Amid the scorched and cratered ground of the ancient garden, a glinting object shimmered in the center of a charred formation, catching Leylin's discerning eye.
"Spirit stones," he murmured, a faint smile curling his lips.
In that instant, a blinding cascade of white light erupted, flooding the desolate flower garden with an ethereal radiance.
Within the luminous haze, Leylin beheld tens of thousands of phantom human figures, their spectral forms wavering like reflections in a dream.
The countenances of these apparitions struck a chord of familiarity—they were the spirit bodies he had glimpsed earlier, now manifesting in their original human shapes.
Men and women, some garbed as Magi or acolytes, gazed upon him with gentle, serene smiles before slowly dissolving into the radiant glow.
"Such a fascinating thing a soul is!" Leylin mused aloud, his voice tinged with both awe and cynicism. "One might argue that such an experiment is immoral, against common decorum, but in this world, only might is right. If these people had succeeded, they would have been hailed as visionaries. Yet they failed, and so they are shunned. The irony is that those who drove them to extinction are no better—hypocrites who would do anything to seize such specimens for themselves."
With deliberate care, he gathered the green-hued spirit crystals scattered across the ground, placing them into a small pouch. He sealed it with a golden thread, ensuring their safety, before tucking the pouch securely within his robes.
The green spirit plague that had once tainted the air had vanished entirely, leaving behind a fractured landscape. Fine cracks, resembling the scales of a lizard, marred the black rock walls encircling the garden's edge. Leylin approached the fissured wall, his fingers grazing its surface before delivering a gentle knock.
*Crash!*
A cascade of stones tumbled to the ground, kicking up clouds of lime dust that swirled in the air.
Beyond the collapsed wall lay a deep, cavernous hole, its interior flickering with pitch-black light rays that seemed to pulse with an otherworldly energy. A glint of dark anticipation flashed through Leylin's eyes.
With measured steps, he circled the crevice, stepping into its shadowy depths. The interior resembled an ore mine, its walls ensnared by sprawling roots that wove across the surfaces like a living fishnet, their gnarled forms intertwining to shroud the cave in an organic lattice.
Undeterred, Leylin pressed deeper, traversing nearly a kilometer until he encountered a massive yellow tree root, its bulk forming an impassable wall that barred his path.
"Intruder!" a voice boomed, and from the trunk of the root, the weathered face of an old man emerged, its bark-like features twisted in a glare meant to intimidate. "Answer one question of mine, or else you'll be ripped into pieces!"
Leylin's expression remained impassive, his silence a rebuke to the Misleading Mist Tree Root's hollow challenge.
He knew its nature—a cunning trap designed to ensnare intruders, luring them into peril regardless of their answers.
Without a word, he raised both his hands, his voice steady as he intoned, "Latent Fireball! Inferno Mass!"
Two spells erupted in tandem, accompanied by the hurl of a blue-colored potion. A barrage of small black fireballs streaked toward the root, followed by a horde of crimson, menacing beasts conjured from the inferno.
The potion struck the roots, releasing a gale of gas that enveloped the area, amplifying the spells' ferocity. The red light surged, expanding from a single root to engulf the entire wall, closing in on the Misleading Mist Tree Root with unrelenting hunger.
"What is this… Argh…" The root's agonized screams echoed through the garden, a cacophony of pain and terror.
Even from the entrance of the hole, Leylin could hear the dense, hair-raising shrieks, the tree howling like a crazed beast as the flames mercilessly devoured its form. Within mere minutes, the Misleading Mist Tree Root was reduced to smoldering ashes, its screams fading into a feeble whimper before ceasing entirely.
"It's time to get rid of the extras," Leylin thought, his fingers brushing the ring on his hand as he stepped into the mud tunnel, now partially collapsed from the inferno's wrath. He soon reached the spot where the Misleading Mist Tree Root had once stood, now a desolate expanse of ash and charred remnants, devoid of the tree's former presence.
Before him lay two diverging paths. One was a black tunnel, a deceptive bait used by the root to trap unwary intruders. The other, a bronze-colored pathway where the root had once stood, gleamed with a crude yet inviting warmth, as if crafted from ancient ceramic.
Etched upon it were ancient Byron characters proclaiming, "Tunnel to Experiment Lab #1! Top secret! Only authorized personnel allowed!"
The bronze pathway was short, and Leylin swiftly reached its end, arriving at a small hall dominated by a towering black metal door, over four meters wide and exuding an aura of solemn authority.
Magic runes adorned its frame, alongside the inscription, "Experiment Lab #1. Supervisor: Edward."
The words, coated in dust and weathered by time, hinted at the door's ancient origins.
As Leylin stood before the door, two figures emerged into his field of vision. His gaze turned icy, his hands crossed behind his back, projecting an air of unyielding resolve. The old witch and Jaye, spotting the newcomer, instinctively assumed defensive stances.
"Who are you? Where is Virago?" Old Devil demanded, her voice sharp with suspicion. Her posture betrayed her intent, poised to unleash an offensive spell.
Jaye positioned themselves behind the old witch, their body radiating magical energy, ready to strike. At this pivotal moment, Leylin shed all pretense, his true face revealed for all to see.
To him, the utility of these two had expired; keeping them alive now would only invite complications and unpredictable variables.
With a cold, calculating gaze, he activated his innate spell. "Kemoyin Scales! Shadow Domain!"
A dark, ominous aura enveloped the area as a black shadow spread like a tide, cloaking the tunnel in an oppressive gloom.
Old Devil and Jaye unleashed their attack spells, their magic colliding with Leylin's domain in a deafening *boom* that reverberated through the chamber.
A heavy silence followed, broken only by a piercing, blood-curdling scream.
"Ahhhh!"
Old Devil's face contorted in terror as she recognized the voice. Whirling around, she saw Jaye ensnared by four serpentine bindings, one snake's fangs buried deep in her neck, blood streaming from the wound.
"Jaye!" Old Devil's expression morphed into one of crazed anguish as she howled her daughter's name, lunging toward her.
The fangs tightened, sinking deeper, and Old Devil froze, as if doused with icy water. The stark reality crashed over her—her daughter's life hung in the hands of her adversary.
"What do you want?" she asked, her voice steadying as she grasped that the Magus might be reasoned with, having chosen to take Jaye hostage rather than kill her outright. "Do you know who I am?"
"Oh, of course I know about the elder Old Devil from 'Thousand Meddling Hands,'" Leylin replied, stepping from the shadows with a confident smile, his hands clasped behind his back. "And what I want is a very simple and reasonable request: everything you have obtained from this plane."
His fingers brushed his ring, now bearing only three snakes where seven had once been. This ring, his trump card, was a masterpiece of complex magical formations and rune arts, forged with seven sources of power materialized as serpents, each imbued with a drop of pure Ivy bloodline essence.
He had named it the Ring of Despots, a weapon he wielded with masterful alchemical precision. Satisfied with its performance, Leylin stood poised, ready to claim the spoils of his carefully orchestrated gambit.