Chapter 31 — The Warden of Life

  Cycle 22,841 of the Dragon Era — Day 145

  My training continued.

  Under Lyra’s gravity, I could now manage two full squats… and a single proper push-up. Just one — but it was mine. The rest of the time, I simply endured. Standing. Breathing. Existing beneath crushing weight until my muscles adapted and my body stopped trembling.

  When the three-times-normal gravity finally eased, the world always felt… lighter. Like chains falling off. Like a body that didn’t belong to me suddenly becoming faster, sharper, stronger. Back in my old world, athletes dreamed of this kind of training — impossible, dangerous, beyond human limits.

  Here, it was reality.

  And I was going to make full use of it.

  I didn’t stop at gravity training. My mana training continued relentlessly too.

  My control had grown sharper — not just stronger. I could feel the difference. My output increased, my responses faster, my precision far cleaner than before.

  Fire obeyed quickly now — flames denser, tighter, controlled instead of wild bursts.

  Water no longer collapsed instantly; I could maintain stable spheres and shape them longer.

  Wind wasn’t just short shock bursts anymore — I could sustain it, guide it, keep it flowing.

  Stone still took effort… but I could form actual, solid rocks now. Small. Stable. Controlled. The ground listened when I asked — not perfectly, not yet, but enough.

  Mana strengthening was slowly becoming less clumsy too.

  My arms could now be reinforced reliably, turning punches into real blows instead of self-damaging swings. Strengthening my legs gave sharper speed bursts — still exhausting, but no longer ripping the air from my lungs every time. I was learning to balance force and durability, not overstrain one while ignoring the other.

  Sometimes, when training under gravity, I would feel eyes on me.

  The pack watched.

  Grey.

  Lucan.

  Umbra.

  Borin.

  Fenn.

  Varya.

  Icelan.

  Even the pups.

  And I could almost hear the thoughts in some of them.

  Why is he suffering like that?

  He could just strengthen his body with mana and escape…

  They weren’t wrong.

  I could.

  But that wasn’t the point.

  I wasn’t training to escape pressure.

  I was training to endure it.

  To build a body that didn’t collapse when mana failed. To build strength that wasn’t borrowed, but earned. Discipline. Foundation. Something permanent. Something that wouldn’t disappear in a moment of weakness.

  They didn’t fully understand that.

  But some did.

  Kael watched silently sometimes, saying nothing — but I could feel it. He understood.

  Lyra didn’t hide it — there was respect in her gaze every time I pushed further.

  Cira always smiled softly when she saw me still standing after collapsing a hundred times.

  The pups… just stared wide-eyed, whispering among themselves like I was doing something insane.

  Maybe I was.

  But I wouldn’t stop.

  Because this wasn’t just training anymore.

  It was preparation.

  And finally…

  I wasn’t quarantined anymore.

  Kael had officially allowed me to move freely in the territory again. I could join hunts now if needed, explore, gather ingredients, or just… exist without someone hovering in panic that I’d die the second I left the clearing.

  Today, I wasn’t planning to hunt anything big.

  Today was about something else.

  Cooking.

  I needed more ingredients.

  Things with flavor.

  Things that could make food taste even better.

  Fruits were easy enough. I’d already found a few kinds before.

  But vegetables?

  That was going to be difficult.

  “We will see what I find,” I muttered to myself.

  “Yuu.”

  I turned.

  Cira’s gaze was gentle… and firm.

  “Make sure to check for strong aura signals,” she said. “If you sense anything overwhelming… retreat immediately. Go straight back to the den. No heroics. No pride.”

  “I know,” I nodded. “I’ll be careful.”

  Her tail brushed against my arm once before she stepped back.

  I took a breath.

  Then I moved.

  I didn’t walk.

  I didn’t stay on the ground long.

  Leaping from branch to branch gave me height.

  Vision.

  Advantage.

  From up here, I could scan wide areas at once. Spot fruit-bearing trees. Watch for movement. Sense mana flow more clearly. And if something attacked, I had room to maneuver.

  Someone followed me.

  I could feel it.

  A familiar presence, keeping distance.

  Not interfering.

  Just… watching.

  I pretended not to notice.

  If they wanted to guard me from the shadows, I’d let them.

  For now, I searched.

  Trees first.

  Bright skins.

  Odd scents.

  Then ground plants.

  Thick-stemmed herbs.

  Sharp-smelling bulbs.

  Broad leaves with strong scent oils.

  This world had its own nature.

  Its own flavors.

  Its own resources.

  And today…

  I was going to find them.

  Even after searching so long, I found nothing useful. And the few plants that looked promising… I couldn’t be sure. Too many unknowns. Too many risks. So I kept moving—branch to branch, tree to tree—hoping something would eventually make sense.

  It didn’t.

  And before I could even think about stopping, something happened.

  A shadow cut across the canopy.

