Translator: CinderTL
Roland gently stroked the trembling Joe, carefully tucking him back into his pouch before nimbly dismounting.
Holding his breath, he advanced slowly.
The moment he stepped onto the forest's edge, a familiar yet alien aura washed over him.
Roland frowned involuntarily, his fingers instinctively tracing the skeletal remains on his wrist.
He narrowed his eyes, meticulously sensing this peculiar energy.
Though he had only drawn upon the fire element through the skeletal remains when casting Fire Arrow, he had also perceived the presence of other Magic Elements during that process:
The supple water, the heavy earth, the unrestrained wind.
Yet this Power of Decay, while subtly similar to those elements, was fundamentally different.
It was a bone-chilling, malevolent force, radiating a suffocating aura of death.
Even standing at the forest's edge, Roland felt a tightness in his chest, his breathing involuntarily quickening.
He exhaled deeply, his gaze piercing through layers of withered branches and decaying leaves to clearly discern the black fissures radiating outward across the forest floor.
"Just as Joe said."
Roland's brow furrowed deeper.
"But what exactly is this?"
Cautious, he didn't venture further. Instead, he whispered to the Red Squirrel in his pouch, "Joe, when did this start happening?"
"Hmm..." Joe's muffled voice came through the pouch, sounding dejected. "Probably... shortly after you left, Roland."
Roland pondered, recalling the scenes he'd witnessed along the way.
The other forests flanking the road had seemed normal at first glance, but upon closer reflection, he realized they too radiated an unsettling strangeness.
"Actually, those forests weren't right either," Joe's little head popped out of the pouch, as if reading Roland's mind, his ears drooping listlessly. "The fruits on the trees turned sour and bitter, completely inedible. That's why I..."
His voice trailed off, clearly recalling his humiliating capture by the bearded chef.
"So the forest's mutation is gradually spreading to the surrounding areas?"
Having reached this conclusion, Roland decisively turned back to Black Wind.
The strange Decay Magic at the forest's edge was already making it difficult to breathe; the concentration deeper within must be unimaginable.
Recalling Bronson's mention of the "Crystal Devourer" phenomenon, Roland decided to postpone further investigation for the time being.
After riding back to the manor, Roland first found John at the main gate, directing the guards on patrol.
Deliberately omitting details about the Magic Element, he emphasized the forest's danger and urged John to remain vigilant.
He then went to Bronson's residence, providing a detailed account of his observations and sharing his own hypotheses.
The scholar pondered briefly, pacing back and forth across the room.
His boots made dull thuds on the floor before he finally stopped and spoke slowly.
"Roland, this situation likely stems from an overabundance of elements overflowing from the Elemental Plane, causing an intrusion into the Material Plane."
Having studied ancient texts earlier, Roland was familiar with these terms.
He understood that planes were distinct dimensions or realms that constituted reality, each governed by unique physical laws, ecosystems, and inhabitants.
In simple terms, they were like different spaces existing within the same spacetime.
Barring unforeseen circumstances, the planes are governed by certain rules that prevent them from interacting, somewhat akin to parallel universes.
"Then..."
Roland's slender fingers tapped lightly on the oak table before him, producing a crisp, rhythmic sound.
"What impact will this phenomenon have? And how long will it last?"
"As you can see, Roland," Bronson replied, turning toward the dilapidated bookcase overflowing with ancient texts.
His fingers brushed lightly across the spines, finally settling on a thick volume—Geflin's Travels, the very book Roland had examined earlier.
The scholar carefully withdrew it, sending a fine cloud of dust swirling into the air.
"Due to the distinct properties of each element, their incursions into the Material World manifest differently. However, the Power of Decay, which causes things to wither and decay, is a unique ability not possessed by the four primary elements."
Noticing the grave expression on Roland's face, Bronson softened his tone.
"But you needn't worry too much. This phenomenon was quite common before the Year of the Apocalypse. After persisting for a while, it will mysteriously vanish."
