"Take it easy..."

In the spacious dormitory, Roland watched the red squirrel on the wooden table clutch a piece of white bread and devour it with frantic bites. He laughed and shook his head.

Seeing the little fellow eat so desperately, he casually used his longsword to split a wooden cup in two, poured clean water into one half, and pushed it in front of the squirrel.

Only after quite some time did the red squirrel stop eating.

Roland tapped its little head with a fingertip and asked gently, "How is it, Joe? Full?"

This red squirrel was none other than Joe, who had helped Roland and Darco escape danger back in the dense forest filled with Goblins.

"Full! Full!"

Joe nodded hard. While carefully licking bread crumbs from his paws, he spoke in a muffled voice.

"Roland really is different from other two-legs. You're a super good person!"

After saying that, he bent down and drank all the clean water in one go. Only then did he burp in satisfaction, sprawl across the table, and rub his round little belly with both paws.

That adorable, almost human appearance drew another laugh from Roland.

"So..."

Roland rubbed Joe's fluffy little belly and smiled.

"Why did you run all the way here instead of staying in the forest? If I hadn't arrived in time, that bearded chef would've stewed you into soup."

Joe shivered.

Then he lowered his little head, and his voice filled with a sadness Roland had never heard from him before.

"The forest... the forest died..."

"Died?"

"Yes..."

Joe's small paws clutched his fluffy tail, and his voice sank lower.

"At first, it was the stream... It turned black and stinky..."

He sat upright all at once, black-bean eyes shimmering with tears.

"Then Grandpa Oak's leaves started falling in big patches, even though it wasn't leaf-falling season! Every day, I could hear him groaning. What flowed from the cracks in his bark wasn't resin. It was... it was black slime..."

The red squirrel's whiskers trembled.

"Mr. Woodpecker took his whole family and flew away last month... Before he left, he pecked open the bark of a birch tree. The wood inside had already turned gray-white, and it crumbled into powder at a touch..."

"After the berry bushes stopped bearing fruit, the mole family ate up all the food stored in their burrow, then moved away too."

He wiped his eyes with a paw.

"Miss Butterflies were the first to disappear. The eggs they laid on the backs of the nettle leaves all turned black. Later, even Uncle Cicada, who was noisy all day, stopped calling. The last time I saw him, all six of his legs were curled up, and he was hanging from a branch like a dead leaf..."

"The whole forest was terrifyingly quiet. No birdsong, no insect cries. It was like... like something had sucked all the life away..."

Joe darted to Roland's hand, his cold little paws gripping Roland's finger tight.

"When I escaped, I saw black patterns crawling out from under the ground, wrapping around the tree roots like spiderwebs... Roland, that wasn't ordinary withering, right? The forest was killed!"

Roland stared at the little fellow before him, his eyes blurred with tears, and his brow tightened.

Joe had no reason to lie.

But this was the turn between spring and summer, when everything should have been growing. Instead, the life in the forest was... withering.

The word turned in his mind and felt wrong no matter how he looked at it.

"Trees leaking black sap, strange patterns crawling over the ground... This is definitely not a natural phenomenon."

"When I go to Mist Creek Town to visit Sean, I can investigate along the way."

For now, Roland pressed down the thoughts crowding his mind. He looked at the little squirrel still sniffling and stroked its lowered head with his fingertip.

"All right, Joe. Don't be too sad."

He paused.

"Why don't you follow me from now on? I can't give you a home like the forest, but at least I won't let you get so hungry you have to steal food."

"Re... really?"

Joe jerked his head up, obsidian eyes lighting at once. Then he anxiously rubbed his paws together.

"But... I can't help with anything..."

"Hahaha!"

Roland was amused by his appearance and carefully held him in his palm.

"Who says? Without you, my friend and I never would have walked out of that forest."

"But... but..."

Joe clutched the tip of his tail.

"Last time, you already gave me white bread..."

"Then it's settled."

Roland placed him back on the table in a tone that left no room for argument, then turned and began organizing his luggage.

"But I'll be leaving for a few days tomorrow. I can ask a friend to..."

"No!"

Joe darted to his hand, little paws clinging tightly to Roland's finger.

"Other than you, Roland, I don't want to stay with any other two-leg!"

Looking at the squirrel's puffed-up tail and stubborn eyes, Roland laughed despite himself.

"All right, all right."

He poked Joe's puffed cheek.

"Then when the time comes, you have to stay obediently in my pack. No running around."

"No problem!"