  Wind howled past my ears.

  And then—

  I wasn’t falling anymore.

  I was being dragged upward.

  Something massive had grabbed me mid-leap. It moved so fast I hadn’t even sensed its aura until it was already too late—until the forest was shrinking below my dangling legs and the sky opened wide around me.

  I panicked.

  I screamed.

  Then I saw it.

  Golden feathers.

  Wide wings.

  A sharp, regal gaze locked onto me.

  Majestic.

  Terrifying.

  Alive with intelligence.

  Its voice slipped straight into my mind.

  “Apologies, little one. I’m hungry. I’ll make your death as painless as possible.”

  It tossed me upward—open beak waiting.

  Instinct moved before thought.

  I yelled.

  “DON’T EAT ME!”

  Fire roared from my hand.

  Hotter.

  Stronger.

  Desperate.

  It slammed harmlessly against its feathers, burning nothing.

  The creature froze anyway.

  Not from pain.

  From shock.

  “You… spoke?”

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  Its jaws halted.

  I dropped—straight toward death—

  and landed.

  On its back.

  I clung instinctively, chest heaving, heart sprinting far faster than my thoughts could catch up. The sky rushed past. Wind tore at my clothes. I didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.

  For a few seconds…

  I couldn’t even think.

  The eagle’s voice returned to my mind, calm and surprisingly casual.

  “My apologies. I thought you were just some random forest beast.”

  I wanted to yell at him.

  To scream.

  To demand why almost-eating-me was considered a reasonable mistake.

  But my life was currently in his wings.

  So I did not.

  He tilted his head slightly mid-flight, sharp eyes studying me.

  “Now that I look properly… I’ve never seen a creature of your kind.”

  For a moment, my fear slipped aside.

  Curiosity replaced it.

  “Even you haven’t? You must’ve flown across half the world by now.”

  “And yet… never one like you.”

  His voice wasn’t threatening anymore.

  Just genuinely intrigued.

  So I told him my name.

  Told him I lived with Kael.

  Told him I was his friend.

  He actually chuckled.

  “Kael, huh? Then you’re not prey.”

  He sounded amused.

  Fond, even.

  “We’ve met many times. He’s a difficult one to dislike.”

  He didn’t pry.

  Didn’t ask how or why I was with him.

  Didn’t question further.

  Instead, he introduced himself, pride carried naturally in his voice.

  “I am Aureon… a Skydren.”

  Aureon’s wings dipped slightly as he glanced back at me.

  “And what were you doing alone out here? Anyone could mistake you for weak prey.”

  “That’s… kind of what just happened,” I muttered. “I was being careful. I was checking for strong aura signals… but you just swooped in from so far away that I couldn’t sense you in time.”

  He gave a light, unapologetic hum.

  “Yes. That tends to happen. I’m… fast.”

  That was an understatement.

  I exhaled, finally steadying my breath enough to speak clearly.

  “I’m here to gather ingredients. Plants. Roots. Fruits. Things I can cook with.”

  For a moment, the air was quiet.

  Then Aureon chuckled lightly.

  “So that’s it? You risked wandering alone into the forest for food?”

  “Food is important,” I replied seriously. “To me, at least.”

  He didn’t mock me.

  Didn’t laugh.

  If anything, he sounded amused… and oddly approving.

  “In that case…”

  “…I owe you an apology. So let me correct my mistake.”

  He angled upward, flying above the clouds effortlessly.

  “I’ll take you to an old friend. Someone who knows every plant, herb, and root that grows in this forest. If knowledge is what you seek, he can help.”

  “As long as he doesn’t grab me mid-air and try to eat me,” I muttered.

  Aureon actually laughed.

  “He won’t. Promise.”

  Then another thought hit me.

  “…The pack is going to panic if I disappear like this.”

  “Already handled,” Aureon replied casually.

  “I informed them through link. They know you’re safe. They trust me.”

  I blinked.

  Long-range telepathic communication.

  Just… casually.

  Of course.

  He continued:

  “I’m heading north after this. When my work is done… I’ll return and pick you back up.”

  His wings spread wider.

  Wind roared.

  The world blurred beneath us.

  “Until then,” he said calmly,

  “learn everything you can.”

  He just dropped me in the middle of the dense forest.

  No explanations.

  No warning.

  Just silence — as if everything had already been decided somewhere far beyond me.

  He had probably spoken with his friend beforehand… from a distance… without me ever noticing.

  Somewhere ahead, I heard water.

  A steady, distant rush.

  Not violent.

  Not calm.

  Alive.

  I followed the sound.

  The stream wasn’t deep, but it stretched wide across the forest — a ribbon of flowing silver beneath faint light. Smooth stones broke through its surface, forming a natural platform across the water.

  And there…

  There it was.

  For a moment, I genuinely thought I was dreaming.

