Chapter 1185  Forget-Me-Not

A tense silence fell over the group as they surveyed the island. The cheerful atmosphere evaporated, replaced by a wary focus. An army of eggs – dozens, perhaps hundreds – swarmed around the cottage, their weapons rudimentary but threatening.

"This is…" muttered Sarohan, his grip tightening around his axe. "This is a proper escort for such a little cottage."

"Indeed," Mister White"s normally jovial expression was replaced by grim determination. "The one who left this memory was not only powerful but valued this place above all else. We must a.s.sume the same level of protection."

Arthur"s eyes narrowed as he a.s.sessed the situation. Each egg-creature was individually weak, but their sheer numbers made them a formidable force. A direct confrontation might damage the cottage and waste their time, and he refused to put his newfound comrades in unnecessary danger. He closed his eyes for a moment, the runes in his mind flickering to life.

"Joe," he said, turning to the bartender, "take the men and create a diversion on the far side of the island. Draw their attention as far away from the cottage as possible."

Joe nodded, his expression hardening. "Leave it to us, my lord. We"ll make some noise they can"t ignore."

With a curt order, Joe and his chosen smugglers swiftly vanished into the ruins. Arthur turned to the remaining group; his voice low. "Mister White, Sarohan, Koby – you will accompany me. We"ll approach by air, quietly. Stay close, and be prepared for anything."

Without waiting for a response, Arthur began his descent. The others followed suit, rising silently above the ruins. He guided them low, using the crumbling structures as cover, their approach masked by the chaotic sounds of battle beginning to erupt in the distance.

As they neared the cottage, Arthur"s heart thudded with curiosity. The memory held within those simple walls called to him, a promise of something both profound and poignant.

They landed near a shattered window, peeking inside. The interior was surprisingly well-maintained. Simple furnishings, a neatly made bed, a bookshelf filled with aged tomes – it spoke of a life lived in quiet contentment. Yet, the sense of longing suffusing the air was undeniable.

Arthur gestured for the others to wait, then cautiously entered through the shattered window. As he approached a small table in the center of the room, a familiar warmth washed over him. He hesitated, then reached out, tracing his fingers over the weathered wood.

The memory surged to life. The cottage transformed, vibrant color replacing its faded tones. He saw not a quaint dwelling, but a bustling workshop filled with strange tools and glowing vials. And at its center stood an elderly woman, her hands working with deft precision on a delicate construct of crystal and thread. Her face, etched with both wisdom and a deep, quiet sorrow, seemed strangely familiar.

Arthur"s breath hitched. It was her. The woman from the prince"s memory, aged, but her spirit unbroken. Her presence, even in this recreated moment, filled him with an unexpected sense of homecoming.

The memory shifted, revealing a hidden compartment within the table. The woman, her movements filled with heartbreaking tenderness, retrieved a small, ornate box and placed it within the compartment. Tears welled in her eyes as she whispered words Arthur couldn"t hear.

Suddenly, the illusion collapsed. The cottage returned to its worn state, and shouts echoed from outside. The egg-creatures, alerted to the intruders, were closing in.

"We must retrieve that box," Arthur muttered. "That woman – she was the one who loved the Yalen Prince, even after all these years."

Time was fleeting. Arthur gestured towards the table. "Sarohan, shatter that table, find the compartment!"

The waiga wasted no time. With a thunderous roar, his axe smashed through the wood, revealing a hidden s.p.a.ce just as the first egg-creatures burst through the doorway. Inside, gleaming even in the dim light, was the ornate box.

"Koby, take it!" Arthur ordered, his eyes locked on the approaching horde. "Mister White, with me!"

He lunged forward, not to fight, but to lead. The egg-creatures surged after him, drawn by his movements. Arthur used [Levitate], soaring up and over them, leading the angry mob away from the cottage and towards the open fields where Joe and the others waged their distracting battle. Behind him, he could hear the sounds of Mister White unleashing his full power, the air crackling with his unleashed spiritual energy.

Arthur wanted to unleash a wide-range attack, but he did not wish to damage the cottage. He has grown invested in this story, because it reminded him of Diana. Even after their separation, the two still searched for each other, like the prince and the woman in the vision.