After reaching an agreement with Joe, Roland washed up simply, lay down on the bed, and slept deeply.

Early the next morning, when the sky had just begun to brighten, Roland opened his eyes on time.

He went to the dining hall for breakfast, returned to the dormitory, and divided food for Joe. A familiar call came from outside the door soon after.

"Roland! Are you awake?"

Hearing that voice, Roland shook his head helplessly and went to open the door.

Sunlight poured in, illuminating a head of shining blond hair. Roland lowered his voice and reminded him, "Darco, keep it down. The others are still sleeping..."

"Oh, sorry."

Darco scratched his head awkwardly, then squeezed past Roland into the room, unable to hide his excitement.

His gaze swept over the red squirrel feasting on the wooden table, and he suddenly remembered that he had once wanted to find Roland a pet.

That thought was quickly replaced by something more important.

The young noble announced impatiently, "Matthew said you had something to ask me? Perfect. I also have some huge good news to tell you!"

He straightened his back, his voice rising despite himself.

"I'm about to set out for the Royal Capital's Knight Academy for advanced study!"

"Congratulations, Darco!"

Roland was sincerely happy for his friend.

After all, what this young noble talked about most on ordinary days was every kind of longing and plan regarding Knight Academy.

Now that his dream had come true, Roland's ears would at least be a little quieter in the future.

"Hahaha!"

Darco laughed heartily, casually picked up the wooden cup on the table, and drank all the clean water inside. The red squirrel widened its eyes at him with sudden vigilance.

"Right, what did you need me for?"

"I plan to leave Blackwater Territory..."

Facing this close friend, Roland chose honesty.

Although there was a great difference in their status, their time together had already made them intimate friends.

Of course, he still omitted some details so this simple young noble would not overthink things.

"Mm..."

Darco frowned at once. After a long silence, he sighed, and reluctance filled the gaze he turned on Roland.

The young noble opened his mouth, but in the end, he spoke quietly.

"Roland, I know someone as talented as you would leave this place sooner or later... I just didn't expect that day to come so quickly."

Darco scratched his head, his voice lowering.

"I originally planned to... take you to the Royal Capital..."

Before he could finish, Roland slapped a hand onto his shoulder.

The heavy force made Darco bare his teeth, but it also broke the gloomy mood.

"Don't put on a face like you're attending a funeral."

Looking at his friend's grief-stricken expression, Roland resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"The Golden Valley Kingdom and the River Kingdoms have had diplomatic relations for a long time, and they're close. If you have time, you can come find me anytime."

"Right!"

Darco's dim eyes brightened, and his tone lightened.

"And the Knight Academies of the two nations interact frequently. There are exchange opportunities every year! Counting it that way, we'll be able to meet at least once a year!"

As he spoke, he hooked an arm around Roland's shoulder and grinned.

"By then, maybe my strength will have surpassed yours! During a duel, I'll defeat you with one sword strike!"

"Keep dreaming..."

Roland easily broke free, though his mouth lifted.

Seeing his friend recover his usual energy, Roland quietly released a breath.

That sorrowful farewell atmosphere had really left him at a loss.

"Then..."

Darco sat down on the wooden chair without the slightest politeness, grabbed Roland's breakfast, and stuffed it into his mouth. Joe angrily bared his little teeth beside him.

"When do you plan to set out?"

"In a few days."

Roland broke off a piece of black bread and put it in his mouth, then turned and continued organizing his luggage.

"But before that, I need to go to Mist Creek Town and visit a friend."

"Oh! I remember you mentioning him!"

Darco slapped his thigh.

"Called Shaw... Shon..."

"Sean."

Roland corrected him helplessly.

After the two chatted for a while longer, Darco rose and said goodbye.

To prepare for Knight Academy's entrance assessment, the young noble headed straight for the training field.

Once Roland finished packing, he went first to the wooden house and explained a few things to Bronson. Then he mounted Blackwind and left the estate.

"Mm..."

Joe laboriously poked his little head out of the pouch at Roland's waist, nose twitching as he looked curiously toward Roland's left hand.

"Roland..."

"What is it?"

Roland asked while identifying the direction.

"Your left hand..."

Joe twitched his nose.

"It smells like the forest..."

"Smells like the forest?"

Roland's brow lifted, and he raised his wrist to reveal that section of white bone.

"You mean this?"

"That's right!"

Joe nodded hard, narrowed his eyes, and sniffed carefully. A moment later, he said with certainty, "It has exactly the same scent as the forest. Did you... find this thing in the forest, Roland?"

