her brows furrowed, highlighting the strategic obstacles that lay ahead.
Roland nodded, acknowledging her point. "Lady Elara has a theory. Since Arion has gone back to his slumber, I think the Galadrian Church must have released a new prophecy or at least asked for eased border movement. After all, the Gaul empire has given them land, so they would be the first to know of all new developments," he explained, offering a glimmer of hope through strategic insight.
Elara paused in her task, her focus shifting. "However, before we leave for the Gaul empire, we must go to Havenbrook to understand why Arion told me to go there," she said firmly, her determination clear.
Roland sighed; the weight of leadership etched in his expression. "Of course, that should be fine, but we must be very cautious. If the lord is really alive, and if we get caught, it would be very difficult to escape. Not only does Arion no longer accompany us, but we would also be outmatched by the new monarch's men," he cautioned, outlining the perilous nature of their mission.
Elara, resolute, offered a solution. "No, I will go there alone, and you all can wait in the forest. We cannot compromise the Princess's safety," she proposed, ready to shoulder the risk herself.
"That will not do. I will always accompany my dear friend," Sera interjected immediately, her loyalty unwavering.
Albert, leaning against the temple gate, straightened up. "I am confident I can protect the Princess under any circumstances," he declared, his tone brooking no argument.
Roland, after a moment of contemplation, finally made his decision. "Sigh... it would have been best to avoid going to Havenbrook altogether. However, we cannot just ignore Lady Elara's wishes. Fine, we will all go, but in disguise," he conceded, understanding the importance of unity and caution.
"So, it's decided," Sera said, clapping her hands together lightly, a smile breaking through her concern as they reached a consensus.
Their dialogue, a blend of strategy, concern, and camaraderie, unfolded amidst the gentle chaos of children's laughter and the mundane tasks of temple life, grounding their epic quest in the reality of the world they were striving to save.
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"Dorian, it seems I have lost the favor of mana, I just don't know how to use spells anymore" Cedric admitted in frustration.
"That my lord is a grave situation, while sword might be a way to protect yourself, mana is a proof that you are a child of Hera. For there to be no change in mana, it must mean Hera have either disowned you or your connection to the oldest goddess has been severed. It's highly unlikely to happen, so you just need to meditate and try to continue feeling the mana." Dorian instructed.
"I have been doing this exercise since weeks Dorian, I think my connection is indeed severed" Cedric said
"Unless you died and someone took over your body, its simply impossible Goddess Hera would forsake her own" Dorian replied jokingly.
"R-right haha... so back to the meditation then?" Cedric asked with his eyebrows twitching.
"Back to the meditation it is... my lord" Dorian correct his mustache.
So according to Dorian, Cedric was a mage of a high caliber, partly because of his lineage, he was blessed with a large mana pool, something not anyone can acquire, and luck plays a big role in that.
On top of that, Dorian has been taking care of Cedric since his childhood and he was the one who taught him magic in the first place. Me becoming mana less must have hurt him most. It's also that Cedric graduated from Magic Academy in his youth and was even until recently always working on increasing his rank.
Based on the so-called 're-learning' that Dorian is forcing upon me, following is the ranks among mages.
Now I don't know how mages understand what rank they are at, but they have separated the ranks based on colors.
Gray (locked/common): A commoner, one who have never once tried to activate his mana in their bodies, simply because they are like me (undead, possessing another dead person's body) or one whose mana capacity is rock-bottom.
Green(awakened/inherited): Usually all noble children are born from here. They can sense mana since they gain consciousness. It is widespread knowledge that monsters in wilderness are usually also born at this stage,
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Blue(improved): High nobility/Fallen/Demoted nobility are born at this stage. The mana pool is top notch and basically it can't be a better default. Cedric was born as a blue ranker.
Purple(talented): Noone is born at this rank; everyone has to work really hard to reach here.
Orange(prodigy): Historically, only those born at blue stage can achieve this rank. Cedric was an orange level mage.
