"I can never get enough of these puffed shrooms," Lionel chomped, happily nibbling on the mushroom that seemed to melt around his mouth. Its texture almost felt like soft cotton stuffed inside a mushroom.

"I've only seen those shrooms eaten at those fancy stalls," Choppy mumbled, bits of food clinging to his tusks as he gnawed in enjoyment.

Grumpily trailing behind Choppy, Lionel asked, "When will we get to our destination, Choppy?"

Choppy yawned and swayed a bit. "Why the rush? Aren’t you enjoying your little garden adventure?" He winked and silently pointed to a mushroom nearby. "Some of these could fetch a pretty penny."

Lionel eyed him warily. "But you’re just going to eat most of them," he said, frowning stubbornly. "Or do you eat everything?"

Lionel clutched a bag filled with herbs and mushrooms tightly to his chest. As he peered inside, the sweet aroma of mushrooms wafted through his nostrils, but he was startled to find that some of the mushrooms had already been partially eaten. It reminded him of the monster from his father’s bedtime stories—the Ongabonga, a creature that supposedly snacked on children.

Remembering the tales, he began to feel uneasy, his body tensing as he imagined a monster lurking beside him, ready to gobble him up.

***

Surprisingly, the [Lantern] provided Choppy a means to discern the herbs' nature. He had been giving more thought to herbs that could challenge Choppy's taste buds, inducing a harmless but humorous effect, one that would temporary change someone else skin color. He was confident that even a poison would do little harm to his orcish constitution. But now, all he could think of was to hide his mushroom, stashing it away from Choppy's bottomless stomach.

"I'm immune to poison, so you don’t need to worry," Choppy said, chewing on a mushroom and waving it in front of the Lantern. "See this? It always glows when I touch something dangerous."

"Really?" Lionel asked, pulling out a codex from his backpack and flipping through the pages until he found the plant's information. "It’s called Angstrom. According to this, it only grows in fields with a high density of Numen soil."

"It also gives you a quick upset stomach," Lionel giggled, hoping the mushroom would soon take effect.

"Oi Choppy! Where are you going?" Lionel shouted as he saw Choppy heading towards a specific area.

"We’re here," Choppy replied. "Since you mentioned the divine light, it can only be found in areas rich in Numen soil."

Choppy realized their previous encounter had not been a mere accident but something deliberate. "Mushrooms weren’t part of this landscape during my previous visits," he said thoughtfully.

"Divine light only appears when an ascension is summoned or invoked."

Lionel mulled over the word, repeating it to himself. "Ascension... so someone is trying to ascend here?"

Choppy crouched over the soil, moving in a rhythmic dance akin to a ritual. He scooped up a handful of soil and rubbed it between his fingers while humming a melodious tune. The melody seemed to captivate the attention of every creature and plant nearby. Even the wind seemed to join in, singing an elated chorus as if welcoming a new dawn.

The [Lantern] hummed in response, resonating with the familiar aura. It sensed its kin, shaped by the same source.

From the depths, a light surged forth from its slumber, sending ripples into the silent void. Dawn splintered across the sky, sensing the presence of its familiar kind. Lionel felt the strings of light tugging at his soul, whispering tales of a fragmented past and reminding him of a forgotten path. The light’s embrace was soothing and mysterious, stirring fragments of the past, stories long forgotten.

"What just happened?" Lionel asked, snapping back to reality.

"A keeper's job," Choppy spat in discontent. "And mind you, this event is rare and comes with a price. As the saying goes, where there is light, there is also darkness," he scoffed. "Since ancient times, light has been revered, carrying with it the wisdom of both death and new beginnings."

"Once you’re born an orc, your life is bound to the spirits tied to our rituals. It’s a common belief to cling to the light, but as our convictions waver, its meaning begins to fade," Choppy sighed woefully, reflecting on the history, its shallowness, and its truth.

"It’s fascinating how beliefs change over time, isn’t it?" Choppy shook his head.