"You could... say that."

Roland's brow lifted again, and he fell into thought.

Although this bone had been obtained near Pinewood Town, far from Joe's forest, Roland suspected that the bones the Sun Church and the Goblins had fought over back then came from the same source as the piece on his hand.

"But... a bone actually carries the scent of the forest..."

Although Roland had not spent much time with Joe, he understood that the red squirrel's "smell of the forest" was closer to the forest's life force.

And a piece of bone could contain the life force of a forest...

"Could it be... that the withering of Joe's forest is related to this bone?"

Carrying that question, Roland squeezed his horse's sides and galloped toward the forest where Joe had once lived.

Before long, the outline of that forest appeared in the distance.

The sight made Roland's heart tighten.

The forest, once lush and green, was now far more withered than Joe had described.

The crowns that had once been verdant were sparse and yellow. Branches drooped like their life had been drained dry.

An ominous gray mist permeated the woods, dimming even the sunlight.

Blackwind snorted uneasily. His hooves stepped over dead leaves with soft rustles, each step seeming to tread on the forest's dying pulse.

"How could..."

Joe crawled fully out of the pouch, round eyes filled with disbelief. Even his whiskers drooped.

"It clearly wasn't this bad when I left..."

Roland stroked Joe's trembling back, his grave gaze sweeping over cracked bark and scattered dead branches.

What lay before him was more than simple decay.

This was withering.

Roland gently pressed the trembling Joe back into the pouch, then dismounted.

He held his breath and walked forward with care.

The moment he stepped onto the edge of the forest, an aura both familiar and strange rushed toward him.

Roland frowned, and his fingers touched the bone around his wrist.

He narrowed his eyes and sensed the abnormal energy.

When casting Fire Bolt before, he had only drawn fire elements through the bone, but during that process, he had also sensed the existence of other Mana Elements.

Gentle water. Heavy earth. Unrestrained wind.

The withering power before him possessed a subtle similarity to those elements, yet it was also completely different.

It was bone-chilling and malicious, filled with the suffocating aura of death.

Just standing at the edge of the forest made Roland's chest tighten and his breathing quicken.

He exhaled deeply and looked through layer upon layer of withered branches and dead leaves. Black cracks radiated outward across the ground, clearly visible.

"It's exactly as Joe said..."

Roland's brow drew tighter.

"But what exactly is this?"

Out of caution, he did not rush deeper in. Instead, he asked the red squirrel in the pouch in a low voice, "Joe, when did this situation begin?"

"Mm..."

Joe's voice came from the pouch, muffled and low.

"Probably... not long after you left, Roland..."

Roland fell into thought. The scenes he had seen along the way surfaced in his mind.

The other forests on both sides of the road had seemed normal, but after thinking carefully, there had indeed been something wrong about them.

"Actually, those forests weren't right either..."

Joe's little head poked out from the pouch again, ears drooping listlessly.

"The fruit on the trees turned sour and bitter. They couldn't be eaten at all. That's why I..."

His voice shrank toward the end, clearly because he had remembered the embarrassing experience of being caught by the bearded chef.

"So the abnormality in this forest is spreading to the surrounding area?"

After reaching that conclusion, Roland turned decisively and returned to Blackwind.

The strange withering mana at the forest edge had already made it hard for him to breathe. The concentration deeper inside could only be worse.

Thinking of the phenomenon Bronson had once mentioned, Crystal Blight, Roland decided not to risk going farther in for now.

After riding back to the estate, Roland first found John at the gate, where he was directing guards on patrol.

He deliberately omitted details related to Mana Elements, emphasized the danger of that forest, and warned John to raise his guard.

After that, he went to Bronson's residence, explained what he had seen and heard in detail, and put forward his own speculation.

After a brief period of contemplation, the scholar paced back and forth through the room.

His boots made dull sounds against the floorboards. After a while, he stopped and spoke.

"Roland, this situation... should be caused by an excessive overflow of elements from an elemental plane, eroding the Prime Material Plane..."

After his earlier study of ancient texts, Roland was not unfamiliar with these terms.

He knew that planes were different dimensions or realms that made up reality, and each plane possessed unique physical laws, ecology, and inhabitants.

Put simply, they were different spaces existing within the same time and reality.

Under normal circumstances, planes were restricted by certain rules and could not connect with one another, somewhat similar to parallel worlds.

"Then..."

Roland's slender fingertips tapped the oak table before him, producing a crisp sound.

