It felt like it had been a long time since I had last come here. Perhaps it was because of the countless exhausting dangers I’d faced lately. The familiar wooden structure stood unchanged, its aged planks weathered by time. A faint, earthy scent of moss and dried herbs lingered in the air as I stepped closer. Inside, the figure I sought was already waiting.

  "Ah, Leafshade," a deep, resonant voice called out the moment I crossed the threshold. "What brings you here today? Have you come seeking my wisdom?" The speaker was an elderly druid, his skin textured like ancient bark, with vines gently coiling around his wrists. Tyranael Val’darion—better known as the Druid Shaman.

  For a moment, surprise flickered across his face. It seemed he hadn’t expected my visit.

  "Hey, elder Val’darion," I greeted, rubbing the back of my neck. "Actually, I’d like to learn my next spell."

  His eyes narrowed as he studied me intently, disbelief evident in his expression. "You’re joking, right?" His voice carried an almost scolding tone. "Do you even understand how many Mana Stones you need for your next spell? This isn’t some simple druidic chant—it’s a special one."

  I nodded, fully aware of the absurdity of my request. For a Druid Shaman like him, this must have seemed outrageous. Most druids spent months—sometimes years—between learning new spells. I had already mastered two, yet here I was, ready to acquire another within just a month.

  If the third spell required 5,000 Mana Stones and the fourth had jumped to 20,000, then the next one was an astronomical leap—120,000 Mana Stones. But thanks to our last expedition, I had managed to accumulate a little more—137,000 Mana Stones, to be exact.

  Val’darion exhaled slowly, shaking his head. "You truly are something else, Leafshade. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a druid your age reach this level so quickly."

  I smirked. I can’t imagine what kind of face he made when Orin came here, making a similar request with mine.

  Without further delay, I reached into my pouch and carefully pulled out twelve large Mana Stones, each the size of a tennis ball, their cores pulsating faintly with raw energy. As I placed them in his hands, the ritual began.

  One by one, Val’darion transferred the Mana Stones’ power into me. I sat cross-legged on the ritual mat, my back straight, inhaling deeply as warmth spread through my body. A tingling sensation followed, traveling through my limbs like gentle electric currents. A deep hum resonated in the air, harmonizing with the energy that swirled around us. The Mana Stones shimmered, their glow intensifying before dissolving into pure energy, which seeped into my very being.

  I was used to this process by now. The first time, it had been overwhelming—like drowning in an ocean of power I couldn't contain. But now, it felt natural. Instead of suffocating under the weight of my expanding well of energy, I embraced it, floating in its vastness, letting it flow through me like a river feeding into the sea.

  The ritual lasted two hours. When it was finally over, I exhaled slowly, feeling my strength settle into place. My body pulsed with newfound power, a silent promise of what I would be capable of.

  Standing up, I nodded in gratitude. "Thank you, elder Val’darion."

  He gave me a knowing smile, though curiosity still lingered in his eyes. "Use your power wisely, Leafshade. The path ahead will only grow more challenging."

  With that, I turned toward the entrance leading to my next destination—the Sanctum of Trials.

  ***

  Inside the Sanctum of Trials, I settled into a meditative posture at the center. The chamber was eerily silent, save for the faint hum of energy thrumming beneath my skin. Unlike before, where I could simply see the spells available for selection, this time, an invisible force gripped my soul. It felt as though I were being pulled away, my very essence unraveling before being reconstructed elsewhere.

  The world around me shifted.

  Suddenly, I found myself standing in the heart of a dense, ancient forest. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and blooming flora, and the rustling of unseen creatures echoed through the vast expanse of towering trees. The Power of Nature pulsed in the atmosphere, alive, breathing, watching.

  I glanced down at my hands—transparent.

  So this is what Trial of the Wilds feels like here.

  Then, they appeared.

  Ethereal figures emerged before me, each radiating an overwhelming aura of primal might. Their spectral forms flickered like mirages, yet their presence was undeniable—solid and unyielding.

  A colossal bear loomed ahead, its muscular form clad in engraved armor adorned with ancient runes. A luminous sigil pulsed on its forehead, its deep eyes holding an unshakable wisdom. The beast exuded resilience, a guardian of the wilds.

