CHAPTER 1089: GROWING

Arty had learned so much in just a few days that even Sylmira, who rarely found herself surprised, could not hide her astonishment.

She had always assumed Arty’s strength lay purely in combat with her natural control over elemental Magic, her raw power, and her sharp instincts in battle.

But when Sylmira began giving her advanced materials on theoretical Magic — things that required patience, precision, and a scholar’s focus — she realized how wrong she had been.

Arty didn’t just memorize what she read but she absorbed it. Once Sylmira translated the more complex portions of the ancient tomes Arty’s eyes lit up with understanding. Within hours she was already experimenting by tracing runic formations, testing Magical resonance, and understanding the design in old diagrams with frightening accuracy.

At the first time she realized that, Sylmira found herself with quiet disbelief.

"This shouldn’t be possible," she thought a few days ago. She could understand how Arty inherited a powerful Magic flow from her brother who is the Dragonborn and it influenced her with immense energy that was enough to strengthen anyone touched by it.

But this was something else. This was intellect, intuition, and affinity for delicate Magical construction. These were the things that couldn’t simply be inherited through power. Understanding barrier creation, Magic imbuement, and diagrammatic arrays were fields that demanded years of study.

Yet Arty grasped them as if she had done so her whole life.

Still, Sylmira didn’t question it too much. Whatever the reason behind Arty’s gift it was a blessing they desperately needed. In a time where every moment counted, a brilliant mind was as valuable as an army.

Now the chamber was filled with motion and light. Sheets of parchment and runic slates floated above the tables, while dozens of glowing quills traced complex Magical diagrams across them.

Sylmira stood on one side while carefully adjusting the lines of a warding formation meant to repel necromantic influence, while Arty mirrored her movements on another table, drawing runes meant for weapon imbuement.

The air shimmered with Magic energy. Sparks of it arced between quills as if the room itself was alive and thinking with them.

Arty’s hands moved swiftly to inscribe patterns of radiant circles within a blade diagram, her brow furrowed in concentration.

"If we align the barrier threads here," she said, pointing at one junction, "we can stabilize the energy transfer and prevent Magical exhaustion for at least a few hours longer, right?"

Sylmira glanced over, her expression unreadable for a moment before she smiled faintly. "Yes... that would actually work. You caught that flaw faster than I imagined."

Arty looked up, a hint of pride mixing with modesty. "I just followed the energy flow while reading the runes, just like you taught me."

"Instinct and analysis," Sylmira murmured. "That’s a rare combination."

Their work continued for several more hours. The table soon filled with intricate blueprints.

These blueprints were the designs for armor that could withstand necrotic decay, weapons that could channel leyline energy safely, and relay amplifiers to strengthen communication between distant outposts.

—

The next place Erend and Aesa visited wasn’t part of the material world. It was the dimension of Thar’Zul-Vekar, the once-corrupted Forest God whose power had been twisted after their world was destroyed so that they harbor so much pain and rage.

This was the realm where a Dragonborn, long ago, had been manipulated into annihilating all life and thus creating this rageful forest god.

The moment they crossed the threshold, the air grew heavy and thick, and the light from the material world vanished behind them.

Darkness expanded in every direction. The ground beneath their feet was blackened and cracked and the sky hung low and swirling with deep crimson clouds that pulsed like living wounds above them.

But unlike before, there was change. The last time Erend and Eccar had stood here, the land had been barren like a graveyard of ash and silence. Now, faint signs of rebirth stretched across the wasteland.

Dozens, maybe hundreds, of trees had risen where only bones and stone once lay.

They were far from healthy. Their trunks were dark and twisted, their bark split with glowing veins of brownish gold, and their leaves carried the color of brown instead of green. Yet despite their appearance they were alive. Faint life energy pulsed through their roots, breathing against the lifeless soil.

Erend stopped, letting his gaze wander.

"It’s changing," he said quietly. "Thar’Zul-Vekar is rebuilding this place."

Aesa looked around, grimacing at the withered landscape. Dust clung to her boots as the smell of death drifted on the wind.

"What is this place?" she asked, her voice tense. "It feels wrong... like the land itself is still screaming."

"This," Erend replied, his tone low, "is the world a Dragonborn destroyed long ago."

Aesa’s eyes flicked toward him, understanding dawning.

"Ah," she muttered, nodding once. She had heard this story from Krono about how a Dragonborn who was consumed and manipulated by forces he couldn’t resist, had turned his power on this realm and burned it into ruin. Even for her, the thought was chilling.

She sighed slowly, her blue eyes scanning the horizon where the brown-leafed trees stretched toward the blood-red sky.

"To think one of us could fall that far..." she whispered.

Erend said nothing for a moment. His gaze lingered on the trees that struggled to survive in this broken world.

"Even in ruin, Thar’Zul-Vekar refuses to let it just die. They’re still fighting to heal what was lost." he thought.

The god’s presence could be faintly felt in the air even now. A vast silent will moving beneath the soil, pushing life upward through decay. It wasn’t masculine or feminine, just an ancient essence of nature, stubbornly clinging to existence.

"Thar’Zul-Vekar’s will is pretty strong, right?" Erend finally said. "They’re trying to return this land to what it once was. It won’t be easy... but they haven’t given up."

Aesa folded her arms, the faintest trace of awe flickering behind her expression.

"Yes. I can feel it," she murmured.

Erend nodded. "We have to make sure that something like this won’t happen again."

At that moment, a presence came at them from the trees.

—