[Arc 1] Chapter 5 – Force of Change

"Is it working?"

I looked at the woman standing before me and nodded slowly.

"Finally! After nearly two hundred years of research, we’ve managed to create a potion potent enough to help you!" cheered the navy-blue-haired woman with fin-like ears.

"All thanks to you, Levi," I replied with a smile.

"Oh, you really don’t need to thank me, cutie. But I’m curious—after all this time, why haven’t you told me the real reason you need that sealing elixir? I mean, yeah, you said you were cursed and all, but honestly, everyone can tell that was a blatant lie. So go on, spill the truth to this adorable little water serpent."

My smile faltered, and my expression hardened. "I did not lie."

Levi rolled her eyes. "Of course you did! Listen, we’ve known each other for, what, fifteen hundred years? In all that time, you always vanished right before the so-called 'curse' broke out, only to return completely unscathed. If this 'curse' was such a big deal, then Aur—"

"Don’t call her that!" I hissed sharply.

"Fine. Then Ca-lyp-so would’ve told us the details already. But she hasn’t. And that bitch loathes you—or loves, I don’t know anymore at this point. Honestly, Calypso gives me the creeps, but that’s beside the point. She would never pass up a chance to humiliate you, yet she just keeps quiet. No matter how many times we ask her, all she says is, 'Ask her yourself.' every goddess damn time."

Levi crossed her arms and continued, "So yeah, I know things don’t add up. And why a sealing potion? You could just go to Ori. She could destroy the curse outright. You’re hiding something, and I think it’s time for a clean sweep. I’m your friend. I can help."

As I looked into her eyes, I saw emerald tears forming, solidifying as they fell. A twinge of guilt pierced through me, heavy and unrelenting. But I couldn’t let it show—not when the truth could leave me more isolated than I already felt. I was too afraid. Too afraid of standing alone in this world... again. So I simply turned away.

"I can’t. I’m sorry. But let me assure you—it’s a curse."

Without uttering another word, I left. Over the years, our relationship frayed, each interaction colder than the last. She still helped me create more medicine, but that was all. Eventually, once my storage was full, we stopped meeting altogether.

-------

[Error! Error! System failed to integrate ïÊÓ◘\‹]

[Searching for other procedures]

[Please remain on standby]

When my mind finally returned from another forced flashback—a memory I was certain I had erased—I immediately opened my storage and pulled out a dozen vials of my medicine. Even as the cracks vanished, I kept gulping down vial after vial until my mind finally calmed.

I stared at the last vial in my hand, a sad look on my face. "I am the curse, Levi. I am the curse..."

Luckily for me, Marika was already in her wagon, sleeping. I didn’t know when she had left, but I appreciated the silence as I sat alone by the crackling fire. Especially since my head was pounding from that System-induced flashback.

Where the heck had it even gotten those memories?! I had cut them out and destroyed them—they shouldn’t exist anymore. Then again, maybe it was better that I had also forgotten why I erased them in the first place. Probably to protect the seals, or something like that. Who knew? I must’ve had my reasons.

As I pondered over these thoughts, the moons gradually gave way to the sun, and the first birds began their annoyingly cheerful songs. It was strange to hear birds in a Grey Dryad’s territory, but whatever.

Some of the adults were the first to wake, followed by the children. Surprisingly, they were quieter than I expected. Unlike before, they didn’t try to catch my tails or come near me. Childlike curiosity fades quickly—it’s only a novelty for a few hours. But that was fine by me. Thanks to the calm, I could silently listen to them and continue improving my language skills.

At some point, the paladin emerged from her wagon, probably drawn out by the aroma of freshly made stew. She looked half-dead—her hair was a mess, and dark rings shadowed her eyes. I snickered. No matter the era, moon elves would always suck at getting up early. Yeah, she was a mess, but somehow, that just made her cuter.

This time, she didn’t even glance my way and walked straight past me to get some stew. It kind of annoyed me to be ignored like that, but I swallowed my pride like a good vixen and chalked it up to her morning grumpiness.

About thirty minutes later, Marika stumbled out of the heavy wagon, frantically looking around. She visibly relaxed when she saw me and slowly approached.

Before she could speak, I smiled and greeted her, "Good morning!"

She froze mid-step, looking baffled. "H-how? Yesterday you couldn’t—"

I raised my hand to stop her. "I’m a fast learner. But don’t worry, I’m still not super wisdom about every word’s substance. This elven is only a weird form of mine, so it’s fine to learn fastly."

Marika nodded, still astonished. "Well, some of your words are still... wrong, but it’s incredible how fast you’re learning! You are truly blessed by the moons!"

