Gardenia's Heart-Chapter 79: Winds of Change

The white, arid desert was engulfed by the cold and intoxicating murmur of death.

The ground was cracked and riddled with holes, while the mountains rose in thin, jagged formations, as if enormous spikes had pierced the earth.

There was no water, nor any signs of life to be found.

Anyone not permitted to tread upon that desolate land would feel their body crumble with every attempt to traverse the thick mist that blanketed the desert like a shroud.

Yet, a rigid figure with a proud bearing strode through it effortlessly, as if nothing in that place could faze him.

His hands were clasped firmly behind his back, exuding the composure of a soldier on guard. The black armor covering him from neck to foot emanated an impeccable aura. Every movement radiated disciplined preparation.

His skin was pale, almost gray like cement, contrasting sharply with his crimson eyes, which had vertical pupils. His face was sharp, and shadows cast by his brow obscured his expression. His long white hair was tied in a ponytail that nearly touched the ground.

Stopping at the edge of a vast crater, the man studied its depths before leaping in. His body floated gracefully through the air, landing with a soft impact that sent a dense layer of dust scattering.

Even with the thick fog obscuring his vision, he moved as though he could see clearly. Without any delicacy, he unclasped his hands and struck the already damaged ground, creating a small hole through which he descended with another leap.

This time, the clash of metal echoed as his boots struck the floor. There was no dust, only air so frigid that his breath became visible. When his gaze focused, he noticed a reddish light reflecting throughout the room.

At the far end of the space, a large glass tube stood upright—or more precisely, what drew his attention was what floated inside it.

Suspended in a crimson liquid was what could only be described as a beautiful woman—or what remained of one.

"You've seen better days, Orlaith."

Her hair was white and over two meters long. Crimson lips adorned her sharp chin, and her ivory skin was marred by visible purple veins. The tattered remnants of her attire had spinal-like patterns that spiraled around her neck, forming a large collar that reached her ears. Two gemstone-like red eyes gleamed in the dim light.

However, beyond these features, there was little left to define what had once been her body.

"Caelgor, you bastard, what are you doing here?" she spat, her tone laced with irritation as she glared at the approaching figure.

The demon did not answer immediately, instead surveying the ruined state of the laboratory. The walls were cracked, various gas pipes had burst, and the energy system powered by mana-conducting minerals seemed on the brink of failure.

"The explosion in this region was loud enough to be heard even from the grand palace. Though you're a recluse who rarely leaves your lab, Orlaith, you always fulfill your responsibilities. Not showing up at the Twilight meeting was unlike you, so we agreed someone should come to check on you."

With only part of her right arm partially attached to her torso, Orlaith gestured at the remnants of her body as if to state the obvious.

"For the Second Twilight to come see me personally, I'm flattered by the consideration. But it's not as though I could have attended, is it?" Her high-pitched, sarcastic voice reverberated through the room.

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Watching the woman mockingly laugh at her own state, Caelgor stood silently for a long moment before letting out a sigh.

"Drelkos is on his way to the World Tree."

"The Third Twilight? Are you planning to reignite the war? One of the elven heroes is still alive," the demoness responded, partially shocked by the others Twilights' decision.

"The current queen won’t be a problem," Caelgor replied with indifference, his eyes finally locking onto hers. "Orlaith, now tell me—this wasn’t just a failed experiment, was it? What made you so afraid?"

His question might have sounded simple, but the moment Orlaith heard it, she slammed her fist against the glass tube that kept her alive.

"I'm not afraid, you bastard! I’ll find her and kill her! I swear I will!"

Her sharp teeth gleamed as genuine fury and hatred contorted her face.

"Your actions contradict your words, but never mind—you’ve just confirmed what I needed to know. So someone caused this, right? What did you encounter that was so terrifying you had to raise countless barriers around your territory? Even your communication artifacts stopped responding. You scrambled the region’s coordinates and sensory perception so badly that it took me an entire week to find your lab."

"I had no choice! That wretch knew spatial manipulation! She located my lab’s coordinates by analyzing my own spell and turned my experiment against me!" Orlaith raged, the sound of her teeth grinding together like clashing metal.

"Weren’t your experiments being conducted in Anthus, near the Mist Border? How did this person create a portal that spanned such a distance? Not even our master, the Demon Lord, could pull off something like that. Don’t speak nonsense!"

Caelgor’s voice made it clear he wouldn’t tolerate any further absurd claims.

"I'm not lying! Fuck, I wish I were! But that wretch managed it, and I nearly died because of it! I lost my lab, and all my creatures that weren't killed in the explosion went out of control because part of my brain was destroyed, and the stigmas disintegrated!"

Orlaith bit her lips so hard that blood trickled down. Each self-inflicted wound was immediately cleansed by the crimson liquid in the tube.

"She severed the Chaos Seed the instant she teleported it to ensure the explosion would hit me. I barely managed to envelop my brain and torso with all my mana at the absolute last second, but I still lost 85% of my body! If our stock of dragon blood hadn’t been stored in my lab, I would’ve died before any of you bastards came to help!"

Caelgor observed Orlaith's deplorable state with cold eyes, his mind struggling to make sense of her frenzied outbursts.

"Why didn’t you just enslave her with your magic?" he asked, his expression turning to disgust at her relentless complaints.

