Chapter 248: Investigation, Pressure, and the Shattered Starsteel Blade
"Life siphoning, indeed. A rare, abstruse, and deeply unpopular art, even among archdruids."
An elven sentry knelt, resting his hand upon the bloodstained earth. He could sense the remnants of life force that lingered there, traces too vivid to ignore, clearly delineating the forbidden nature of the spell that had been used.
"Just what could have assaulted our guests with forbidden magic...?"
Another sentry emerged from the wooden dwelling, murmuring as threads of green light spiraled from his fingertips. They stretched out like tendrils, linking with the detection arrays woven into the surrounding homes—warding spells that melded seamlessly with the great trees themselves. He was searching for records left behind in the magical arrays in the vicinity.
"Nothing... There's no trace. The intruder left no mark, and the arrays detected no disturbance."
Baffled, the sentry turned to his companion and shook his head.
"No records? That can't be. Didn't that thing get slain during its assault on Mr. Ahn? If Ahn sensed it in time to eliminate it, then surely the arrays linked directly to the great trees and the Tree of Life must have registered something."
His partner frowned, clearly struggling to comprehend the situation.
"There's nothing more to be gleaned from this house. Bury the orc—find out where he hailed from. This was our failure. His kin or tribe must receive the greatest compensation permitted by our laws."
The elven captain emerged from the hut and issued commands solemnly.
"If there's nothing from the wards, we'll need to consult Mr. Ahn. He was the one who destroyed the creature, so he must have more information."
His tone was grave. The elven capital had long been a haven of peace—an incident like this happened once in a decade. If that. Tension hung heavy among the guards.
Several elves stepped inside the hut again. As they chanted solemn elegies in the elvish tongue—laments for life in its purest form—they gently collected the broken corpse of the fallen orc. Though the orc wasn't one of their own, the duty to return his remains to his homeland now fell to them. This was their mistake, and they would not shirk the burden.
The captain, meanwhile, led a few others toward Ahn's home. By now, the fire had been extinguished by the other outsiders. What remained was ruin: scorched wood, splintered planks, a yawning hole in the platform floor.
Weapons floated above the scene, slowly drawn one by one into rifts in the air that shimmered and split open like glass. Ahn still lay atop the roof of his small wooden home, his black feline form unmoved, eyes gleaming as they fixed on the approaching elves.
"Mr. Ahn, we owe you a deep apology. That such a creature appeared near your dwelling is our failure. Please accept our sincerest regrets!"
The elven captain bowed deeply, and the other guards followed suit. Then, he drew a short ceremonial dagger from his waist and traced a crimson line along the length of his long, elegant ear. The scar from the wound would never fully fade.
This act didn't serve merely as an apology to Ahn, but also a mourning rite for the orc who had fallen to the twisted woodling's forbidden spell. Mistakes might be redeemed, but a life lost could never be returned.
The elves were a proud race—but their pride wasn't rooted in arrogance. It was a dignity that demanded they face failure without flinching, no matter how painful the consequences.
"Mr. Ahn, if you would be so kind... we'd appreciate any information you have on the creature you slew. We will immediately begin a full investigation. This threat must never be allowed to return."
"No problem. I'll share everything I observed. The rest is up to you."
With a flick of his tail, the black cat leapt down from the rooftop and landed neatly on the elven captain's shoulder. When he spoke, it wasn't in mewls, but in the voice of a boy who was calm and wise beyond his years.
"It was likely a plant-based lifeform. Its body was composed of a mass of intertwined roots. There was no trace of arcane or void magic, nor even fighting spirit. I couldn't discern how it animated itself."
As Ahn spoke, mana gathered before the captain, forming a three-dimensional projection of the twisted woodling—its grotesque wooden head and its gnarled form shaped from knotted roots, a hideous facsimile of life.
The captain narrowed his eyes. He hadn't felt this kind of visceral revulsion in a long time. The grotesque fusion of plant matter into a mockery of flesh—it stirred something primal within him, disgust and disquiet.
"It tried to enter my house using the limbs of the great tree that supports the platform—its power is clearly tied to plant control," Ahn continued. "But it wasn't intelligent. It didn't even realize how loud the branches were when they moved. I noticed it immediately."
The captain frowned at this detail—plant control?
He knelt, inspecting the gaping hole left where the twisted woodling had manipulated the tree's boughs. His brows furrowed further. This changed things.
"Thank you, Mr. Ahn. We'll get to the bottom of this and ensure it never happens again."
Then, he turned to the curious residents gathered around him. "To all guests of Liaheim, rest assured—security will be heightened. An incident like this shall never occur a second time."
The black cat leapt off his shoulder and padded back into his home. One of the guards was already chanting the words of nature, guiding branches to mend the damage and close the hole.
Wang Yu, who had likewise arrived after sensing the disturbance, was deep in thought. Ahn and the elven guards had informed them as to what was going on.
"Something like this in Liaheim of all places? An orc attacked and killed by some unknown entity... Wherever I go, there's always trouble—no. It's as if the whole continent is gradually falling into chaos."
He sighed. He knew this was no mere coincidence. The continent had been growing increasingly unstable for some time now. This was only one ripple in a much larger tide.
He had fled the chaos of Aleisterre, only for this to happen mere days after his arrival in Liaheim for a single day. Was he cursed? Was he a harbinger of calamity? But he soon dismissed the thought. It was foolish and baseless. And besides—those beings he had encountered before had already warned him that something was unfolding on this continent. A certain process was underway.
