[Realm: Álfheimr]
[Location: Heart Kingdom Outskirts]
The forest blurred around him as he moved, his every leap fast, every landing featherlight despite the weight strapped to his body.
Mikoto slipped through the trees as the wind tore at him, violent in its resistance, still, he pressed forward. His eyes were fixed on one thing: the source of the mana blaring like a beacon.
("Hm, I'd rather leave this be… but things always have a way of circling back to bite you in the end.") He rationalized. His sabatons gripped a thick trunk, kicking off again. ("I've been cautious lately. More than before. Can't say it isn't wise… but sometimes I wonder if I'm starting to think like...") His lips curved faintly, though without humor.
He didn't know what awaited him at the source. It could be a mage far beyond his ability, some magic artifact that could shatter the fragile balance of this land, or worse—something he would regret ever laying eyes upon. But something strange gnawed at him.
