Wraithwood Botanist

All of this happened in a split second.

By the time Kline’s claw strike and pounce could reach him, he had already moved away—

—but it was close. Far closer than ever should have been possible fighting against such young, undisciplined beings.

But it was over. In a real fight, they would be dead, and in a normal spar, he’d keep going. But he sure as hell wouldn’t commit himself to a chaste life to be a life-long bodyguard for Mira just because of a paper cut. With her and Kline’s talent, that could be millennia! Maybe more!

Kyro turned to Mira, and that’s when his mindset turned from a flippant aggravation wrapped in necessity and morphed into a grave response.

Where the fuck did she get that thing?

Mira had reached into her chest and was pulling a soul weapon from her chest. Soul weapons were exceedingly rare and always terrifying. The skills it had were unknown, and he doubted that Mira had any clue what she was holding—or what it signified.

Things were about to get nasty.

Playtime was over. Kyro blasted across the battlefield as fast as he could, turning and lifting his hands. Two sets of raw mana developed over Mira and Kline.

Kyro was a demigod with over a hundred thousand years of experience. If he couldn’t end two hatchlings in a split second, even with three curses and his hands tied behind his back, he would kill himself. It was for that reason that he was so confident in making an egregiously one-sided bet to grind Mira and Kline’s weakness into them—to force them to consider it. But the time for that was over.

Sorry kids.

Kline panicked and jumped for a portal, opening up one next to Mira to protect her. Mira had followed his movements the best she could, but she lost him halfway. Even at their fastest, there were slow—

—and he couldn’t even use an acceleration technique.

It was admirable—but it wasn’t enough.

He swung his hands down. A small force of mana crashed into Mira, knocking her out. A massive one hit Kline, strong enough to create a crater in the ground if there weren’t a barrier. Then, the world turned still.

He pulled out his flask—

—but he didn’t unscrew it.

He just fluttered in silence, studying Kline and Mira with a profound gaze.

No wonder everyone’s after them.

He didn’t understand why Brindle and Yakana would choose a pupil. Now that he witnessed their talent, he was convinced that it wasn’t a simple fluke or conspiracy theory. They earned it through and through and shocked him multiple times with their power. These two needed protected at all costs.

That said, it was extremely difficult to argue that they got where they were with a little aid and merit. There was something more serious going on, and Zyphrael… that prick… was the first to point it out.

"This’s a conspiracy."

Kyro turned to Nephralis to see her reaction and found a frown chopped on her face. The sight made Kyro feel sick as if his stomach were a still pond that someone stepped into with their bare feet. He needed a drink. He took one. It didn’t make him feel better. It never did.

"Who gave her that soul weapon?" Zyphrael pressed when no one spoke.

"That’s the least of our worries," Nethralis said. "Two patrons… a soul weapon… and that magic…"

Kyro nodded. "Yeah. That’ll get dangerous a few evs up."

"So?" Zyphrael asked. "What’re we gonna do about this?"

"What do you mean ’do about this?’" Kyro asked chillingly. "Nothing’s changed."

Zyphrael sneered back. "Nothing’s changed? The Oracle’s trying to conquer the forest. It’s giving a no name soul weapons and high-level magic. And you don’t think anything’s changed?"

While none of them had access to the Oracle, neophytes with the Oracle entered the forest every year and spoke and thought about it in great detail. Drokai spies had learned all its advantages—and all its limitations—and Mira’s situation was far beyond what other people stood to gain by the system.

We don’t know the soul weapon was for her, Emael said. I doubt they’d give one to a lost cause.

"That’s true," Nephralis said. "And I think we can agree that Mira wasn’t trained for this. But… Zyphrael is right. Even if that was a reward, it’s unprecedented. That means that either the Oracle’s been changed to aid in the conquering of the forest, or it’s going rogue. Either way… danger’s coming."

Kyro sniffed the scarloberry brandy in his flask. It suddenly felt nauseating. But he found that sounding desperate never won arguments, so he waited for other people to speak. Luckily, Nethralis wasn’t done.

