Chapter 126

With the caution of men who had survived one encounter with death too many, they slowly began lowering their guard. The golden ring of shields opened, and Eugene’s flames dwindled to flickers before vanishing entirely. Nick breathed in a lungful of ash-laden air, struggling to push himself upright., he realized with disbelief.

The silence that followed the meltdown felt anything but normal. Nothing moved. No wind whistled, and there weren’t even any sounds of trees falling that one would expect after such an explosion.

For a moment, Nick wondered if he had gone partially deaf. Then, the men collectively gasped. Eugene cursed under his breath, and Nick lifted his weary gaze to see what else had happened.

He was surprised to see that there was still a forest where he had expected to find a scorched hellscape or perhaps the complete annihilation of everything. However, it was not one filled with living green trees, nor was it the charcoal black of the battlefield.

Instead, an otherworldly grove of dark glass stretched as far as he could see. Towering trunks gleamed like obsidian, and leaves—or what had been leaves—had become jagged fragments of translucent crystal.

It felt like a bizarre dream. The men stepped forward cautiously, making a crunching sound as their boots crushed what had once been grass. Nick blinked. Even the weeds and low bushes had turned into tiny black shards, each angle glinting in the fading sunlight.

“This is…” Eugene muttered, trailing off in astonishment. He turned to Nick, who was still staring in wonder. “Do you have any idea if it’s safe?”

Nick hummed, trying to interpret what his passive senses were telling him. “I… think so,” he murmured. “The orb must have used the power it gathered from the colossus and the wyverns to transmute everything into… it looks like some kind of inert crystal.” It took him a minute, but he finally managed to pinpoint the sensation it was giving off. “It’s like a mana core but completely empty.”

A man few walked to the nearest tree, a large elm that had become a smooth, black-glass column with hundreds of crystal leaves. He tapped it with the hilt of his sword, producing a ringing sound. Another man pried loose a chunk of crystal that might have been a root. He inspected it, pushing some power against it, only to discard it with a disappointed grunt when it didn’t react.

Nick limped forward, ignoring the biting pain from extreme mana exhaustion. He reached out, gently pressing his palm against another trunk, and almost recoiled at the chill that seeped from the crystal surface.

He closed his eyes, sending a faint thread of mana in an exploratory probe, though even that small exertion stung sharply. As expected, his power found no purchase. There was no way to recharge the empty crystals, at least not without extremely lengthy and complicated procedures that would significantly reduce their worth.

He pulled his hand away, shaking his head. “It’s definitely inert,” he explained, massaging the throbbing lines on his forearm. “No man inside. Without a longer study, I can’t be certain, but to me, it really looks like the same material as a mana core. Unfortunately, since it’s not charged, it’s basically worthless. It’s the same kind of stuff that gets sold at the market as baubles for kids.”

At that, half a dozen men groaned, though some continued to snap off bits of glassy leaves or bark. They probably hoped that the novelty would still make them sell.

Still, Eugene nodded gravely. “Even if this glass isn’t dangerous, we shouldn’t linger,” he declared, loud enough for all to hear. “We can’t risk staying here in case something else happens.” Though Nick doubted the orb had more phases left—self-destruct typically meant an end—he understood his father’s caution. They had certainly gone through enough surprises for a lifetime.

“Oh! Look at your last System message!” One of the men called, sounding excited.

Exclamations of surprise continued until Nick succumbed to curiosity and tugged at the feeling lingering in the back of his mind, being careful not to acknowledge all the other notifications that awaited his attention.

CONGRATULATIONS

You have survived through alchemical means. Your body has expelled enough impurities to grant you a permanent +2 to physical stats.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

The men certainly thought so because they grinned widely. Noticing his confused look, Eugene shook his head. “Sometimes I forget you’re still a kid. If you want, I’ll explain this in more detail later, when we aren’t all so tired. But in short, any system message that mentions your “path” talks about things that affect your Prestige class chances. Getting one positive message like this usually means that if you can reach level 100, you should be able to rank up and won’t be stuck. Two such messages mean it will be almost certain. It’s a rare gift.”

“That makes sense,” he replied, avoiding any mention of previous similar messages. If his father wanted to discuss this privately, there must be a good reason for it.

Nick did feel a little bit better. Not much, but enough that the idea of walking didn’t make him nauseous anymore. He was also intensely curious about what his father wanted to keep from the others, but he knew to be patient.

And so they trudged on. It took almost an hour of cautious stepping and weaving between glass trunks, but eventually, the sea of crystal began to thin.

Whispers circulated among the men, speculating whether the material might still be valuable to bring back and sell away from Floria. It was a fruitless discussion, but it helped pass the time, so Nick didn’t bother reiterating his assessment. If their way of coping with nearly dying multiple times was to gossip, he wouldn’t deny them that.

