52) Recovering strength
…
{3rd POV}
Ember stepped out of the ruined gates of Karuna City and was immediately greeted by open land and a long stretch of forest.
A single dirt path cut alongside the treeline, leading toward the nearest town which was dozens of kilometers away at least, assuming it hadn’t suffered the same fate.
He glanced back over his shoulder toward the broken city.
Behind it lay the route to Argon Town.
Ahead of him, beyond the path, were other settlements and eventually Altena.
To his right were the deep woods of Alf’s Forest, and far to his left lay the territory belonging to the Empire.
He took a moment to orient himself, mentally reconfirming direction and distance.
Then he nodded once and began walking forward.
The weakness still clung to his body, even after eating food.
It wasn’t surprising.
Ale and stale bread could fill the stomach, but they didn’t provide much nutrition or strength.
What he needed was meat, something heavy, full of fat and protein to rebuild his energy reserves properly.
'I’ll need to see if anything survived… here,' Ember thought as his eyes swept over the edge of the forest.
Many of the trees were half-dead with leaves wilted, bark cracked, and patches of brown hanging where green should’ve been.
Farther in, he noticed another detail: a trail of trampled trees leading in a different direction, pointing toward the Dedine Desert.
He kept walking slowly, his dagger held firmly in hand.
When he had moved roughly a hundred meters, the trees began turning green again.
Fresh leaves, thicker canopies, and no signs of poison damage.
It seemed the miasma hadn’t reached this far.
Judging by the clues, the Behemoth must have been redirected at some point likely by those who fought it and the worst of the poison had blown toward the city instead.
The discovery made Ember breathe a little easier.
His shoulders relaxed slightly, tension draining away as he scanned the area for anything edible.
Food mattered more than anything else now.
After walking half a kilometer along the dirt path, his sensitive Elven ears which had been amplified further by Falna picked up a sound.
A faint rustling in the bushes just off the road.
It was not wind or leaves falling, but something was moving and hopefully alive.
He froze in place, silently unstrapping the second dagger from his belt.
His eyes narrowed toward the source of the noise.
With slow, deliberate steps, he approached the bushes and carefully parted them revealing two rabbits nibbling together on leaves.
A faint grin formed on his face.
In his weakened state he will eat even wild rabbits, food was food.
He readied himself, adjusting his stance for a sudden burst of movement.
Then, without warning, he accelerated still far faster than any normal human.
The rabbits barely had time to register danger before both daggers pierced down with precise, practiced force.
Their high-pitched cries echoed briefly as they writhed on the ground.
Not wanting their suffering, make noise or to drag out, Ember quickly pushed both blades deeper.
He held the rabbits in place until their struggles weakened… then stopped entirely as life left their bodies.
Ember let out a short, controlled breath.
Even that brief burst of speed had made his muscles burn, showing just how drained he still was.
If he hadn’t eaten those stale loaves and drunk ale earlier, he doubted he would’ve had the strength to hunt even a pair of rabbits.
He let out a tired chuckle and murmured, “You two little guys… I’m lucky I found you. As for you both… you’re unlucky.”
He clasped his hands together and offered a brief prayer for the rabbits, holding that position for almost a full minute.
It felt oddly amusing praying before eating was a habit he had abandoned ages ago.
He wasn’t the type to pray, yet given his current situation, the gesture came naturally.
“No wonder people only remember God when things are bad… though in my case I’m praying to a goddess,” he muttered to himself, unable to resist a dry joke.
He had prayed to Goddess Aurora, his familia’s patron deity.
The irony wasn’t lost on him.
Their relationship was close enough that calling her merely a goddess felt insufficient.
In another context, she could easily be considered his wife.
And yet here he was, praying to her for support… when she tended to pray to him for entirely different reasons, especially in bed.
Ahem.
He shook off the wandering thoughts and got back to the matter at hand.
Ember pulled both daggers free from the rabbits’ bodies.
He crouched, tearing up handfuls of grass from the ground and using it to wipe the blood off the blades.
Once the worst of it was gone, he scooped up a small handful of dirt and rubbed it along the steel, letting the dry soil soak up what moisture remained and dull the scent.
He knew it wasn’t a perfect method, infact it was far from it.
Rinsing the blades with water would’ve been better.
But he had none on hand, and this would have to do.
He wasn’t too worried about water anyway; to reach Altena he would eventually have to pass a wide lake, and that meant rivers, ponds, and streams were scattered all along this route.
With his Elven sensitivity and Falna heightening it he was confident he could track water easily when the time came, if worse came he would just drink blood of some wild animal, as disgusting it might be.
He tossed aside the stained grass and dirt, then eyed the rabbit corpses.
