[Araki's POV]
The quiet was heavy.
Not the peaceful kind—more like the kind that creeps into a room after someone drops a bombshell and walks away.
And in full honesty, it's not inaccurate.
Zek, Orin, and I sat around one of the old tables in the underground common room. The walls glowed softly with built-in enchantments, and the faint scent of dried herbs drifted from the far corner where Ms. Cottonflower worked at an alchemy lab, quietly crushing something in a mortar. She hadn't said a word since we got out of here.
None of us had.
Not until now.
"...Do you guys think Jack was telling the truth?" Orin asked, voice low, like he was afraid saying it out loud would somehow make it real.
I didn't answer.
Not because I didn't have anything to say, but because I didn't want to say it.
Zek shifted in his seat and finally spoke. "Yeah. I do."
Orin looked at him, eyebrows raised.
Zek sighed. "I've been reading some of the older books in the library. The ones buried at the bottom shelves and hidden in the back. Lots of old religions, weird cults, stories people don't bother with anymore. There's… stuff in there. References. Patterns. Not proof, but enough to make you wonder."
Orin nodded slowly. "Okay. But would a god really try to take over someone's body?"
I frowned and finally shrugged. "Aren't gods supposed to be all-powerful or something? Why would they need to do that?"
Zek shook his head. "The three known gods don't seem to have that kind of power. I mean... look at history. The dwarven god just stays in their mountain, almost nothing is known about the ocean god, not even their name, and The Holy Kingdom's—who worships the sun god—has been launching subjugation missions against beastfolk for centuries. If the Sun God was all-powerful..." He trailed off.
"Why not just do it himself?" I finished for him.
"Exactly."
Zek leaned forward slightly, eyes flicking toward the floor like he was drawing the events out of memory. "Two hundred years ago, during the Demon Horde invasion of the Holy Kingdom, the Kingdom almost fell. Their armies were wiped out, and cities were burned. If So—"
Clink.
The sound was soft but sharp.
Ms. Cottonflower didn't even look up from her herbs.
"Don't say that name in my presence," she said quietly. Calmly.
We all turned to look at her.
She hadn't even flinched. But her voice? Cold.
Zek blinked. "Sorry… I didn't think you could hear us."
Her smile didn't reach her eyes. "I'm old, not deaf."
We stared for a beat longer, trying to process that, before Zek coughed awkwardly and continued.
"The Sun God, then. If he was really so powerful, why hide? Why work through others? Why let his so-called chosen people get slaughtered and enslaved?"
I nodded slowly. That… did make sense. Even if I didn't want it to.
Orin tapped his fingers against the table. "Jack said gods have limits. That they're strong, but bound by something. Rules. Maybe they can't get directly involved."
Zek glanced at him. "That… would explain a lot."
I let out a slow breath. "Okay. But if they have limits, how do we know what those limits are? What if this god—whatever it is—decides to stop holding back?"
They didn't have an answer.
None of us did.
"...So what do we do?" I asked, trying to keep the frustration out of my voice. "It's not like we can fight a god."
Orin and Zek exchanged a look.
Zek exhaled. "You're not wrong. But… Jack seems confident. That has to count for something, right?"
I slammed my fist against the table. Not hard. Just enough.
"Confident?! Against a god?!"
Zek didn't answer. He didn't need to. Because I wasn't really asking him—I was yelling at the world.
Ms. Cottonflower's voice floated across the room again.
"Ark was only injured."
We turned toward her.
She was still working on the herbs, calm as ever.
"If the god inside Aaron truly wanted you all dead… it would've killed you. But it didn't. It could've—and it chose not to."
Zek frowned. "So you're saying it held back?"
She nodded once. "Yes. Not out of mercy. Out of design."
She wiped her hands on a cloth and stood up, still not looking at us.
"The god wants Aaron to break. To think he killed his friends. That would destroy what's left of his will. That's how possession wins—not with violence, but with despair."
Her words hit like cold water.
Orin's shoulders sank.
Zek muttered, "Then… the attack wasn't a failure. It was a test."
I sat back, staring at nothing.
A god is planning its moves.
Manipulating Aaron.
Using us.
Zek turned toward Ms. Cottonflower, his expression sharp. "Then what happens now?"
But before he could finish, something shifted.
The mana in the room buzzed—barely. But I felt it.
Zek's eyes darted to the doorway.
I stood up instantly, fists clenched. "Jack."
The energy was subtle, but tense. Like a storm gathering behind closed walls.
Ms. Cottonflower stepped forward.
She picked up a small vial from the table, the liquid inside glowing faintly pink, and began walking toward the other room.
"Stay here," she said gently. "We will handle it."
She opened the door.
And vanished behind it.
We stared.
But none of us moved.
We couldn't.
The weight in the air had changed.
And deep down, I think we all knew—
Something was happening.
Something big.
~~~~~~~~
[Jack's POV]
"Shit shit shit shit shit!" I said, panicked.
My hands tore through the bandages, stained with blood.
Spirit magic flickered along my fingertips as I peeled away the last layer, revealing the truth underneath.
The good thing is that the wound on Ark's leg had mostly closed up and healed, likely thanks to a healing factor from him being a werewolf.
But that didn't matter.
Because crawling up from the wound were black vein-like markings, twisting and pulsing with shadow magic.
Ark's breath hitched. His chest rose and fell faster, shallow. Thankfully, with Lavender, he was asleep, but I wasn't sure if it would affect him.
I looked at Lavender and said, "Keep him asleep."
