The Fourth Founder-An Age of Adepts SI

In addition to the murderous plant-shaped lifeforms, muddy ponds of varying sizes littered the grounds further away from the trail, their rotten stench the reason for Greem's current frown.

Even though he had picked up multiple scents since beginning this journey, he didn't experience any difficulty singling each one out while maintaining alertness.

This did not mean he enjoyed the experience however.

His heightened olfactory sense made it seem as though he was at the edge of one of the ponds, greedily gulping in the fetid fumes that rose from its surface.

It left a revolting taste in his mouth, and it took him exerting control over his stomach to keep its contents in place.

Should he wish it, a simple thought would dull or outright disable his olfactory receptors, but Greem decided against it.

While the input to his eyes, nose, ears and fully extended Spirit painted a crystal clear picture of his immediate surroundings, the ponds were further back, partially out of his range.

If one of the creatures hiding beneath the brown waters decided to choose him as lunch, his nose would detect them the moment they breached the surface.

These creatures didn't shower after all. The sudden spike in pungent fumes would instantly alert him to the danger.

So with grim determination, he soldiered on, picking up the thick scent of blood a few minutes after he entered the fog.

He came to a stop as his gaze was instantly drawn to the source: a short, plain looking tree with green vines hanging on its branches.

He zeroed in on the crimson soil beneath the demonic plant, recognising why the bloody scent had the aroma of earth intermixed with it. 'A Killer Tree… and my first task.'

Killer Trees, as the name explained, were plants that facilitated the demise of any creature foolish or oblivious enough to enter the range of their branches.

When this unfortunate person or animal wandered close enough to them, these seemingly lifeless trees would spring to action.

Their hard and stationary branches would suddenly gain the flexibility and strength of human limbs, grabbing and holding their prey tight. As the unlucky creature struggled to escape, the Demon Rattans which always hung limply on the branches would then make their move.

They would coil themselves tightly around the immobilized prey, digging the numerous thorns along their length into its flesh to suck out the fresh blood.

Once the prey was completely drained of their vital fluids, the rattans would drop the dried husk at the base of the tree, the withered flesh and bones becoming premium fertilizer for it.

Apart from the blood-red soil, no evidence of this horrifying reality could be deduced at a glance.

There were no visible remains near the tree, not even a bone peeking out of the soil. Any corpses dropped by the rattans were always buried in the ground by the tree's prehensile roots.

These demonic plants, despite their vicious and bloodthirsty natures, were groomed for two reasons.

One, they served as security against the intrusion of humans. Two, they used the "resources" they extracted from captured prey to produce unique magical materials.

The roots of the Killer Tree and the blood sacks that grew within the bodies of the Demon Rattans were good supplements for adepts with weak bodies. Greem's job here was to harvest these items, at least one of them, and the risks were just as you might imagine.

Before he could even begin the task, the danger around him had spiked in the short time he'd taken to observe the devious plants.

Probably because he'd gone stationary, the demonic plants and creatures had gotten a proper whiff of his tasty flesh and vibrant blood, causing his surroundings to grow more lively.

The plants lining the trail started to wriggle around, moving their bodies, branches and roots towards his position. Greem treated their desperate actions fueled by their mostly instinct like air.

No matter how brazen or starved they were, they would never venture onto the stony trail.

It was their kryptonite.

Instead, he directed his attention toward a group of Scavenger Crows cawing as they landed on various trees nearby, their crimson eyes gawking at Greem with unusual intelligence.

These birds were low on the totem pole in this swamp, but they possessed an ability that made them a nightmare for apprentices. They could rob the sight of any unsuspecting person with this ability and pounce on them with their sharp claws and beaks.

Even from his distant position, Greem didn't fail to notice the tiny micromovements of the crows.

To the untrained or inexperienced eye, the bastards were simple observers, but he knew for a fact they were itching to attack.

The muscles they used to flap their wings were stretched taut, ready to unfurl like springs and propel them towards him. They were just waiting for him to look away or slip up.

Keeping his knowing gaze fixed on, funnily enough, "the murder of crows," he held up his right arm and chanted the Burning Hand's incantations in a low voice.

Four seconds later, a glove of orange flames, the size of a baseball mitt, enveloped his right hand harmlessly and heated up the immediate surroundings.

The magical, high-temperature flames lit up like a mini sun in the desolate swamp, brightening his cold gaze obscured by the hood and evaporating the nearby fog.

The demonic plants, being creatures of mostly instinct, were very sensitive when it came to threats and magic.

The powerful ripples generated by the congregation of fire elementium were like multiple loudspeakers blasting alerts of danger right into their souls.

With great terror striking at them like lightning, the nascent gathering of creatures was disrupted in an instant.

These demons masquerading as colorful vegetation scurried away even faster than they came, their panic manifesting as wild scrambles and low, sharp screeches. Same went for the group of crows.