After looking for a while, he found it – a vast clearing on the island with nothing close but a crumbling tower, maybe used as a lighthouse once in the past.

The egg-creatures swarmed after Arthur, their squawks and screeches a discordant chorus. He surveyed their ranks with a detached sort of amus.e.m.e.nt. This wasn"t a true challenge, merely an obstacle. A perfect opportunity.

As they neared the crumbling tower, a ruthless glint entered his eye. His comrades had proven their worth in battle. Now they would witness his true power, unleashed without the caution he was forced to employ in the civilized world. This dungeon was his proving ground, a veiled stage to unleash the itching power within him.

"Mister White, get everyone clear!" His voice was sharp, commanding. "Now!"

His order startled the others, but they didn"t hesitate. Trust had blossomed quickly amidst hardship, and his tone left no room for argument. Joe rallied the men, hustling them away, while Mister White tugged a hesitant Sarohan and Koby toward safety.

Once they were far enough, Arthur unleashed his will upon the runes. [Obliterate] crackled into being, its form stark and unforgiving. This was dominion over destruction itself, a force that could unmake the world in a single, terrible stroke.

The world seemed to hold its breath in antic.i.p.ation. Then, he released the rune.

There was no blinding flash, no earth-shattering boom. The egg army was simply… gone. Creatures, weapons, and their very sh.e.l.ls disintegrated into nothingness as the rune swept across the island. Dust clouds swirled in its wake, the aftermath a desolate mockery of the bustling battlefield moments earlier.

A smile tugged at Arthur"s lips as he beheld the results. This was the power he"d honed in secret, the force he"d been itching to unleash without restraint. Yet, there was no shock or awe within him, only a simmering satisfaction at the sheer, terrifying efficiency of it.

Silence hung uncomfortably long, broken only by Sarohan"s strangled gasp. His eyes bulged comically as he stared at the empty field. Koby stood frozen, the ornate box still in hand, seemingly turned to stone.

Joe, the ever-steady one, recovered first. "Well," he said, a nervous laugh rasping in his throat, "That certainly does simplify things, doesn"t it?"

Mister White remained wordless, his jaw working as if he couldn"t quite find the words. His eyes, however, mirrored an odd mix of fear and awe. He understood more than the others, perhaps, recognizing the significance of the power he"d just witnessed.

Arthur lowered his hand, feeling only a faint drain from the exertion. Controlling [Obliterate] was becoming easier, although using it on this scale still took effort. It was hard to control the magnitude of what he wanted to obliterate, but he has grown more precise.

The ornate box beckoned. He gestured for Koby, who approached hesitantly, reverence and trepidation warring in his eyes. They laid it carefully on the ground, a sense of antic.i.p.ation building within Arthur. This was no mere sentimental heirloom. It contained secrets, a pathway to a forgotten past.

With careful fingers, Arthur lifted the lid. Nestled within a bed of soft velvet lay a single, withered flower. Its petals were a delicate shade of blue, touched with a silvery sheen. Yet, even in its dried state, it seemed to pulse with a faint, ethereal light.

"The Forget-Me-Not," Mister White whispered, his voice thick with a mix of emotions. "A symbol of enduring love, even when its object is lost. And imbued with power."

Arthur carefully lifted the flower, examining its fragile beauty. The faint energy it emitted resonated with his own, humming in a familiar way. Power lay dormant within this bloom, and with it, a key to unraveling a love story entwined with the very history of the kingdom he sought to overturn.

"The dungeon master imbued this flower with her yearning," explained Mister White, "a final act of love before laying it here, perhaps his final gift. A testament to a love that defied even death."

Arthur studied the flower that shimmered in the sun, almost looking transparent. He could feel the faint mana inside – beckoning him to deliver its message to the man destined to receive it.

"Mister White," called out Arthur to the man, who was still studying the obliterated army of eggs. He turned toward him, confused. "I won"t use this dungeon to enter the tower only, but deliver this gift to the Yalen Prince."

"What do you mean?"

"I never told you this, but the tower is called the Tower of Yearning, and I think that the prince is still waiting for his love to return somehow, using the trials and mana to sustain his consciousness. Or perhaps, an abode for the two."