A week had passed since I rose from that crater.
The forest had become my domain, or at least I had grown comfortable within its mystical embrace. My legs, as foreign as they might be, carried me through the undergrowth with an ease that still surprised me. I still had so much to learn about my new body, the way it bent and twisted and adapted.
And now, I had found them.
I crouched on a thick branch high above the forest floor, my crimson cloak blending with the shadows of the canopy. Below me, a clearing opened like a wound in the trees, and within it, they moved.
The boars.
Twenty of them, less than I had anticipated from my first encounter with them. Their bodies were massive, ox-sized, with coarse black fur layered over slabs of muscle. Their tusks curved outward like scythes, gleaming in the afternoon light. They moved with a lazy confidence, the kind that came from knowing nothing in this forest could challenge them.
I had been tracking them for days, following the path of destruction they had carved through the forest. The vegetation that had regrown in their wake was smaller, younger, a scar torn across the landscape. Easy to follow. Almost insultingly so. The path faced towards the North, towards a range of snowcapped mountains in the distance.
Now I watched them.
Inquisition.
It remained silent. The display I had grown so comfortable with refused to appear, its absence hollow in my mind. I had tried everything-calling out to it, focusing my awareness, even the desperate pleas I had sworn I would never resort to. Nothing.
So I observed the old-fashioned way. With my eyes. With my memory. With the patterns I had learned over a lifetime of watching people and creatures go about their lives.
And I saw something else now. Something I had noticed even before the queen.
The colors.
Every living thing had a soul. I had known that since I drained my first Mist Scale. But I had not fully understood, until recently, that the color of a soul could tell me everything about its strength.
White. Cyan. Violet. Pink. Silver. Green. Orange. Scarlet. Gold.
A spectrum of power, laid bare before my eyes.
I scanned the clearing below.
Three Whites. The piglets, nursing from their mothers, their souls barely more than flickering candles. Little more than children.
Eleven Cyans. Adolescents, testing their strength against each other and the young adults, full of vigor and arrogance, their souls the color of a mountain lake. Moderate.
Four Violets. The elders, the strongest males, their souls burning with a deep shade reminiscent of the night sky. On par with me, I estimated. Each one a threat I could not afford to ignore.
And then there were those two. I turned my head to the largest boars, the two that sat in the middle of the clearing.
The Matriarchs.
Their souls gleamed in a pink light, a pale shimmer mimicking the rosy cheeks of a newborn. They moved with the weight of authority, the smaller boars parting before them like water around stone.
One of them I could handle, moderately of course. It would probably be a drawn-out battle as they currently surpassed me in raw strength. However, even with my abilities, I doubted my chances of survival, especially when each was backed by a herd of lesser boars. That was a fight I could not hope to win in my current moment.
I counted again. Twenty in total.
Two Pinks. Four Violets. Eleven Cyan. Three White.
Seventeen threats to eliminate. Eleven I could dispatch with relative ease in smaller groups, however if they were to attack all at once I would be outnumbered and overwhelmed. Then there were six that would make me work for every inch of ground and still lose no matter how I looked at it.
"It seems hopeless." I exhaled slowly, my breath misting in the cool air. Then a grin spread across my face. I did not possess a mirror, however the sinister smile on my face would have people call me atrocious names.
"Adversity is but a game. I shall be its victor."
The words hung in the silence, a confession to no one but myself. I had survived the queen. I had rebuilt my body. I had learned to wield the Flames of Morality and command the roots of the forest.
But this was different. The queen had come to me and her subjects scattered as soon as she fell. These boars moved together, fought together, and would die together if I gave them the chance.
I needed more.
I needed to relearn what I had once known and go beyond it.
I trailed the herd at a distance, keeping to the shadows. They moved slowly, grazing on the roots and legumes that dotted the forest floor. I watched them dig with their snouts, unearthing plants that looked like enormous green beans, each pod the size of a pumpkin.
I was curious. It was a weakness I had never quite cured nor yearned to.