  That same feeling washed over me — the same unreal, breath-stealing awe I felt when I first saw Aureon.

  …The same unreal disbelief.

  The same quiet awe that freezes your lungs for a moment.

  Standing upon the stone platform in the middle of the broad, shallow stream was… something that shouldn’t exist, and yet felt like it had always belonged here.

  White fur — long, layered, flowing like wind-caught silk — draped over a towering frame. Sunlight filtered through the canopy, touching its coat and scattering faint golden hues across it. Gentle stream mist curled around its legs, as if the world itself moved carefully around it.

  And its antlers…

  They didn’t just rise.

  They spread.

  Wide. Vast. Beautiful. Like a great throne of branching wood shaped from pure light, stretching outward with impossible symmetry and strength. Not savage. Not monstrous. Majestic.

  Strong, yet impossibly elegant.

  Eyes calm. Deep. Intelligent.

  The kind of gaze that listens before it judges.

  The kind of gaze that remembers.

  The forest was loud a moment ago.

  Now it was quiet.

  Not because the creature demanded silence…

  but because everything around it seemed to respect it.

  For a moment, I forgot to breathe.

  This wasn’t prey.

  This wasn’t just an animal.

  This was something ancient.

  Something sacred.

  Something alive in a way most creatures never are.

  A being that felt like it belonged to the forest…

  and at the same time…

  The forest belonged to him.

  The great stag slowly turned its head toward me.

  Those calm eyes focused… and I felt it.

  A presence touched my mind.

  Not invasive.

  Not forceful.

  Simply… aware.

  “So… you are the one Aureon spoke of.”

  The voice wasn’t loud.

  It wasn’t deep.

  It simply existed inside my thoughts — steady, composed, impossibly old.

  I swallowed.

  He studied me — not with hostility.

  Not even with suspicion.

  With recognition.

  “A friend of Kael…”

  “…and a creature not born of this world.”

  My breath halted.

  He knew.

  Before I could ask how, he continued softly:

  “I am Eloran,”

  “a Sylvaryn”

  The name felt right.

  Like it belonged to the forest itself.

  Eloran lowered his head just slightly — not a bow.

  A greeting.

  “You seek the knowledge of plants.”

  I nodded.

  “Yes.”

  Silence settled again.

  Then he turned slowly, hooves barely disturbing the water.

  “Then follow.”

  As he walked, the forest changed with him.

  Plants straightened, leaves unfurled, wilted vines revived. Flowers bloomed where his hooves passed. Unripe fruit brightened and swelled with life. It wasn’t magic in the flashy sense. It was gentler… deeper… as if life itself was simply answering him.

  I followed in silence, unable to do anything else but watch.

  Whenever we passed a plant with value — healing herbs, edible roots, rare fruits — it shifted toward us. Stems leaned. Branches lowered. Roots surfaced just enough to be gathered without harm. And Eloran didn’t even glance at them. He simply spoke as we walked, his voice calm, steady, certain.

  He told me their names.

  Their effects.

  Their dangers.

  How to prepare them.

  What not to mix.

  Which could save a life…

  …and which could quietly end one.

  And somehow… I remembered. Every word settled easily in my mind, like the forest itself wanted me to learn. Like the knowledge wasn’t being taught…

  …it was being entrusted.

  After a while, the background noise of the forest faded.

  Birds went quiet.

  Wind softened.

  Even the stream nearby hushed.

  We reached a clearing — not open sky, but sheltered beneath thick intertwining branches above, sunlight scattering through them like soft gold dust. The ground was covered in flowers, a natural carpet of color. Peaceful. Untouched. Sacred.

  I hesitated to step forward.

  It didn’t feel like a place meant for me.

  But Eloran’s voice brushed through my thoughts.

  “Walk. You will not harm what welcomes you.”

  So I did.

  Carefully.

  Respectfully.

  He didn’t need caution. The flowers simply moved aside for him, parting gently, then blooming back to perfection after each step.

  Then… he stopped.

  So did I.

  And the world waited.

  Then… he finally spoke.

  “Your cores,” his voice echoed gently through my mind. “They were born the day the Forest Devourer forced your awakening… were they not?”

  My breath stalled.

  How—

  I hadn’t said anything.

  I hadn’t even thought about that in the forefront of my mind.

  “W-wait— how do you know that?” I asked. “Are you reading my mind?”

  His antlers shifted faintly, as if amused by the simplicity of the question.

  “I do not pry into thoughts,” he replied. “I simply know the forest. And the forest knows you. The moment you stepped into my domain… I felt it.”

  Then his tone shifted.

  The calm gentleness remained.

  But beneath it…

  was weight.

  Something absolute.

  “Listen to me carefully,” Eloran said.

  “Whatever that voice whispers to you… do not answer it. No matter what it promises. No matter how tempting it sounds. Never accept its words. Not a single one.”