"I was using an intermediary pawn. I could control as many as I wanted with my mana, but I couldn’t create a stigma on someone whose mana level exceeded his! Besides... damn it, I don’t think I could've controlled her even if I’d been there in person."

"What do you mean by that?"

Among all of Orlaith's seemingly absurd statements, her final words made Caelgor raise an eyebrow.

"She could use the innate abilities of The Hermit of Eternal Branches!"

When Orlaith spoke those words, Caelgor's expression twisted with fury.

"Don’t speak nonsense. We exterminated all the Verdant Willow centuries ago. If the Hermit is in the labyrinth as you informed us, there’s no way she’s of his species."

Everything Orlaith said sounded absurd to Caelgor. If mentioning a teleportation magic that powerful wasn't enough, she was now suggesting the existence of a possible member of a nearly extinct race.

"I'm not saying she was of his species! She looked human, but she was anything but human! She called herself Gardenia, had purple hair and red eyes like ours, but she wasn’t a demon." Orlaith shook her head frantically. "Teleportation magic, innate monster abilities—she had it all! None of this makes sense, damn it!"

Gritting her teeth, Orlaith locked eyes with the man before her. Her one barely-attached hand clenched tightly. Among everything she observed, her next words were the hardest for her to believe herself.

"And it wasn't just that! That wretch could use dark mana!"

Silence fell over the ruined laboratory.

Caelgor said nothing, but Orlaith noticed the expression on his face contorting in a way she had never seen in all the years they had known each other.

Still inside the tube, Orlaith couldn't understand why that particular revelation affected him so profoundly.

"Has your sanity been compromised? Do you realize the absurdity of what you’re claiming?" he spoke slowly, making sure the demoness grasped his words.

"I'm not lying, damn it! Stop doubting me, for fuck’s sake! I know what I saw!" Fury and absolute hatred blazed in her crimson eyes.

Caelgor remained silent. Without blinking once, he approached the glass tube, locking his red eyes directly with Orlaith’s.

"Orlaith, you understand the implications of what you're trying to say, don’t you? No one can wield magic using dark mana. Not even monsters who are born with it as a life source can manipulate it. Are you absolutely certain of what you saw?"

He questioned her once again, ensuring she understood the gravity of her statement. Small cracks appeared on the surface of the glass as he drew closer. His aura spread throughout the laboratory, thickening the already rarefied air.

"I know! As a scientist, I understand that better than anyone, damn it! But she manipulated dark mana! I tried to convince her to join us at first, but she wouldn’t answer my questions, so I tried to extend the conversation to gather more information. But it was useless!"

When Orlaith confirmed her words with even greater vehemence, Caelgor's aura diminished in an instant. Closing his eyes, he turned his back to her and began to leave.

"Orlaith, do not engage with that individual until further orders are given."

His voice was deep as he spoke, his arms crossed behind his back.

But the demoness, who had suffered devastating losses in the battle, couldn't simply accept those orders.

"She only caught me off guard! I won’t be unprepared next time. I’ll recover all my pets and hunt her down! Don’t you dare lay a single finger on her—she’s my prey! I’ll kill her personally!"

Baring her fangs, Orlaith screamed with all her might at Caelgor.

She couldn't accept defeat. No matter what it took, she would hunt down Gardenia.

"Orlaith, that wasn’t a request—it was an order."

The single red eye that turned to meet hers was so intense that Orlaith's already ravaged body recoiled involuntarily. It was the first time Caelgor's bloodlust had been directed at her.

"We tolerate your brazen tone and your use of invaluable resources like dragon blood only because your experiments are useful to us. Don’t forget that."

His voice was so dark and ominous that it made Orlaith's ears literally bleed. The sheer weight of his killing intent twisted her heart—not metaphorically, but in a way she could physically feel.

"Do not challenge the chain of command established by the Demon Lord. You know the consequences of doing so."

When his eyes closed again, the overwhelming bloodlust that had seemed ready to crush Orlaith vanished. She stood trembling, her body cold and bleeding from every pore, teetering on the edge of consciousness.

"Do not touch that city or Anthus until you receive explicit orders. Understood?"

Orlaith managed a single nod, the wounds on her throat caused by the pressure of his aura already beginning to heal.

"How long will it take for you to recover your body?" Caelgor asked without turning.

"Eight years, maybe nine…"

After her response, the demoness collapsed. Without wasting any more time, Caelgor left the laboratory with swift steps.

Despite the spatial distortion hindering navigational coordinates, he quickly found the exit after an hour of running—his familiarity with the area guided him. Once outside the zone where no communication was possible, he detached a small black prism-shaped device from his belt.

A single touch on its surface triggered glowing blue inscriptions across the artifact. In less than a second, a voice emerged from the other side.

"Lord Caelgor, how may I assist you?" The voice was filled with unwavering respect.

"Connect me to the First Twilight." His voice was colder than the arid, frost-bitten desert.

"Certainly."

There was a brief pause as Caelgor waited for the communication artifact to be handed to the person he needed to speak with.

"..."

A single, unmistakable sound—the intake of breath—came from the other side.

No other words were spoken, but Caelgor knew someone was there.

"The last prophecy of our king has come true."

With a calmness that belied his racing heart, Caelgor spoke slowly.

The fog obscured the surroundings, and the biting wind muffled his words. Yet what he uttered at that moment signaled that the world was on the verge of transformation.

"The mage capable of wielding dark mana has finally emerged."