When the herd moved on, I slipped into the clearing and dug up one of the pods. The shell cracked open with a satisfying snap, revealing two pale yellow seeds. They smelled... earthy. Subtle.
I bit into one.
Mistake! Terrible, burning, tear-inducing mistake!
My eyes watered. My throat seized. A fire like never before raced across my tongue. I coughed, gasped, and stumbled backward. The seeds were hot, intensely so, with an aftertaste that lingered like a curse.
I could not understand how the boars devoured them like candy.
I spat out the remaining piece and watched the herd retreat into the treeline. The way they moved, their snouts and tusks carving through the undergrowth like scythes. A single boar could fell a small tree with one charge. A herd could reshape the entire forest.
And I was going to fight them.
Perhaps I had not fully considered the magnitude of my revenge.
The thought lingered in my mind for a moment before being brushed aside. Empty noise.
That night, I found a secluded glade away from the herd. The two moons hung overhead, their light casting silver shadows across the forest floor. I sat cross-legged on a mossy stone, my hands resting on my knees.
My old magic was simpler. It required tools; herbs, charms, potions. A medium through which to channel my will. I had spent decades learning those arts, perfecting them. I knew every ingredient, every incantation, every ritual.
But I had no herbs. No charms. No potions.
I had only myself.
In my reading I had learned through old texts that power comes from within, the essence of life and death itself, the soul. To perform magic is to impose one's own desires into reality.
Although the more mystical magic like spells which summon creatures and create fire from thin air may not have existed in my previous world, this one seemed to be different. Fantastical feats of power were common here from the creatures I had seen so far and the capabilities of my own body.
Now I simply had to understand how to access this magic for myself beyond my Flames of Morality. I tried summoning the flames again and they appeared on my hand, the silver flame radiant in its flickering form. I transferred the flames onto the pile of wood and made a fire.
I had been studying the flames since they had first awoken within me. I discovered something about them. They did not emit heat nor did they burn. The pile of wood was the same I had collected a few days ago and not a single burn had appeared on any of the pieces since.
I had not even the faintest clue as to how they burned that Mist Scale Queen a week ago. I had tried to command them to burn, however nothing came of it in the end.
I sighed.
I returned to the rock and sat in a cross-legged meditation pose where each foot rested on top of the opposite thigh. I had read this was a meditation pose used in ancient times in mystical arts. If I remembered correctly, they called it the Padmasana or Lotus Pose. It is normally very difficult to perform this pose with a human body, however that would not be a problem for me in my current state.
It is inspired by the sacred lotus which was used as a symbol of growth towards perfection and enlightenment as it is rooted in the mud at the bottom of the pond, but rises and blooms above the water. Perhaps with it I myself might achieve such feats.
I closed my eyes focusing on my surroundings. I felt a gentle breeze blow past me and the ambient noise of the night ringing all around me. I took a deep breath feeling the cool air enter my body. I released the air and repeated the process over a few minutes. All I thought about was anything related to magic. Even the most meaningless of information.
What is magic? A gift? A curse?
An image formed in my mind. A mass of twisting light and darkness rotating as if it were a wild storm.
Many have their own interpretations of it. What is mine? It is an amalgamation of thought and contradicting truths to its purpose or where it comes from.
The storm raged expanding and contracting, some of it liquefied while another part of it stiffened to a rock-like state. It roared with thunder yet released soft gentle waves that reminded me of a calm lake.
Originally it was nothing more than a tool from which to benefit, one that required sacrifice and balance.
The mass shifted and stilled into a perfectly spherical shape with ripples of dark and light across it.
Now, in this new world, I have seen a new multifaceted side to magical capabilities, ones even I thought were mere fiction in an endless void that we call reality.
A crack formed on the sphere and sparks flew out of the crack in quick succession.
The world I thought was my only option was no more than a fabrication, a restraint holding back a potential that could build deities among mankind, a simple yet infinitely complex system that held us back.
