Chapter 8: Journey to the West
Consort Vaniti and I traveled more into the forests. She couldn’t help but steal a few glances at me, but then again, since I am her teacher, I figured that might be the case.
We passed another section of the thick forest, and it looked like we had an open clearing. For once, I could see the sky. The tall trees wouldn’t let me do it before.
Vaniti took one more glance at me, and then, she spoke what must’ve been on her mind for the longest.
"Master Ryuuzen...I—"
I hold out my hand, "Woah, yeah, no—not doing that."
She tilts her head in confusion. I elaborate more.
"Master Ryuuzen, no. Not a title I’m going with."
"I-I see..." She looks away, probably thinking or contemplating of many more titles to call me. I always disliked Master. Had a very, very horrible negative connotation within the game. It was just moreso the entire gamebase, really.
Because if anything, I would rather be called the Exiled of the Sky Temple before Master. And that title specifically carries significantly a whole lot more weight.
Plus, when I get called Master I can’t help but feel some type of way. Makes me feel like a...slavemaster of some sorts—I’m not just to clear that up.
I have a party, not a damn cult.
"Then...Prime Devourer Ryuuzen?" She asked.
I almost choked on my spit. "No. What?! No. Why would that even be—where did you hear that?!"
Vaniti looks away trying to dodge the heat and I’m still there thinking on how she could’ve came up with that. Prime Devourer? What do I devour? I don’t devour anything!
No!
We continued to walk. Silence between us.
I was deep in thought, almost lost in it.
Vaniti’s words, and direct tone pierce through my thoughts for the first time. "You called me Spirit Elf." She says the last two words as if she’s never heard them before. And to be honest, she should be.
Imagine if you had a special item and somebody lied to you about it the entire time? It happens more often than you think. Especially within the game.
"What is a Spirit Elf...will I die soon?"
"Uh, no, Vaniti, nobody’s dying anytime soon." I was quick to reassure her.
She has no idea who she is. No idea what she’s worth. If she did, I doubt she would be in this situation.
"It’s a special subrace. Different magic abilities. You guys get higher crit chances, more mana reserves, higher skill action bonuses, better negotiation and interrogation, and—"
Vaniti only looks at me as we keep walking.
But I could also see through the damn blindfold that I also knew she didn’t know what the hell I’m talking about.
Right. No stats page. No tooltips. No damn tutorial scrolls. Just raw instinct and hope.
Great.
How do I explain this to her?
Well, do critical hits even still exist here in this world?
Maybe.
"Whoever noticed it first clearly didn’t help you," I add-on.
Or...didn’t know how to train a Spirit Elf in the first place. Could’ve been a possibility...but the way she mentioned how her squadron abandoned her and treated her like almost trash gives me every reason as to believe they were the ones behind it.
If only we could find them.
My Magic Sensory only goes so far, not across the globe.
We continue to walk, and Vaniti references what I said earlier. "So...Spirit Elves are valuable?"
"Hm? Valuable?" I think on it for a couple of moments. Don’t know what type of answer she wants to hear there. Valuable? Not really.
Late/Endgame Spirit Elves were gapped in both PvE and PvP competitively. A long history of messed up nerfs and sorry-not-sorry buffs ruined their synergy. If anyone had a character slot Spirit Elf...it was just for the aesthetics really.
Why choose a Spirit Elf when their progression was long? While choosing basically an Ice Serpent took half the time and offered far more benefits. Things like that.
I shake my head, "Nah, Spirit Elves used to be valuable. Not anymore, I think."
Because, then again, I don’t know what world I’m in yet. All I know is that I’m still here. Vaniti might be old enough to know, depending on aging.
Which reminds me that she might be far older than I am, but still look as young as me. Elf aging that’s for sure.
We continue to walk, and then, she brings it up again.
"Maybe Spirit Elves were dangerous...?" She asks. But it trailed on, knowing that she might be right.
I could only chuckle.
"Spirit Elves were more than dangerous, I’d say. Lethal. During their peak, there were a lot of things you had to watch out for."
She blinked behind the blindfold. Slowly. As if the word ’lethal’ didn’t apply to her.
But maybe it should’ve.
Her ears twitch, "R-Really? Like what?"
Oh, Vaniti.
They shaped the meta of the game for a single year since release.
Frame advantage, magic buffs and debuffs. Cancelling debuffs. Mind you, they could cancel debuffs. No other dragon class or race could. That meant something.
Framework magic loopholes. One friend I knew who played the game would proc one of his passives and constantly refill his mana reserves and gain an attack buff every three seconds.
And yes, it worked in both PvE and PvP.
I shudder just remembering.
Thank Dev all of those demons are gone now. The second Expansion of the game, Sky Temple really wiped them all out.
As terrifying as they were, they broke something beautiful.
And I’m gonna fix it.
One spell at a time.
I stop walking.
Vaniti does too, though she’s half a step behind—as if unsure if she’s allowed to stop when I do.
"This clearing is good," I say, stepping into the open.
The light breaks through the canopy now. Sky, clouds, wind. A quiet place. A tutorial zone, if this was still a game. But it’s not.
It’s just...where we start.
I plant my foot into the dirt and draw a circle with my heel. "Okay, Vaniti. Let’s see what you can actually do."
She fidgets slightly. Her hands clench.
"No Firebolt this time," I add, with the most deadpan tone I can muster.
She hesitates. "What...should I use?"
I blink. Then blink again.
Right. No menus. No element wheel. No "Magic > Spells > Spirit Arts" tab to pull from.
"You’re a Spirit Elf," I say, slowly walking around her in the circle I made.
"So, instead of trying to cast like a regular mage, I want you to feel for something."
"Feel?" she echoes.
"Like...a song in the back of your head. A hum. Or a pulse." I cross my arms.
"Something native to you. Something that’s been there, even when no one helped you listen."
She doesn’t respond, but her expression grows still. Not blank—focused.
"I want you to call that forward. Not force it. Let it respond."
Vaniti closes her eye. I watch her aura—not her body—start to shift. Faint threads of white mist coil around her fingers. Not flame. Not static. Something slower. Like fog rolling through grass.
That’s more like it.
She opens her hand. It hovers in the air, palm up, and then—
—a pulse of translucent force pushes outward in a soft ripple.
No boom. No heat. No light show.
But everything in the clearing—grass, leaves, dust—bends away from her.
My breath catches.
Now.
That’s Spirit Magic.