The question did not fade when Halren asked it.
The villagers stood in a loose crescent around Arun and Taru, lantern light trembling in their hands. Beyond them, the treeline loomed dark and patient. The place where the stag had stood still felt wrong, grass paling in a slow, creeping circle where its hooves had pressed.
Arun stepped toward the edge of the clearing.
He crouched and removed one gauntlet.
His bare hand hovered inches above the soil.
The air shimmered faintly.
White Flame did not ignite but something within it responded.
He could feel the residue.
Fractured mana.
Not chaotic in the way of corrupted beasts he'd encountered before. Those carried aggression, hunger, a devouring instinct.
This felt… unstable.
As though something inside the stag had cracked under pressure.
"It's not spreading evenly," Arun said quietly.
Halren frowned. "What does that mean?"
"It means this decay isn't intentional."
A murmur rippled through the villagers.
The scarred woman stepped forward again. "It killed Derren."
Arun did not rise to the accusation.
"Tell me how," he said calmly.
The woman hesitated.
"He went with the others," she said. "They brought spears. Torches. They tracked it near the old shrine."
"And?" Arun prompted.
"They surrounded it."
Taru closed his eyes briefly.
The woman swallowed. "It tried to move past them."
"Tried?" Taru asked.
"It didn't charge at first," she admitted. "It backed away."
"And then?" Arun said.
"One of them stabbed it."
Silence.
"It lashed out," she finished.
Arun stood slowly.
The pattern solidified.
It was defensive.
Not predatory.
Halren's grip tightened on his staff. "You think we caused this."
"I think," Arun said carefully, "something broke inside it. And fear turned pain into violence."
The villagers shifted uneasily.
"You expanded your fields," Taru added gently. "How close did you cut to the shrine?"
Halren's jaw set.
"We cleared trees that had stood there longer than my grandfather's time."
"Roots?" Arun asked.
"Yes."
"Deep ones?"
Halren nodded once.
Arun exhaled slowly.
"If the shrine was a focus point," he said, "disturbing it could have destabilized the mana flow in this region."
The villagers stared at him, struggling to understand.
"The stag wasn't just your symbol," Taru translated softly. "It may have been anchoring something."
A low, distant sound rolled through the forest.
A breath. long and strained.
Several villagers stepped back instinctively.
"It comes closer every night," someone whispered.
Arun turned toward Halren.
"Has it entered the village center?"
"No."
"Has it pursued children?"
Halren hesitated. "No."
"Has it attacked without provocation?"
The chief's silence answered.
Arun slid his gauntlet back on.
"If it wanted you dead," he said evenly, "this village would already be empty."
The words struck harder than accusation.
The truth was undeniable.
Halren looked toward the treeline.
"What are you suggesting?"
Arun's voice remained calm.
"We go to it."
A wave of protests erupted.
"You'll be killed"
"It's madness"
"We should end it now while it hesitates"
Taru raised his voice just enough to cut through.
"If you attack it again, it will defend itself again."
The murmurs quieted slightly.
Arun stepped forward into the lantern light.
"My flame is not only for destruction," he said.
The faintest thread of White Flame unfurled from his palm was soft, controlled, illuminating faces in pale glow.
Gasps spread through the crowd.
"It can purge unstable mana," he continued. "If its core is fractured, I may be able to stabilize it."
"May," the scarred woman repeated sharply.
"Yes," Arun said without flinching. "May."
Halren studied him carefully.
"And if you fail?"
Arun's gaze did not waver.
"Then I will kill it quickly."
That silenced the square.
The wind shifted again.
This time, the forest did not remain still.
Branches swayed without breeze.
Leaves rustled in a circular pattern deep beyond the trees.
The stag was moving.
Slowly.
Halren closed his eyes briefly.
"For generations," he said, "we left offerings at the shrine."
He looked at Arun.
"If you go, I will show you the path."
Taru stepped beside Arun.
"We both go."
Halren frowned. "You are not armored."
Taru gave a faint, tight smile.
"I'm observant."
Arun glanced at him.
"You don't have to."
Taru met his gaze steadily.
"You don't have to do this alone."
For a brief moment, something unspoken passed between them.
Trust.
Then Arun nodded once.
Halren gestured toward the northern edge of the village.
"Bring no torches," he instructed the villagers who had begun to follow. "No weapons raised unless commanded."
Reluctantly, they obeyed.
The group moved as a quiet procession into the trees.
The forest swallowed lantern light quickly. Shadows deepened between trunks, and the air grew colder the farther they walked.
The path toward the shrine was overgrown.
