Petra returned to the road.
The caravan moved steadily as dust lifted from the wheels and mixed with the thin morning air, creating a small cloud that trailed behind them.
Inside the carriage, Petra sat in her usual spot by the window, watching the mountain trees pass. The sun had barely risen above the peaks, still casting long shadows across the road ahead.
Raina hummed quietly from the driver's seat, the reins loose in her hands. "If we keep this pace, we should reach the western region in a few days."
Mousa peeked out nervously from the window opposite to Petra. "Do you think it's safe there? You know… the calamity?"
Petra yawned. "Safe enough."
"You didn't sound very sure before!" Mousa squeaked.
She giggled. "That's why it's fun~"
She smiled faintly, pulling back the curtain to let in the sunlight, allowing it to reflect off her bright emerald hair.
The rest of the caravan stretched ahead in silence.
Dozens of carriages moved in neat formations that adhered to the guard teams many requirements, all of which were discussed beforehand. Merchants talked quietly, guards kept watch on horseback, children leaned out to point at the passing scenery, it was a pleasant sight.
Petra pressed her little feet down on the wooden floor. She had taken off her boots, so the cold surface of the inner carriage felt refreshing.
It was a peaceful time, almost enough to forget that a living hell was about to break out.
Almost…
Mousa leaned closer to the window, nose twitching. "Is it just me… or is the road quieter than before?"
Petra didn't answer right away. She looked ahead, past the trail, past the morning fog, and smiled.
He was right.
Things were indeed getting more desolate.
Time passed.
The caravan slowed down near a narrow bend where part of the cliffside had recently collapsed. The front most carriage had stopped, and guards began to clear the road of scattered stone and fallen debris.
Petra leaned out the window, squinting toward the slope.
The cliff face rose high above, black and tall, streaked with veins of an unknown silver material. It was just as monotonous as the rest of the Blackstone Mountain range, but here, the smell of crushed earth hung in the air, slightly disguising the odd fishy smell that lingered on the breeze.
"What's happening?" Mousa asked.
"its a small rockslide," Petra said simply. "They're just moving it away."
She turned her eyes and made a 'Hm' sound.
Petra jumped out of the carriage lightly, her boots crunching on the gravel. A few merchants watched her curiously as she crouched beside the cliffside, brushing the dirt away with her fingers.
Under the loose stones, faint silver lines ran through the rock, curved and interlocking, like silver veins that had knotted together.
"Mm," she murmured.
Mousa hopped down behind her, nervously looking from side to side. "W-what is it? It looks like it's glowing!"
Petra stood up and looked around.
On the edge of a nearby slope, patches of pale blue flowers grew from the rocks.
"Skyroot shoots," Petra said curiously. "They only grow where spiritual energy is abundant… or, was abundant." She knelt down and touched one gently, her expression thoughtful, almost inquisitive. These were pretty uncommon, at least, in the Green Wind Forest.
For a moment, the flower flickered brightly, not in response to her touch, but almost as if it were checking the air for any leftover energy.
Then the glow dimmed again, fading back to a quiet shimmer.
Petra shook her head.
The guards ahead called out that the road had been cleared, and the caravan began to move forward once more.
Petra plucked a single shoot, held it up, then sighed when its light faded completely. "The mountain's full of memories," she murmured, then tossed the wilted flower aside and climbed back into the carriage.
She didn't care.
Not at all.
Even that faint melancholy didn't bother her.
History was all about change.
What was once a treasured land can become a wasteland, and what was once a wasteland can become a treasured land.
Behind them, unnoticed by all, one of the blue flowers near the cliff's base brightened sharply for a heartbeat, a silent, passing echo of what the Black Stone Mountain Range used to be before the humans came to the continent.
-
After the road was cleared, the long caravan continued its descent through the winding road. The sun had begun its slow climb, glinting off the black stone cliffs that lined the path ahead.
After many hours of steady travel, the lead carriage finally called for a rest.
They stopped on a wide plateau overlooking a valley. The horses were unhitched and given water, the guards stretched their arms, and the merchants gathered, ready to eat and rest.
Petra sat on a large rock beside the carriage, nibbling on a spicy stick and took the time to watch the fog roll in waves along the cliffs below.
Time passed.
A young man approached, his steps hurried and uneven.
He bowed deeply, and his voice was a bit unnatural.
"Excuse me… are you… the 'Green Alchemist'…?" His words seemed to carry an innate sense of doubt.
That was understandable.
The Green Alchemist was the title that Petra used when doing business. After opening the Tower Spider a few times along the way here, her name had actually started to spread. It would seem that this young man recognized her identity as the 'Green Alchemist', and not the 'World Criminal'.
Petra blinked, her mouth still half-full. "Depends…?."
"My master's son," the man said quickly, "he's been poisoned. The medicine we brought isn't working. The guards said you might…"
Petra stared at him with her big eyes. She nodded, deciding to follow him.
They had some free time anyways.
He bowed again. "This way, little master."
Raina, resting against the carriage, raised an eyebrow as Petra followed the man toward the front of the caravan. She muttered something like 'not worried about a trap', then followed from behind.
As Petra was led between the carriages, the travelers stepped aside, whispering quietly. The young messenger stopped before a large, gilded carriage with gold trim. Two armored guards stood at attention, clearly uncomfortable with her identity.
It would seem that not many of these people believed that Petra was a real doctor…
Again, understandable.
Entering…
Inside, a young boy lay pale and sweaty on a cloth mat. His breathing was shallow, and his lips were faintly blue. The sweet smell of expensive medicine hung heavily in the air.
Petra's little eyes scanned the black veins that had started to extend towards his heart from a wound on his arm.