When the elder sat down on the opposite side of the burned-down fire, a child approached her and offered a bowl of stew, which Marika gratefully accepted. She patted the little girl on the head, prompting a happy squeal before the child turned and ran back to her peers.

"I noticed there are only female elves in this wagon train and none of them are high elves. Why is that?" I asked Marika.

A heavy sigh escaped her lips. "Most of our males are at the border, defending it against the demons—or so we’re told. Honestly, I think it’s just another farce to decimate our numbers. I don’t know where our honored guest has resided for the last few centuries, but at some point, the high elves formed a pact with the human aristocracy. They agreed not to harm certain elf tribes but were given free rein to do as they pleased with the others, as long as they kept it somewhat subtle. And so, the elven slave trade began to flourish.

"They burn our villages, hunt us down, sell our children into slavery—and for what? To feel like the purest of the pure? I’m sick of those high elves, but there’s not much I can do. Most of the elves here were saved by our company. They had nowhere else to go, so I employed them. But I can’t do this forever, and I’m constantly searching for other solutions. I’m sorry for unloading all this on you, but it’s just so frustrating. They aren’t even afraid to fight in a Grey Dryad’s territory anymore. When will this madness end?"

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When Marika finished her monologue, which I unfortunately didn’t fully understand, I could only shake my head. High elves had always been too proud of their heritage, thinking themselves the pinnacle of their race. Such stupidity—they weren’t even the first beings to walk this world.

Apparently, being an alchemist taught by Ithi granted Marika some liberties, preventing her from being sold as quickly as others. I wondered what happened to those less fortunate than her, though I could guess.

Deciding to steer the conversation to lighter ground, I asked, "How much longer do you think it’ll take to reach the wall’s border?"

The question snapped Marika out of her gloomy thoughts. "How long will it take to get to the city? Normally, it would take us another eight to eleven days, considering the necessary stops. But with the blessed one on board, I think we’ll make it in about seven to nine days."

Seven to nine days. I hoped that would be enough time to figure out a way to disguise myself. Right now, I had no idea how to solve that problem.

"Pardon me, honored guest, but when we set out in about an hour, would it be alright for you to stay in the wagon with the children? It’s the safest place, but also the only one with enough space for you to fit comfortably."

I eyed the elder for a moment before responding, "That’s fine with me. The kids seem less... fearful now, so aye."

"Fearful? Ah, I see. Thank you, honored one, for protecting us for the rest of the trip. With you around, I only need to worry about the shenanigans of the children. You are truly a moon-sent gift," Marika said, her face lighting up with the biggest smile I’d seen from her yet. What a strange elf.

-------

When the elves began disassembling their camp, I noticed something odd: the glade had no visible trail leading out of it.

The paladin seemed to catch my confusion and walked toward me with a smug expression. "The elder told me you could mostly understand what I say? Too bad our oh-so-mighty guest can’t figure out how we leave. Not so blessed now, huh?"

D-did she really just say that? Even if I still couldn’t grasp everything perfectly yet, I could understand most of it. And I absolutely didn’t like what I’d just heard.

"You don’t want anyone to leave?" I said, my tone sharp with a hint of threat.

She narrowed her eyes and placed a hand on the hilt of her sword. "Oh, really?"

Before I could plan my next move, the elven mage—who had apparently been listening to our conversation—strode over and delivered a swift karate chop to the paladin’s head.

"Owww! Moooom! I was about to stand my ground against that—"

"Quiet, Zary!" the mage snapped. "The only thing you were about to do was get us all killed! I know you’re strong and hot-headed, but did you forget what she did yesterday?"

Turning to me, she gave a deep bow. "I apologize for the rash behavior of my foolish daughter. She is young and strong, but it sometimes goes to her head."

I rubbed my temples, sighing. "It’s fine. I’m not used to such... treatment. I’ve been gone for... some days and nights. So my understanding of today’s magic might be... holey?"

The mage smiled faintly. "Ah, I understand what you’re curious about, blessed one. I may look like an ordinary mage, but my specialty is wood magic. With it, I can open a path through the forest back to the road. The spell requires preparation and unique offerings, and it is very mana-intensive. However, thanks to the elder’s potions, it’s manageable. Wood mages are rare, and I’m proud to have become one a few decades ago."

She turned back to her daughter with a stern expression. "And you—I may respect you as a paladin, but I’m disappointed in you as a mother. Now get your ass to Marika, fetch the potions I need, and tell her I’ll open the path shortly."

The paladin muttered something under her breath before stomping off toward the armored wagon. Her mother gave me a brief nod of farewell and disappeared into the woods.

Without saying a word, I followed her. I had never heard of a wood mage before. Sure, witches controlling plants weren’t unusual, but a mage specializing in wood magic? That was new. I had to see it for myself.

