Chương 127: Chapter 125. Memories

"He's going to get himself killed!" Sam shouted.

"Damus, wait!" Karion yelled, already sprinting after him.

"Are we seriously doing this?" Naia groaned.

"Stop running, you idiots!" Eren called out.

"Guys, the boundary markers are there for a reason!" Mia's voice cracked with panic. Everything happened too fast. One moment they were arguing about rotten fruit, and the next, Damus was bolting straight toward the glowing blue boundary markers, his lean figure already disappearing beyond them into the mist-shrouded wilderness. Karion tore after him, sand kicking up behind his heels. For someone who'd been ready to punch Damus moments earlier, he sure seemed determined not to let him die alone.

Sam stood frozen for approximately two seconds before his brain caught up with reality. This was exactly what Adom had warned him about.

"Stay in the city," he'd said.

"Don't do anything stupid," he'd said.

"Enjoy the room service and the soft beds," he'd said. But no. Here they were, chasing after two hotheads straight into the death trap known as the Highland interior.

"We need to stop them!" Sam finally managed, grabbing his pack and sprinting after the others. Zuni, who had been napping peacefully in Sam's discarded jacket, chittered in alarm and leapt onto his shoulder, then scrambled to the top of his head, tiny claws digging into his scalp for balance.

"Ow! Zuni, not the hair!" Eren and Naia exchanged a quick glance before they too were running, with Mia and Gus bringing up the rear.

"This is the worst idea ever!" Gus shouted, surprising himself with his own sudden athleticism as adrenaline kicked in. Sam pumped his legs harder, trying to catch up to Karion. Ahead, the boundary markers glowed with their eerie blue light, like silent sentinels warning: TURN BACK.

"Karion! Stop!" Sam yelled, his lungs burning.

"We can't go in there!" Karion either didn't hear or chose to ignore him. He was focused entirely on catching Damus, who moved and avoided their binding spells like the Krozball runner he was, occasionally ducking under low-hanging vines and navigating the increasingly rough terrain with ease.

The ground transitioned from beach sand to rocky soil, then to something stranger—patches of vibrant purple moss that seemed to glow faintly, interspersed with crystalline formations that jutted from the earth like frozen splashes. The place was... changing. Sam crossed the boundary line without slowing, too focused on his quarry to consider what he was doing. Zuni's panicked chirping grew louder, the little creature's tail wrapping around his ear as if trying to steer him back toward safety.

"I know, I know," Sam panted.

"But we can't let them—" The air changed. That was the only way to describe it. One moment it was the familiar salt-tinged coastal breeze, and the next it was... different. Heavier. Charged with something that made the hairs on his arms stand up. Behind him, he heard Naia curse as she crossed the boundary too.

"We're all going to die because of those two idiots," she growled. Eren caught up to Sam, his breathing barely affected by the sprint.

"This is bad. Really bad."

"No kidding," Sam gasped.

"Got any brilliant ideas?"

"Just one—catch them before they get too far in." The terrain grew increasingly bizarre. Trees twisted into impossible shapes, their trunks spiraling upward before branching out into canopies that defied gravity, growing sideways or even downward. Flowers that looked like they belonged underwater swayed in non-existent currents. And then there was the fog—not ordinary coastal mist, but something with purpose. It seemed to part before Damus, then close behind him, making it harder to track his movements.

"There!" Mia shouted from somewhere behind them.

"Karion's got him!" Sam squinted through the strange fog. About fifty yards ahead, Karion had managed to tackle Damus, bringing them both down in a tangle of limbs beside what appeared to be a pool of liquid that glowed with an internal blue-green light.

"Thank God," Sam muttered, pushing himself to catch up. As they approached, they could hear the two boys arguing.

"—complete lunatic!" Karion was shouting, pinning Damus to the ground.

"Are you trying to kill yourself?" Damus's face remained impassive, though a trickle of blood ran from his nose where he'd apparently hit the ground.

"Get off me. You don't understand."

"Then explain it, you psycho!" Sam skidded to a halt beside them, his chest heaving.

"Both of you, shut up. We need to get back to the safe zone. Now." Zuni leapt from his head onto a nearby rock, chittering angrily at the two boys, tiny paws gesturing in what looked remarkably like scolding. Eren, Naia, Mia, and Gus caught up, forming a loose circle around Damus and Karion.

"Whatever idiotic point you were trying to prove," Naia said, glaring at both of them, "consider it made. Now let's go before something eats us." Damus finally stopped struggling against Karion's grip.

