In the suffocating stillness, a man stood frozen, trapped by his imagination. Before him, a mirror hung on the wall, staring back at him with an emptiness that seemed to drag him into its depths. Staring at its hollowed eyes, he saw a face twisted beyond recognition, distorted by the flickering light from the ceiling. The constant sound of rushing water, the gurgling noise it made, and the peeling paint on the walls were all reminders of his guilt.

The man lay prone on a rough, cold stone floor, paralyzed at by the blood trickling at the hilt of his sword. His shield lay barren several feet away, battered and misshapen. In front of him, stood the corpse of his lover, the succubus who he had forced to kill. The fog that shielded his sanity was swept by his final attack, and his hand clawed at the scene, frightened by what he had done.

Haunting dreams - Page 12

***

The tent was lit with a bright light, and a lantern floated in the middle, sending a wisp of anima. If anyone were to observe the tent from the outside, the wisp would appear as a mist, distorting the silhouettes of those inside. Two shadows argued in the dim light. One shadow was sharpening their axe with a teeth horn, while the other was reading a book. The snow was still present, causing the shadow to wrap a thick cloak tightly around them.

A stripline could be seen outside the tent, extending towards the horizon. The line formed a boundary between the snow and the forest, and its undulating movements resembled those of a serpent devouring for its tail. The line, also known as the [Silver lining], was said to come from the stars, illuminating the once-barren land of Ulythes. These created waves of energy that summoned the stars upon the earth.

It was a wonderful tale that perfectly captured the nature of the zone. The story also describes the event that caused the tidal event, and the god responsible for its creation. The Aeon, also known as the Silver God. Although the book was already well-known, few had seen the [Silver lining]. If only they could see its beautiful lining, it would be a dream come true. The outside world had little knowledge of the inner workings of the zone. Ulythes was too peaceful for its citizens to care about such places. It was like accusing peasants of treason by the nobles.

In the old days, only a few families had the knowledge and authority to control the secrets of the zone. The lineage tracing back from generations of history. These particular families were the only ones free to roam the expanses without fear of judgment from outsiders. It was not until they were revered and became feared figures, their names sung into the annals of time.

Lionel was reading a biography he stole from Choppy and watched as he cast a spell over the campfire. The world had experienced a devastating war a thousand years ago, leading to changes in magical practices. Spells that caused massive destruction, such as firestorms, were restricted or left behind. If any spells were still maintained for their quality, such spells were long since degraded to traditional spells. These changes were caused by the development of spirituality, accelerating the glorification of symbols in spells. The use of anima in spells became the norm. Molten lava was an example of this transformation. Although the spell was dangerous, it was mainly used for ritual purposes rather than warfare.

Lionel put down the biography and stared at the embers gushing over the crackling fire, soothing their mind in peace. The campfire burst into flames, changing the flame into blue, saturated by the anima. The spell was a common practice, one his uncle forgot to teach him, and considering how conventional his uncle was, he could guess why he hated the alteration of anima. It was an illusion, a mere sight to behold. There was no warmth, only a spell. The flames touched his skin with a faint tingle, but he felt no pain or discomfort.

"Choppy was right, just like a piece of music," Lionel muttered.

As he watched the fire crackle, he felt a sense of emptiness that he couldn't explain. He wondered if this feeling was caused by the recent battle or if it was something deeper that he couldn't comprehend. The feeling bounced back and forth between epiphany and doubt, as if a thorn had pricked his head. He tried to shake off the feeling and focus on the present, but his mind kept wandering to the past and the things he had failed to notice. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and let the cold air fill his lungs, hoping it would clear his thoughts and bring him peace.

"Are you sure that this biography is meant for everyone, Choppy? Not everyone might understand its passages," Lionel said with a hint of immaturity. As a child, he had almost forgotten the horrors of the past, the stories of war that measured the suffering of many. The biography made him feel uncomfortable. The mentions of the mirror were unnerving, stories that made him question reality itself.

"It's not my fault that you stole that diary from me. I didn't know you could be so possessive for a piece of paper," Choppy shook his head. "Well, a family does come to mind, but that's in the past," he hummed as the fire crackled and spat embers into the tent. The fibers of the tent shone with runes, guarding the tent from the fire and enemies alike.

