Chapter : The Festival of Blood and the Frost Chalice
Althea Magic Academy. Present (14 months after the expulsion)
The Althea Academy looked more radiant than ever under the afternoon sun, a celestial body that, in this corner of the world, seemed to shine with a protective intensity. The hanging gardens, suspended by complex levitation spells, erupted in a symphony of colors that defied nature: crystal flowers refracting light into perpetual rainbows, mana butterflies leaving trails of sparkling dust in their wake, and holy water fountains intoning crystalline melodies as they fell. The air, thick and sweet, smelled of jasmine and the pure magic that first-year students practiced in the meadows, creating small colored clouds that floated lazily before dissolving.
In the midst of this paradise of peace and privilege, Charlotte sat on a white marble bench under the Great Sacred Oak. The rustle of the tree’s leaves, imbued with ancient wisdom, seemed to want to warn her of something, but she was absorbed.
She held the sixth letter between her fingers, but this time she did not caress it with the same lightness. There was something deeply unsettling about this parchment that contrasted violently with the delicacy of the surroundings; the paper was neither soft nor flexible, but heavy, rigid, and rough, with the characteristic texture of material that had been forcibly soaked and dried under deplorable conditions. Along the edges, black and charred burn marks were visible, traces of a voracious fire that had come within millimeters of consuming the message. However, upon opening it, William’s calligraphy unfolded before her with a triumphant, almost euphoric beauty, completely ignoring the agonizing state of the paper that carried it.
[Fragment of Letter 6]
Date: A month and a half after arriving in Xitalia.
«Charlotte, my sister! I wish you could have been here to witness it with me. I have participated in the most magnificent festival my eyes have ever seen in all our lands, eclipsing any gala we ever experienced in the Empire. They call it the "Festival of Stellar Renewal."
At the highest point of the night, the sky of Xitalia turned a deep, electric violet; suddenly, the darkness was filled with explosions of white light, bursts so bright they looked like stars that had decided to descend to earth to dance among us. Each blast was like a cry of pure joy that illuminated the faces of everyone present with a divine glow.
I was invited by the locals to participate in a competition of skill and, after a series of challenges that tested my elegance and speed, I managed to claim the grand prize. They awarded me the "Chalice of Rebirth," water so pure and charged with ancestral energy that, upon drinking it, I felt every fiber of my being renewed from within. There was a moment of great emotion when the festival’s grand central monument seemed to come to life under the fireworks; a trick of light and shadow so marvelous it left the entire crowd breathless. In the end, to celebrate the victory, I decided to take a night swim in the sacred lake under that rain of eternal lights. I feel the rebirth, Charlotte. Finally, the burden is gone.»
The Reality: 13 months ago. The Heart of the Transcendent’s Lake
The air was not "stellar violet"; it was a thick, putrid, and suffocating mist of corrupt mana and fungal toxins that burned my eyes even through the cloth protection I wore. Every breath felt like inhaling hot needles. Before me, the Transcendent’s Lake stretched out like a mirror of purple poison, its heavy waters, dense as mercury, barely moving under the weight of the charged atmosphere.
In the center, the remains of the ancient giant—a being who in the game’s legends had reached the pinnacle of power before falling in the War of Commotion—protruded from the water like a mountain of rotting ivory, wrapped in a white fungal cocoon that throbbed with a wet, rhythmic, and disgusting sound, like a heart refusing to stop beating after centuries of death.
—I wonder... how the hell did they kill this thing in the first place? —I whispered to myself, feeling the metallic taste of rust and bile flood my mouth.
As my boots sank into the toxic mud of the shore, the ground itself seemed to protest with an organic squelch, as if I were stepping on flesh instead of earth. From the depths of the white undergrowth and dead trunks, the Plague Guardians emerged by the dozens. But this time they did not come to fight in a conventional way. The central fungus, that collective intelligence that sensed my proximity to the core like an antibody detects a virus, had decided that I was not an opponent worthy of a sword battle, but a pest to be exterminated by chemical saturation.
—Shit... —my voice cracked as I saw the first guardians run toward me with suicidal speed, their joints creaking and snapping under the pressure of the hyphae controlling them.
Their bodies were horribly swollen by fungal growth; the skin was stretched to the point of rupture, showing pulsing white veins with unbearable internal pressure. They did not wield weapons; they themselves were the weapon. The first guardian reached within a few meters of me. His eyes, completely white and devoid of any trace of humanity, burst outward just before his entire torso dilated unnaturally.
BOOM!
It was not a firework. It was an explosion of acidic gas, scalding pressurized spores, and shrapnel of rotting bone. I activated Ghost Steps out of pure survival instinct, feeling my body turn ethereal and faint just in time for the shockwave to pass through me without shredding my internal organs. But the technique, even at its Introduction level, consumed my physical energy reserves at an alarming rate under the weight of the chains.
One after another, the guardians began to detonate in a procession of death. They were the "explosions of white light" I would describe to Charlotte; each blast launched millions of incandescent spores into the air, creating a chain reaction that consumed the oxygen in the area. I had to move like lightning, jumping over smoldering remains and dodging armor fragments that flew like ballistic projectiles.
