South Aetherion
Beyond the misty valleys, deep within the rainforest...
The roots of towering trees spread across the soil, and beneath them lay animal carcasses, strewn in silence. Breath ragged, mana spent, Eryndor ran aimlessly through the forest. For two hours he had forced his endurance, struggling against twisted roots and sodden earth—until at last, he slowed.
His brow furrowed slightly.
"This feeling… am I being watched? Strange. Aside from a few wolves, birds, and insects, I haven't sensed a thing. Maybe… a beast capable of concealing its mana? Hah. Perfect. Should I erase this whole area? No, no—the prey becomes the hunter, and the hunter—sweat dripping down his back—will flee from his chosen prey. I like that. Fine, I'll pretend my strength is gone."
He bent forward, hands braced on his knees, breath heavy.
"Hah… hah… It's getting dark. I should head back."
Deliberately, he walked along exposed soil, leaving a clear trail. Minutes passed. Nothing.
Then—his foot snagged on a faint, translucent thread.
"A flimsy little trap—"
The words died in his throat as he twisted aside, barely evading something rushing from the left.
Chains of pale light swept in from both sides. He lashed out with a kick, but the links slipped through his strike, winding around his ankles and crawling up his legs.
"A mana seal?" He grinned. "What a rare creature. This is the first time I've seen such work."
Because of his training in Valhiran's mana sealing lectures, Eryndor's control over mana was sharp. With his finger, he drew symbols into his palm, sensing the chains weaken under his touch.
He followed the current—
And felt it. Strange, yet pure.
It resembled the mana of the great Adam Tree—countless flows, countless shifts—yet silent, docile, refined, as if it would forever bow its head without resistance.
From his pocket, he drew a stone. With a snap of his fingers, he flung it. The stone pierced leaves, embedding itself into bark and leaving a small hole. Nothing stirred.
Eryndor's brow tightened.
Another chain struck. He reached to grasp it—
"This…"
It was no ordinary chain of mana. Etched with marks, solid, tangible—it coiled around him in an instant, binding arms, legs, neck, and waist.
Steam hissed from the glowing links. Heat seared his flesh. Blood welled from his eyes, painting his vision red. His skull throbbed as if hammered. His chest burned, his mana on the verge of bursting apart.
Sweat drenched his body. He could not resist, even with raw strength.
This was a spiritual assault.
His knees buckled, body collapsing to the ground. From the shadows, a stag emerged.
Its gaze locked onto him.
"Truly, nothing more than a child with a fragile body and feeble strength."
Panicked, Eryndor gasped.
"Y-you… who are you?! What do you want from me?!"
The stag's mouth never moved, yet its voice echoed.
"Your fear is meaningless. I will cleanse your body and soul. You will become part of mine. Few harmless humans wander this deep. I cannot let you go. Nor can I allow you to speak of me."
"N-no! I don't want to die—gah!"
The chains tightened, crushing his breath.
Then—three figures emerged around him.
They were no taller than squirrels, their hair a shining silver-white, like strands woven from moonlight.
They wore simple garb of woven green leather, adorned with leaf patterns, thin bracelets of bark and hide.
Perelith...