Chapter 47: Significance



[Rejuvenation boost time left: 00:20]

Aric stumbled into a dark, narrow alleyway, his hand leaning on the stone wall for support. It quickly turned black and crumbled into ash. The prince reached the opposite wall, leaning back against it as he heaved heavily.

He was far from the castle now. With his ki flowing at almost full capacity, plus the boost from the energy formed from mixing ki and mana, he had been able to cover massive distances in a short time.

The prince had shown a necessary display of power. His plan was never to oppose the Byzeth people with force, but if he allowed them to perceive him as weak, he would eventually face those who disagreed with his methods and would eventually grow too ambitious for their own good.

[Rejuvenation boost expired]

"Ughh..."

The prince groaned in pain as he slid down the wall onto the floor. Even with the rejuvenation boost, the chaos of mixing both forces was taking a great toll on his body. Now, back to his weakened state, the pain had become many times worse.

Aric turned his hand, gazing at his palm as he breathed heavily.

"Guide," Aric called out.

She responded, floating gently in front of him.

"If the system can give me something that cures my illness for four minutes, then surely it can also cure my illness."

Aric spoke out his thoughts. At first, he hadn’t questioned much. He simply took what he was given and was grateful for it, but now, with his knowledge of the Weavers, he knew there was something more at play—and he was curious.

The guide stayed quiet. For the first time, it didn’t answer a question Aric asked.

"Answer me... I need to know."

The guide looked away from Aric.

"I don’t have your answers, User, but I will say: balance is important, and perhaps fate more so. There are necessities required so that things fated happen the way they must, and it is not for anyone to alter this."

The prince boarded a carriage and made his way back to the Midgard Province, where the stretch of Miredis began, and most goods leaving the Byzeth Kingdom were loaded before starting their journey.

As Aric reached the loading station, it was packed with people and multiple crates. One could barely hear the sound of their own voice over the shouts of instructions from wagon loaders and the neighs and grunts from the horses and camels.

Some sections of the area seemed to have no type of guarding whatsoever—perhaps goods being exported by less wealthy businessmen—while some wagons and their loads were surrounded by numerous guards. It was quite easy to tell which of the wagons were being sent to the Northrenders.

Aside from the almost overboard security, the wagons were far fancier than they needed to be, and the crates were plentiful. It was a very large transport.

Aric weaved and brushed through man after man, his head constantly swiveling in search of Serina.

Then, he felt a tug on his shoulder. He swiftly turned, slightly startled, and his eyes met Serina’s. She nodded at him discreetly before walking, and Aric followed closely behind her.

The farther they went, the more the crowd began to thin. What remained were broken-down caravans at the side of the desolate, sandy road and wagons that were passing, having set off on their journey.

Serina and Aric boarded a wagon that took them farther into the stretch. The more they traveled, the more Miredis opened up into a dry desert landscape. The ground was a mixture of dusty dirt and scattered rocks.

In the distance, low-lying mountains rose under a cloudy, golden-bathed sky as the setting sun added contrast to the flat, seemingly lifeless terrain. The dirt road cutting through the landscape stretched toward the horizon.

They made their way deep toward one of the mountains in the distance. Behind them, the wagon rolled and stopped at the entrance of some abandoned mining tunnels. As the wagon came to a halt, a single man wielding a machete strolled out.

"It’s best you move along from here," the bandit threatened, swinging the machete in a failing attempt to intimidate Aric and Serina.

The prince sighed, hopping off the wagon, his boots crunching against the barren dirt as he exclaimed,

"Borag, Twicher... get out here."

As the prince spoke, two figures suddenly emerged from the shadows of the mine, walking past the single machete-wielding bandit.

"Oh, sire, it is you," Borag greeted.

"Come out, boys," Twicher exclaimed, and as he did, multiple bandits began to troop out from the different mines.