"If Isabella were here," Eztein murmured, "she could refine this into potions or pills and double its effects…"
His voice trailed off, the cold air carrying the unspoken wish into the cavern's vast silence.
The statues watched—silent, towering, unmoving—as the three stood among the frozen remnants of a world warped by ancient power.
He turned his head toward Esriel.
"Esriel, do you know what kind of fruit this is?"
Esriel blinked, snapping out of her fascination with the statues. She shook her head.
"I don't. There are countless types of spiritual fruits out there—far too many to memorize. At the very least, I've never seen that one before."
"Hm…" Eztein murmured, staring at the legendary-grade fruit in his palm. Its surface pulsed faintly, as though something inside it breathed. He couldn't help but wonder what kind of power it would grant him.