"I’ve participated in many rituals since I was a fledgling orc," he continued. "Being different from others, my beliefs about our traditions have diverged. As a keeper chosen by the gods, and with my unique physique, I’m either seen as a messiah or an outsider." Choppy grunted and swung his axe into the ground. "But don’t worry, all creatures share similar sentiments, even if they’re not as dramatic as human history."

Lionel listened intently as he felt a profound depth in Choppy's words. However, once he pondered about their meaning intensely, he decided to set those thoughts aside. Perhaps he was just too young, too inexperienced to comprehend the complexity of life and the baggage that comes with it.

Lionel moved on and adjusted his glasses, attempting to discern any peculiarities within the radiance, any clues that might unravel the mystery. He hadn't forgotten his [Rogue's Old Glasses]. It always came in handy in situations that required identification.

[Dirt]

The land you tread upon, constituting earth. It's nothing special, except for being mundane and often stepped on by others. Information can be further expanded if specifically determined.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

"Pfft! Since when did these glasses acquire a sense of humor?" Lionel felt a sense of unease as he stared at the whimsical hubris of the description. The notion of an object cracking a joke seemed peculiar, but it oddly reminded him of his dad. It was a hobby that his father would undoubtedly engage in to curb his boredom.

Then, as Lionel thought of the soil, a confused expression appeared on his face. "It's just a soil... Specifically... I need to be specific?" he mumbled as he tried to wrap his head around the strange situation.

He thought about the soil and then back at Choppy, who seemed more interested in the light's interaction with the soil than its plain appearance.

"It's the light? Right, it's the light. If it was just the soil, then there's plenty here." Lionel smacked his head lightly, shaking with disapproval.

With a deep breath, he once again tried to peer into the mysterious light, but to his dismay, he couldn't discern anything out of the ordinary. It seemed almost non-existent, like a picture that can only be perceived but not touched.

Choppy watched in amusement. "That pair of glasses fits you," he chuckled.

Lionel ignored Choppy's remarks and groaned, adjusting the glasses with his hands. "Well, if this is about light and not the soil itself, then we need to understand how it's interacting. Maybe it's influencing the growth of these mushrooms somehow."

"You're overthinking it. You can't influence an idea. It's not a simple belief you can arrive at with certainty." Choppy retorted, leaning on his axe. "Ideas just appear. You can't force 'em out."

"What do you mean by that?" Lionel said with a baffled expression.

"Your glasses can't reference a concept. It can only describe physical reality," Choppy explained. "It's like trying to measure the wind with a spoon. The glasses can tell you what's in front of you, but not the 'why' of it.

"That's not an answer, Choppy." Lionel rolled his eyes.

"Does it have to be answered?" Choppy snorted. "Sometimes you forget you're living in a world filled with ideas. Ideas that somehow exist."

"I... I refuse to indulge in such a ridiculous idea," Lionel huffed, crossing his arms. "My dad... My dad told me to stay true to what can be held as truth, maintaining it with facts and evidence.

Choppy shook his head with a disapproving tone. "There are two ways to see reality. Either you make sense of it, or you experience it and accept it as the way they are."

"What you've said isn't wrong either," Choppy mused, somewhat conceding to Lionel's perspective. "Just remember, it isn't all about whether you believe in it or not. It's about how you choose to engage with it."

"I choose to make sense of it," Lionel trembled and felt a slight doubt welling up inside him. "You can't fix an injured man with an idea!"

"But it can heal them," Choppy replied, amused by the conversation. "Both have their own ways of mending what's broken."

"Whatever, I'm going to find the answers on my own," Lionel adjusted his glasses, examining the light emanating from the soil once more. He squinted his eyes, determined to prove his point, resolving to find a rational explanation using his understanding of knowledge.

Choppy shrugged and continued to explore the area around the radiant soil, looking for any signs or clues that could align with the ascension that had taken place.

Lionel peered into the glowing soil, he noticed a subtle change transpiring visibly around his vision. He could see its glimmer pulsating in a rhythmic pattern, and occasionally, the mushrooms nearest to the light would tremor ever so slightly. He couldn't deny there was something unusual about it, a knowledge beyond his understanding.