"The earthquake," he said, his voice unusually intense.

"Something's happened. Adom could be—" Karion's fist connected with Damus's face with a sickening crack. Damus's head snapped back, blood spraying from his nose as he collapsed onto the strange purple moss.

"What the hell are you talking about?!" Karion loomed over him, fists still clenched.

"Why do you suddenly care if Adom lives or dies? You spent years making his life miserable!" Damus lay there, blood trickling down his face, making no move to defend himself.

"What exactly went through your head running into this death trap?" Karion continued, voice rising with each word.

"Was bullying him not enough? Now you want to get us all killed chasing after him?"

"Karion, that's enough!" Gus stepped forward, putting a firm hand on the taller boy's shoulder. When Karion tried to shrug it off, Gus's grip tightened.

"I said enough." Something in Gus's normally easygoing voice made Karion pause. He looked back, surprised to find steel in the other boy's eyes. Gus released him and turned to Damus, extending a hand.

"Come on, get up." Damus stared at the offered hand for a moment but made no move to take it. Instead, he pushed himself up, wiping blood from his face with his sleeve. His head remained bowed, eyes fixed on the ground. Karion stood a few paces away, breathing hard, hands still balled into fists. The rage seemed to be radiating off him in waves. Gus glanced at Luna.

The shimmerscale's normally iridescent scales were shifting through colors at an alarming rate—blue to red to gold to purple, cycling faster than he'd ever seen. Her forked tongue flicked rapidly in and out as she tested the air.

"We need to get back," Gus said, his voice cutting through the tense silence.

"Right now."

"How?" Naia asked, turning in a slow circle.

"Which way did we come from?" They all looked around, and the reality of their situation sank in. The fog had thickened considerably, reducing visibility to maybe twenty feet in any direction. Dust particles hung suspended in the air, probably disturbed by the earthquake. And there was something else—a heaviness, a pressure that hadn't been there before.

"The mana density," Eren said quietly, holding out his palm where a small ball of light struggled to maintain its form.

"It's increased. Significantly."

"What does that mean?" Mia asked, moving closer to Naia.

"It means our magic will behave unpredictably," Eren replied.

"And that whatever lives out here is going to be more active." Sam felt Zuni burrowing deeper into his pocket.

"This is bad," he muttered, trying to spot any sign of the blue boundary markers through the fog.

"Really, really bad." This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"We need to go up," Eren said suddenly, pointing skyward.

"Get above this fog, maybe spot the boundary markers." Naia nodded.

"That's actually not terrible."

"Levitation?" Sam asked, already gathering mana.

"Beats waiting to be eaten," Gus replied, Luna coiling anxiously around his arm. Karion didn't wait for further discussion. His body began to rise and the others quickly followed suit, their forms lifting off the strange purple moss. Sam felt an immediate difference in his spell. His own mana responded too eagerly to the spell, shooting him up faster than intended. He overshot the others by a good ten feet before managing to stabilize.

"Whoa! Anyone else finding their magic a bit... enthusiastic?" he called down.

"Like trying to steer a racehorse with dental floss," Mia confirmed, wobbling dangerously as she rose. The trees around them weren't like the ones near the beach. These were enormous—ancient colossi with trunks wider than houses and branches that sprawled outward like massive wooden highways. Their canopies created an intricate network far above, sunlight filtering through in dappled patterns.

"We could try branch-hopping," Gus suggested, guiding himself toward a particularly sturdy-looking limb. Luna's scales had settled into a rapid pulse between deep purple and electric blue.

"These look solid enough." They ascended higher, the fog thinning slightly but still clinging to the forest floor below. The higher they went, the stranger the forest became. Vines thicker than a person's thigh draped between branches. Flowers the size of dinner plates emitted soft, pulsing light in various colors. Click-click-click. The sound echoed from somewhere above them.

"What was that?" Mia whispered, her levitation faltering momentarily. Click-click-CLICK. Louder this time. Closer.

"Keep moving," Eren said quietly.

"Don't stop." They maneuvered toward the nearest massive branch, their levitation spells becoming increasingly difficult to control. Sam felt like he was trying to fine-tune a fire hose—the mana was so abundant it practically forced itself through his pathways. Naia reached the branch first, landing with more grace than seemed fair given the circumstances.

"This way," she called, pointing toward what might have been a thinning in the canopy. They moved as quickly as they dared, jumping from branch to branch. The clicking sounds followed, sometimes fading, sometimes growing alarmingly close.