The snow continued to fall relentlessly, but since they were still in the middle of the lining, the border near the forest still brought a warmth of touch outside its edges. The gust from the forest fought valiantly against the icy snow. The snowflakes kept storming in the middle, forming a hailstorm as the wind blew from different directions. The image of such a spectacle would gasp anyone for days. The raging storm divided the land, separated only by a thin veil clashing against each other.

Lionel stood in awe as he gazed at the transparent tent. He had fun tinkering with the thread of the tent with spells, adjusting their transparency and brightness to suit their needs. The trees and the icebergs were like paintings waiting to be appreciated.

Choppy mirrored Lionel and gazed at the billowing storm. "That wind you're looking at right now is conjured by a territory claiming that land, and we're already lucky they haven't interfered and only devastated a part of that land during our fight with the gremlins."

"Wait, are you saying the other party simply let us go so we can do their dirty work? Is that it?" Lionel surmised, but he still had doubts about whether it was true. From what he could gather, the current territory was merely a sector, a level below the sanctuary. Choppy had told him there were five levels of [Eden] and sectors were colonies that had still yet begun to shape their territory.

Colonies were analogs of a chronological change, and countless ashes mound atop its ruins. In the wake of its splendor, kingdoms thrived and crumbled from its rubbles. The grand halls splintered as their remains were left speculated for generations to come. For a throne to be worshipped, an idea must be dismantled, and what came from its debris, a new order arises. To ascend from the ashes of the old, one must first embrace the flames of destruction.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

For every act of creation is first an act of destruction.

"Not bad, fleshkin." Choppy tusk glimmered with hostility. "If we didn't stumble upon that place, the Nether would have already cleansed the land until it found the ritual that summoned the ascension," he paused. "In a way, perhaps it's best if we let them fight amongst themselves. It's not our place to meddle in their affairs."

"You could almost say, what we did just now could be considered beneficial for them," Choppy said.

"I see, that's good then," Lionel heaved a sigh of relief.

Choppy nodded and threw a large twig into the fire. "As for the battle, it's best if you don't talk about what happened a day ago. If word were to find out about the spell you cast that caused such a firestorm, they wouldn't hesitate to take you captive and use you for their own gain."

"I won't ask how you did it. After all, you saved my life," Choppy laughed as he displayed his sparkling tusk coated with gold, "You might not realize it, but owing a keeper a favor could almost be said having a dragon as your guardian."

"Hmph," Lionel straightened his back. "Well, huh, what benefit would that be?" Seeing how much gold Choppy had on his tusk, he could almost picture an image of him hoarding all the gold in his home. If his parents were to see him filled with a bag of gold carried on his back, they would likely faint from shock.

"I'm going to be rich," Lionel said innocently. He couldn't help but let his thoughts wander, imagining what he could do with all that gold.

Choppy frowned as he watched Lionel tilt his head and daydream about wealth and riches. Choppy smirked and recited a spell, which the tent gradually lost its luster. The snowflakes falling from the sky penetrated through the thin fabric and landed on Lionel's head with a soft thud.

Lionel snapped out of his thoughts and looked up at the sky as the snowflakes continued to fall. He quickly got up, brushing the snow from his hair and clothes. "What was that for?" he asked, shivering in the cold.

"The wolves must be hungry today," Choppy yawned with a smirk hidden beneath his face. "I know a delicious food when I see one."

Lionel sneezed as the snow pricked his nose. He turned to Choppy and saw the snow building up on his feet. To confirm whether Choppy was joking, he looked at the orc to see his reaction.

Choppy leaned against a tree, whistling and smirking as he playfully fumbled the handle of the axe. The snow melted around him with a thin trace of anima wrapped around his clothes.

Finally, after a fit of a tantrum, Lionel scratched his head and mumbled, "I was just joking." He almost forgot that Choppy was a miser who wouldn't even hesitate to throw away his life if gold was involved.

"If yer'ever think about my gold again, ye'r dead," Choppy recited a spell and reversed the tent back to its appearance.

"Midget," Lionel wiggled his mouth and mumbled in a low voice.

Choppy perked his ears up, "Did I hear something?"

"Nothing," Lionel laughed, "Must be the snow."