It was as she had expected.
Duskwood was an ancient plant that had been eradicated by the High Elves. It grew from the dead, parasitized, refined, and resurrected using a host. It was a terrible thing, and the moment Petra saw it, she knew that it was coming from the western region. If her guess was right, then not only has this thing been spreading on a wide scale during the Grand Gathering, but it should also be related to the Second Calamity.
Back to the boy…
Duskwood Dust would infect a target, melt their body and transform them into a tree, then split open like a tree-like cocoon, and form a Dusk Dweller. This was an ash-like ghost that hunted like a hungry wraith. These Dusk Dwellers would then spread the infection, before reaching a certain threshold and then begin to grow individually. Fortunately, they could only move at dusk. As for that creature that had attacked them last night, that was likely a beast in the late stages of the 'melt the body' period, shortly before becoming a tree cocoon.
So then, the question became, could this boy, who was in the beginning of the 'melt the body' phase, be saved?
Petra knelt beside him without a word, lifted his hand and pressed a finger to his wrist, almost like checking his pulse. She had seen this in a discarded fantasy novel back on earth.
If she was a competent doctor, she might insert her spiritual power or mental energy in the form of a thin thread to investigate.
Unfortunately, Petra didn't want to splatter him on the walls, so she could only pretend to be doing something.
She leaned closer, then frowned.
"Wrong medicine," she said flatly. (It was a complete lie) "They fed him 'bla blah bla', it reacts badly with 'bla blah bla'."
Those weren't just filler, she literally just said 'bla blah bla'.
Petra received an array of strange expressions.
Her face did not turn red.
The boy's father, an older noble with sharp eyes, stiffened. "Then what should we do…?"
"Nothing," Petra interrupted, pulling a vial from her bag. Since last night, she had already been playing with Duskwood Dust and its counterparts.
Actually, it wasn't that difficult to deal with…
She poured a few drops into the boy's mouth, and the reaction was almost immediate. The color returned to his cheeks, and the shaking stopped. The black veins retracted, and his breathing quickly calmed down.
Petra stood up and clapped her hands like a skilled little doctor.
Again, remember that this person (Petra) disdained to make even the lowest level of medicinal pills.
She was a complete fraud.
The noble opened his mouth to ask more, but she had already walked out with a majestic stride.
Raina stood to the side of the road, watching Petra return. In all her years as a demon, she had never met such a strange child.
Were these people really idiots?
Raina had been to the second floor of the Tower Spider, so she had seen most of the maid girls. She knew that many of them were horrifying monsters, something that Petra, the 'Little Master', was far from feeling herself. Despite that, this young child, whose cultivation was only at the second level, gave her the strangest feeling of them all, almost as if she wasn't looking at a real person at all.
Raina reached into her robe and pulled out the old compass.
The damaged needle spun once before stopping to point west. It was the same direction the caravan was headed, the same direction as Petra was headed…
Raina wasn't an idiot, she knew Petra had something to do with reviving the Demon King's bloodline.
Unfortunately, even if she wanted to, she was far from being able to force anything. Not to mention the things that dwelled in that tower, the real problem was…
Knowing this, she could only take one step at a time.
-
Time passed.
The road turned down through a patch of rough terrain.
Petra laid down with her cheek against the cushion, half-drowsy from the rocking motion of the carriage.
Suddenly, a faint rumble broke the silent advance.
At first, no one reacted.
Then the sound quickened.
And the ground trembled.
"Rockslide!" a voice from outside shouted.
The horses panicked, hooves striking stone as the drivers fought to steady them. Raina pulled the reins hard, and the carriage suddenly stopped. Stones bounced down the slope ahead, followed by larger boulders and rolling debris that smashed across the road ahead in an echoing collapse that formed a storm of gravel and dust that almost swallowed the leading carriages.
When the noise finally subsided, half the path was gone, buried under a wall of shattered rock and stone. As for what was left of the path, it was completely unusable, remaining as an unstable disaster just waiting to happen.
Inside the carriage.
Mousa clung to Petra's leg, eyes wide in fear. "T-that… almost hit us!"
Petra scrunched up her face, cursing the heavens for daring to wake her up. After kicking Mousa away, Petra sat up. Half her face was still red from the unnatural way she had been sleeping.
After disembarking, Petra looked around.
Slowly, she approached the front.
The road ahead was half-buried under a mountain of fallen stones. Massive boulders jutted from the slope as dust still curled in the cold mountainous air. The cliffside above looked old and failing, making it clear that the recent quakes had become the culprit of this collapse.
Petra stood in the crowd, her little eyes looking up and scanning the cliffside.
Quickly, she came to the conclusion that this would be far from the last collapse that would occur along this pathway.
She clicked her tongue.
Teams of guards and free workers moved about, some clearing debris, others inspecting the slope for stability, and some were digging out the effected carriages.
Their shouts echoed faintly between the cliffs.
Off to the side, a small group of merchants stood arguing in hushed voices.
"Going around will take days."
"Its better than being buried alive!"
"Easy for you to say, you don't have ten crates of blackstone silk rotting in the back!"
Petra stopped near the edge of the collapse, hands behind her head, fingers interlocked, leisurely swaggering around. She watched the dust settle, then lazily kicked a pebble down the slope.
It bounced twice, disappeared into the haze, and never made a sound, even when it landed.
She tilted her head. "Mm."
She felt like things weren't that simple.
Between the constant quakes, the Duskwood Dust, and the increasingly dangerous advance, Petra could practically feel the Second Calamity on the horizon.
She looked towards the skyline that barely peaked out from within the mountain range.
She had begun to feel excited.
-
In the end, they chose to take a different route around the mountain.