I finally reached the base of the Transcendent, my uniform burned, shreds of cloth stuck to my skin, and my arms covered in painful blisters. According to the knowledge I had of the game, the Transcendent’s corpse was simply a container, a static object that served as a nest. But then, something occurred that was in no record, an anomaly of this world that was not a game: a deafening crack shook the entire lake.
The giant’s skeletal hand, submerged for centuries, rose from the water, causing a tsunami of purple mud that nearly dragged me into the depths. The white cocoon wrapping his chest tore with the sound of old fabric ripping, revealing a core of red energy that pulsed as if made of pure molten lava.
—Why is it moving?! —I roared, as the Cursed Chains sank into my shoulders with such force I felt my collarbones on the brink of fracturing. The Goddess’s curse was reacting with blind fury at the presence of a trace of ancient divinity in the Transcendent.
The giant began to turn his massive torso toward me. It was not a fluid movement; it was the tectonic screech of ship-sized bones grinding against each other. As he raised his empty skull, the fungus parasitizing him channeled the core’s energy and fired a beam of concentrated mana that instantly vaporized the forest I had just crossed.
I was alone, mana did not flow through my blocked channels, and I was facing a dead deity controlled by an intelligent infection.
—As long as you’re a plant... fire will be enough to finish you —I said, taking out the small vial of volatile alchemical oil, a Copper-rank and Perfect-quality mixture I had saved for an extreme emergency.
The spores in the air were highly flammable if the critical temperature was reached. I ran toward the giant’s arm as it descended to crush me like an insect. I used Ghost Steps to glide over the smooth, vertical bone, ascending toward his shoulder while avoiding the white tendrils sprouting from his bony pores to catch me.
Reaching the neck, I saw the heart of the infection: a bulbous, crimson mass pumping mana into the giant’s core. I took my sword, wrapped the notched blade in the oil-soaked rag, and pulled out my flint. A single strike of metal against metal was enough to unleash hell.
The fire spread instantaneously, fueled by the dense cloud of environmental spores. The explosion was magnificent and terrifying. The fungus burned with a bluish, electric flame. The giant emitted a vibrational wail, a voiceless sound that made the lake water boil. The fire reacted with the loose spores in the air and, like a flour mill explosion, the entire atmosphere ignited, violently hurling me through the air toward the center of the lake.
I felt a searing heat enveloping my body; the water was boiling due to the sudden release of energy. I tried to swim to the surface, but a sharp pain ran through every pore. The water was filling me, but it was no ordinary water; it was ancestral mana distilled over centuries. I realized this lake was not a geographical accident, but the byproduct of divine decomposition. I needed to move; I felt my mana channels swelling from the energy's osmotic pressure. My clothes were so tight I felt my skin was going to burst.
With a superhuman effort, I managed to reach the surface. The air smelled of smoke and ozone. The explosion had taken care of all the nearby guardians. The giant was collapsed; only his head protruded above the level of the boiling water. I had to submerge again, this time by my own will, to reach the chest cavity.
I climbed up his ribs and reached the hollow of his sternum, where the water came up to my waist. I jumped directly into the chest cavity, the sanctuary where the Essence of the Transcendent resided. I broke the last fibrous wall with the pommel of my broken sword; it felt like breaking sacred glass. A dense, viscous, and glowing liquid like lava began to flow. It was purified mana, the blood of a god. Without hesitation, I dipped my hands in it and drank.
The pain was indescribable. It was like swallowing a living star. The giant’s ignited mana, of the Fire/Earth attribute, clashed violently with my internal nature. It is a terrible idea to remember now that my original affinity is of the Water attribute.
The Cursed Chains shone with a blinding white light, trying to contain the pressure of the assimilated essence, but the flow was too vast. I felt the mana pathways of my body cracking. My affinity, blocked by the Goddess, began to force its way out through my pores, mixing with my own blood in a dance of steam and agony. The chains resisted, absorbing massive amounts of energy to keep from breaking, becoming incandescent against my skin.
Just a bit more... a bit more and I’ll be able to use this object at will. But the essence is running out. How great is the absorption capacity of these damned chains?!
With no other choice to cool my core, I threw myself back into the depths of the lake. I sank into the purple water, letting the absolute cold of the bottom extinguish the fire consuming my skin. Unlike before, now the water felt icy, almost comforting. There, in the total darkness of the bottom, surrounded by the remains of a god and the ashes of a plague, I felt my body transforming at a molecular level. William, the arrogant villain of the Academy, no longer existed. Filian was being born in the agony of rebirth.
Before my senses shut down from the shock of the assimilated mana, I saw a small parchment cylinder I had previously prepared with a float spell—my "insurance policy" in case I didn't survive—escape my weakened fingers.
I watched it rise slowly toward the diffused light of the surface, carrying with it the final lie of the festival that could have been my life: "The water is delicious, Charlotte. I feel that I have finally taken a great weight off my shoulders...".
I sank toward the bottom, letting the silence reclaim me as I took the first step to take control of my destiny again. The first DLC was over, and the prize was my own resurrection in a sea of purple pain.