"That said, Oracle or not, the only reason she’s alive is because of Yakana’s aid," she continued. "Brindle and Emael as well. She’s here because she was chosen."

Kyro nodded and drank, feeling that pleasant burn in his chest. Then he nodded. "Yakana’s enough."

Zyphrael gritted his teeth. He hated Brindle with a passion because the prior guardian didn’t provide them with knowledge of the Last Conquer in advance as he had with previous wars, so they were woefully unprepared for the scale of the attack. Since no one could talk to Brindle directly, and Brindle wasn’t one for apologies or explanations, people had spread conspiracy theories that he was complicit, that he cut a deal, or that he simply abandoned them, even though Kyro and the elders all agreed that the likely answer was that he locked himself away somewhere and didn’t come out for the forty, fifty years it took to organize the Last Conquer. Still, Zyphrael, Thorvel, and others never forgot.

Yakana was another story. Everyone trusted Yakana’s judgment. His wisdom only grew over the years while he maintained a degree of his human intelligence and humanity, making his rational decision-making pragmatic instead of turning into some abstracted, life-obsessed entity. That’s why Zyphrael shut down.

"But… why?" Zyphrael asked quietly. "Doesn’t he know what’s going on?"

"I think he does," Nethralis said. "I think that’s why he’s helping her."

Her guard looked up. "How does that make sense?"

Because we’re weak, Emael declared. The Last Conquer cost the Fourth Ring more than half our forces… who knows how many from the Fifth. We haven’t recovered. But they have. They have an infinite supply of neophytes from countless planets. They got close before—they haven’t forgotten.

The gravity in the atmosphere multiplied, bearing down on everyone’s souls.

"So what you’re saying," Kyro lifted his flask to his lips but paused. "Is that we need a new guardian?"

Nethralis nodded as she stared at Mira and Kline. Zephrael reluctantly did the same.

"Well, if you guys stop being dicks to her…" Kyro drank and exhaled sharply. "She’d make a good one."

2.

I awoke to the light of a crackling fire and colorful lights. When I looked in the sky, I saw what I’d later learn as sprites, tiny creatures that glowed in the moonlight, flying between homes in the land of the fairies. The denizens had gathered outside around the crystal pond, and they discussed the day’s events over drink and food.

I felt a tugging on my shirt, and when I looked back, I saw Kline looking at me with blubbery eyes. "Oh… Kline… I’m okay."

Once I gave him confirmation, he sucked up his anxiety and declared it was fine by jumping onto my side before crossing to the other side, stretching in front of me, and then slinking off.

Little shit.

"He’s quite the character."

I heard Kyro’s voice beside me, and I instinctively sat up, only to relax. Kyro was sitting on a small chair overlooking the fire, drinking a tiny bottle of wine. He didn’t even consider sharing.

"He is," I said.

Kyro wiped his forehead and rubbed his eyes. Then he cleared his throat. "So… um. Here’s the thing. I was wrong, you were right, and we’re good."

I raised an eyebrow. "Wow… how much pride did you have to shed for that one?"

He smiled amusedly and took a drink. "Not a damn bit. Turns out, it’s easier to maintain relationships when you get rid of that shit."

"That’s… true."

He cheered his bottle and then pointed at the beautiful city with thousands in the square and tens of thousands of homes lit up over canopies that moved high into the sky.

"Welcome to Serenflora."

"Thanks…" I stared at the city in wonder. I underestimated the size by miles. Now that I could see the sprites and glow stones in tiny homes within the canopies, I understood that there could be tens of thousands of fairies in this small space. It truly was a hidden army.

And if they were all as strong as Kyro…

"You’re weak," he said abruptly, obliterating all the goodwill he had just earned.

"Back to that again?" I asked.

"But we can make you stronger."

I paused and reflected on his words seriously. Kline chose that moment to slink back on his own terms, laying in front of me in a range I couldn’t pet him. I didn’t try.

"How?" I asked.

"Well, we need to get Kline a soul core and gorge him with soul force so he can ride the river. We’ll do the same for you. After that… Well, we’ll take a visit to Arithiel Pond and let you evolve your mana core. We’ll train Kline out there—"

"Wait! Arithiel Pond? You mean the place where the lignan bugs were?"