"Does anyone else feel like we're being herded?" Gus asked, helping Mia across a particularly wide gap. Luna suddenly went rigid on his back, her scales locking into a vibrant warning red. Something massive dropped from above, landing on the branch directly in Mia's path. She screamed, backpedaling so quickly she nearly fell. It was a fly. Except "fly" was entirely the wrong word for the monstrosity before them.

This thing was the size of a small car, with multifaceted eyes that gleamed like oil slicks and a proboscis that could easily impale a person. Its wings vibrated, creating that same clicking sound they'd been hearing, now deafening at close range.

"Oh hell no," Sam breathed. The creature took a step forward, its segmented legs making the branch creak. Gus reacted first. He thrust his hands forward, and flames erupted—not the controlled fireball he'd probably intended, but a roaring inferno that engulfed not just the giant fly but the surrounding branches as well.

"GET DOWN!" Karion bellowed, grabbing the nearest person—which happened to be Damus—and diving off the branch. They all followed, abandoning any attempt at controlled descent. Their levitation spells sputtered and flared as they plummeted through layers of foliage, branches whipping past. Sam hit the ground harder than he'd meant to, the impact knocking the wind from his lungs. Zuni squeaked indignantly from his pocket. They scrambled together, forming a tight circle with their backs to each other, facing outward.

Above them, flames spread through the canopy, illuminating the fog with an eerie orange glow.

"What was that?!" Mia gasped, her hair singed at the edges.

"I think it was a fly," Eren said.

"It was," Gus confirmed.

"The biggest one I've ever seen in my life." The flames above cast dancing shadows through the fog, creating the illusion of movement all around them.

"Can you guys still weave?" Sam asked, trying to form a simple light orb and watching it flare into a miniature sun before he hastily dismissed it.

"Sort of," Naia answered, flexing her fingers.

"Too much power, not enough control," Eren agreed.

"The mana density here is off the charts." As if in response to his words, a strange glow began to emanate from Karion, Naia, and Damus. Sam stared at them, recognition dawning. Fluid. I really should learn to manifest it too, Sam thought. The others were sticking to magic, but given their situation, Fluid might be their best chance. They stood in their defensive circle, energy crackling around half of them, waiting for whatever might come next in this nightmare version of a Highlands field trip.

At the same moment, on another part of the Highlands...

"Hey, wait," Adom said, halting at the edge of darkness where the blue light had appeared. The light blinked once, as if acknowledging him, then dimmed slightly. Following a mysterious light that had apparently been manipulating human history since the beginning of time? Not the smartest move he'd ever contemplated. The logical part of his brain was practically screaming at him to turn around and get out. But he hadn't come this far to chicken out now. Adom flexed his fingers inside Wam and Bam.

The gauntlets responded instantly, humming with stored power. His Axis reserves were full. He could also fly away if things went sideways.

"Alright," Adom muttered, "but I'm not making this easy for you." He stepped toward the light, his body tensed to either fight or bolt at the first sign of danger. The blue glow retreated deeper into the temple, maintaining a constant distance between them. The corridor was massive, easily wide enough for ten giants to walk abreast. The ceiling vanished into darkness above, giving Adom the uncomfortable feeling of being an ant traversing the floor of some impossibly large building.

Along the walls, runes pulsed with subdued energy—different from the murals in the main chamber but no less intricate. Some he recognized: ward configurations, spatial anchors, locks. Others were completely foreign, their patterns so complex they made his eyes hurt if he stared too long.

"You want to tell me where we're going?" Adom called out to the light. No response. It simply drifted onward, its glow weaker than before, almost translucent against the darkness. Adom stopped every fifty paces or so, reconsidering his decision. Each time, the light would pause too, waiting for him to resume following. Occasionally it would flicker, as if struggling to maintain its presence.

"You're not really here, are you?" Adom said after one such pause.

"Not fully, anyway." The light pulsed once but offered no other acknowledgment. As they moved deeper into the temple, Adom began to notice something odd about the light itself. It didn't illuminate its surroundings the way normal light should. Instead, it seemed to exist in a different layer of reality—visible but not quite interacting with the physical world.

"What are you?" he asked. The question echoed through the corridor, bouncing off stone walls and returning to him unanswered. A sound stopped him in his tracks. Faint at first, then growing clearer—voices. Two speakers, engaged in what sounded like an argument. Adom glanced at the walls. The runes around him had begun to glow brighter, particularly a sequence that ran along the corridor at about chest height. He recognized some of them.