"How great an impact will this phenomenon have? And how long will it last?"

"As you saw, Roland..."

As Bronson answered, he turned toward the shabby bookcase piled with ancient texts.

His fingertips slid across the spines before stopping on a heavy book. It was precisely Gufflin's Travels, which Roland had read before.

The scholar carefully pulled it out, and fine dust rose from between the pages.

"Because the attributes of each element differ, the changes they produce after intruding into the Prime Material World also differ. However, a change resembling withering is not an effect possessed by the four major elements..."

Noticing the gravity on Roland's face, Bronson softened his tone.

"But you don't need to worry too much. This phenomenon was quite common before the Final Era. After continuing for some time, it would mysteriously disappear..."

As he spoke, Bronson pushed Gufflin's Travels in front of Roland.

Roland immediately activated the [Focus] trait, and his slender fingers quickly turned the yellowed pages.

Sure enough, just as Bronson had said, the book contained several records of elemental planes intruding into the Prime Material Plane. Each time, before long, the abnormal phenomenon vanished without a trace.

"As for the speculation you mentioned earlier, that this white bone caused the phenomenon..."

Bronson sat down on the wooden chair opposite Roland and rubbed his brow. Rare confusion appeared in his eyes.

"On that point, I truly have no clue..."

The scholar's voice was low.

"However, before the Final Era, there was indeed one theory."

He reached for the teapot on the table and poured a cup of black tea that had long since gone cold. The surface reflected his tired face.

"The theory was that the more powerful a monster, the more its might would affect its surrounding living area to a certain extent, producing various unknown changes."

"But this theory has no solid evidence."

He shook his head with a bitter smile.

"Even in the great library of the Tower, I never read any relevant cases... Those records were all too vague, more like folk legends than rigorous academic research."

Roland nodded lightly, fingers rubbing the grain of the table.

After a moment of silence, his eyes sharpened.

"Then regarding the original owner of this bone, Mr. Bronson, do you have any clue?"

Bronson shook his head.

"There were far too many monsters before the Final Era that met those conditions."

He sighed.

"Even now, on another land across the sea from this one, there are rumors of salamanders that fit these conditions. So I have no way to make an accurate guess. But..."

"A bone left after death can actually draw Mana Elements from the air on its own..."

His voice dropped, carrying a certain awe.

"This creature must have been powerful beyond our imagination when it was alive."

"I understand."

Roland tapped the tabletop twice with his fingertip, then continued, "Then, Mr. Bronson, has Baron Forsling summoned you recently? After all, this happened not far from the estate."

"I already reminded Captain John just now, but if Baron Forsling can also realize the importance of this matter, perhaps some potential danger can be avoided..."

"Ha..."

Bronson let out a bitter laugh, the sound tinged with self-mockery.

He raised a hand and pointed dispiritedly at himself.

"Baron Forsling now sees me as a complete and utter fraud... but you don't need to worry."

"If something truly happens, I will go remind the lord baron."

"Then I'll leave it to you, Mr. Bronson."

Roland rose. When he reached the door, he stopped and turned back to warn him, "But you must also pay attention to your own safety. If the elemental plane intrusion does not recede on its own as we expect..."

He paused.

"You may go to Far Harbor ahead of me and wait there."

After saying this, Roland left the wooden house and walked toward the training field.

He told Darco, who was training hard, about the abnormal phenomenon in the forest. The young noble did not dismiss it the way Baron Forsling might have.

Although Darco felt the matter Roland described sounded more like a side effect of reading too many knight novels, his trust in his friend still made him nod solemnly.

As dusk deepened, Roland stood at the estate gate holding Blackwind's reins.

This estate carried too many good memories. He did not want to return from Mist Creek Town and see only ruins ravaged by Mana Elements.

Only after warning Darco and making sure the estate would remain on alert did Roland mount Blackwind and leave once again, galloping toward Mist Creek Town.

Blackwind raced beneath the evening glow, his hoofbeats especially clear across the quiet wilderness.

The road to Mist Creek Town was farther than the road to Pinewood Town, but the journey went exceptionally smoothly. Even the wild beasts that usually appeared had vanished without a trace.

When the distant lights became clear, Roland discovered that Mist Creek Town was far larger than Pinewood Town. The outline of its walls stretched beneath the dim sunlight, nearly half the size of Far Harbor.

When he was still more than a hundred paces from the town gate, a familiar figure entered his sight.

That person leaned lazily against an oak tree by the roadside, a stalk of wheat straw held in his mouth.