"Um… yeah." He took another drink.

"You can’t be serious. There’s third evolution beasts there."

He nodded. "Yeah."

My lips parted, and I stared at him in shock. "So… what? You’re gonna protect us? Or…"

"Nope. Hate to break it to ya, but I’m cursed to the core. I can throw around one or two, but I don’t have the umph to do more."

"Cursed? Wait. Does that mean you’re from an upper domain?"

"Ding-ding-ding. Yooooooou got it. I’m a looooooong way from home. Curses are so bad I can only use elementals and soul force even after a century. And if I get beat up, I might as well be mortal. Fucking sucks."

He took another drink.

I looked away, feeling pain burrowing in my chest. "So… wait. You’re saying the Harvesters are stronger than you are?"

"No… not most of ’em. Well, yes, but actually… It’s complicated. Most these people’ve trained their whole life for the harvest. They work out and learn magic and train and kill people and play politics for twenty, thirty years before they show up. Give ’em your raw soul force, and even the bandits would tie their pack mules with your intestines."

I shuddered.

"Problem is, they don’t got the umph to do anything," he said. "They can take down something small… mother feasters… children… swarmers. But even a midrange second will do ’em in. There’ll be four or five of ’em, hitting it with magic on all sides. Whoosh! Boom. Plow. Sparks’ll be flying, and people’ll be screaming, and that beast’ll gore the living shit out of them… walk away wearing one as a wreath for their antlers. It’s depressing."

I thought back to the fighting. Kline earned tons of high level spells before even challenging the reiga, which were small swarming creatures. Then, we fought against the shalks, swarmers which were—what I assumed to be—mother feeders, as they ate their parents to level up after birth. Those were the weakest of the weak. But of the other two Kline fought, we injured one with a trap plant, and the white elk mangled Kline’s body, which left him on the verge of death. We needed magic to heal him.

As for me, I couldn’t even kill one of them until I learned Moxle Dilation and mana sharpening, and it took over a week to do serious damage to that bear—

—and that was with resources. By then, I had a strong mana core and all the soul meat and cores I could handle.

We were very lucky.

Yes, we worked hard and risked our lives and showcased talent—but we were also very lucky.

"Then there’s the legacies," Kyro said coldly. "They’ve got the umph."

My blood pressure spiked, and I looked at him with an accelerating heartbeat.

"Oh… yes. They’ve got the umph. I’m sure you think you’re special because you got strong cores and meat, but the richies import both from the upper domains. Turn their kids into psychopaths… kids aren’t normal. I’ve seen ’em use people as bait for beasts or force people to eat fungi to test whether it was edible. Zero empathy. And they’re strong for this domain, too. They slaughter the second evs for sport. Even tag team the thirds right out the gate. If the Torok didn’t show up to slap ’em around now and then, they’d get cocky and try to push on. Well, until they die of poisoning. But the little shits are rolling in imported elixirs and their clothes… fuck. I hate those shits."

It was weird to just hear a little human with wings venting like a drunken uncle, but it was useful information and proved that he cared about the right things.

"I don’t get it," I said. "If people can just import cores and meat… why haven’t they succeeded?"

Kyro smirked and wagged a finger at me. "Paranoia…" He took a drink and shuddered and sighed. "Good ol’ paranoia…" He collapsed on the grass, drowsy—drunk and dizzy. He looked like a doll just lying there, clearly suffering from whatever ailment was stabbing at him. So I just let him be, suppressing my desire to know the history of this world as I watched the sprites fly through the skies of Serenflora, hypnotized by the patterns they drew in the sky.

I felt a paw and turned down and saw Kline staring at me with big eyes.

"Oh come here." I thrust out my hands, and he pretended to run, allowing me to scoop him into my arms. He squirmed, but I said, "Oh shush. I couldn’t catch you if I tried."

He whined and pouted, but I held him against my breast and lay down again. We were exhausted. So, like Kyro, we drifted into sleep. We had three weeks to evolve our cores and get a crash course in soulmancy. So we would need it.