2024-04-15 15:19:06A week later...
Oasis continued his clandestine training with a stick, refining his swordplay skills.
Determined to grow stronger, one morning he ventured to the nearby Silverwater River to practice in solitude, away from Sister's vigilant gaze.
The sight of water flowing in the river was soothing, and the breeze rustling through the nearby forest was invigorating.
As Oasis immersed himself in his training, he was approached by three older boys who mocked him for his lack of magical talent.
"Look at him, he thinks he's a knight training with a stick. He's talentless," one of the boys sneered, earning laughter from his companions.
Unfazed, Oasis continued his exercises, ignoring their taunts.
But one of the boys, Bozer, grew increasingly agitated by Oasis's silence.
In a fit of anger, he unleashed a poorly controlled burst of wind magic towards Oasis, intending to humiliate him.
The magic manifested in the form of a sharp arrow, hurtling towards Oasis with deadly intent.
Just as the magic arrow was about to strike him, Oasis's pendant began to glow with an ethereal light.
!!!
As the arrow of wind magic approached, the pendant released its seal, unleashing a surge of magical energy.
The magical energy surged through Oasis's body, enveloping him in a brilliant blue aura.
In that moment of crisis, Oasis's latent magical abilities awakened, triggered by the imminent danger he faced.
The magic flowed through him like a raging river, untamed and raw, seeking to protect him from harm.
The unleashed magic created a powerful shockwave that sent the boys flying backward, their bodies crashing to the ground with a resounding thud.
Oasis, caught in the midst of the magical surge, was swept away by the force of the energy, tumbling into the Silverwater River.
The river's currents churned and roiled as Oasis was carried downstream, unconscious and at the mercy of the rushing waters.
Along the riverbank where he had been training, the surrounding trees were uprooted and scattered by the force of the magical explosion, bearing witness to the extraordinary event that had just occurred.
!!!
Meanwhile, the guards patrolling the area felt the sudden surge of magic and rushed to investigate the source.
They arrived to find the three boys lying unconscious on the ground, their bodies bruised and battered.
But there was no sign of Oasis, as if he had vanished into thin air.
"Did these boys awaken a mystic beast?" one guard wondered aloud, his gaze drawn to the devastation caused by the magical explosion.
"They're lucky to be alive," another guard remarked, shaking his head in disbelief.
"Let's get them back to town and have them treated," he suggested, gesturing to his companions to help carry the injured boys.
As twilight descended upon the Silverwater River, the fishermen plying their trade along its banks near Riverbend Hamlet caught sight of a figure drifting downstream.
Rushing to investigate, they found Oasis, unconscious but still faintly breathing, his body radiating with a faint blue aura of residual magic.
Quickly recognizing the significance of their discovery, the fishermen wasted no time in transporting Oasis to the nearby herbalist in Riverbend.
The herbalist, renowned for his healing skills, was known as Sir Elias Hawthorne, a mysterious figure with a reputation for harboring secrets of the past.
As they carried the unconscious boy to Sir Elias's abode, the fishermen whispered amongst themselves, their voices tinged with a mixture of awe and apprehension.
Sir Elias was a man of great power and influence, rumored to possess knowledge of ancient magic and forgotten lore.
Entering Sir Elias's dimly lit dwelling, the fishermen laid Oasis upon a sturdy wooden table, his form illuminated by the flickering light of oil lamps.
The air was heavy with the scent of herbs and incense, lending an otherworldly atmosphere to the surroundings.
Sir Elias emerged from the shadows, his figure imposing yet shrouded in mystery.
His piercing gaze fell upon Oasis, a flicker of recognition crossing his features. For Sir Elias was no stranger to the boy lying before him.
In fact, he was the one who had found Oasis as a newborn on that fateful night seven years ago, amidst the chaos and tragedy that had befallen the cursed Artificers Guild.
With a sense of foreboding hanging in the air, Sir Elias approached Oasis's unconscious form, his hands moving with practiced precision as he began to assess the boy's condition.
As he worked, a myriad of thoughts raced through his mind, memories of that night flashing before his eyes like fragments of a long-forgotten dream.
The events of that night had remained etched in Sir Elias's memory, a haunting reminder of the darkness that lurked within the realm.
And now, as he stood in the presence of Oasis once more, he couldn't shake the feeling that their paths were destined to intertwine once again in ways they could scarcely imagine.
Checking Oasis's pulse, Sir Elias mused to himself, "What potent and pure magic." With a wave of his hand,
he melted one of the pills into liquid using his magic, then gently administered it to Oasis.
"This will help remove the chill from the water and keep him warm," he explained silently to himself.
"I know the boy. You may take your leave; he will be fine," he assured the fishermen.
Before their departure, he bestowed upon them several herbs and pills as tokens of gratitude for saving Oasis.
As they departed, the fishermen remarked among themselves,
"Sir Elias is generous. Look at the quality of these pills. Who is that kid?" They conversed until one remarked,
"Rumors have it that he has a child in Mossy Hollow." Another chided, "Stop listening to rumors, idiot!" and playfully tapped him on the back of the head.
And so, as the night deepened and the stars cast their gentle glow upon the world.
Oasis lay unconscious upon Sir Elias's table snoaring and peaceful, his fate entwined with the threads of destiny that bound him to a future filled with both peril and promise.
And in the heart of Mossy Hollow, a whisper of anticipation echoed through the air, heralding the beginning of a journey that would change the course of history forever.