Roots twisted across it like veins.
Taru noticed something immediately.
"Look," he whispered.
The decay marks along the ground were not random.
They formed uneven arcs.
As though the stag circled the shrine repeatedly.
Protecting it.
Or bound to it.
They reached a clearing after several minutes.
At its center stood the shrine.
Old stone. Moss-covered. Cracked through the middle.
And at its base
Darkened soil.
Mana residue pooled thick there, unstable and heavy.
Arun stepped forward slowly.
He could feel it now.
A fractured pulse. Which felt irregular.
Then
A shape emerged from the opposite end of the clearing.
Silent and towering.
The stag stepped into view.
Its antlers were indeed warped twisted unnaturally, bark fused with bone, glowing faintly at the edges. Its eyes shone pale white not empty, but bright, really bright.
It did not charge.
It did not roar.
It stood.
Watching.
The villagers tensed behind them.
Arun raised one hand slightly not toward the stag, but toward the villagers.
As if to say stay still.
The stag's head lowered slightly, not in aggression.
In strain.
Up close, Taru could see it clearly now.
Fine cracks ran faintly along its antlers.
Like fractures spreading from within.
"It's leaking," Taru whispered.
Arun stepped forward.
Slowly.
The stag's muscles tensed.
But it did not lunge.
A controlled white Flame ignited in Arun's palm.
The stag recoiled slightly not from fear.
From sensitivity.
Arun stopped.
Lowered the flame's intensity.
He changed it.
Not heat.
Not burn.
Refinement.
The White Flame thinned into a steady glow.
"I'm not here to kill you," Arun said quietly.
The stag's breathing was uneven.
The ground beneath its hooves darkened further.
It took one step forward.
Then staggered.
Taru's eyes widened.
"It's unstable," he whispered urgently. "The shrine, look at the crack."
Arun glanced briefly.
The central stone was split.
Mana once anchored there now spilled outward chaotically.
"When they cut the grove," Taru said quickly, piecing it together, "they must've disrupted the root system feeding into this focal point."
The stag let out a low, pained sound.
Arun stepped closer.
The villagers gasped.
The stag's antlers flared faintly.
Arun did not hesitate.
He pressed his palm against the air before the stag's chest.
White Flame surged.
Not outward
Inward.
Thin streams of refined energy flowed from his hand toward the stag's core.
The creature convulsed slightly.
A sharp pulse of decay rippled outward.
Villagers stumbled back.
Taru stood firm.
"Steady!" he called.
Arun's jaw tightened.
The fracture within the stag's core was jagged.
Unstable.
If he pushed too hard
It would shatter.
He adjusted.
Lowered the intensity.
Focused.
Not burning corruption.
Aligning it.
Guiding the unstable mana back into rhythm.
The stag trembled violently.
Its antlers cracked audibly.
White light flared
Then flickered.
Arun felt resistance.
Like pushing against a broken gate.
He changed tactics.
Instead of forcing correction
He matched its pulse.
Breath to breath.
Mana to mana.
Gradually
The stag's breathing slowed.
The glow in its eyes softened.
The decay at its hooves stopped spreading.
Arun felt the fracture begin to seal not fully, but enough.
Enough to hold.
The White Flame dimmed slowly.
The clearing grew quiet.
The stag remained standing.
Unsteady but standing.
Its antlers were still twisted.
But no longer cracking.
The pale light in its eyes shifted.
For a long moment, it looked directly at Arun.
Then it turned.
Slowly.
And walked back toward the deeper forest.
The ground beneath its hooves no longer rotted.
Grass bent
But did not die.
The villagers stood in stunned silence.
Halren's voice barely emerged.
"It… lives."
Arun exhaled slowly, exhaustion catching up with him.
"Yes."
"Is it… cured?" the scarred woman asked cautiously.
"No," Arun said honestly. "Stabilized. It will need time."
Halren stepped forward slowly.
"You could have killed it."
"Yes."
"But you didn't."
Arun looked toward the forest where the stag had vanished.
"It wasn't evil."
Taru stepped beside him.
"It was in pain."
The villagers slowly lowered their tools.
The weight that had hung over them for weeks seemed to lift cautiously.
Although they still seemed slightly worried.
Halren bowed his head deeply.
"You have preserved more than our lives tonight," he said.
Arun said nothing.
He simply stared at the forest.
White Flame flickered faintly at his fingertips.
And for the first time in two years
He felt something shift inside his own core.
Not a breakthrough.
Not yet.
But alignment.
Level nine no longer felt like a wall.
It felt like preparation.
Beside him, Taru smiled faintly.