Chapter 140: Responses - III

The City of Arenas was in the midst of an upheaval. Different factions, different groups, and different families all discussed the recent developments within the Walvaskaz Empire.

In stark contrast to their busy lives, a certain group of people continued to recuperate from being directly involved in such chaos.

After Aventine decided to take a break from his ruthless massacre, Gron was still awake— and had greeted him upon his return.

Still hidden in the darkness summoned by the <Power of Death>, Kuvie and Reazue were sitting with their backs propped up with cushions, looking pale but not sickly. They seemed comfortable in the embrace of darkness.

As if the dim lights and the seemingly endless shadows could soothe the very depths of their souls.

Thus, instead of appearing sick or injured, they just looked tired. With pale lips regardless of their race and a dulled gleam to their eyes. Skin that seemed to have lost their previous luster and a skeleton that seemed oddly frail.

All it took was a glance before Aventine gave them his prescription:

"You all need three days of rest before we move to the next city via <Warp>."

Even Gron, who had somehow managed to stay awake until now, was clearly not in any shape to shuttle through the distorted space wrought by <Warp>.

Aventine, of course, was fine—but Kuvie and Reazue also couldn’t handle it.

After all, <Warp> wasn’t supposed to be used the way Aventine did.

It was supposed to be augmented by a series of other spells that could guarantee the safety of those traveling through space. Only Aventine, whose senses surpassed even gods, could find the perfect coordinates to his destination and pierce through even the smallest of flaws in a barrier to arrive exactly where he wished to appear.

Thus, <Warp>, which was usually tediously aided by rituals and complex magic formations to guarantee the lives and comfort of those travelling through space, had turned into a personal movement spell he used to come and go.

In fact, Aventine was the only A-Rank capable of doing so at the moment, thus earning him a moniker of ’Space Mage’ the exact moment he chopped off Grevira’s hand.

The only other being beneath S-Rank capable of using such a brutish <Warp> was Ellea with her supposedly endless clones.

Who cared about the injuries of a few measly manifestations?

Thus, Ellea had risen to power as a lone Snakespawn who’d wandered away from her home city.

Her life would have been smooth sailing, in fact... but alas—

She encountered Aventine. Then, she turned into pure nourishment for the latter’s comprehension of the <Law of Fate> and a good amount of the Gaea System’s experience points.

Her existence had been thoroughly recycled.

"..." Reazue was silently circulating what Aventine perceived to be a Blood Art geared towards recuperation.

However...

"It’s useless." Aventine placed a hand on the Werebat’s shoulder, deftly avoiding the latter’s leather wings tucked closely onto his back. "Your current state has to do with the mind, not the body. If you have a Blood Art that has psychic effects, that would be for the best."

Aventine paused as if checking something. "However, you don’t, so I advise you to simply let your brain heal on its own."

He then looked towards the Satyress—who was slowly shapeshifting into her Nymph form—and chuckled. "You too, Kuvie~ Even as a Nymph, though your natural recuperation could be said to be more effective than in your Satyress state... The Nature Magic you’ve studied doesn’t encompass the realm of the mind."

"You guys need to sleep. Like, seriously. Sleep this off and stop trying to act tough. Although our situation seems dire, it shouldn’t be lethal."

Aventine waved his hand, and before Gron could say or ask anything else, the surrounding darkness surged. However, this kind of darkness bore not a single strand of malice.

This kind of darkness was truly like an embrace that soothed the soul, slowly lulling the three of them into deep slumber.

Outside the room that had been drowned in shadows, Aventine tilted his head. The trio’s snores resounded earlier than he’d thought.

"Acting tough in front of me..." Aventine almost laughed out loud.

A purple Magic Circle appeared beneath his feet. A pinpoint spatial distortion twisted light and everything in its range, rapidly devouring its caster and throwing him through.

Once again, it was the 6th-Circle Spatial Magic spell, [Warp].

In the next moment, he appeared on the top floor of the 16 Claws’ central tower, a few blocks away from the heir’s room and villa.

Upon arriving at the very top floor, Aventine was greeted by a narrow circular platform only about twenty meters in diameter. Numerous thin pillars like the branches of a tree held the final ceiling above his head, where an orange lightbulb hung, gleaming with a tantalizing light show.