After a brief moment of consideration, he let out a small sigh and reached down.
Grabbing both carcasses by their long ears, he lifted them off the ground and stood.
Food secured, he began to move again.
He needed a water source before he could even think about cooking anything.
Fortunately, after almost two hours of steady walking, his ears picked up the faint trickle of running water.
Following the sound, he eventually reached a small stream about half a kilometer off the main path.
“Good… now I can prepare a campfire,” Ember muttered to himself.
He decided he would spend the rest of the day here.
He had left Karuna before noon, which meant he still had plenty of daylight to work with.
His first priority was cleaning his weapons.
He knelt downstream and rinsed both daggers, washing away the blood and dirt.
Once that was done, he set the rabbits on a flat rock and used one dagger to carefully skin them, cutting away the hide, peeling it free, and discarding what he didn’t need.
Afterward, he rinsed the butchered meat in the stream’s cool water.
Would the water contain germs or parasites?
Most likely as no matter how clean it looked, streams often carried bacteria and worse things.
But it didn’t matter.
He wasn’t drinking it raw, and the meat would be cooked over fire soon enough.
Unfortunately, he had no container with him.
He hadn’t scavenged a pot, a kettle, a bowl, nothing from Karuna City that he could use to boil water or cook properly.
Ember clicked his tongue as the realization hit him.
It was a rookie mistake, and by now it was far too late to go back and fix it.
He sighed, reprimanding himself silently.
Back in the city, the only thing in his mind had been escape, escape from the poison, escape from the possibility of monsters, escape from the nightmare of Behemoth’s arrival.
In that state, practicality had taken a back seat to fear and instinct.
He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he had been terrified.
Truly terrified.
After enduring days of agony from the Behemoth’s poison, and being left so weak he could barely stand, it was no surprise he had missed details he would normally never overlook.
But crying over spilled milk was pointless.
No amount of regret would magically place a pot in his hands.
So he pushed the thought aside and got to work.
First, he gathered dry leaves and dead wood from around the forest and piled them near the stream.
His daggers proved useful, not ideal for starting a fire, but far better than using wet rocks or rubbing wood, especially with his inhuman strength.
He shredded the rabbit fur and mixed it with thin strips of oak bark, creating a rough tinder that would catch flame easily.
Then he struck the steel daggers together at a speed no normal human could replicate.
Metal scraped against metal, and tiny molten sparks scattered off the blades, hitting the fur-and-bark blend.
It took a few tries, but luck favored him and one spark took hold.
Ember leaned forward and blew gently, feeding oxygen into the ember until it spread and licked outward into a small flame.
He added thin and brittle branches to it, careful and measured, until the fire grew steady.
Soon he had a workable flame.
Next, he searched the area for stone.
It took some time, but he found dry, flat pieces large enough to serve as makeshift bricks.
He arranged them into a small frame, an improvised oven structure to keep heat directed upward and prevent the fire from scattering.
Once the frame was stable, he placed a long, thick slab of stone over the top as a cooking platform.
It took a bit of adjusting to make sure the stones didn’t wobble or collapse, but eventually the setup held firm.
Now he had fire, he had meat, and he had a way to cook it.
It wasn’t elegant but for someone who had nearly died twice in the past few days, it was more than enough.
He made sure to choose dry stones; never will he choose the wet ones. Wet stones heated by fire could crack, pop, or outright explode like tiny bombs. With his luck lately, he wasn’t about to test that.
Once the stones were heated enough, he cut the rabbit meat into pieces not too small to burn quickly, and not too large to leave raw centers and placed them on the hot slab.
The sizzle that followed was crisp and satisfying.
While the meat cooked, Ember moved to a nearby tree and tore off strips of bark with brute force.
His hand throbbed in protest, the motion aggravating lingering weakness, but he ignored it and continued.
Using the strips, he fashioned a crude water container—barely functional, but capable of holding liquid long enough to be useful.
By the time he finished, the rabbit meat had begun to brown and release a surprisingly appetizing aroma.
Ember swallowed, mouth watering due to how long it had been since he last ate anything proper.
He gripped his dagger, then stilled himself.
Eyes closed, he tilted his head and listened.
His Elven hearing bolstered further by Falna swept the woods for any hint of predators or monsters drawn by the scent of cooking meat.
The chances of encountering something alive were much higher near a water source than anywhere else in the forest.
Animals, monsters, and even people gravitated toward streams.
But Ember didn’t have the luxury of avoiding risk, he needed water more than he needed safety.
After confirming there was no suspicious rustling in the bushes, no grass shifting unnaturally, no heavy breathing, and no other noise worth worrying about, he set the dagger down beside him and reached for a thick stick.
