NOVEL SIMPLE Chapter-178 Kaaleria
Ewan looked for the ‘wolf’ and the other half of his mind worked on upgrading the spell in the cave the next morning with the Governor’s viscous Ryvia lingering around, yet neither succeeded. Stefan had no answer for him regarding the book, he was oblivious to its origins and hardly knew the language used in it—he called the tongue ‘Kaaleria’ and could only read some broken words. But he did confirm the name ‘Taria’ and that the book stayed in his family since they changed their surname to ‘Rad’.
‘Radon’ became ‘Rad’, and even though their blood didn’t relate, Stefan’s family carried Perceval’s legacy with each passing generation. So, the mystic didn’t deceive Ewan this time, there were no layers of rumors to hide the truth, and the chain of events followed in reality as they did in the past he saw. The message Perceval left him must be real, the wolf must exist….
He stirred the Anima, cast different spells, provoked the disharmony between elements, crushed incomplete spell circuits, suffered the backlashes, and finally after days of investigation, the path to the goal he hunted for lay before him. The modification process of the mystic potion birthed <Remembrance>, thus the clue to upgrading it also belonged to that potion—the Step-1 version. And the same spell let Perceval etch the words in the book for him, thus the upgraded version should lead him to the wolf too.
They were what he wanted, he could brew the modification potion anytime, yet his scruples halted his steps. The Governor’s ashen-gray Ryvia still stayed around; he would serve his success to the old man in a silver platter if he made a move right now.
Others could only feel the same-level Ryvia when they were inside the range, but Ewan’s evolved instincts showed him its intangible influence even when he didn’t touch it—it also broke the same-level barrier for him. And though the Governor’s Ryvia only hovered in the distance and never crossed him, its presence still had him on edge.
The situation stilled and the lack of a better solution snatched the initiative away from Ewan. He wouldn’t act until the weighty Ryvia went away, and that depended on the Governor. Hence, it became a game of patience and possibilities. Either the Governor would lose his cool first or Ewan would hold on for a chance.
….
The passive state tied his hands, so Ewan shifted his attention to the other tasks in his to-do list. The Ryvia based flights dominated the combat maneuverability and the short distance bursts, while the long-distance travels mainly saw the usage of the <Flight> spell. He already had the basics down for the former, now he practiced the latter.
Each cast of the spell gobbled up a fixed amount of Anima to start the engine—one unit over the peak of Step-0—and continued to nibble the rest as long as the flight continued. Moreover, different elements produced different results with it, some boosted the thrust raw while the others buffed it under certain conditions.
The mystic element failed the spell with only a baseline speed, while the blood element of the life-and-death category boosted it when his surroundings was devoid of life. The fire and the ice elements of the temperature category were his best choice as they were the optimal elements for a non-conditional flight—they gave the caster an explosive speed without relying on the environment.
Because of the Elementalist-subtype, Ewan would gain a different rune with each addition of an Astylind. His growing array of elements would eventually spread his options with the <Flight> spell to various scenarios and would give him access to the buffs under diverse conditions. Yet, the disadvantage of such also came with it, the other side of the coin always followed.
The presence of only one rune of each element shortened the duration of his continuous flight, and therefore, lessened the time Ewan could enjoy a situational buff compared to the others. Versatility over specialty, this was his bed, and he lay on it.
Adaptation to the movements in the air came with time. Soon he could change directions, threading through the forest without smashing the trees and the rocks, and learned to kill the momentum with a burst of reverse thrust. When he could hover while maintaining an idle state of the spell circuit for a quick trigger, he moved on to the next task—learning the ‘Kaaleria’ tongue.
Several hunts of the hub procured the age-torn books of the language for him, and he started with the basics. The tongue twisting letters, and the throat grating intonations afflicted him for days and nights before he got the hang of a few common sentences. Stefan’s help supplemented his scant knowledge on the tongue, and they barely translated the gist of the book inside the safety of the protective fog—he and the Governor had yet to drop the pretense of harmony, his villa was still safe.
The book carried the trigger and details for the path passed down in the Radon family as well as the key to the ownership of their Warship—Stormfalcon. Written history omitted any and all evidence of its existence, the Ashocan Kingdom was never the owner of a Class-M size Warship in the books. But the words of the last king of Ashocan claimed it, the Warship was there where the wolf would lead him to.
There was still no mention of the fruit though, Ewan had no idea what it even was. Nevertheless, he wasn’t without clue. The medallion glowed with Perceval, he was his Pa’s friend and both sides confirmed that, so there must be some reference to anything of importance in his territory. That stacked with the vague words the Governor left, and Ewan created a small list of bizarre items and fruits after a thorough process of elimination from his journal. Yet, before he could go through them and pinpoint the cause of the war and what would give him the rune he yearned for, the day of the peace talks arrived.
Ewan had the invitation from the man leading the talks himself, not to mention he was the pivot for the illusion of the Governor’s newfound youth to work, so he dropped everything and departed for the arranged venue—the newly rebuilt guest house.
However, his steps came to a screeching halt when he went out of the villa and looked around. The forest carried its usual morning melody, the wind still breezed against his face, the mountain rested like always, yet the thick gray that lingered in his vision everyday was gone—the Governor had reined in his Ryvia; the peace talks, and the imminent threat of the church grabbed his attention. This was the chance Ewan waited for.
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