When Magic Bleeds: Rise of the Mana Champion

The sky was still pale when Kael tightened the last strap on the saddle, the worn leather creaking under his fingers. Morning mist dragged low along the ground, slithering between roots and herbs around Sylrlien's tent like a half-forgotten dream.

Elion was nearby, adjusting the cloak on his shoulders, his silver-blond hair damp with dew. The horse—calmer now, as if the chaos of the previous day had been just a distant memory—snorted softly, letting Kael fasten the bags to its flank with little resistance.

They worked in silence. There was a rhythm to their movements, practiced on many mornings like this one: fastening gear, counting supplies, shaking the cold from their shoulders.

As they rounded the tent, Nymeria was already waiting.

The green-haired girl stood barefoot on the grass, a small satchel slung across her shoulder. Her expression was firmer that morning, focused. Less shy, more determined—like someone who had spent the night speaking to the forest and returned with answers.

"We should leave now," she said, voice steady. "The sooner we leave, the sooner we're back. The forest ahead waits for no one."

Elion stretched lightly, letting out a sigh like someone stepping out of a temple after prayer.

"Ah…" he said solemnly. "Those who rush eat hot… and burn their tongues in the process."

Kael rolled his eyes as he adjusted the bandage on his arm.

"That's not even a saying. It's just: 'Whoever's in a rush eats hot and gets burned.'"

Elion shrugged calmly.

Kael let out a half-smile. Nymeria blinked, unsure whether to be confused or amused.

Behind them, Sylrlien's voice echoed softly from inside the tent, muffled by layers of hanging herbs and dried roots.

"Stay on the western path until the mist thickens. Then turn north. The sanctuary listens to those who know how to listen."

Nymeria nodded silently, then gave a small tilt of her head, calling them forward.

Kael glanced at Elion. Elion returned the smallest of nods.

And so they walked into the forest—three figures and a white horse, vanishing beneath a canopy where sunlight no longer touched the ground.

Sunrays filtered through the dense canopy, casting golden beams onto the damp trail. The vegetation there seemed to breathe with them—every leaf, every root, pulsing with contained energy, as if the forest listened more than it spoke.

Kael walked with his eyes on the path, but his thoughts wandered. After a while in silence, he finally spoke:

"You know… it's strange. After everything that happened yesterday… the elves in the clearing just let us through. Not a single question, not a single arrow pointed. Nothing."

Nymeria, walking ahead, paused for a second to push aside a vine before replying, without turning around:

"Elves don't judge people by where they've been. Only by what they carry when they arrive."

Kael raised an eyebrow, but no reply came to his lips.

Elion, behind him, let out a quiet chuckle—brief, almost silent, as if amused by Kael's expression.

"What?" Kael glanced over his shoulder.

"Nothing…" said Elion, still smiling with that enigmatic glint in his eyes. "Sometimes silence is worth more than any blade."

Kael snorted and kept walking.

The walk continued quietly for some time, only the sounds of the forest accompanying their steps—the birdsong, the rustle of leaves, and the soft jingling of travel gear swaying with the horse's gait.

No ambushes. No beasts lurking in the shadows. Only the sound of the world breathing.

When the trail finally opened, revealing a small clearing surrounded by ancient trees, Nymeria stopped.

"We're here."

The place seemed forgotten by time. Moss-covered stones formed a half-crumbled arch in the back, once an ornate entrance. Grown between cracks in the stone floor, the sanctuary looked more like a living extension of the forest than a construction.

Kael observed in silence, his eyes tracing every detail worn down by the ages. There was something reverent there, as if even the birds lowered their songs when approaching the place.

Nymeria knelt beside a gnarled tree, brushed aside some dry leaves, and began carefully searching. Moments later, she lifted a small root with pale petals and a soft golden glow at its edges.

"Nerithil root," she said softly, as if the name itself demanded respect. "Still fresh."

She harvested two more with care, brushed the soil from them with her fingers, and tucked them into the leather pouch at her waist.

Kael, hands on his hips, leaned in slightly to observe.

"So that's it? One of the ingredients for the potion?"

Nymeria nodded with a small smile.

After tucking the roots away, she stood up, brushing dust from her hands.

"We have what we need. Let's head back before it gets dark."

Elion glanced up through the treetops, where the golden light of dusk was beginning to filter through. He nodded silently, and the group began their return, following the same path they came by.

The return was just as calm as the way in—the leaves whispering in the wind, the sound of their steps muffled by the soft earth, the horse following at a steady pace.

Kael, walking with his hands behind his head, let out a long sigh.

"You know… that was way too easy. No creatures trying to rip our legs off, no ancient curses, no thorn that makes your blood sing an elvish tune before killing you…"

Elion let out a nasal laugh, while Nymeria kept her eyes forward, impassive.

"Sorry to disappoint," she said with her usual dry tone, though one corner of her mouth was ever so slightly lifted. "Next time, I can ask the forest to prepare something more exciting."

Kael smiled.

"Please do. A bit of chaos now and then keeps the heart strong."

"And the ego bruised," added Elion, with that calm but sharp tone.

Kael raised an eyebrow, pretending to be offended, but ended up laughing along.

And so they walked on, between quiet jokes and calm steps, back toward Hollowrest, with the first piece of the potion in hand.