Crisp midday light showed down upon the felids and forest while Tim's grin took on a sinister hue. Perched upon the coachman's seat, his vantage granted him a glimpse of a distant shimmer, where the gently rolling hills yielded their emerald expanse to hues of cobalt blue. Their journey neared its culmination, and Tim had met up with his first enemy in this world, the chromocramatic Oni Grass.
The carriage advanced steadily, yet the Oni Grass seemed to pulse with a vengeful fervor, switching from blue to a sickly yellow glow. The grass had encroached upon the road itself, at significant discomfort to its sensitive roots. Unyielding, it dared the approaching Mule to cross its territory, a challenge accepted without hesitation.
Tim's fingers gravitated toward the hidden cap on the steering column, exposing a gleaming crimson button beneath. His first experience with the foliage of this world had turned into a recurring nightmare. Often waking in a cold sweat as he fought off the feelings of being trapped inside that sea of violent green. This was a reunion he was well prepared for and catharsis for his soul. A maniacal chuckle bubbled forth as Tim's thumb descended.
Torrents of flame erupted from the Mule's front, a fiery flood that engulfed the offending grass. The once-defiant vegetation crumbled to ashen remnants beneath the burning onslaught and shredded under metal wheels. The Oni Grass itself writhed in torment with anguished cries. Maledictions spilled forth in its ancestral tongue, cursing the transgressors and their lineage through seven generations.
“Um, Tim you’re starting to worry me,” Aerith said with concern.
“Just getting some well-needed revenge,” replied Tim.
The flames danced with vindictive delight, as the Mule plowed forth, obliterating entire kinships of the offensive flora. Yet, amidst the fiery inferno, torrents of water and ice erupted from the carriage’s sides, staunching the flames' insatiable appetite. The patch of troublesome plants succumbed quicker than anticipated, leaving a trail of burnt devastation in their wake, the road behind the Mule as pristine and compact as if hewn from the heart of stone.
The spectacle reached its climax all too swiftly for Tim's taste, as the journey pressed forward relentlessly. As they ventured onward, the ambiance grew hushed once again, the rhythmic cadence of the Mule's pistons evoking a soothing lull. Yet, McKenzie's impatience festered as she fidgeted on the roof. Her voice punctured the silence like a shard of glass. "Um, shouldn't there be, like, more forest?" she inquired; her curiosity tinged with an undercurrent of unease.
Massive furrows, dozens of steps wide, had brutally carved through the earth, stretching out to the horizon. The devastation was absolute, sparing neither field nor forest in its ruthless wake. Where these harrowing lines had swept through, nothing remained, the very earth stripped down to the rock beneath. Towering chunks of the once-thriving forest now stood in woeful disarray, with some trees rent down the middle, leaving only their surviving half.
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Randal gulped. “What do ya think did that?”
“I think I know,” replied Tim, worry etched across his face. “We need to hurry. “
Tim accelerated the carriage, urging it to its maximum speed along the road. A sense of urgency propelled him forward, his heart racing in tandem with the rapid clatter of metal wheels against the earth. Finally, the carriage came to a halt at the foot of the hill, a solitary mound that cradled the remnants of Bonsho.
Emerging from the carriage, Tim shouldered his backpack and embarked on the uphill trek toward the ruins. The sun, its brilliance diminishing, cast elongated shadows that stretched across the landscape. The ebbing light signaled the approaching sunset, underscoring the dwindling moments available for their endeavor. The group ascended the hill rapidly, an acknowledgment that time was a precious commodity continually slipping through their fingers. Out of the four of them, only Tim and Aerith were breathing hard when they reached the temple.
The door to the temple still sat ajar from when they were last here. Although there was plenty of evidence, they were not the last visitors. Animals had infiltrated the sacred space, their presence reducing the remnants within too little more than skeletal remains and tattered fabric.
Swiftly, Tim retrieved his phone, its lens capturing every facet of the room with almost feverish urgency. His enhanced sight unfurled; an ethereal lens that unveiled the arcane tapestry woven into the fabric of reality. Tim's voice, a narrative laced with awe and revelation, accompanied the visual documentation. However, the room held little significance. A dormant altar, concealed conduits linking it to the summoning chamber, and an overarching sense of worry were the only remnants.
Tim navigated into the room that had ushered him into this unfamiliar realm. The boundary between the mundane and the otherworldly wavered, reality itself quivering as Tim delved deeper into his unique perception. Within the ethereal expanse, lines of light pulsed along the floor, intricate patterns forming an intricate dance. Circuits and sigils, an intricate interplay of divine design, coalesced into an organic web of power. As the narrative flowed from Tim's lips, he handed his phone over to Randal. A notepad occupied Tim's hands as he talked and sketched out the patterns that swirled around him.
Yet, amidst this intricate dance of light, an unsettling discord resonated within Tim's mind, a screaming splinter of disquiet that lingered at the fringes of his perception.
Completing his sketch, Tim channeled his mana, infusing it into the ethereal network, seeking to unravel its mysteries. But the universe, it seemed, had its own plans. McKenzie's audacious exploits echoed through the chamber, her unrestrained looting disturbing the sanctity of the moment. The crystalline lights had once more caught her attention and McKenzie was stealing them. Because she could. Effortlessly she leapt to their heights and plucked the gems from their cradles. Suddenly the entire building shook, right as she landed. The group turned and gave her an accusatory glare.
“It wasn’t me,” McKenzie protested a note of helplessness in her voice.