"Since I’m here..." Aventine muttered under his breath, "I might as well harvest these Fruits of Metamorphosis."

Looking up at the slowly ripening Fruit of Metamorphosis, Aventine found his thoughts wandering in meditation. Despite his rapid rise in Levels, his fundamental abilities were still stuck at C-Rank and below.

<Mind Force> and <Pure Instinct> needed work. Furthermore, Aventine was considering the spell he wanted to engrave to become a 5th-Circle Mage and beyond.

While waiting for the Fruit of Metamorphosis, he trained, allowing one of his consciousnesses to wander throughout the Walvaskaz Empire, wary of any sudden ambushes like that of Ellea.

Admittedly, Aventine was on edge even if it wasn’t clear from his expression and demeanor.

Ellea, in particular, made him vigilant—given that she’d appeared by his side from a location much farther than what his senses had been perceiving at the time.

All of the clones that ambushed Aventine had been transported from somewhere beyond the City of Arenas.

After a bit of searching, Aventine discovered that it basically served as Ellea’s storage unit for pre-manifested clones.

’This means that...’

***

’...I could still be ambushed at any time.’

Thinking this, I tried to come up with ways to further the range of my senses while maintaining positive mana regeneration.

Unfortunately, this experiment of mine was proving to be difficult. Even with my greatly improved mana reserves, many parts of the Walvaskaz Empire—whether as big as a palace or as small as a pebble at the side of the road—caused random dips in my mana that severely disrupted the positive mana regeneration I was trying to maintain.

This caused hiccups in more than just my training of <Pure Instinct> and <Mind Force>. It also ended up wasting many of the carvings I’d been inches away from engraving into my heart.

Whenever a large chunk of mana vanished, I would be jolted awake from my meditation, thinking that it was some powerful being deterring the Scrying Magic mages often used.

After all, it was the staple Magic Spell for those who valued survivability. Thus, like Spatial Mages and their dangerously unpredictable appearances, countermeasures were being developed every day.

Giving away one’s information and current state to any random clairvoyant spell was an embarrassment in the Mage community.

To A-Rank Mages, lacking a personal countermeasure spell to hide one’s information and aura was equated to nakedness.

Even the violence-centered <’Destruction’ Archmagus> Daimyuon had his own Counter-Clairvoyance Magic and Anti-Scrying Spells.

’And they are all 8th-Circle Magic Spells.’

With a systematic progression from First Circle all the way to Daimyuon’s theorized 9th Circle spells.

Just looking at these spells made me appreciate Daimyuon’s craft while also forcing me to acknowledge the terrifying variety that Fleim wielded as naturally as breathing.

Earth was simply too simplistic in comparison.

***

While swimming through the twin oceans of my consciousness, three days passed in an instant.

Kuvie, Reazue, and Gron were now capable of walking around. Gron was the most pathetic, while Reazue was in the lead.

Perhaps it was the boon brought by a Werebat’s <Traits> and their Blood Arts, but Reazue’s body was brimming with strength that overshadowed his mental strength.

Had I not used [Absolute Awareness] to survey his mind, I wouldn’t have realized that he was still the most injured of all.

The housing of his mind was simply the most superior, allowing him to move based on his own bodily instincts and habits.

"...Is he okay?"

Kuvie, Gron, and I were watching as Reazue’s dazed figure kept trying to eat food from an empty wooden bowl. Gron was completely and utterly baffled by the sight.

His experiences could not rival Kuvie’s, and his knowledge had no chance of climbing to my height, so I kind of understood his shock.

Before I could speak, however, Kuvie answered first.

"He’s fine... But he’s just in his idiot mode from the Martial Art he used to advance to B-Rank."

Everyone’s gaze once again returned to the bizarre sight.

The Werebat was repeatedly lowering his spoon and bringing it to his mouth—but there was a clear lack of anything left.

Reazue had scraped his bowl clean some time ago, but his brain had shut down after assigning tasks for his body to complete.

It was odd.

...And I couldn’t help but think about how I looked when only my red blood cells were capable of thought.

Had I been so stringently oriented at that time? So much so that I looked like a poorly coded robot?