The crack spread throughout the sphere, sparks of silver leaking from every single one of them.
Magic is beyond identification, however we fool ourselves into thinking it can be put into a neat box and move as if it were that simple. MAGIC is not that simple, LIFE is not that simple, DEATH is not that simple.
"The Aspect『Magic.』has begun germinating."
Magic is an ultimate complex force that nothing can hope to stand against. It is life, it is death, it is beyond both simultaneously, in a permanent state of unyielding change.
"The Aspect『Magic.』has taken root."
It is power, it is weakness, it is nothing, it is everything. Yet it is so much more, even I could never hope to truly grasp its potential.
"The Aspect『Magic.』has sprouted."
The cracked sphere ceased its spray of silver sparks, still for a moment, before bursting open and spreading silver roots everywhere.
My mind became clouded. Only silver remained. In my moment of mental blindness I felt it. A force deep within me, one I had grown accustomed to feeling the past few weeks-my very soul. I could feel it fluctuating, growing stronger for a second before shrinking again.
It was there, pulsing at the center of my being. It was different now than it had been in my previous life. Stronger. More vibrant. A reservoir of energy that waited to be shaped.
But how?
The question lingered.
I had channeled my will through the Thread of Life, felt the souls of creatures flow into me. I had commanded roots and branches, bent them to my purpose. I had summoned the Flames of Morality and passed judgment on the queen.
Those were nothing more than instinct. I had not understood them; I had simply acted out of my own comprehension.
If I wanted to grow, I needed to understand. To interpret my actions as more than what they claim to be.
I focused on the Law of Sublimation, the one that housed the aspect of magic. It had promised to free all from impurities.
What impurities could those be? If it is the law of Sublimation, could it be that it erases the perceived imperfections or flaws within certain objects?
Although I had never believed in the idea of perfection-a fool's errand. Nothing is truly incapable of having flaws as that is the basis of all existence.
To exist is to be imperfect.
However, what if I were to assume that impurities refers not to perceived flaws but to locked potential?
Could that be it? Sublimation alters objects to a higher state by enhancing already existing capabilities.
My reasoning made sense. The logic was infallible... well, until further evidence was presented.
"The Aspect『Curiosity』faintly shifts."
Huh? Curiosity? If I remembered correctly, it was the main aspect of Inquisition. However that law is currently not functioning.
Could it be due to my constant questioning of the nature of magic? It would seem Curiosity responds to my own sense of understanding.
Please,『Curiosity』,『Magic』, help me understand. To see what I cannot. Feel what I must. To know that which I do not.
"The Aspects『Curiosity』and『Magic』are responding to your request."
I felt something within me shift as if guiding my actions. It directed me to my soul still fluctuating within me. I reached for it and began shaping it as if it were clay in my hands.
I saw it clearly now. My old magic had required mediums because my human body had been a poor conduit. The herbs, the charms, the potions, they had done the work my flesh could not. But this body was different. It was built to channel power. I myself had become the conduit.
I understood now. The Aspect『Magic』was not a tool nor was it a weapon, but a bridge. A translator between my will and the energy of my soul. One that allowed me to shape my soul to perform the desired outcome of my will.
I opened my eyes and raised my hand. I focused on my nails, these black, sharp claws that had served me so well. I imagined them sharper. Stronger. Capable of cutting through more. To the point that even the toughest materials would part before them.
I felt my soul respond as energy flowed through my body to my claws. They were engulfed in a silver glow as they grew longer and sharper according to my specifications.
I tested them against a rock I had thrown into the air and as it fell I cut through it like butter. Five smoothly cut stones fell on the ground.
"I did it." I spoke, looking at my claws as they returned to their normal form. "I performed magic!"
I yelled into the night sky before quickly covering my mouth. It seemed I had gotten ahead of myself in the excitement of my accomplishment.
I cleared my throat as I readjusted my posture. "Of course I did it. I'm quite remarkable."