"Sound capture," he muttered, running his fingers along the carved symbols. The voices grew louder. They spoke in no language Adom recognized—the words were deep, resonant, seeming to vibrate through his bones rather than his ears. Giants. Had to be. The light drifted onward, and Adom followed, listening to the ghostly conversation echoing through time. The voices sounded urgent, angry. One in particular dominated—deeper than the other, carrying an authority that needed no translation.

As they progressed, Adom noticed another change. The murals lining this corridor seemed fresher, their colors more vibrant, less faded by time. He reached out to touch one, expecting smooth, clean stone. His fingers came away coated with dust.

"An illusion?" he said, looking more closely at the wall. The mural depicted what seemed to be a council of giants—thirteen massive figures seated in a circular chamber. Despite the dust coating the actual carving, the image appeared clean and clear to his eyes, as if he were seeing past the millennia of decay to how it looked back then. The mysterious light flickered weakly, now barely visible even in the darkness. It seemed to be fading, struggling to maintain its presence in reality.

"Hey," Adom called to it.

"What are you trying to show me? Why bring me here?" The light pulsed once, twice, then dimmed further. The ghostly voices grew louder, more agitated. The dominating voice rose above the other, its tone unmistakably angry despite the unintelligible language. Adom continued forward, keeping his senses alert. The corridor widened into a vast circular chamber—the very one depicted in the mural he'd just passed.

Thirteen stone chairs, each the size of a small house, arranged in a perfect circle around a central platform. Another sound stopped him in his tracks. Not voices this time, but something more violent—the clash of metal against metal, the thunder of massive footsteps, shouts of rage and pain.

"What the hell is that?" Adom said, instinctively dropping into a defensive stance. The light flickered urgently, drifting faster now toward the source of the commotion. Adom followed, his curiosity overriding caution. The sounds grew louder with each step—a battle was raging somewhere ahead. Grunts of exertion. The crack of breaking stone. A roar that seemed to shake the very foundations of the temple. The blue light led Adom to a massive doorway at the end of the room.

Beyond it lay darkness and the unmistakable sounds of combat.

"Is this another illusion?" Adom asked the light.

"Like the murals?" The light didn't answer. It simply drifted through the doorway and vanished. Adom hesitated at the threshold. The combat sounds were deafening now—a furious exchange happening just beyond his sight. Something crashed against stone with enough force to send vibrations through the floor beneath his feet. He took a deep breath, activated Wam and Bam to their full capacity, and stepped through the doorway.

The chamber beyond erupted with light—dozens of massive torches igniting simultaneously around the perimeter of what appeared to be a square arena. The sudden illumination was blinding after the darkness he'd just left. Adom barely had time to register his surroundings before something massive descended toward him from above—a stone column the size of a house, plummeting directly at his head.

"Shit!" he shouted, diving to the side. His body rolled across the dusty floor as the column crashed where he'd been standing. Or should have crashed. Adom sprang to his feet, hands raised in a combat stance, ready to defend himself—then froze. The dust he'd disturbed with his roll settled around him in a small cloud. But the enormous column that should have pulverized the floor had made no impact. No tremor. No debris. No disturbance in the dust beyond what Adom himself had created. He looked up.

The column hung impossibly in mid-air, halfway through its descent.

"What the—" A thunderous crash to his right made Adom jump. A wall of the chamber appeared to explode inward, stone blocks flying in all directions. But again, the dust on the floor remained undisturbed where the debris should have landed.

"An illusion," Adom said, straightening up.

"It's all an illusion." No sooner had he spoken than the apparent debris from the wall blast cleared, revealing two figures locked in furious combat. One was a giant—smaller than those in the murals but still three times human height. His muscles were knotted with exertion as he swung a club the size of a tree trunk. The other figure was human-sized. Adom stepped closer, fascinated despite the danger. The human moved with impossible speed, dodging the giant's attacks with fluid grace.

In one hand he wielded a sword that trailed blue energy; in the other, a battle axe that glowed red-hot at its edge. But it was the man's face that made Adom stop cold. He knew that face. Had seen it described in dozens of historical texts, countless Academy paintings, even stamped on the official seal of his certification documents. The pale skin. The long, curly black hair that whipped around his face as he fought. And those famous eyes—burning red like rubies, visible even across the chamber.

"Law," Adom whispered.

"Law Borealis." The founder of modern magic. The creator of the Academy. The Farmer Mage. Fighting a giant.