The first thing Zary's mother did was draw some unfamiliar runes into the soil. Unlike mine, these runes didn’t contain any mana, nor did they absorb it, and they lacked an activation sigil.

"Your runes are dead?" I asked her.

"Dead? Oh, because they don’t have mana in them?" she replied, glancing at me briefly before returning her focus to the runes. "These runes don’t work without the right ingredients and sequence. Until I place the catalysts in the center, they won’t activate. Also, runes that rely on mana are complicated to handle and take a long time to create. My mana pool isn’t large enough for that, and even most Manaborn would struggle without proper tools."

"Manaborn? I don’t know this term. What does it mean?" I inquired.

"What it means to be Manaborn?" she echoed. "They are naturally gifted with the ability to manipulate mana, store it, and even generate it to a vast degree. They have a natural talent for transforming their mana into specific affinities and creating their own magic and spells without much difficulty. At least, that’s what they teach in magic schools. Witches are Manaborn, and people fear them because of it. There’s a rumor that witches turn into Mana Beasts if they lose control of their magic, but that’s utter nonsense if you ask me," she added with a sneer.

Her tone reminded me of a text-to-speech AI reading from an encyclopedia. It felt strange—back in my day, we didn’t use terms like that. You were either magically gifted or you weren’t. At least now, I knew I was considered a so-called Manaborn.

"Are there other types?" I asked, pressing further.

She paused, looking up briefly before returning to her work. "If we’re talking about magic users, there are also sorcerers, mages, and their hybrid form—wizards. I’m no scholar, and honestly, I’m not particularly fond of sorcerers—they tend to be arrogant—but the key difference between them and mages is that sorcerers can’t manipulate mana on their own. Without their tools, they’re basically useless.

"Wizards, though, are unique. You can become one by combining the skills of a sorcerer and a mage. But wizards... Well, they’re hermits. It takes a long time to become a decent wizard. Once you gain that class, you essentially start over at level zero with nothing, and the experience required to regain your strength is absurd. There are only two truly powerful wizards in the human empire. One is the royal court mage, and the other is the Royal Academy’s headmaster. Oh, and I think I heard a rumor about a strong one in one of the Jaeger Families, but I can’t say if that’s true."

My head spun as I tried to process her explanation. It was hard to follow everything—stupid earring, couldn’t you work faster?!—but at least I’d learned one thing for certain: the ways of magic in this world had definitely changed. Back in my day, there were no scholarly magicians like these, and honestly, they sounded pathetically weak. But if the Jaeger Families were venturing into this field, it—

I slapped myself in the face. How could I have forgotten one of the easiest ways to disguise myself? Sometimes, I really was stupid. How had I even survived this long in this world? Oh, right. Never mind.

Apparently, the elf had finished her preparations and gave me a worried look. "Are you… okay?"

I nodded. I liked her nonchalant way of treating me—polite yet blunt.

"I am. Want to see something... new?" I asked, a hint of mischief in my voice.

She tilted her head slightly, considering. "Sure, why not? My daughter seems to be taking her sweet time today. Without the ingredients, I can’t finish the rune circle anyway."

I gestured for her to follow me, and we walked a short distance away from the glade.

"Let me show you my magic," I said with a grin, kneeling down to once again draw runic glyphs into the ground. Unlike the ones in the cave, these were different. They absorbed my mana, but instead of scorching the ground, they nurtured it. The area around the glyphs began to radiate a sweet fragrance of fresh lilacs, and their purple blossoms spread across the grass.

"Amazing!" the wood mage gasped. "I didn’t know runes could do something like this! And their forms—they look ancient!"

Her astonishment pleased me. Some things, unlike others, never changed. But she would never truly see what lay behind this magic. These weren’t just glyphs; they were the purest form of soul magic.

I noticed the necklace around Zary’s mother’s neck and asked, "May I borrow that necklace of yours?"

Her hand instinctively went to it. "I-it’s a family heirloom; I don’t really want—"

"It is needed," I interrupted firmly.

She gulped but handed it to me without further resistance. Once I finished the runic circle, I placed the necklace in the center. Then, I did something that few in this world had ever witnessed without dying seconds later—I bled.

A few drops of my shimmering violet blood fell onto the necklace. The moment they made contact, the world seemed to hold its breath. The runic circle began to glow with a dark green hue.

"It’s time," I muttered, reaching up to my head and pulling out what looked, at first, like a strand of hair. But it wasn’t hair—it was ashen and glowed white. It was a part of my soul.

I released the strand into the air above the necklace. It floated weightlessly before beginning to shift, glowing gray as it took shape. Moments later, a spirit-like figure hovered in front of us.

The being’s gaze locked onto me, its fury unmistakable.

"Hello, Asche," I greeted the figure calmly.

"You!"