Nick’s best guess was that the crystal forest might eventually store mana, though it would take decades, if not centuries, before it charged enough to be worth the trip. It would eventually be a very valuable piece of land, but that was no immediate benefit, and he suspected that the local fauna would change alongside the forest, making it very hazardous to try and venture within.

Finally, they reached the edge of the transformed zone. Ahead, the forest regained its familiar shape, with lush leaves, towering trees, and the occasional sound of animal life. Only now that he heard it again did Nick realize how unsettling its absence had been.

The march continued for hours until the sun had set. Just as the last light was about to fade, they stumbled upon a spacious clearing, large enough to accommodate them all and surrounded by oak trees. If it weren't for the constant burning in his veins and the ache he felt throughout his body, Nick might have felt almost at ease.

Adrenaline and fear of another catastrophe had ensured no one who could still physically walk would complain, but now that they stopped, it became clear they were all about to crash.

Eugene sighed, drawing them into a loose half-circle around him. “We’ll camp here,” he said. “I would have preferred to push further, but I can tell that half of you will collapse if we keep going.” His voice held no illusions of coddling, just a practical acceptance that they were close to their limits. “But tomorrow,” he continued, “we'll wake up at dawn and won’t stop until we’re home. It will be a forced march through the next night if necessary.”

Nick blinked. “But... that will take well over a day. We’re still at least fifty miles from Floria.” Given that they were carrying several injured and even the healthiest among them were suffering from burns, it didn’t seem feasible.

Eugene grimaced. “I know. But we can’t stay longer than absolutely necessary, not with so many injuries. We have to get Arthur and Marthas to better healers.”

Nick glanced toward the center of the clearing, where the two men who had carried them last had gently laid the powerhouses. Both were unconscious yet alive, their chests rising and falling with shaky breaths. Blood still caked their ears and lips, though at least it had stopped flowing. Nick suspected that, ironically, their immense power had led them to absorb more of the orb’s transmutation attempt, causing internal damage.

Some men asked about food, rummaging in their empty pockets or lamenting lost provisions. Eugene dismissed them with a curt wave. “Our stats are high enough to endure a few days without rations. Concentrate on water and rest. If you’re starving, gather what you can from your surroundings, but we have no time for hunts, and I don’t want anyone to go too far.”

Nick nodded at the mention of water. “I can handle that.” Summoning the smallest amount of mana he could, he cast and coaxed droplets from the ambient humidity, condensing them into a bowl formed out of a battered helmet. The effort, minimal as it was, still made him clench his teeth. He knew his body needed a break—he’d overextended his channels half a dozen times today.

The men gathered, taking turns drinking from the conjured water. Nick filled a few more bowls and passed them around. Though it wouldn’t be enough to satisfy anyone, it staved off thirst and slightly boosted morale. Then, they set about rearranging logs and clearing patches of ground for bedding. No one bothered with fires or any further illusions of comfort; exhaustion drained any desire for extra work.

Nick settled down, feeling extremely tired. Their formidable strike group of sixty had been reduced to battered remnants, with only sixteen people emerging from the dungeon. Unsurprisingly, Marthas and Arthur had survived, but the remainder consisted of seven soldiers and five adventurers, Eugene and Nick. Still, considering the danger they faced, it was a miracle that anyone had survived at all.

“Dad… get some rest,” Nick urged softly as his father trudged by, double-checking the perimeter. But Eugene shook his head.

“I’ll keep watch alone,” he insisted with quiet determination. “I’m the only one who can heal himself, and even if it wasn’t for that, I am the leader of this expedition.”

Nick frowned, “But you must be tired, too. Let the others—”

“They need all the sleep they can get, and so do you,” Eugene shot back gently. “Your arms are trembling even now. Lie down. Take care of yourself. That’s an order.” His tone brooked no argument. Nick opened his mouth to protest, then realized he had no strength for a watch anyway. The mania that had fueled him was gone, leaving him hollow. And if he was being honest with himself, he was scared.

“Alright,” he conceded after a moment. Perhaps a few hours of shut-eye was exactly what he needed to recover.

The others fell into an uneasy slumber one by one. Some removed their battered armor, while others simply collapsed where they stood, drifting off.

, he reminded himself. The meltdown had to have scared off anything that had survived the battle.

At last, Nick settled down, ignoring the dull ache of muscles and the fluttering in his mind.

, he told himself, . The dungeon was behind him, but the problems in Floria remained. The beastman conflict, the weakened state of their militia, and what he’d find in his status weighed heavily on him. But for tonight, at least, he could find some rest.

His eyelids drooped, and the last thing he saw was his father meticulously applying fire healing to a bruised limb. Finally, Nick sank into the darkness.