Chapter 219: The Gift
“The inheritance and gift you mentioned...” Ryan brought the conversation back to its core. Though his wariness had been greatly reduced by the tragic history he had just heard, it had not vanished completely. “What exactly are you referring to? And what could I possibly do? I’m just a... normal human student.”
“Normal?” Serandil gently shook his head. “The fact that you crossed the perilous outer grounds, obtained the beacons, earned the recognition of a Sacred Beast’s remnant soul, and ultimately stood here listening to these old stories has already proven that you are anything but ordinary. As for what you can do...”
He paused, his gaze settling on the outline of Ryan’s consciousness-body as if examining the quality of what lay within.
“I can see that you possess excellent magical potential, but it seems that... you have never received systematic and efficient guidance. Humanity’s methods of using Mana, their philosophy of communicating and cooperating with elemental spirits, certainly have their merits. But in terms of efficiency, precision, and the degree to which that power can be integrated with one’s own origin, they are worlds apart from the ancient methods of my people.”
“And the environment in which you live is clearly far from safe. The contamination-born creatures outside, the other explorers coveting these ruins, and the hidden dangers lurking throughout the wider world... you need power. Not merely the power to fight, but a foundation that will allow you to better understand and wield your own Mana, and even resist low concentrations of contamination to a certain extent.”
He raised his hand again.
The light within the pure white space swiftly gathered and transformed, condensing into countless lines and sigils of pale gold—so intricate, so beautiful, and so full of indescribable rhythm that they seemed almost alive.
These lines and sigils were not still. They grew, intertwined, and combined like living vines, until, before Ryan’s eyes, they formed a three-dimensional, slowly revolving magic array that radiated a gentle, sacred aura.
At the center of the array were twelve symmetrical structures, each as complex as a pair of wings or the first leaves of spring, arranged to either side and linked through the middle by endless chains of tiny runes. The whole thing gave off a sense of harmony, stability, and vibrant life.
“This is one of the foundational formations of the Elven Gospel Array,” Serandil said, his gaze fixed upon the array with the same focus and reverence a master craftsman might reserve for the greatest work of his life. “It is not a spell of attack or defense. It is a supportive and refining array that acts upon the very source of life itself.”
“Its purpose is to gently organize and strengthen the bearer’s Mana circuits, heighten their perception of Mana in all its forms, and improve the precision with which they can control it. To a certain degree, it can also stabilize the mind and strengthen one’s innate resistance to negative energies. It is one of the crystallizations of our magical civilization’s wisdom, designed to help every child of the Elf Race walk more smoothly along the path of understanding the true nature of Magic.”
Ryan’s consciousness-body stared at the array.
Even though he could not understand one ten-thousandth of it, the pure, positive, orderly, life-filled resonance naturally radiating from it could not be faked.
It felt completely different from the twisted madness of the contamination outside, and different as well from the dangerous, extreme Philosopher’s Stone that Serandil had described as a weapon meant to slay dragons.
This truly did look like the kind of gentle, advanced knowledge meant to enlighten and nurture growth.
“You want to... teach this array to me?” Ryan asked. He could not stop his heartbeat from quickening slightly.
Improved control over Mana. Sharper perception of elemental forces. Those were exactly the things he currently lacked.
If he could grasp this, his practical combat ability—especially his use of composite Magic—would undergo a fundamental transformation.
“Not entirely teach it,” Serandil said, gently shaking his head. His figure seemed even more transparent than before. “The complete Elven Gospel Array system is extremely profound. It involves a sea of knowledge and requires years of methodical study and practice. With your current foundation, and... with the little time we have left, it would not be enough.”
“But I can use what remains of my power to carve the seeds of two foundational arrays directly into your Mana source through inheritance marks. It would give you the strongest possible foundation.”
“With those seeds in place, your perception and control of Mana will improve naturally. In the future, when you study related magical theories, you will be able to achieve twice the result with half the effort, and more easily comprehend higher principles. Most importantly, they will help you control the power of those two Philosopher’s Stone fragments more effectively, reducing the risk of backlash. They will also grant you precious protection in environments saturated with contamination.”
Directly carve them into his Mana source?
Ryan’s heart jolted. He had never heard of such a method before. But if it came from the highest magical civilization of the Elf Race, perhaps such a thing really was possible.
The temptation was immense. No long years of painstaking cultivation. A direct increase to his foundation. Better use of the Philosopher’s Stone fragments. Resistance to contamination.
It was almost too perfectly suited to his current predicament.
But was there really such a thing as a free meal in this world? Especially in a ruin as strange as this one?
Ryan’s hesitation showed clearly.
Serandil seemed to have anticipated it. He did not urge him. He simply waited in silence, his figure growing more solitary and transparent in the pure white light. After a while, he let out a sigh, and the weariness in that sigh—the frailty of something on the verge of burning itself out completely—was so thick it seemed almost tangible.
“I understand your concern, young visitor. Doubt is the beginning of wisdom.” His voice grew lighter, as though it might scatter with the wind at any moment. “I ask for nothing in return. My people are gone. I myself am no more than a remnant thought on the verge of extinction. If this knowledge is buried with me, it will mean nothing. But you... you bear the recognition of a Sacred Beast. You have come this far. You have listened to these old truths. In all my endless watch, you are the only one I have encountered who might prevent this knowledge from vanishing entirely, and perhaps... someday use it to do something right.”
“This is not a gift freely bestowed, young visitor. To accept these seeds is to voluntarily shoulder a tiny fraction of responsibility. That responsibility is this: when you have the strength to do so, use this power well. Protect yourself. And perhaps... protect those who walk beside you.”
“And if, only if, one day in the future, you encounter something completely consumed by contamination, something beyond saving—or if you once again stand before the creations of the void—then I hope that this knowledge, born from my people’s long struggle, will grant you one more chance at victory. That... is the last selfish request of a decrepit old man standing at the end of his life.”
Protect yourself. Protect your companions. Use power well. Stand against contamination and the void.
Every word struck something deep inside Ryan.
He thought of Lillian, Rex, and Vera outside. He thought of Allen, whose fate was still uncertain. He thought of Cosette, still waiting back at the academy.
In a ruin this deadly, in a world full of unseen danger, power—especially the kind of power that could better protect the people around him—was something he could not bring himself to reject.
And the responsibility Serandil asked of him was so open, so righteous, so steeped in tragic purpose that it was almost impossible to refuse. If anything, it inspired respect.
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