Chapter 180: Trying Something

  Abu sat across from Elliot in the mayor’s office, the air heavy with tension. The faint scent of smoke lingered from the earlier chaos in town, and Elliot’s desk was cluttered with scattered documents — some bearing marks of dirt and ash.

  Clearly, the mayor had been too busy handling the town’s unrest to focus on hosting visitors.

  “I apologize for not welcoming you properly,” Elliot said, his voice strained but sincere. He rubbed his temples, clearly exhausted. “Things have been... hectic, to say the least. We’ve had several attacks — parasites, scorpions, even something at my office. There are people out there trying to cause chaos. Not exactly the warmest welcome to Reinhart.”

  Abu chuckled softly, his voice smooth yet casual. “Don’t worry about that. Since I’ll be moving into town, I’ll naturally do what I can to help.”

  Elliot studied him for a moment, tapping his fingers rhythmically against the desk. “I appreciate that... but I have to ask — how strong are you, really?” He leaned forward. “Are you an Apostle?”

  Abu smiled wide, flashing his white teeth as if Elliot had asked a funny question. “That’s... complicated,” he said with a shrug.

  Inwardly, Abu’s thoughts swirled. Am I an apostle?

  The question had plagued him ever since he began walking this path.

  He wasn’t like the others — not truly. His mana pool wasn’t whole; instead, what he possessed was a unique reservoir of mana that mimicked a proper mana pool but lacked its profound depth and quick regenerative properties.

  His reservoir held substantially less mana, and no matter how hard he pushed himself, it could never naturally create a rune.

  He remembered the Overseer’s words — cold and clear.

  “You’re not an official Rank 1 Apostle — you’re a Rank 0. A rare case. Advancement? Unlikely.”

  The memory made his fingers twitch, but Abu forced himself to relax. Magic is unpredictable, he reminded himself.

  He believed there was still potential — a way to expand his reservoir, to force his breakthrough. After all, the unknown always held possibilities.

  “I see,” Elliot said, breaking the silence. “I won’t press you for details, but... if you’re here to help, we need every hand we can get.”

  “I understand,” Abu said calmly.

  Elliot’s gaze darkened with frustration. “I’ll be honest with you — our head officer, Burt, was poisoned in one of these attacks. He’s tough, but... he’s in bad shape. We’ve tried everything, but no one knows how to cure it. I was hoping — since you’ve got some... unique skills — that maybe you could help?”

  Abu’s smile faded. “I can try,” he offered cautiously. “I’m no expert in poisons, though. If it’s something too complex, there’s no guarantee I can help him.”

  “I get it,” Elliot said with a sigh. “At this point, I’ll take anything. Burt’s one of our best.”

  The room fell quiet for a beat, the distant sound of officers barking orders faintly seeping through the walls. The town was still on high alert.

  “I’ll have someone escort you to your temporary villa soon,” Elliot continued, his voice softer now. “Once Abel returns, you two can properly meet. He’s... someone you’ll want to know.”

  “I look forward to it,” Abu replied, intrigued.

  Elliot stood, signaling the end of their meeting. “I’ll arrange for a lieutenant’s uniform to be brought to you as well,” he added. “You’re one of us now — at least until the Institute is up and running. Welcome to Reinhart.”

  Abu rose and extended his hand, which Elliot shook firmly.

  “Thank you,” Abu said. “I’ll do what I can.”

  As he turned to leave, Abu's mind remained clouded. He had doubts about what he could truly offer this town. Yet, something told him this was where he needed to be.

  Even if he was only a ‘Rank 0,’ this place — and its people — might just give him the push he needed to defy those odds.

  A few hours went by, and Abu barely had the opportunity to settle in.

  The morning light barely crept through the heavy curtains of a medical room, casting dim shadows across the walls.

  The faint scent of herbs and salves lingered in the air, yet the room still carried an underlying metallic tang — the scent of blood and sickness.

  Burt lay on the cot, his breathing shallow and labored. His face was pale, and angry purple patches marred his skin, spreading across his arms and creeping up his neck like a slow-moving plague.

  Each patch seemed swollen, as though the poison inside were festering beneath the surface.

  Abu stood at the bedside, frowning deeply as he examined Burt. Elliot and Jenny stood close by, watching anxiously; neither slept the night.

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  The mayor’s fingers tapped against his arm in a restless rhythm while Jenny's gaze kept shifting between Burt’s face and Abu’s contemplative expression.

  “I can’t say for certain,” Abu finally said, his voice low. “But... this isn’t like any poison I’ve seen before.”

  Elliot’s hand clenched into a fist. “Is there anything you can do?”

  Abu exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “It’s... strange,” he muttered, stepping closer and pointing to the discolored patches on Burt’s arm. “Look here.” His finger traced the outline of one of the larger purple blotches.

  “See this pattern? It’s almost webbed, like veins branching out beneath the skin. This poison... it didn’t just enter through a wound. It seeped through his pores, clinging to him like a parasite.”

  Jenny winced. “Through his pores?”

  Abu nodded grimly. “It’s as if the poison itself is... sticky, like tar. It’s latched onto him — stuck inside his skin. I can sense faint mana within it too, meaning it’s not just some natural venom — this was crafted, manipulated.”

  The words lingered in the air, heavy with implication.

  “If it’s left untreated,” Abu continued carefully, “these patches will spread. Slowly at first, but once they cover too much of his body... I doubt there’s any saving him.”

  A cold silence followed.

  Elliot’s face hardened. “Abel... Abel will know what to do,” he said with forced confidence. “He’s dealt with things like this before.”