Silver(genius): Only the genius can achieve this stage. If one becomes a silver mage, then they become the asset of the country. I think Sera was a silver mage.
Gold(heroic): It is recorded in history, there was a hero's party thousand year back. This party had a mage with this rank.
Dark Gold(legendary): Mythical beings such as Nine tails, Krakens, Griffins, Wyverns and minor Dragons are known to have achieved this rank. It is noteworthy that all the creatures have to work their way from blue rank based on over all findings.
Black(dragon): No one have ever found a Black ranked mage. One can only write fictions of this unachievable rank even among the Dragons. If you ask me, why even create a rank if no one ever achieved it? well it's because of the final rank.
White (Deity): Based on many sacred texts as well as Elara's quest, it seems it is indeed possible to become a deity. No one knows how, but based on quest details, it's probably related to acknowledgement instead of hard work.
There are also ranks among the knights and colors are also a thing for them. However, Dorian didn't really explain about that. Every time I would ask him, he would just say that I should only concentrate on learning magic. After all, if the town gets in trouble due to Raven, we had to be prepared and preparation must be done quick.
Even though Dorian jokingly said it, it's probably possible that since I am in fact not a creation of Hera or Galadria, it's impossible for me to access their gifts.
Well, no reason to think too much, I guess. If I die, then I just die that's it. I've already lived for eons, maybe it wouldn't be so bad to die after all. To think my system would simply vanish. Or maybe before I die, the system will failback my consciousness. I simply can't lose here.
Cedric sank into a deep meditation, his eyes closing as he ventured into the vast expanse of his imagination. In this boundless mental space, he conjured the image of a radiant sun, its brilliance overwhelming, serving as the nucleus of his creation. Mimicking the celestial body's fiery essence, he envisioned a core that mirrored the sun, drawing upon its vast heat and energy. From this luminous orb, he willed a tempest to unfold, a cosmic dance that teased molten fragments away from the gravitational embrace of the core. These fragments, under Cedric's careful guidance, divided into nine smaller orbs, each varying in size and potential.
Turning his attention skyward within his mind's eye, Cedric summoned the essence of clouds, allowing their moisture to seep into his imaginary realm. This moisture enveloped each orb, forming atmospheres of varying densities around them—the larger the orb, the heavier its cloak of air. Not content with mere formation, he invited meteoric stones from the void beyond to collide with these nascent worlds, each impact enriching their atmospheres, making them denser, more complex. Before long, these orbs boasted atmospheres so thick and charged that they birthed their own lightning storms, a testament to their newfound vitality.
Pleased with the vividness of this cosmic tableau, Cedric allowed himself a momentary peek at reality, opening one eye in hope of manifesting even the smallest spark of a fireball.
Yet, there was nothing. A sigh escaped him, a whisper of frustration in the quietude. Dorian's words echoed in his mind, a reminder that to truly sense mana, one must envision the genesis of the world itself. Cedric struggled with this concept, his rational mind clinging to scientific explanations, yet yearning to understand how creation might have unfolded on this very planet. The disconnect between his logical understanding and the mystical knowledge he sought was a chasm he had yet to bridge, leaving him to wonder and wander in his quest for power.
Cedric was now tired of it, he looked outside the window, and he instantly knew it was that time of the day.
As Sera and her companions ventured into Havenbrook, cloaked in the guises of common folk, they melded seamlessly with the stream of weary farmers returning from a day's toil. The sun, having exhausted its vigils, dipped low, ready to be swathed in the embrace of the impending night. At the city gates, the guards performed their checks with a casual diligence, their concerns seemingly more preoccupied with the whispers of turmoil and the fate of their lord than with the identities of those passing through.
The rumors that reached their ears spoke of a lord transformed, a beacon of hope amidst the fear of upheaval. It was a narrative starkly different from the one they had carried with them, a belief that the lord was nothing more than a tyrant beloved only by the corrupt. Yet, the vibrant life pulsing through Havenbrook's streets, the market alive with chatter and commerce, and the unguarded smiles shared across faces young and old painted a picture at odds with their expectations.