Using it, he dragged a few fist-sized rocks ones he had placed near the fire out from the makeshift oven.
The stones were burning hot. He dropped one into the bark container filled with stream water and watched as the liquid immediately began to bubble.
Steam rose from the surface in thin, wispy strands.
This was a simple method, but a reliable one using heated stones to boil water was an old trick.
It required no metal pots, no kettles, and no fancy supplies.
And more importantly, it ensured the water he drank wouldn’t send him to an early grave through disease or parasites.
It wasn’t elegant, but after everything he had just survived, Ember would gladly settle for reliable.
After the water finished boiling and the rabbit meat finally cooked through, Ember couldn’t wait any longer.
He reached out, picked up a piece of meat, and immediately felt the heat sting his fingertips.
He blew on it a few times to cool it down, then took a bite.
There was no salt, seasoning or spices whatsoever.
Yet the moment it touched his tongue, it tasted like the best food in the world.
Ember knew perfectly well he should eat slowly especially after starving for so long so that his stomach could adjust and digest properly.
But logic meant nothing in that moment.
He simply couldn’t stop. Bite after bite, he tore into the meat, chewing rapidly, swallowing just as fast.
His face normally stoic or controlled shifted into an expression of pure, unfiltered bliss.
And before he even realized what was happening, tears slid down his cheeks.
He didn’t notice them at first, not until he had devoured enough meat to ease the sharp ache in his stomach.
It wasn’t gourmet food.
It wasn’t even damn well-prepared.
But after surviving poison, hunger, exhaustion, and days of agony this simple meal felt like salvation.
When he finally felt something wet roll down his cheek.
For a split second he wondered if it was raining, so he glanced up.
The evening sky stared back at him darkening, yes, but clear and cloudless.
He touched his face again, slowly this time and only then realized he was crying.
“So these are my tears, huh?” he muttered with a small, humorless chuckle. “What am I? A crybaby now?”
He was supposed to be strong.
Supposed to endure.
Supposed to grit his teeth and keep moving.
That was what people expected of adventurers, what they expected of him.
But hell with that.
He was a High-Elf, not a machine.
Even the gods in this world wept when the weight became too much.
How could a mortal one who had survived agony that didn’t even have a proper comparison be expected to feel nothing?
So he let the tears fall.
Not from weakness, but because after everything he had endured, his body simply refused to pretend anymore.
Ember remembered every second of it the way the poison rotted and withered his flesh, the way his organs felt as if they were dissolving inside him, the taste of blood in his lungs, and the sheer terror that came when his thoughts began to blur and his consciousness started slipping away.
He remembered the headache too the kind that wasn’t just pain, but a blinding, crushing pressure that overshadowed everything else.
Worse than the poison.
Worse than the physical agony.
It was the price of forcing magic out even after his mana, his Mind had bottomed out completely.
There had been no one to help him.
No potions, no healer, no ally, no deus ex machina waiting to intervene.
There was no guarantee that he would live. In fact, every logical sign pointed to the opposite.
No miracle descended from the heavens.
The only miracle he found had come from within himself.
His healing magic which was stubborn, relentless, and borderline suicidal had kept him alive long enough for his body to adapt.
As he thought about it, the memory of those repeated chants of “Heal mineself” echoed in his mind.
Then suddenly his body began to glow.
Ember jolted in shock, instinct kicking in as he scrambled to his feet and snatched up his dagger.
His muscles tensed, posture shifting automatically into a defensive stance but then he realized the glow was familiar.
It wasn’t from a hostile or foreign source.
It was the same light as his healing magic.
And as the light faded, the lingering aches in his arms and the dull strain in his body faded with it until they vanished completely.
(A/N: For those who wonder why he didn't used healing magic, since they usually use some amount of energy of his body to heal, while normally incomparable to Mana used, he is currently in a very dire state, in fear of becoming weaker he hadn't used it)
Ember stared at his own hands, stunned.
He hadn’t chanted even a word or even whispered the spell.
He had thought about healing, and the magic had responded.
His eyes widened in disbelief.
Just to make sure it wasn’t some bizarre fluke, he tested it again this time forming a clear mental picture of the familiar healing glow sweeping through his body.
Instantly, the gentle light returned, wrapping around him and soothing every minor discomfort.
It worked exactly how he imagined it.
Slowly, a grin tugged at the corner of his lips, then grew into a full smile before finally breaking into laughter.
“I can’t believe it… I actually did it. I fucking learned chantless magic. I became the only person in the world who can use chantless magic!”
