CHAPTER 117

  THE HOLY LANDS

  The argument between the elven siblings really stung Hans, leaving him with a sour taste in his mouth. He caught some of what they were saying, but not all of it. She then led him to the back of the castle, where he found an underground entrance.

  The gates guarding it felt archaic. Something that had stood the test of time.

  They responded not to touch or incantation—but to the will of the one who owned these lands.

  Reina stood before them, and her authority rippled through the stone like a memory too old to forget.

  A tremor moved through the ground. The runes carved into the white arch ignited one by one, flaring with ancient, sun-gold fire. The doors, from metallic turned to petrified bark of the Day Tree itself, creaked open.

  Warm light spilled out—not the heat of the sun, but something older, cleaner. Hans raised a hand to shield his eyes. It was nothing compared to the brightness they were already feeling in Shadow Lands but the sun itself.

  “This place,” she murmured, stepping in, “was once the heartbeat of the Elven realms. Before we began forgetting.”

  He followed, and the moment he crossed the threshold, the world changed. Even his own shadow was gone.

  The Holy Land was suspended in eternal midday. Pale blue skies stretched unbroken above, and the air was thick with a hum—not sound, but sensation. Magic, alive and ancient, coiled around everything like mist. Even the wind had a memory to it.

  At the heart of the plain, half-consumed by time and war, stood of what remained of World Tree of Day.

  Hans stopped walking. He could feel his heart clenching. “What’s happening to me?”

  It was like someone had gripped his heart tight and was forcing it not to beat.

  “I figured.” Reina came close. “Let the mana come inside without any filter. Don’t try to breathe and separate. Just let it consume you—”

  “But if—”

  “No, you are special. Your body is purer, untouched. Let it consume you. Let you consume it.”

  Fuck!

  Hans let go, and the mana of the World Tree devoured him like a beggar getting the first food of the month.

  He withered in pain first, but as his body started to get used to the light. He started to feel normal.

  “So there was the reason for your fast growth.” She pointed as he stood back on his feet. “Your body is closer to the first elves who walked these lands. The mana loves you.”

  “That’s so much of magic-mumble. Just say you are jealous.” Hans grinned, hiding his pain.

  “Can’t say. I’m not.” She smiled a little and then led his sight to the biggest thing there was.

  The most coveted thing in the world. Like the skeleton of a god—towering, scorched, broken in places. Its branches were bone-white, cracked and hollow, but still reaching upward. Golden leaves, long dead, floated in the air like ash that refused to fall.

  Hans looked where it was affixed. The roots, half-submerged into the crystalline lake beside it, pulsed with faint light. Water shimmered at their base, too clear to be real—like the sky had melted and pooled there.

  He could feel it in his teeth.

  “That’s the reason it’s never night here,” Reina said softly. “The Day Tree never died. Not fully. Its magic sustains this pocket of the world.”

  “Can a person create the same?” He asked, stepping closer, reverence showing in his strides. As a scene flashed from his past. The time when he once dreamed of Aadya, the goddess of Parv, to be in a place similar to this —like her own small world.

  “Not if they aren’t a god.” Reina clarified his doubts in an instant.

  “So much power,” he whispered, his mind showing signs of corruption.

  “Too much, if you aren’t ready for it.” She came, covering his eyes from behind. “Breathe in slowly and clear your mind. Don’t be greedy and only take what you can handle. Breathe.”

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  Hans blinked. Shaking off the thoughts.

  “See, we finished one of our objectives. You are only allowed to move into the spirit world if you enter holy lands before grade sixty.” She pointed, “Now we have done that. You must get ready to form a spirit contract.”

  “Point me in the direction then.” Hans looked here and there for an entrance.

  “Not so fast.” Reina stopped him. “How do you think an elf contracts a spirit?”

  “Dunno?” He scratched his head. “Should I just go and ask them flat. Wanna be my spirit or something along the lines. I’m not a man of too many emotions.”

  “No. You are supposed to fight them—”

  “A man of violence—I can manage that.”

  “But there is a problem, Theodred. A spirit is a powerful being. You can contract them after hitting grade sixty. You haven’t reached those numbers yet. That means, you’ll have another skill to fight them.”

  “You are reading my mind, teacher. Which one are you going to teach me?” Hans showed excitement.

  “Since you are on full offensive, a defensive skill will help you—it’s called Armis.”