Driven by a blend of curiosity and disbelief, Sera approached a woman busily selecting produce in the bustling market. "I was in this town a few months back, how come it is so lively now?" she inquired, her question laced with genuine wonder.
The woman, her face alight with pride, turned to Sera. "Oh, my, you must be new here. You see, our lord has turned a new leaf in his life. He first worked on himself and his health, and then he inspired our men to do the same. I'm so glad my husband lost his belly fat; that's all I could ever ask for," she shared, her cheerful disposition infectious.
Her friend, unable to resist a playful jab, tapped her lightly on the head. "Stupid woman, she's asking about the town, not your husband's belly," she teased, laughter dancing in her eyes.
Regaining her composure, the first woman continued, "Oh my, haha. So yes, the lord reduced the corruption, tackled favoritism, put an end to our children's abductions with careful guard patrols, improved our farming techniques, and so much more. Trade-wise, we're now exporters of vegetables, something unheard of just a few months back," she explained, her words painting a vivid picture of transformation and progress.
"And, if you've met the lord in the past, I'd bet my life savings you wouldn't recognize him now," she concluded with a hearty laugh, her hand coyly covering her mouth.
This exchange, light-hearted yet profound, left Sera and her companions in a state of quiet reflection. The Havenbrook they had returned to was not the one they had left behind. It was a place reborn, its heartbeat strong with the promise of a future unfettered by the chains of its past.
As they navigated the bustling streets of Havenbrook, a discreet exchange occurred at the city gates. A vigilant guard, after a subtle inspection of the newcomers, turned to his fellow sentries. "They're in," he murmured, a note of urgency in his voice. "Signal the lord."
Seeking respite from their arduous journey, Roland and his companions sought lodging at Midnight's Inn, a welcoming establishment near the town square. The inn, a beacon of warmth and hospitality amidst the town's vibrant renewal, promised the comfort of a real bed after their long sojourn in the wilderness.
Upon their entry, they were greeted by a man whose appearance was as striking as it was reassuring. "Welcome to Midnight's Inn," he announced, his voice rich with hospitality. His blonde hair, muscular build, and deep blue eyes, set in a cleanly shaven face, offered a portrait of the inn's inviting character.
Roland, assuming the role of spokesman for the group, engaged the man. "Good evening. We are travelers in need of lodging—two rooms should suffice, one for the ladies and one for the gentlemen," he proposed, his voice carrying the weariness of their travels.
The innkeeper's response was prompt and accommodating. "We can offer you four separate rooms, if you prefer," he suggested, an offer that hinted at an understanding of their need for privacy and comfort.
Roland, momentarily taken aback by the unexpected generosity, narrowed his eyes in thought. Before he could voice his inquiries, the innkeeper added with a disarming smile, "Just a business pitch, sir. Please, don't mind me."
Relieved and somewhat amused by the innkeeper's candor, Roland acquiesced. "Very well, four rooms it shall be. And kindly serve our meals in the rooms," he decided, his tone reflecting a blend of gratitude and authority.
"Absolutely, sir. Wishing you a splendid evening," the innkeeper replied, his professionalism as impeccable as his appearance.
Once settled in their respective quarters, Elara took a moment to unwind. The comfort of the bed was a luxury she had almost forgotten. Her relaxation, however, was short-lived, interrupted by a knock at her door. With the caution born of habit, she secured a dagger behind her back before answering.
To her surprise, the figure that greeted her was not the bearer of their meal, but a man whose presence was both familiar and perplexing. His hair, a blend of blonde and white, and his clean-shaven, athletic appearance mirrored the innkeeper's, yet there was a depth to him that was unmistakably different.
"I thought you would never come," he said, his voice carrying a mixture of emotions that tugged at Elara's memory.