I lifted my hand again, inspecting my claws. They had lost their luster and additional attributes granted by magic. I tested them on a piece of rock. This time it left a deep groove in it, however it was not able to cut through in a single slash.
"A spell that amplifies existing properties and capabilities of an object."
Purify. The name came naturally to me as I stared at my claws.
A spell. A true spell. I had cast magic without a medium, without an incantation, without any of the crutches I had relied on in my previous life.
I laughed. It was a small sound, barely more than a breath, but it carried the weight of everything I had lost and everything I had found.
"I have missed this."
The next day, I pushed further. Experimenting with the capabilities of my newfound magic.
I thought of the silver flames, the cold fire that had consumed the queen. But I also remembered the warmth of a campfire, the crackling heat that had once brought comfort on cold nights. Could I create that? A fire that burned without judgment, without purpose beyond itself?
I focused again, but this time I reached not only for Magic but for the Law of Flames of Morality. The silver fire stirred, eager to answer, but I held it back. I wanted something simpler.
I focused only on the main Aspect of the Law, Fire, removing Revenge, Oath, and Justice from the magic.
I began channeling the energy from my soul to fulfill my will. I imagined the flame sparking to life in my palm, feeling the energy travel from my soul to my hand. I opened my palm and said the spell, "Ignition."
A spark appeared on my hand before igniting to a blaze dancing and flickering in my sight.
The fire was orange and yellow, warm and familiar. I let it grow, spreading across my hand, my wrist, my arm. It did not burn me nor did it tickle. It seems I was immune, entirely and completely.
I extinguished it and stared at my palm. Not a single mark.
"Why?" I wondered aloud.
Perhaps it was my demonic heritage. Perhaps the infernal energies that flowed through me granted immunity to flames. Or perhaps the Flames of Morality had given me mastery over fire itself. Either way, it was useful.
I had just had a devious idea in my head. One that I was all too happy to fulfill.
I set myself ablaze and lunged at a nearby tree. My claws raked across the bark, leaving deep gashes that smoldered at the edges. The wood blackened, cracked, and I felt a surge of satisfaction.
Fire and claws. Together, they would make me somewhat formidable. I could inflict both bleeding and burns upon my opponents.
Days passed. The herd had begun to move slowly through the forest, and I followed, never getting too close, never losing their trail. In the gaps between their movements, I trained.
I learned the rhythm of my magic. Ten spells. That was my limit. After ten, fatigue would set in, a bone-deep exhaustion that could take hours to recover from. I pushed against that limit, trying to break through, but the wall held firm.
"The source of all magic is will," I muttered to myself one evening. "Intent must be clear. Visualization must be precise. The mind, not the body, is the true instrument."
It was a lesson I had learned in my previous life, though I had never been able to fully apply it. Now, with a body that could channel power directly, the lesson came easily.
I practiced the visualization. I imagined the effect I wanted, down to the smallest detail. The fire, the sharpened claws, the purification of a single property.
Sometimes I failed. A spell would fizzle, or backfire, or drain more energy than I had intended. I would lean against a tree, gasping, my soul flickering like a candle against the wind.
But I always got back up. I could not afford to be idle.
I thought of the old huntsman, the one who had taught me everything I knew. He had been stubborn, infuriatingly so. He had hunted well past the point of exhaustion, past the point of reason. He had given everything, even when it cost him his life.
And I had been angry at him for it. So angry.
Now I understood. Some things were worth giving everything you are for. Even if the things we consider worth it might not align.
The boars became familiar to me.
I watched them in their daily lives, learning their habits, their hierarchies, their small rituals. The males, especially the younger ones, spent hours roughhousing. They would charge at each other, snout to snout, their tusks clashing like swords. They would ram their heads against trees, against boulders, against anything that offered even a modicum of resistance.
I rolled my eyes at their antics. They reminded me of the men in my village; the ones who had gathered in the square to lift logs, arm wrestle, and compete in any manner of muscle-brained foolishness.
They had been insufferable then. They were insufferable now.