As he spoke, Bronson pushed Geflin's Travels across the table to Roland.
Roland immediately activated his Focus ability, his slender fingers rapidly flipping through the yellowed pages.
Just as Bronson had said, the book contained multiple accounts of the Elemental Plane intruding upon the Material Plane. However, these anomalies invariably vanished without a trace after a short period.
"As for your earlier speculation that the white skeletal remains are causing these phenomena..."
Bronson slowly sat down in the wooden chair opposite Roland, gently massaging his temples, a rare look of bewilderment in his eyes.
"I must confess, I have no idea how to approach this."
The scholar's voice was deep and measured.
"However, before the Year of the Apocalypse, there was indeed a theory."
He poured himself a cup of long-cold black tea from the teapot on the table, the water reflecting his weary face.
"It posited that the more powerful a demonic beast, the greater its influence on the surrounding environment, causing various unknown changes."
"But this theory lacks concrete evidence."
He shook his head with a wry smile.
"Even in the grand library of the High Tower, I've never encountered any documented cases like this. The records are too vague, more akin to folklore than rigorous academic research."
Hearing this, Roland nodded slightly, his fingers unconsciously tracing the wood grain on the table.
After a moment of silence, he raised his sharp gaze.
"Then, Mr. Bronson, do you have any theories about the original owner of these skeletal remains?"
Bronson slowly shook his head.
"Before the Year of the Apocalypse, there were simply too many demonic beasts that fit these criteria."
He sighed.
"Even now, on the continent across the sea from this land, legends persist of salamanders that match this description. So, I can't make any precise guesses. But..."
"For skeletal remains to automatically draw Magic Elements from the air..."
His voice unconsciously lowered, tinged with awe.
"This creature must have possessed unimaginable power in life."
"I understand," Roland said, tapping the table twice with his fingertips before continuing. "Mr. Bronson, has Baron Forslin summoned you recently? After all, this incident occurred so close to his manor."
"I've already warned Captain John, but if Baron Forslin could also grasp the gravity of the situation, we might avert potential dangers."
"Ha!"
Bronson suddenly let out a bitter laugh, tinged with self-mockery. He raised his hand and pointed dejectedly at himself.
"Baron Forslin now sees me as nothing more than a complete fraud. But don't worry."
"If anything truly goes wrong, I'll alert His Lordship the Baron."
"Then I'll leave it to you, Mr. Bronson."
Roland slowly rose and walked to the door, pausing to turn back with a final warning.
"But please prioritize your own safety. If the Elemental Plane's intrusion doesn't subside as we anticipate..."
He paused.
"...you can head to Far Ocean Port and wait for me there."
With that, Roland turned and left the wooden hut, heading toward the training grounds.
After informing Darco, who was diligently training, about the strange phenomena in the forest, the young noble reacted quite differently from Baron Forslin, taking the matter seriously.
Though he suspected Roland's account was more a consequence of reading too many knightly romances, he nodded solemnly out of trust for his friend.
As twilight deepened, Roland stood at the manor gates, leading Black Wind by the reins.
This manor held too many cherished memories. He couldn't bear the thought of returning from Mist Creek Town to find it reduced to a magic-ravaged ruin.
Only after securing the manor with triple safeguards did Roland mount Black Wind and sprint toward Mist Creek Town.
Black Wind galloped like the wind in the fading evening light, his hooves striking the silent wilderness with sharp clarity.
The road to Mist Creek Town was longer than the one to Pine Wood Town, but the journey proved remarkably smooth. Even the usual wild beasts were nowhere to be seen.
As the distant lights of the town grew clearer, Roland realized Mist Creek Town was far larger than Pine Wood Town. The town walls stretched across the dimming sunlight, nearly half the size of Far Ocean Port.
Just a hundred paces from the town gate, a familiar figure sauntered into view.
The man leaned lazily against an oak tree by the roadside, a wheat stalk dangling from his lips.
(End of the Chapter)