They received the message as well and flew into the sky with loud caws, wheeling about before disappearing into the depths of the fog.

Satisfied at the sight, Greem exhaled a thick white mist and jumped off the trail.

He knelt down at the foot of the Killer Tree, suppressing his disgust at the fetid and bloody stench rushing into his nostrils in unimpeded waves.

Focusing on the roots of the tree, he determined the spot where the stench was thickest and compressed the freely flowing flames in his palm, pressing it against the singled out location.

The smell of burnt wood eased his suffering a bit but did nothing to speed up the task's completion.

It took too long for the thick root to burn, giving the fearless vines enough time to inch closer and closer to his crouched form.

Their creeping movements failed to escape his notice, but he remained focused on the stubborn root since he wanted to finish this once and for all.

By the time he got through to what he came for, the demonic vines had lowered themselves enough to touch the ground. They were a few seconds away from completely surrounding him.

His fear effectively muted, he remained calm and took out a small knife, harvesting three of the pulpy root nodes entangled between the pale white bones and hairy tree roots.

He did it with methodical precision, his actions swift and controlled as he used only two cuts to secure the targets of his assignment.

By the time they were safely tucked in his waist pouch, the rattans had completed their entrapment and he had finished casting the Burning Hand once more.

Since he was too low for the Killer Tree's deceptive branches, the rattans had taken the matter of obtaining the food into their own hands.

Still with the cold and robot-like demeanor, he shot to his feet and equipped the knife in his flame wreathed hand, compressing the gathered fire elementium on its blade.

This heated the blade up to over a hundred degrees as he raised it up high, engaged the muscles in his whole body, and swung down.

Testament to this godlike physical control, these seemingly lengthy preparations took Greem less than a second to complete.

The instant his hand went up was the instant it descended, tracing a curved, crimson flash that sliced through the net of vines facing him, splitting most of them in two or three parts.

Ignoring everything but the opened path, he channeled every ounce of strength into his legs and leapt through the disordered mass of blood and writhing and flailing tendrils.

He landed on the stony trail in one fluid motion, his black robe smeared and stained with blood in various places.

Flexing the control that was quickly becoming second nature, he calmed his slightly racing heart in moments, loosened the muscles in his body, and dispersed the Burning Hand.

After a quick scan of himself, he detected no problems and found his energy levels seconds away from being restored.

Pleased with that, he shifted his focus to the items he'd just risked his life for.

After examining them and finding no damages, he wiped the cooling knife clean on his cloak, sheathed it and resumed the inspection trip.

 ☀☀☀

​

The landscape surrounding the Adept tower was complicated and dangerous by design.

Not only was the presence of the demonic creatures intentional, their distribution throughout the swamp had been executed in a methodical manner.

The various habitats had been arranged in a perfect circle around the tower, forming a lethal but secure inner boundary.

A fixed route that went through most of the demon infested areas-the stony trail lined with white stones-had been created to allow the conduction of inspection trips effectively.

To maximize efficiency and save time, the inspections were always assigned to pairs of apprentices. One traveled clockwise while the other went counterclockwise, each of them taking half of the ring.

When an apprentice reached where his or her partner started on the trail, their task would be marked as complete.

That's why after completing his half of the death circuit, Greem emerged from the fog at the spot where Tony disappeared.

Even before he stepped out of the chilling mist, he detected the latter's exhausted presence, fading dread intermixed with sweat wafting off him in dense waves.

Greem's route took him through the haunting grove of Killer Trees, the unsettling field of Human Faced Mushrooms, the cursed Garden of Whispers, and other equally hazardous areas.

Tony's route featured different creatures such as Giant Alligators and Parasitic Bug Queens, but it was no less life threatening.

When Greem finally exited the fog and set eyes on his fellow apprentice, he noticed the light tremors that assailed his body.

Tony's mental state was anything but firm at this moment, a reality he failed to conceal behind his cold expression and crossed arms.

The stress of the recent trip still weighed heavily on him, and his efforts to project the opposite image were rendered futile in front of Greem's sharp senses.

When Tony saw him, his expression and demeanor remained the same. However, Greem still picked up the subtle signs of relief from his partner, his own internal state mirroring this sentiment.

Though they weren't friends, merely familiar acquaintances, he was glad that Tony survived. The duo locked eyes for a second and exchanged nods before heading back into the tower.

When the noisy stone door began to close behind them, they proceeded towards a new but familiar face on the first floor, the apprentice leader, Anksorus.

They submitted the harvested items to him and received their payments, along with the next six days off.

Tony immediately rushed back to his room, eager to throw himself into the embrace of slumber and forget the ordeal he had just endured.

Greem gripped his magical talisman—the token of his identity as an apprentice of this tower—and the small pouch of gold coins, weighing the latter as he revisited the brainstorming session he had earlier this morning: formulating a style of combat that suited him and his talents.