"Good," Choppy shook his head and flicked his wrist, causing two golden cups to appear beside him. The cup dispersed an aura of anima around it, filling the tent with a hypnotic trance. Choppy then kept his hands above the cup, chanting a string of complex incantations.

Once the incantation was done, Choppy nodded with satisfaction before handing one of the cups to Lionel. "You'd better handle it with care. Without it, I won't be able to afford most of my expenses."

Lionel looked at the cup hesitantly and asked, "Am I supposed to drink this?"

"Who said you would need to?" Choppy frowned, "That cup has a unique property that allows an anima to condense into mana. The incantation earlier was to engrave my essence into it."

"It should be done by now," Choppy watched as the mist slowly changed into a spherical marble. The marble had a transparent grayish hue, with tiny jade-like spots embedded in it, emitting a faint glow.

"What do you call it?" Lionel asked as the mist continued to spiral inside the marble and spill outside the cup.

Choppy observed Lionel, who was continuously staring at the marble, and spoke, "The marble you are looking at is called nectar," he said and cleared his throat. "Nectars are a form of currency mainly used for powering lanterns and solidifying spells. Transmutation also came from this practice, nectars are often converted into specific objects, including ornaments, to serve as convenient mediums for trade or spellcasting.

"I believe you've already heard this before," Choppy abruptly stopped as he felt explaining it further would only be a waste of time.

Choppy summoned his lantern and cast a spell to open a storage space. Once he reached inside, he pulled out a dusty booklet and handed it to Lionel. "Here's a book that talks about the history of mana stones. Turn to page 68. That's where you'll find what you're looking for."

"I know it's a bit old, but some portion of the book still holds a significant help even during this day," Choppy stated.

Lionel wiped the dust off from the book and read the title, "The Lost History." He then traced his hands along the written letters and read them silently.

The discovery of mana stones was closely linked to the appearance of artifacts from the astral event, which introduced the idea of mana to the world. The pioneers believed that anima, the energy bestowed by Aeon, could not be broken down into smaller pieces. This caused the altercation of spells regarding invocation and conjuration to be merged into a single school of magic. -Page 68

Anima gives people the power to bring their thoughts into reality, allowing them to shape their world by simply imagining what they desire. However, this power has its limitations. While anima can create images without restriction, its manifestation, in reality, depends on the strength of an individual's will and their understanding of reality. Eventually, after numerous attempts, it can't capture the elements that make up the desired object or phenomenon. -Page 70

"I see," Lionel nodded. "I always thought it was just a currency reserved only for various practitioners. I've seen my uncle deliver nectars to houses that were on the verge of running out of anima reserves."

Lionel wondered if he could simplify various effects of a spell by inscribing the nectar's properties to parchment as an ingredient. Before he and Choppy departed, he bought a scroll and rudimentary ink from the camp. The only missing element was a runestone to channel the anima into the parchment.

After all, scrolls were still far from being seen as a standard practice, but it was a universal utility. As a scholar once said, scrolls were the healers of the Anurands, and the scourge of the less resourceful. The use of scrolls still had a room for improvement.

"I'll ask Choppy for help later. For now, he seems busy doing that weird shamanic thing," Lionel averted his eyes and stared at the golden cup, glistening in bright luster. He sighed, "I don't understand what his obsession with gold,"

"Choppy," Lionel called out to get the orc's attention, "What's the deal with the golden cup you have?" He found it strange that Choppy would spend so much money on an item that worked similarly to his lantern. "Oh wait, I think I understand now. You bought it so you can sell the nectars at cheaper prices, right?"

Choppy almost stumbled in exasperation, "If you didn't look like a child, I would have thrown you to the wolves already." The lantern pulsed in a low hum.

"No, and you were right about the..." Choppy paused in embarrassment. "—about the money, but I didn't buy the item. It's an artifact bestowed by my clan."

Lionel found it amusing to see the orc blush in embarrassment. The orc wouldn't even bother to talk unless their conversation followed a profit. By the time they arrive here, Choppy had been nothing but an annoying orc obsessed with gold.

He smiled, as he now had a card to finally tease Choppy whenever they had conversations.

Lionel decided to play the card as his mouth curled into a playful jest, "Really?"