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Chapter 691: Gathering Within Deep Roots(2).
Kaito’s face flushed dark, his hand gripping the edge of his seat until the wood groaned under the pressure."You take responsibility? That is a grand word for someone who spends his days on the high peak, isolated from the daily bloodletting of our borders! We are not dealing with a simple hunting party, Soma. What if they are scouts for the Thirsty Bramble Fold? What if they are the vanguard of the demonic cultivators from the low plains? or just our enemies.""I said what I said, and I am not saying anymore on the matter," Soma replied, his voice flat and absolute. He leaned forward, his gaze locking with Kaito's."If you have a problem with my judgment, if you feel your position as an elder gives you the right to dictate who I bring into my family’s domain, we can resolve it the old way. Step into the arena, Kaito. Let us test who has the greater right to speak on the defense of this mountain."The challenge hung in the air, heavy and sharp. The "old way" was not a debate of words
Chapter 690: Gathering within Deep Roots(1).
The descent from the training field was not merely a physical journey; it was a transition from the sunlit, fragile beauty of the mountain’s crown to the calcified, enduring core of the spear-like peak.Master Soma Shirabe moved with the silence of a falling leaf, his haori trailing behind him like an ink-stained cloud against the cyan sky.Beneath the training courtyard, where the world fractured into a sheer drop of thousands of meters, a narrow, mist-veiled cleft in the rock opened into the mountain’s interior.This was the Sanctum of the Deep Roots.Unlike the airy, wood-and-paper residences above, the cavern was hewn from ancient, dark basalt. The walls were smoothed by centuries of wind and refined mana, adorned with perpetual flame torches that cast an orange-and-purple hue across the uneven, chiseled surfaces.The air here was dense, cool, and thrummed with the weight of generations. It smelled of ozone, old ink, and dry earth.As Soma stepped across the threshold, his footste
Chapter 689: The Fortress of Peaks.
“Like my brother told Kyoku earlier, we are from the Lunaris Sect… and that is the absolute truth of the matter,” Vesta answered the Master without hesitation, his tone calm yet firm, as though there was nothing more to add and nothing more to hide.A brief silence followed his words.The wind drifted softly across the training grounds, brushing past the garments of those present, yet within that silence, the Master’s mind was anything but still.“…mmh.”"It seems they are not lying," he thought quietly to himself, his sharp gaze lingering on Vesta for a moment longer than necessary. "Yet… I have never heard of this Lunaris Sect."His thoughts deepened, layering suspicion with curiosity."There is too much mystery surrounding this child. His aura is cyan in color… yet he claims to be a fire mage. That alone is strange. Fire cultivators—whether martial artists or mages—usually carry hues of orange, crimson, or deep red within their aura."His eyes narrowed slightly."Could it be a spec
Chapter 688: Hayate vs Vesta(2).
Before the first notes from the flute could even begin to flow and dance into the air, before the melody had the chance to take form, Vesta had already moved.Once again, he appeared directly before Hayate—his small frame cutting through the space between them with terrifying precision—his lips curled into that same confident smirk. This time, however, his attack was different.His palm extended forward, aimed directly at Hayate’s chest, carrying with it a silent yet overwhelming intent.Then it happened.Under a single breath, so faint it almost blended into the wind itself—“Gale Step.”Hayate’s voice barely existed, yet his body responded instantly, his figure blurred.His body shifted with the wind itself, leaving behind nothing but a fading afterimage—the illusion of where he once stood.Vesta’s palm struck forward, but instead of flesh, it collided with emptiness, dispersing the lingering image like mist under pressure.And within that same fluid motion, Hayate did not pause.He
Chapter 687: Hayate vs Vesta(1).
Kyoku did not say anything at first. He merely raised a brow at his master’s sudden declaration, the subtle shift in his expression betraying a flicker of curiosity rather than resistance.He did not question it, nor did he interrupt. That alone spoke volumes about his character—disciplined, composed, and deeply accustomed to his master’s unpredictability.Hayate, however, was a different story.The moment those words left their master’s mouth, Hayate was visibly taken aback. The request had caught him completely off guard. He had barely even had time to properly meet or understand these guests, and now he was being told to spar with one of them.His eyes widened ever so slightly, and for a brief moment, confusion flickered across his face. From that alone, one could clearly see the contrast between him and Kyoku.Where Kyoku embodied stillness and restraint, Hayate carried a lighter, more vibrant energy. There was a natural openness to him, an ease that suggested he preferred enjoyme
Chapter 686: The Challenge of the Master.
Morning came the next day, and with it came a transformation that made the entirety of Nodoka village feel like a living, breathing entity awakening from slumber. The sun, though meant to illuminate the land in full brilliance, could not be directly seen from within the village itself.Perched high upon the mountain’s crown, the village was cradled by towering cliffs and jagged elevations that obstructed the horizon. One would have to walk all the way to the edges of those cliffs, where the world seemed to fall away into endless depth, to truly behold the rising sun.And yet, despite its hidden presence, the light of morning spread everywhere, soft yet undeniable, bathing rooftops, pathways, and faces alike in a gentle golden hue that spoke of a new beginning.Life surged through the village in waves.Noises erupted throughout Nodoka as its people returned to motion. The once-quiet streets now hummed with activity—footsteps, chatter, distant laughter, and the unmistakable sounds of da
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