  She drew her sword—not for battle, but to sketch in the air. Her blade traced a perfect circle. Aura poured from her fingertips like smoke caught in the wind. It twisted, rotated, hardened.

  “Your aura isn’t just something you burn. It can also be shaped. Directed.” She moved her palm forward, and the swirling sphere of energy hovered before her—thin at first, then faster, stronger. It turned into a rotating ring of sharp white light, humming with potential.

  Oh, this fucking thing. It deflected all my Seedbullets—

  “Count me in.” He became jolly, aiming to claim another one of her skills.

  “Listen first. Armis forms a shield around you—rotating, adaptive, elemental if you’re good at it. It deflects most attacks, magical or physical. But…”

  Hans tilted his head. “But?”

  “It drains you dry. Every second it’s active, your aura burns twice as fast. You can’t use it recklessly, or you’ll be a sitting duck.”

  Hans extended his palm. “And this is the last lesson before the Spirit World?”

  “It’s the first you’ll need to survive it.”

  She placed her hand over his. For a heartbeat, their auras met—his, wild and shifting; hers, disciplined and blisteringly bright.

  “Breathe,” she instructed.

  He closed his eyes. Focused. Reached inward—toward the current within him. The part of him that was Theodred, elf, steeped in the mana of this land.

  His aura flared to life.

  It whipped around him in sharp arcs, then wobbled, then tightened into a whirling disk. Sweat beaded on his brow. The barrier shimmered—a shell of rotating light, barely controlled.

  “I can feel it eating me,” he muttered.

  “Good. Now hold it. Shape it.”

  He tried.

  The sphere destabilised, broke in half, and flared out with a loud pop—sending him staggering back.

  Reina caught him by the collar.

  “Not bad,” she said. “For a first time.”

  He laughed bitterly. “You call that not bad?”

  “You didn’t explode. That’s a win.”

  “Wait, I can explode? Don’t you think putting a warning sign before teaching is the right thing?”

  She didn’t respond but helped him up, brushing dust from his cloak. “Now that you’ve tasted how fragile your aura can be, you’ll understand why you need a spirit contract.”

  She turned toward the lake.

  The crystalline surface rippled despite the lack of wind. In the water, faint shapes stirred—beasts, birds, shadows with eyes.

  “It’s a gate,” Reina said. “One-way in, one-way out. I can’t follow you past this point.”

  Hans stared at the water.

  “You’re not worried I’ll drown?”

  She raised a brow. “You’re an elf with a bloodline stronger than most of the council. You’ll get used to drowning.”

  “What? Drowning?” He couldn’t understand her words, and this started to happen since the beginning of their journey.

  She reached into the air and summoned a golden circle. Sigils lit up—older than any written language, flickering as they spiralled above the water.

  “When you’re inside, find the Swan Spirit. Contract it. Its aura-multiplication is stable, clean. It’s perfect for someone like us.”

  “Someone like us?”

  “Someone who uses a lot of aura for a simple skill execution.”

  Hans didn’t move.

  He looked at the gate again. He thought about his two selves—the one Reina saw, and the one he really was.

  The Swan’s great, he thought, if I always stayed like this. But I don’t.

  Reina’s eyes narrowed, not hearing his response.

  But Hans kept thinking. I switch forms, Human. Elf. My aura sure will increase. But when I turn back… I lose it. The Swan becomes useless.

  “Can’t I get another spirit? The swan—it mostly signifies House Clandor. I kinda—am not.”

  “If you don’t go for Swan, your rise as a knight would be no more than an hour’s disciple. Swan is crucial. As I said. Multiplication of aura.”

  Hans didn’t say much, neither did Reina force him.

  If I can keep my knight form for an hour, I’d be as destructible as possible. Let’s go for offence.

  “Think hard. Of what is of importance.” She said, and the magic circle glowed brighter. The lake turned silver.

  Reina hesitated, then lowered her hand. “You have until the gates close.”

  “What? Wait?” Hans hesitated. “I still didn’t master Armis—and what is the method of finding the spirit—”

  She looked at him, something unspoken flickering in her eyes. Then: “Good luck, Theodred.”

  “Good luck!” He doubted.

  And stepped into the lake.

  The water didn’t ripple. It swallowed him whole, light bending around his form like liquid glass.

  The Spirit World awaited in anticipation.