He laughed again, short, breathy, and strangely triumphant for someone sitting in the middle of a forest, half-starved and still recovering from a near-death experience.
After the initial excitement calmed, his mind immediately jumped to the next idea.
Even in his weakened state, even knowing how reckless it was, he had to test it on real magic, not just the healing magic he had.
He quietly stepped away from the stream and the campfire as there was no point in accidentally blowing hot stones or rest of the half-cooked rabbit into the air if things went wrong, and focused on the task.
He chose wind magic first.
It was the weakest spell he had, and the one he could control most easily.
He pictured the magic as clearly as possible, just as he’d done with healing.
Nothing happened.
He tried again, concentrating harder, shaping the feeling of air wrapping around his legs and lifting him.
Still nothing.
He repeated the process several more times, each attempt more careful and focused than the last.
Not even a breeze stirred in response.
After a moment of silence, Ember switched tactics.
This time, he recited the chant in his mind only, without voicing a syllable.
As soon as the final line echoed internally, the magic activated wind swirled lightly around his feet, responding to the mental chant even if the activation was slower and weaker than usual.
He tested it repeatedly, and the pattern became obvious.
Only his healing magic had become truly chantless triggered by impulse or thought alone.
His other spells could be made chantless partially, but only if he recited the chant silently in his mind first.
To Ember, this wasn’t a disappointment at all.
In fact, it was better than he dared to expect.
He could now heal instantly without losing time in combat, which was an enormous advantage.
And even partial chantlessness for offensive magic meant there was room to improve.
With enough training, he might push the rest to full chantlessness too.
The idea alone made him grin again.
Next, he considered another possibility: when he finally updated his Falna, he might gain a Skill that bypassed the chanting issue entirely.
If that happened, all the limitations he was dealing with right now would vanish in a single stroke.
For the moment, though, Ember was more than satisfied.
He could practically feel his parameters having skyrocketed he imagined numbers well over 1500, new skills appearing, and his status sheet looking completely different after all he had survived.
But then his excitement dimmed as reality hit.
His Falna updater, the special tool needed to rewrite the status on his back had been shattered.
He had checked the wagon after leaving Karuna, and the potion had been crushed beyond recovery.
Which meant he couldn’t update at all.
Not until he met Aurora again.
'Goddess is probably very worried about me,' he thought with a sigh.
At least he knew for a fact she was alive, after all Falna was tied directly to its deity, and if something had happened to her, he would have felt it immediately with his falna and strength leaving him.
And judging by the direction Behemoth had gone toward the Dedine Desert instead of Alf’s Forest or Argon Town there was no reason to believe Aurora or his familia had been in danger.
That eased a bit of the tension in his chest.
And secondly deities could sense the condition of their children’s Falna.
So while Aurora would definitely be worried sick, she would also know he was alive.
In a situation like this, that meant a lot.
If someone had survived for days after the Behemoth’s attack, then they were effectively out of immediate danger.
But when it came to Aurora, worry wasn’t something so easily solved by logic.
He wouldn’t call her stupid, far from it she was a very smart goddess behind her silly appearance.
But she was emotional, and emotions tended to bulldoze common sense.
Especially where he was concerned.
He remembered one particular incident: he had gone out for solo hunting once, perfectly prepared and entirely safe.
Aurora had panicked anyway, although he had written a letter telling her what he was going to do. He had given it to Maria to deliver… and Maria, being Maria, had forgotten it existed.
Aurora had spent hours in a frenzy, pacing and wringing her hands, completely forgetting that all she had to do was check his Falna to confirm he was alive.
'But in her defense… she thought I might be in danger, even if not dead,' Ember reflected.
And that was just how she was, her love made her ridiculous, frantic, and sometimes unreasonable.
But it also made it impossible for him to doubt how deeply she cared.
Ember let out a long breath and returned to his small camp.
He picked up the remaining rabbit meat, deciding to save it for nightfall, and leaned against a tree while slowly sipping the boiled water from the makeshift bark container.
It wasn’t pleasant to drink, but it was clean and warm and good enough for survival.
When the sun finally dipped past the horizon, Ember ate the rest of the meat.
Afterward, he looked around for a suitable place to sleep and spotted a tall tree with thick, sturdy branches.
He climbed it without hesitation.
Fortunately, he had plenty of experience sleeping in trees thanks to his solo hunting trips.
To someone else it might feel unsafe or uncomfortable, but to him it was familiar and reassuring.
From high among the branches, he gazed out at the moonlight filtering through the leaves.
His thoughts drifted to Aurora, to his sister, to his familia, and to everything waiting for him beyond this forest.
With a faint smile lingering on his lips, Ember closed his eyes and let sleep take him.
To be continued…