At that moment Andras froze.
His eyes flickered — his magical senses had triggered.
For a heartbeat, the world around him fell silent.
Hmm… we're about to be teleported apart.
And on the other end… that really is Eli's spirit.
I won't be harmed.
Then I'll let the teleportation circle activate.
This is the only way to meet her — and I don't mind speaking with her alone.
The thoughts flashed through him in an instant.
Floralys turned toward him, worried.
"Why did you stop, Young Wolf? Did you sense something?"
Andras snapped back to reality — and gave the most mundane answer possible.
"I thought I had to fart, but turns out I didn't."
Floralys sighed in relief.
"Go ahead and let it out, I don't mind."
Ironclaw chimed in enthusiastically:
"You can't make one as big as Master Florian anyway!"
The passage walls echoed the wolf‑girl's proud declaration.
Floralys and Andras both burst into laughter — but Andras knew the moment was fleeting.
The air around him began to vibrate.
A faint blue glow seeped from between the stones.
Magic closed in around him.
The spirit — Eli — was calling.
And Andras was ready to meet her.
Elisabeth's Trial – Floralys's "Adventure"
The teleportation was so sudden that even Ironclaw didn't have time to yelp. One flash — and the three companions found themselves in three different chambers.
Before each of them floated the same female figure: Elisabeth, the spirit of the Hero Mage from a thousand years ago.
The trial had begun.
Floralys's Situation
The Wood Elf mage stood in a round, domed chamber. The walls were lined with cracked, ancient stone, and a faint bluish glow shimmered in the air. In the center stood a massive black cauldron, from which magical vapors must once have risen.
The spirit slowly materialized before her — long, flowing hair, translucent robes, and that legendary gaze Andras had described.
"Welcome, Wood Elf Mage, to the sacred trial! My name is—"
"Listen, Eli," Floralys cut in desperately. "Sorry to interrupt, but is there a bathroom around here? I need one. Badly. That teleportation surprise scared me so much that this time I won't get away with just releasing a little dove."
Elisabeth's spirit blinked in shock.
"How do you know my name?! I've waited a thousand years for someone to come here! And why would there be a bathroom?! This is my secret mage chamber!"
Floralys was already clutching her stomach.
"It's really cramping. I can't hold it. This cauldron will do."
"That is my magical cauldron — the one I brewed my potions in!" Eli shrieked. "Don't you dare poop in it! … I cannot believe this — you actually did it!"
Floralys sighed in blissful relief.
"Sorry, it was urgent. Anyway, do you have any potion that requires Wood Elf stool as an ingredient? It came out pretty runny — easy to mix with other components."
"There is NO potion that requires literal poop as an ingredient!" the spirit cried. "I may not smell anything as a spirit, but that is still disgusting!"
Floralys looked around.
"Alright. Do you have any toilet paper? Or a burdock leaf? Maybe a big forest leaf? I prepared a huge feast for the King — so many delicious dishes… I shouldn't have eaten everything."
Eli's spirit let out a horrified scream.
"What are you doing?! Put that book down! That is a spellbook!"
Floralys was already tearing out a page.
"What kind of spells are in it?"
"Fire spells!"
"Perfect. I'm an Earth Mage."
Eli's spirit clutched her head.
"You tore pages out of a thousand‑year‑old spellbook without even blinking?! What has become of Greenwood's mages?!"
Floralys shrugged.
"Well… I am Greenwood's only mage."
The spirit hovered in stunned silence, as if she needed to reboot her entire thought process.
The trial… was not supposed to begin like this.
The chamber still carried the memory of the freshly committed Wood‑Elf catastrophe — even if Eli's spirit couldn't smell anything, the sight alone was enough to shake the dignity of a thousand‑year‑old mage.
Elisabeth's spirit turned toward Floralys, her expression a mix of shock, offense, and utter hopelessness.
"Wonderful… not even the Demon Generals humiliated me this badly."
Her voice trembled with outrage.
"Are you done with your business, you poop‑covered elf?"
Floralys straightened her clothes as if she had merely endured a minor inconvenience.
"Done. And really, sorry about that. It was an emergency."
Eli's spirit took a deep breath — or at least mimicked the motion.
"Then we can finally begin the trial!"
Her tone shifted into solemnity.
"If I'm correct, your era's Demon King has appeared, and you came to me because of my legendary staff."
Floralys blinked.
"The Demon King has indeed appeared, but I don't know anything about your legendary staff."
Eli's spirit froze.
"Then why did you come here?!"
"Oh, I was just searching for secret rooms in my castle because I was really bored, and that's how I found this place."
The spirit hovered in silence for a moment, then pressed a hand to her forehead.
"I cannot believe this. After a thousand years, mages have sunk this low?"
Then she waved dismissively.
"Fine. Whatever. My staff is the greatest magical staff ever created on the continent. Its crystal was forged from four elemental crystals fused together, making it compatible with all four basic elements. As an Earth Mage, you can use it too. It can be yours — on one condition."
Her voice darkened.
"Sacrifice the souls of your two companions. Two souls is a small price for such power."
Floralys's eyes widened — not in fear, but in indignation.
"That's a ridiculous offer. Besides, I already possess the best staff in the world."
Eli's spirit snapped her head up.
"You have the best staff in the world?! Show me!"
Floralys took out her staff and held it out.
"Here, take a look."
Eli's spirit circled around it, then cried out in outrage:
"How could THIS be the best staff in the world?! Its crystal is made from the heart of an Earth‑element Behemoth Boar. The shaft is carved from Greenwood elderoak. This is at best a three‑star staff! How could it compare to my five‑star legendary staff?!"
Floralys's gaze darkened — not with anger, but with memory.
"You wouldn't understand, Eli," she said softly. "I received this staff when I was sixteen, from my late husband, on our wedding day. Exactly one hundred sixty‑four years ago. It's my most precious memory of him. Do you really think I'd trade it for any legendary staff?"
The spirit fell silent.
Floralys continued:
"And besides, one of my companions is my future husband. I'm not giving him up — not even for you. I don't need your staff, but if you're so eager to use it… go stir the cauldron with it."
Eli's spirit stared at her for a long moment, then finally spoke in a low voice:
"…I've changed my mind. You are worthy of my staff, you poop‑covered elf."
Floralys smiled.
"Let this be our little secret, alright? And don't you dare tell Young Wolf! Or wait… he wouldn't care, he'd probably laugh. Fine, you can tell him if you want."