And yet, I watched them. I studied them. Their strength was real, even if their intelligence was not. I could not afford to underestimate them.
The worst of them, in my old life, had been Alder.
I shook my head, trying to banish the thought. But once it was there, it lingered like a stubborn stain. Alder. The man who had sentenced me to death. The man who had...
I forced the memory down with gritted teeth and disdain.
"Not now," I whispered. "Focus."
The herd was settling for the night. The matriarchs lay in the center, their pink souls pulsing with slow, steady rhythm. The violet males formed a protective ring around them. The young ones slept in a pile, their small bodies pressed together.
I watched them from my perch, hidden in the shadows.
One day, I would have my revenge.
But not tonight.
The bean was a mistake. A terrible, burning, tear-inducing, godforsaken mistake.
I had dug another one up, convinced that I had simply been unprepared the first time. Perhaps if I cooked it, or prepared it differently, it would be edible. Perhaps the boars had a technique I had missed.
No. It was simply hot. Excruciatingly, unreasonably hot.
I coughed and spat, my tongue protesting the indignity. The boars, meanwhile, devoured their beans with obvious pleasure. One of the adolescent males actually seemed to revel in the heat, snorting with contentment as he chewed.
"I cannot understand you," I muttered to the oblivious creature. "You have the taste of a demon and the mind of stone."
I pointed towards it accusingly as if it had committed a grave sin upon the earth, which was exactly what had happened if you asked me. "Evil, all of you are bathed in pure evil."
The boar snorted again, then trotted off to rejoin the herd.
I sighed and tossed the remaining bean into the underbrush.
Some mysteries were not meant to be solved.
On the twentieth day, I made a decision.
I had followed the herd long enough. I had trained long enough. My magic was far from perfect, but it was functional. I could purify and ignite as well as the next person. Although I still had not figured out the reason why the silver flames did not burn, however that was a question for later. Besides, they drained me more than the simpler spells.
Ten spells. That was my limit. Ten and I would be spent.
I would have to make them count.
I observed the herd one final time from my perch. The two matriarchs, pink and formidable. The four violet males, strong and prideful. The remaining cyans, numerous but manageable. The three whites, hidden in the center.
I counted my options, weighed my chances, and planned my attack.
"I will wait until the perfect time," I murmured. "I will strike under the cover of darkness. I will thin their numbers before they can organize."
I would not let them trample me again.
I would not let anyone trample me again.
The hunt was almost over.
That night, as the moons rose and the forest fell silent, I felt something shift within me.
A warmth, spreading through my chest. A familiar presence, returning from its long absence.
"The Law Inquisition has successfully integrated the massive amounts of genetic data into itself."
"The Law of Inquisition is available."
I blinked. Then I laughed, a soft, relieved sound.
"Your timing could not be more perfect."
I called up the display, and a flood of information filled my vision.
『Earth Tusk Boar:
A powerful, territorial beast native only to the Forest of Serenity.
Possesses exceptional strength and durability.
Its tusks can pierce steel armor.
The dark hair on their backs can harden and rise up like quills if they feel threatened.
Herbivorous, feeding primarily on roots, legumes, and tubers.
They produce a liquid from their pores that has immense healing properties. This sweat drips down to the ground as they run and heals the damage they do to the forest.
As winter approaches they head towards the Mountain of Arisia to hibernate.
Known to migrate in large herds led by matriarchal elders.
『Weaknesses.』
Rarity: A+"
I spotted a new section of information titled Weaknesses. It seemed Inquisition came back with a few new upgrades.
『Weakness: The underside of the neck is vulnerable to strikes. The herd relies on the matriarchs for direction; if the elders are eliminated, the younger members become disoriented.』
I smiled.
"Now I know exactly where and when to strike."
I closed the display and leaped from my perch, landing silently on the forest floor. My cloak billowed around me, my claws gleamed in the moonlight.
The herd slept, unaware.
I stared at them.
"See you soon, my oblivious little playthings."