Her mist form nodded without a word and settled across his forehead again, shimmering with pale purple light.
I didn't wait.
I pushed more spiritual energy into the wound, not with force, but precision—threads of silver light weaving through the corrupted lines. They burned on contact, and the black magic recoiled with a hiss like oil in water.
The spread stopped, held back by me, but I was stuck.
Thankfully, the shadow underestimated how strong I was. If not, I could only slow it down.
'You underestimated me, bastard,' I thought.
My focus sharpened, hands glowing faintly with silver-blue fire as I worked to contain the damage.
Then—
*Click.*
The door opened.
I didn't turn.
"Are you here to help," I said quietly, "or to cause problems?"
A soft chuckle echoed behind me. Female. Calm. Amused.
"I'm here to help, of course. But we'll need to move fast if you want to save him."
Footsteps.
I backed up slightly, hands still hovering over Ark.. No trust yet. Not until I knew what she truly wanted.
A young woman stepped into view—tall, graceful, dressed in flowing robes laced with green accents and sparkling cloth that shimmered like dew in sunlight. Her long, light-green hair swayed gently with each step, her pointed ears unmistakable. Vines flowed around her.
A dryad.
But more than that… an aura of healing and old magic flowed from her. The kind that nurtures. The kind that guards.
The kind that chooses.
She knelt by Ark without asking, placing both hands gently on his leg.
Gold and green light swirled around her palms. The dark veins recoiled instantly, and the wound… it responded.
The shadows pulled back. Ark's breathing eased.
I let out a breath of my own and slowly withdrew my magic.
She stayed there a moment longer, pulsing soft waves of cleansing energy into him.
Then, silence.
The wound was gone.
Not a scar. Not a mark.
Gone.
I sat down on the nearest chair, chest tight from the tension, leaving me all at once.
"Now," I said slowly, "can you explain why a dryad would pretend to be an old woman taking care of a greenhouse in an academy that killed several of her sisters during its construction?"
She smiled.
Didn't sit in a chair. Just crossed her legs mid-air like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"Because I don't blame the current students for the sins of men 180 years gone," she said. "Those responsible were… dealt with. One of the previous headmasters, one far more reasonable than the current one, offered me sanctuary. In exchange, I taught the children about the plants they step over without care."
Her smile softened—sad, but warm. "I remember my sisters. I honour them. But I will not chain myself to grief and vanish into bitterness. I grow new roots. I tend to what still lives."
"And the students?"
"I care for them. Most are harmless. Some…" she tilted her head toward the door, "...have potential. I guide what I can."
I nodded slowly, mind racing, but tone calm. "What are your intentions with me and Ark?"
She looked toward Willow, who floated nearby.
"I intend to help where I can. I am not as strong as I used to be, but that doesn't mean I can't defend myself.
Truthfully, I have no intentions for with you or Ark. Instead, I'd like to assist the nature fairy with her evolution. She's close, and I can offer what she needs."
Willow blinked, startled. Then nodded. "I'd like that. Dryads are… good at that kind of thing. She is bound by the old rules to help nature grow."
I sighed and glanced back at her. "Fine. I don't object."
Her face softened further. Then I shifted topics.
"What do you know about what's going on at the academy?" I asked.
She hummed, tapping a finger to her chin. "I sensed the shadow's arrival last week. But I've never met it. It's evasive. Quiet. Skilled at staying hidden."
My eyes narrowed. "What about the hellhounds from the entrance exam?"
That drew a visible reaction.
Her brow furrowed. "That… I didn't expect. I knew some of the faculty were experimenting with infernal cores in the deeper dungeons. I didn't know who, and I assumed it was contained. The hellhounds… weren't."
"Great," I muttered. "So we know it's a faculty member at least. At least that lowers the 900 potential suspects down to around 80 suspects."
She chuckled lightly.
"I try not to get involved with the rest of the academy anymore. The students keep me busy. The greenhouse is my world."
I nodded, slightly annoyed, but grateful for the clarification.
"Can I rely on you?" I asked. "When we remove the god? Can I trust you to heal the wounded? To help contain it?"
She stood, her expression serious now.
"You can." She nodded.
"And… you know what we're up against?" I asked.
"I do. And I expect you'll need a conduit. I can offer one," she said with a hand outstretched.
I paused.
"...A dungeon core would be ideal. But I don't exactly have one lying around," I said, curious what she meant.
She smiled.
"My tree will work," she said.
I blinked.
"...Are you serious? If your tree is destroyed—"
"I die. Yes." She laughed. Not cruelly. Not sadly. Just truthfully.
"I know the risks, oh Chosen of the Primordial of Knowledge."
I froze.
Her eyes sparkled. She knew.
"How—"
"I've been alive a long time, Jack. And you carry Brakos' scent like stormlight through stone. It's not hard to guess."
I swallowed hard.
She stepped closer, voice soft.
"If the shadow god wins, it will corrupt everything it touches. Spread darkness like rot, blocking out the sun. I'm a dryad. It is in my soul to protect the forest. And I will give my life for it if I must."
I nodded slowly. No argument left.
"...Thank you."
We both looked at Ark then, sleeping peacefully now, his face calm.
"You've got someone to protect, too," she said.
I smiled. "Yeah."
She turned to leave, walking softly toward the door.
As she reached for the handle, I asked, "What should I call you?"
She looked over her shoulder.
"Traisa," she said.
Then, with a shimmer of green light, she shifted—hair dulling, ears shortening, form shrinking into the familiar shape of Ms. Cottonflower.
She opened the door.
And vanished into the hall beyond.