  “I hope so,” Jenny murmured. Her voice wavered slightly. Burt’s condition was worsening every hour, and despite her usual composure, she was beginning to fear the worst.

  “Thank you anyway,” Elliot said, turning to Abu. “Even if you couldn’t fix it, knowing what we’re dealing with helps a lot.”

  “Of course,” Abu said, his gaze still fixed on Burt’s unconscious face. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do more.”

  Jenny placed a hand on Abu’s arm, offering a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry,” she said. “You’ve done plenty. Besides, you’ll be starting with the officers soon — I’m sure we’ll need your help again.”

  “I’ll be ready,” Abu promised. “I just need a few days to settle in and prepare.”

  Jenny nodded. “We’ll get you processed in the next few days.”

  “I’ll be at the villa if you need me,” Abu said. He gave Burt one final glance — the man’s face twitching faintly as if locked in some feverish dream — before turning to leave.

  As the door closed behind him, Elliot exhaled deeply, his hand falling to Burt’s arm.

  “Hang in there, Burt,” he muttered. “Just a little longer.”

  Jenny stood beside him in silence, quietly praying that Abel would return soon — before that sickening purple took over entirely.

  Time pressed on in Reinhart, and despite the chaos that had shaken the town not long ago, progress steadily took shape.

  Roads were extended, homes were repaired, and life seemed to find a rhythm once more.

  Fifth and First Streets stretched outwards with new structures rising along them — shops, homes, and small hubs for trade.

  Yet beyond these stretches of development, the town’s reach eventually gave way to quiet wilderness.

  Thick forests flanked the roads on either side, their dark canopies swallowing what little moonlight managed to pierce the night sky.

  Travelers moving between the town center and the outlying farmlands would notice this stark transition — the comforting glow of lanterns and bustling streets fading into the cold hush of the woods.

  The Institute’s foundation was underway, its skeletal framework gradually climbing toward the sky.

  It promised to be an impressive sight — a sprawling structure with multiple annexes and barracks to house students and future recruits.

  The promise of stability and strength hovered over the town, yet the mood remained uneasy.

  In the quiet of that week, Reinhart remained tense. Burt’s condition had worsened — the sickly purple webbing that spread across his body now crept dangerously toward his chest and neck.

  He barely stirred now, his breaths shallow and weak.

  Abu had settled into the town well enough, quickly familiarizing himself with its people and routines. Meanwhile, Lena remained close to Elliot, her watchful presence a silent reassurance to the mayor as she guarded him from the shadows.

  Abel, however, was still away — though not far. He was just a day or two from Reinhart, trekking through the darkened forests under a sky thick with stars.

  The faint crunch of leaves underfoot marked his steps as he pushed forward, the dim glow of his starry aura barely lighting the way.

  Moments earlier, he had crossed paths with a Bodycruncher Bat — a vile pseudo-level creature that lurked in these woods.

  Its grotesque form had launched from the branches above — leathery wings stretched wide and thick, muscular legs coiled to strike.

  Its claws had been like iron spikes, designed to snap bones and pulverize flesh.

  But Abel, far from his early days as a struggling recruit, had dealt with it swiftly. His knife met the creature's chest before it had even fully unfurled its wings.

  The starry slash cleaved it apart, sending its heavy corpse thudding to the ground. Now, as Abel trudged through the trees, the faint scent of the bat’s blood still clung to the air.

  As Abel continued down the winding forest path, his starry orb hovered near him, casting a soft glow that stretched out and pushed back the oppressive dark.

  The faint shimmer bathed the trees and ground in a muted silver, illuminating the shifting leaves as they danced through the chilly night air.

  Each gust carried with it fragments of petals, stray blades of grass, and bits of loose foliage — remnants of the forest's restless life.

  The sight stirred something in him. He paused, eyes lingering on the drifting leaves that spiraled lazily through the air.

  His mind wandered to his second rune, to the Flower Realm, to the vibrant petals and sharp thorns that once swayed in that mysterious world.

  Could I... mimic that?

  His gaze shifted back to the orb. He reached out, feeling the hum of its starry energy as it hovered steadily within his control.

  Slowly, he willed it to destabilize — to break apart.

  The orb trembled, flickering like a dying flame, before shattering into hundreds of tiny, glimmering, starry petals.

  Each petal glowed faintly, like fragments of the night sky itself, and they drifted around him in lazy, weightless patterns.

  Abel’s breath caught.

  He extended his hand, focusing on the swirling petals. With deliberate effort, he willed them to move.

  They responded sluggishly, circling him like a protective barrier — slow, unstable, yet promising. Each petal shimmered with a razor-sharp edge, a defensive wall that could become a storm of blades with proper control.

  Excitement swelled in his chest. This… this could work.

  He pushed harder, trying to speed them up. The petals jerked and twisted, spinning faster — but his mind strained under the pressure.

  Although not as powerful as the ability from his second rune, it could be controlled more efficiently, and it could come useful.

  The effort of keeping up this transformation felt like trying to juggle dozens of spinning plates. His focus wavered for just a second, and the petals faltered, their delicate dance falling into a chaotic mess before fading back into wisps of starry light.

  Abel staggered, placing a hand on a nearby tree to steady himself. A dull throb pulsed behind his eyes — mental strain from forcing his mana to behave in this unfamiliar way.

  But despite the ache, he smiled.

  It’s possible, he thought. With practice... I can refine this.

  The idea of controlling those petals with speed, precision, and power filled him with excitement. He had stumbled upon something that could change his combat style — a defense that could protect him from swarms, or an offensive tool that could strike down enemies in every direction.

  The cold wind picked up again, sending more leaves tumbling past him. Abel exhaled, watching his breath cloud in the air.