Just the reawakening of forbidden knowledge after Samuel's fall had already been enough to stir up trouble. What happened here in Liaheim might be a piece of something far greater, but either way, it had little to do with him directly.
"Well, no use brooding. I only got three hours of sleep, but that's good enough. Time to strengthen myself further. In the end, that's the only thing I can really rely on."
He returned to his wooden hut, pulling from his pocket the remnants of the stone cube that had once housed stardew. It was the toughest material he'd yet seen. It was time to channel the power of the Chariot and forge a blade worthy of it.
"What happened out there?"
Avia had just finished meditating herself. She was waiting for Wang Yu's news about the commotion earlier.
"An orc was killed. It was ambushed by something unknown. I really didn't expect there to be any danger in Liaheim. We'll need to be more cautious—set up more wards, more sentries."
"Mm, I'll lay down additional wards and spellstones," Avia replied with a faint sigh. "No matter where we go, it seems we can never truly let our guard down."
She had hoped that this tranquil elven city would offer a rare reprieve—a period of relaxation, even if it was brief. Their dream of peace had been shattered far too quickly.
"It can't be helped. I'm planning to convert that stone cube—or rather, starsteel—into a weapon using the power of the Chariot. It's the only reliable way to strengthen myself."
Wang Yu gave a wry smile. He understood her disappointment all too well—but there was little they could do.
"It's all right," she said, waving a hand to dismiss his concern. "Focus on forging your weapon. It's a pity there's no mountain forge here—I won't be able to recreate the Spellweaver's Tome. The basic version is still possible, but a magitech tool that can only cast first- or second-tier spells won't do you any good anymore."
Her voice carried a trace of regret. Without the mountain forge of Stevenson Academy, she couldn't craft the tome's core components, at least not here in Liaheim.
"I'll focus on developing the Chariot's power as much as I can," Wang Yu responded after a brief pause.
The Spellweaver's Tome had been damaged when he was ambushed and imprisoned back in Aleisterre. In theory, the Chariot could allow him to manufacture those parts, but he would have to strengthen himself far more before such fine control was accessible to him.
"Don't stress out too much about it. It's not that urgent—not yet, right?"
Avia lowered her head slightly, then looked up and smiled. She lightly tapped her fist against Wang Yu's chest and met his gaze with sincerity.
"True. Preparation never hurts, and rushing might cause issues."
Wang Yu nodded. His time imprisoned in the royal dungeon had made one thing clear—he needed more strength. Since then, he had pushed himself without rest.
His interrupted respite in Liaheim now sharpened his desire for strength—but Avia's reminder grounded him. Rushing was pointless if it introduced cracks in his foundation.
He centered his focus. The power of the Chariot flared outward, then drew back in tightly around him, coalescing over the unnaturally tough stone.
He activated Extrasensory Congergence.
The Chariot's power began to strain and shape the heavy stone, twisting its form with difficulty but unwavering purpose. It slowly bent to match Wang Yu's inner vision.
"What sort of weapon do I truly need..."
He pondered. The key was to use this rare material in a way that complemented his needs.
"First, it has to be strong. Given this material's density, I don't need to worry about durability. The weapon's frame can be thinner without sacrificing strength.
"Next, I need lethal force. My Voidblade Gauntlets are strong enough to channel a knight's full power. These iron fists alone can kill."
He lifted his hands. The void-forged gauntlets, which had been his companions in countless battles, showed only minor scuffing despite what he had put them through.
"So what I truly need now is a blade of unmatched sharpness. This ridiculously tough material allows for that—I could make the edge razor-sharp, and it'd still be unbreakable."
Under the influence of the Chariot's power, the stone began to shift. Wang Yu sculpted it according to his vision.
"I'll take advantage of this material's resistance to magic, void, and even fighting spirit. When I wield the blade, I'll be able to cleave through just about any possible defense."
The slab of stone, no larger than his palm and two fingers thick, began to stretch and thin. The Chariot's power struck like invisible hammers from all directions, forging the weapon in silence, each strike a ghostly flare. The blade took shape.
A slender saber emerged, just over a meter in length. Though it lacked a hilt, its starsteel blade radiated with deadly precision.
The Chariot lifted the blade effortlessly. Wang Yu pressed a finger gently along its edge and pulled downward.
His hardened knight's skin split instantly—with no resistance at all. Blood welled up, only to be reabsorbed by his Blood Tempest. The pain, sharp and immediate, confirmed the blade's lethal edge.
Wang Yu smiled faintly. He was satisfied. He had no doubt that this blade could cut even himself in two. Its edge, impossibly thin, still retained the dense durability of the starsteel.
"But it's too long. If I carry it like this..."
A spark of inspiration flickered to life. This weapon was devastating, but carrying such a long blade could hinder him.
Yet there was no need to abandon the concept. In fact, perhaps he could push it even further.
The blade gave a splintering cry as hairline fractures formed across its surface.
The Chariot's power split the blade into dozens of fragments, each about five centimeters long. Razor-sharp and deadly, they flew in graceful arcs around Wang Yu.
One by one, the fragments slipped into his garments, hiding perfectly between the folds—compact enough not to interfere with his movement.
Then, with a thought, twenty or so blade fragments launched out from his clothes. They hovered, then snapped together in mid-air. The Chariot's power surged, sealing the cracks and restoring the blade in full.
"Perfect."
Wang Yu chuckled softly. This shattered starsteel blade—this living weapon—would be his new strength.