2024-04-15 15:19:45Cough...cough...
Oasis stirred, his consciousness slowly returning as he struggled to open his eyes.
Blinking against the dim light filtering through the cracks in the wooden ceiling above him, he found himself in a small, rustic shelter.
The air was heavy with the scent of herbs and earth, and the crackling of a nearby fire provided a comforting warmth.
As his senses gradually sharpened, Oasis took in his surroundings with a mixture of confusion and curiosity.
The shelter was sparsely furnished, with rough-hewn furniture crafted from sturdy timber.
Pots of healing herbs lined the shelves, their fragrant aroma permeating the air.
Through the open doorway.
Oasis caught a glimpse of the tranquil landscape beyond – rolling hills dotted with wildflowers, and the gentle murmur of the nearby Silverwater River echoing in the distance.
It was a scene of serene beauty, a stark contrast to the turmoil that had engulfed his recent memories.
Struggling to sit up, Oasis winced as a sharp pain shot through his chest. Glancing down, he saw the remnants of his torn shirt, the fabric stained with dried blood.
Gingerly touching the tender skin beneath, he felt a faint throbbing sensation, evidence of the magical energy that had surged through his body during the ordeal.
As Oasis struggled to sit up, his head spinning from the sudden movement, he couldn't help but mutter to himself.
"What in the world happened to me? That surge of magic... it felt like nothing I've ever experienced before."
Gritting his teeth against the pain in his chest, he forced himself to take slow, steady breaths.
"I must have been unconscious for quite some time," he mused aloud. "But how did I end up here?"
Pushing himself up onto shaky legs, Oasis steadied himself against the rough-hewn walls of the shelter.
His gaze drifted towards the open doorway, beckoning him towards the tranquil landscape beyond.
"Just a few steps," he murmured to himself, determination flickering in his brown eyes. "I need to understand."
But as he took a tentative step forward, his vision blurred and his legs wobbled beneath him.
With a gasp, Oasis stumbled, his hands flailing for support as he teetered on the brink of collapse.
!!!
Before he could hit the ground, a strong hand shot out, catching him by the arm and steadying him with surprising ease.
Startled, Oasis looked up to see a rugged-looking man standing beside him, his weathered face etched with concern.
"Steady there, lad," the man said, his voice gruff yet kind.
"You've been through quite an ordeal. You need to relax."
Confusion flickered in Oasis's eyes as he struggled to make sense of his surroundings.
"Where... where am I?" he stammered, his voice tinged with uncertainty.
The man regarded him with a knowing look, his gaze softened by a hint of sympathy.
"The name's Elias." he introduced himself, his voice steady and reassuring. "But most folks around here just call me Sir Elias."
"We are in Riverbend Hamlet," he replied, his voice steady.
"A small village on the outskirts of Verdantia, nestled along the banks of the Silverwater River."
Riverbend Hamlet.
The name sounded vaguely familiar to Oasis, a distant echo from the lessons he had received from Sister about the kingdom of Verdantia.
But he had never been here before, and he knew no one in this unfamiliar place.
"I don't understand," Oasis confessed, his brow furrowing with confusion. "How did I end up here? And who are you?"
Sir Elias Hawthorne's lips quirked into a wry smile.
"You've been unconscious for three days," he explained. Oasis's mind echoed with disbelief, "Three days?"
!!!
His thoughts raced to Sister, and he exclaimed aloud in concern, "Oh, Sister!" He attempted to stand, his movements urgent.
"Don't worry, she has already been notified," Sir Elias reassured him, his tone calm but reassuring.
A pang of guilt gripped Oasis's heart as he realized the worry he must have caused Sister during his absence.
"Sister..." he began, his voice faltering with concern. "She must be worried about me."
Sir Elias Hawthorne nodded understandingly, his expression filled with empathy.
"Don't fret, lad," he reassured Oasis, using Sister's real name to emphasize the familiarity between them.
"Marina has been informed of your whereabouts. She knows you're in good hands, and she was here 2 days ago. She even left some clothes for you."
Relief washed over Oasis at the thought of Sister knowing he was safe, her maternal instincts always guiding her to look out for him.
"Gratitude, Sir Elias," he said earnestly, his gratitude evident in his eyes.
Sir Elias Hawthorne chuckled softly, a twinkle of amusement dancing in his eyes.