"There must be something tangible or concrete. I refused to believe in mere illusions," Lionel murmured to himself.

With Choppy keen hearing as an orc, he could hear Lionel's frustration in the distance. "It's not an illusion. It's an idea!" he shouted.

"That's nonsense!" Lionel shouted back in frustration. But no matter how much he tried to reject it, he couldn't deny the persistent patterns he was observing. It wasn't a figment of his imagination; there was an order to this light, a harmony that somehow accidentally stumbled into the unknown, forming something both absurd and complex.

"So, if this is an idea, what does it have to with everything?" Lionel took a deep breath, trying to grapple with his pride as he explored a different perspective of wisdom. "Perhaps it's like music. Sometimes you can't see it, but you can feel it."

"So, this light, it's like a song?" He muttered and felt a strange sensation crawling through his skin.

"Exactly!" Choppy made a point, making sure Lionel could hear. "And just like a song, it can affect those who listen, changing the atmosphere around it."

"That's the first lesson we were taught while I was training to be a shaman, which changed later on." Choppy laughed. "We are taught to feel everything, even the slightest subtleties that happen around us."

"So ideas are like ghosts?" Lionel said.

"You make it sound as if ghosts aren't real. There are skeletons stripped to bare bones, spells conjured out of thin air, and you suddenly find everything odd?" Choppy laughed more fiercely this time.

"Yes, this all should be normal for me." Lionel thought. "Wait, why the unexplained curiosity now? What's with the unexplained strangeness?"

"As a keeper, we are entrusted to hold onto the knowledge of the past, often without questioning them," Choppy explained. He tossed the scoop of soil into the ground, already finding its clue. "But it's my first time seeing someone reverse their understanding of the world, as if it's a song they've just heard for the first time."

"You read too many books, fleshkin," Choppy laughed. "Sometimes, you just have to listen to the melody without trying to write down the notes."

Lionel racked his brain and felt as if a countless stone were pounding against his head. "The book? Yes, it's the book, the theories it contains, they show contradiction. But it's concise, almost concrete, explainable, convincing even."

"But how?"

"Hey fleshkin, you hear me?" Choppy grew concerned as Lionel seemed lost in his thoughts.

"I hear you," Lionel replied, rubbing his temples. "It's just... It's difficult to accept a new outlook, especially when it challenges everything you've ever learned."

Choppy sighed and understood the feeling. There's nothing he can do to ease the child doubt, painful as it may be. The process of learning can't just be neatly stored into a single, comprehensible theory. It's messy, chaotic, and often defies explanation.

Lionel closed his eyes, breathing in a rhythmic pattern. He cleared his thoughts and decided to approach the problem from a different angle. "Okay, let's try this again. Teach me."

Choppy nodded and appreciated Lionel willingness to learn. "It's about listening to the whispers of the world, feeling its pulse, and understanding that there's more to reality than what meets the eye. It's like reading between the lines of a story."

"Feel its connection, its voice, and all of its wonder and awe," he said. "Light represents the origin of life, the beginning, the end, from dawn to dusk.

"Light," Lionel voice faded into the rustle of leaves, engulfed in the swirling winds. "You are the giver of life, the painter of colors, the essence of wisdom. I seek to know you. To understand your awe and your purpose."

The light conveyed its presence. Its radiance raptured into a ray of light. The sun, beckoned by its brethren, sent forth its invitation, acknowledging the child's wishes.

Yet, in a fleeting moment, a change occurred. It was as though a candle had flickered out too soon, clinging desperately to its final ember.

Abruptly, the light withdrew. Its splendor waned, its luster trembling with hesitation.

The light seemed to have already consider Lionel worthy of bearing its gifts, but something held it back, something faint and murky.

"What happened?" Lionel watched as the light faded into the sky.

"No, I must be wrong. The light had already acknowledged that child. It knows of his heart, his soul laid bare naked."

"Forget it," Choppy leaned his axe over his shoulder. "There's no merit in entertaining such tales."