  His warning wasn’t dramatic.

  It wasn’t loud.

  It didn’t need to be.

  It felt like truth.

  “…I understand,” I said quietly.

  “I am not saying this to frighten you,” he continued. “The seal suppressing that corrupted core is strong. But it is not permanent. Its strength depends upon you. Do not use that core. Do not draw upon it. Ever.”

  A soft glow spread from his antlers, drifting like threads of light. They touched my chest. Warmth pulsed through me — deep, ancient, gentle yet powerful. The seal tightened. Stabilized. Strengthened.

  When the light faded, Eloran exhaled.

  “You truly are an exception of nature.”

  I looked down, clenching my fist slowly.

  “…Am I really that special? I feel weak most of the time.”

  “That may be true,” he said calmly. “But strength and worth are not the same thing. In all of history… I have never seen one like you. Perhaps I should consider myself fortunate to meet you.”

  I blinked.

  “…No. If anything, I’m the lucky one.”

  For a moment, his gaze softened — deeply, quietly pleased.

  “You—”

  He stopped.

  Like he had been about to say something important… and decided against it.

  Instead, he shifted.

  “The core within you carries the trace of forest mana. That is what drew me to you. That is why I will tell you this.”

  A flower bloomed at his hoof-step.

  Slow.

  Natural.

  Alive.

  “…Don’t tell me,” I whispered. “You’re going to teach me how to control the forest?”

  “No,” he replied simply.

  My shoulders stiffened—

  “I will not teach you anything.”

  “I will simply tell you what already belongs to you.”

  The wind stirred.

  Leaves rustled.

  The forest listened.

  “When the Devourer’s mana forged your cores, the pure one became neutral — as all cores do. But neutrality is not emptiness. It remembers what it once was.”

  He looked at me.

  “And in time…

  if you learn to listen…

  the forest will remember you as well.”

  “Extend your hand toward that bud,” Eloran said.

  I did.

  “Now pour your mana into it,” he continued. “Not as an attack. Not to heal. Do not force anything. Simply… bend your mana with your will. Give it life.”

  I swallowed.

  Then I did as he said.

  Mana flowed.

  Gentle.

  Careful.

  Alive.

  The bud trembled.

  Then slowly…

  beautifully…

  it bloomed.

  Petals unfurled like silk.

  Color deepened.

  Fragrance filled the air.

  Life.

  Born from my mana.

  My breath caught.

  “I… actually did it,” I whispered.

  Eloran’s voice felt faintly warm.

  “The mana remembers the forest,” he said. “It remembers what it once was. What it wants to be. You simply reminded it.”

  I stared at the flower for a long moment.

  He turned away.

  “The rest,” he said, “you must learn yourself. That is how I learned as well.”

  “I will,” I nodded. “I’ll do my best. Thank you.”

  Time stopped mattering after that.

  We walked.

  And he taught.

  Not through lectures.

  Just… existing.

  Plants reacted to him.

  Flowers bloomed where he stepped.

  Leaves leaned toward him.

  Roots shifted closer.

  And he spoke, calmly and simply, about everything I needed to know.

  Which plants healed wounds.

  Which restored stamina.

  Which were poisonous.

  Which made food taste better.

  Which were rich with nutrients.

  Which carried warmth.

  Which carried calm.

  Which carried strength.

  He never hesitated.

  Never searched.

  He just knew.

  Eventually…

  the sun had already begun to sink.

  I hadn’t even realized how much time had passed.

  We moved back toward where Aureon had left me — but through a different path. And every plant he loved… every ingredient he valued… he brought within reach.

  “You wanted more than just ‘tasty,’ didn’t you?” Eloran said gently.

  “Spicy. Bitter. Sour. Strong flavors. Anything usable,” I nodded.

  “Then remember them well.”

  By the time we arrived,

  my arms were overflowing.

  More fruit than I could carry.

  Roots.

  Leaves.

  Seeds.

  Things I could plant in the farm.

  Things I could cook.

  Eloran conjured a woven leaf-satchel and placed everything inside.

  It felt like a gift.

  More than that…

  a blessing.

  Wings thundered above us.

  Aureon descended, landing with effortless grace.

  He tilted his head at me.

  “Finished?”

  “Yeah,” I nodded. “More than finished.”

  He lowered himself slightly — a silent invitation.

  I climbed onto his back.

  Before we left, I looked back.

  “Thank you,” I said softly. “Truly. I’ll come again. And someday… I’ll repay this kindness.”

  For the first time…

  Eloran smiled.

  “Take care,” he said simply.

  I opened my mouth to answer—

  Aureon launched skyward without warning.

  Wind roared.

  The sky swallowed us.

  The forest shrank beneath my feet.

  My voice cut off in a startled shout as the world blurred around us.

  Just like that…

  We were flying home.