Theo and Celia continued their journey through the decaying corridors of what was once part of the kingdom of Eilandar. The air was heavy with the smell of old dust and mildew, and the silence of the ruins was broken only by the sound of their careful footsteps and the whispers of the wind seeping through the cracked stones.
Theo still felt the effects of the Basilisk's gaze, a slight weakness in his limbs and intermittent dizziness that attacked him from time to time, a tangible reminder of his failure and how Celia's intervention was the only reason he was here now.
They found a relatively sheltered spot under a huge stone arch that miraculously still stood, and Celia decided to stop for a short rest and to regain their energy, and perhaps more importantly, to assess Theo's condition.
"Sit down," she ordered coldly. "Heal yourself."
Theo sat on a flat stone, and took out some basic medicinal herbs they had previously gathered and a small ointment tin Celia had given him.
There were no external wounds from the Basilisk encounter, but the internal weakness was clear.
He remembered how Celia had mentioned that the gaze leaves an imprint on the flow of mana.
He closed his eyes, not to see with mana this time, but to focus inward, trying to feel the disturbance she had spoken of.
He felt it, it was like a faint countercurrent, an unharmonious ripple in the smooth flow of mana he was accustomed to.
It wasn't strong, but it was there, causing this feeling of weakness and nausea.
He tried to guide his own mana flow to smooth out this ripple, to push or absorb it, using the basic meditation techniques he had learned.
It required concentration and effort, but he felt a slight improvement, as if small knots were beginning to unravel.
Celia opened her leather satchel and took out the small bag of poison Theo had extracted from the Basilisk.
She looked at it intently, her eyes holding a cold, analytical gleam.
"Basilisk venom," she said in a quiet voice. "Even from one so small, it's a remarkably potent substance. It's not merely a neurotoxin or a hemolysin like natural poisons. It carries a magical presence, designed to disrupt the victim's mana flow, causing paralysis or slow death by strangling the life energy itself."
She raised her gaze to Theo, who was still trying to regulate his mana flow.
"The disturbance you feel is the residue of that effect. Your body is resisting it, but it will take time to completely fade. This is another lesson, Theo, some poisons attack the soul as much as they attack the body."
She paused for a moment, and looked back at the bag of poison. "This is Eilandar's mark. They weren't content with brute force, they sought to control the very essence of life and magic. Their experiments weren't just about taming beasts, but rewriting the laws of nature. They wanted to create living weapons, monsters that could self-replicate and bring terror to their enemies, monsters that transcended the abilities of ordinary mages."
She looked around at the vast ruins that were now becoming more clearly visible. They were approaching a more densely ruined area. "Look around you, Theo. This is what happens when ambition exceeds wisdom. Eilandar didn't just fall due to external war or natural disaster. It devoured itself from within. Different factions competed, each seeking to invent the most powerful magic, the deadliest beast, without any regard for the consequences."
"The Soul Burners, who created the Basilisk, were just one faction," she continued. "There were the Flesh Sculptors, who tried to merge machines with living beings, and there were the Void Weavers, who tried to summon creatures from other dimensions. Each contributed to the catastrophe in their own way. They unleashed forces they couldn't control, and these forces, these monsters, are now part of their dark legacy, roaming these lands and making them a place of death."
Theo listened in silence, each word painting a darker picture of the world he lived in.
Monsters were not just natural disasters, but a direct result of the arrogance of an ancient and powerful civilization.
And this arrogance is what led to their destruction. Was his fate tied to this legacy in some way? Was the power he sought the same that destroyed Eilandar?
He had no answers, only increasing questions and a growing sense of unease in his chest, mixed with his cold determination to survive.
"The weakness you feel will fade," Celia said, cutting through his thoughts again. "But don't forget the lesson. Every enemy you face carries a story, a history. Understanding that history can give you an advantage, can reveal unexpected weaknesses. Your ignorance of the Basilisk's nature almost cost you your life. Don't repeat that mistake."
Theo nodded, fully aware of the depth of her words.
It was no longer just combat training, but training in understanding, in reading the world around him, not just with the flow of mana, but with its history and scars.
They rested a little longer, Theo continuing his attempts to regulate his mana flow, while Celia watched their surroundings with unwavering focus. The sun began to dip towards the west, and shadows lengthened among the ruins, casting a more somber and eerie atmosphere over the place.
When they resumed their journey, the ruins had become the predominant scene.
Huge cracked walls, remnants of towering buildings, vast cracked courtyards, and gigantic shattered statues strewn like stone corpses.
The scale of destruction was immense, speaking of an unimaginable power, whether it was the power of the war that brought Eilandar down or the power of time that had passed over it.
Theo now walked with greater caution, not only because of potential threats, but because of his sense of awe and strange respect for this place.
He felt the weight of history under his feet, the echo of voices and events that had transpired here a thousand years ago.
He felt sorrow for this lost civilization, and at the same time, fear of the forces that destroyed it and which might still be lurking somewhere.
"The Silent Archive isn't far now," Celia said, pointing to a cluster of more massive structures looming in the distance through the faint mist that began to form with the cool evening. "Perhaps we'll reach it tomorrow. But this area, near an ancient center of Eilandaran magic, is usually more dangerous. Monsters are drawn to residual mana, and there might be traps or ancient guardians still active."
Theo heightened his vigilance, expanding his mana sense to its fullest extent. He felt many faint and shifting mana presences around them, some seemed natural, others strange and distorted, as if they were remnants of ancient spells or the presence of unseen beings.
He felt no immediate and direct threat, but the general sense of danger was increasing.
As they crossed what seemed to be an old main street, paved with huge, cracked flagstones, Theo suddenly stopped.
He felt a familiar mana presence now, but it was stronger and more chaotic than the one he had encountered in the previous square.
It was close, hidden among the ruins on the side of the street.
He raised his hand to signal to Celia, who nodded, indicating that she too had felt it.
"Manticore," she whispered. "Or perhaps the same one that left its tracks in the previous square, it seems to be lying in wait."
Theo felt his heart pound, but it was not fear as much as acute anticipation.
He had learned his lesson with the Basilisk.
This time, he wouldn't be reckless. He would use everything he had learned, all his senses, and every ounce of his concentration.
They began to advance very cautiously, their eyes and senses scanning the ruins for any movement.
The silence was absolute, and tension mounted with each step.
He knew the Manticore was a cunning hunter, and that it
could attack at any moment from any direction.