"You've grown to be quite a fine lad, Oasis," he remarked, his voice filled with pride.
"But enough talk for now. Eat up before it gets cold. You need all the energy you can get."
With a grateful nod, Oasis turned his attention to the simple meal that Sir Elias had prepared, his stomach grumbling in anticipation.
As he ate, a sense of warmth and gratitude washed over him, mingled with a newfound sense of purpose.
Suddenly, Oasis realized the familiarity in Sir Elias's words.
"You've grown to be quite a fine lad, Oasis," he repeated in his mind.
Curiosity gnawed at Oasis as he voiced his thoughts, "Sir Elias, how do you know me? It's as if you've known me for years."
Sir Elias took a deep breath, preparing to explain the events of seven years ago that had brought them together.
"Well, lad, it's a long story," he began, recounting the night when he had found Oasis as a newborn in Riverbend Hamlet.
He explained how Oasis's parents had been murdered that same night, and how Sister had decided to move out from the orphanage and care for Oasis in her simple house, with funds provided by Sir Elias himself.
Listening intently, Oasis felt a wave of relief wash over him as Sir Elias recounted their shared history.
His doubts and fears melted away as he realized he was truly in safe hands, not abandoned or lost.
As Sir Elias finished his explanation, Oasis's mind buzzed with questions.
Who were his real parents? Why had they been murdered?
But for now, he pushed those thoughts aside, focusing on the present moment.
Sir Elias glanced at the pendant that now adorned Oasis's neck, its appearance altered since it had been unsealed.
His mind raced with thoughts of the pure magic energy that now surged through Oasis.
"And Oasis," Sir Elias added, breaking the silence that had settled between them. "What is that sparkling in your pocket?"
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“Yaaawn…”A cloud of mist escaped Oasis’s lips as he stepped out into the soft, snowy morning of Lunaris.The garden behind him, quiet and serene, was still bathed in the faint silver of dawn.Snow drifted lazily from the skies, covering the ground in a delicate white shroud.As he exhaled again, more mist curled into the air—proof of the lingering winter chill.His robe fluttered slightly with each step, and his bare feet crunched lightly against the cleared stone path before he wore his boots that he held in his hands.Even in this cold, he felt… warm. Alive.“It was thrilling being taught by someone else,” Oasis thought, a faint smile curling at the edge of his lips.“It felt just like the days I spent with Master Elias…”His gaze drifted toward the main building of the Bluemoon estate.From a distance, he could hear the clack of wooden swords, the sharp whoosh of energy being unleashed, and the rhythmic hum of mana in motion.Disciples trained with grit and passion, each one surrou
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The Birth of Understanding.The first step toward awakening.A faint smirk tugged at Conri's lips as he watched the boy kneel, breathless and overwhelmed.“The shackles are getting loose,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper, but it echoed like thunder in the heavy silence between them.His breathing came in ragged bursts.Oasis, still trembling, could barely lift his head.His limbs refused to move—his mind was a storm of confusion, awe, and something deeper...“You are the only one I’ve shown my domain to… and left with your life intact,” Conri said, his voice calm, but carrying the weight of truth.With a flick of his wrist, the Shrouded Tempest began to unravel.The obsidian plains crumbled into mist.The whispering winds died down to a hush, and the twilight sky above slowly parted.The phantom feathers and streaks of violet lightning faded.As if a curtain was being pulled back, reality returned—gentle, mundane, and calm.Exhaled!!Oasis collapsed, gasping violently to his
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Then, he spoke calmly, “Next, Oasis… I will show you the sword of a mage.”He lifted his left hand, palm facing upward, fingers slowly spreading open like petals blooming.A soft pulse of magical energy spiraled at the center of his palm, forming a tiny, intricate circle lined with faint, glowing runes.Then, in the blink of an eye, something emerged.The space around his palm shimmered.The grimoire appeared.But it wasn’t just an object.To Oasis, it was strange—there yet not there, visible but untouchable.Its edges blurred like it was caught between two realms, flickering with translucent winds and shadows that danced along its surface.He felt its presence more than he saw it—an arcane pressure that clung to the air and made his skin tighten.It was Conri’s grimoire—and it pulsed with two distinct energies: the sharp, quicksilver current of wind mana, and the deep, whispering hum of dark mana.The cover was sleek and darkened like midnight glass, etched with silver symbols that l