  To its left, a wolf with razor-sharp fangs stood poised, muscles coiled, its silver fur shimmering like liquid moonlight. It growled softly, the sound vibrating with a quiet warning. Its stance, its presence—it was a predator honed by countless battles, a force of lethal precision.

  Above them, a majestic bird with iridescent plumage spread its wings. It moved with an elegance beyond compare, each subtle motion filled with grace and control. The sky itself seemed to respond to its presence, the winds whispering secrets through its feathers.

  There were several other majestic creatures. I studied them carefully, absorbing every detail, every movement. Unlike the previous spells that came with descriptions and numbers, there was no guiding text, no explanation

  As I locked eyes with each creature, an unspoken connection formed between us. Their thoughts and intentions bled into mine, and in that instant, I understood their nature. Their strengths, their powers, their essence—all laid bare in an unspoken language woven from raw energy.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  I took a deep breath. My choice was clear.

  With steady steps, I approached my chosen creature. But then, doubt crept in. What was I supposed to do next?

  In the game, all I had to do was hover my cursor over the creature and hammer my keyboard as fast as possible to overpower it. But here, in this world, I had no such crutches. No shortcuts. No system prompts to guide me.

  Slowly, I reached out.

  The moment my fingers brushed against its form, a violent surge of energy crashed into me. A raw, untamed force, ancient and unrelenting. My breath hitched as I felt the overwhelming energy.

  The pressure was immense, pushing me down, threatening to shatter my control. My body trembled under the weight of its sheer presence.

  Gritting my teeth, I refused to give in. I channeled my Mana outward, pouring my will into the connection. This was no longer just a test of endurance; it was a battle of dominance, a clash of wills.

  Now I understood why this spell demanded such an astronomical amount of Mana Stones. I could feel tremendous energy coursing through my body. The energy consumption was immense, relentless—an endless drain that showed no mercy.

  Unfortunately, none of this reflected in my stats. If it did, I’d never have to worry about running out of Mana in battle again.

  Fifteen minutes passed in an excruciating struggle. My well of energy, which had once felt boundless, now ran dangerously low. My limbs shook, my breath came in ragged gasps, but I refused to falter.

  If I failed now, I’d have to start the entire process over—a grueling, exhausting ordeal. I couldn’t afford that.

  The creature, too, was struggling. Though weakened, it refused to submit, pushing back with the last of its strength. But I could feel the shift—I was gaining the upper hand. Little by little, the balance tipped in my favor.

  Thirty minutes of relentless battle, of teetering on the brink of collapse.

  Then, at last, I felt it give in.

  The beast let out one final, defiant roar before its form wavered, breaking apart into a cascade of glowing embers. The shimmering light rushed toward me, enveloping my body in a wave of searing energy.

  For a moment, I was weightless, floating in the vast expanse of the spirit realm. Then, the energy settled, embedding itself deep within me. A new power, a new bond, forged in the crucible of willpower.

  [You have successfully learned Gorgroth's Call]

  ***

  The moment my soul snapped back into my body, I found myself once again inside the Sanctum of Trials. A rush of exhilaration filled me as I stood up, my hands trembling slightly from the lingering energy of the ritual. I had done it—I had obtained my fifth spell faster than I ever thought possible. A sense of pride swelled within me. In all my time playing Dreadspire, I had never advanced this quickly.

  Eager to test my new ability, I rushed outside, where elder Val’darion was waiting, his bark-like skin illuminated by the glow of the sanctuary’s ancient torches. The Druid Shaman studied me with keen eyes before his gaze drifted toward the remnants of Mana still flickering around me.

  "An interesting choice," he mused, his voice slow and heavy with wisdom. "I wonder… why did you choose this one? Among the Spirit Beasts, it is certainly the most…" He trailed off, as if carefully selecting his next words. "Unique."

  I exhaled, still riding the high of my success. "It may not be as powerful as the others, but it has the potential to grow," I replied casually, meeting his gaze with confidence.

  Elder Val’darion studied me for a moment, then nodded slowly, his lips curling into a cryptic smile. Without another word, he turned and disappeared back into his dwelling, leaving me alone in the cool evening air.

  With my business in Willow’s End completed, I made my way back to the city.

  The bustling streets were alive with activity, but I had only one goal in mind, finding a replacement for my ruined Fangbone Scepter. I wandered from shop to shop, scanning the shelves lined with weapons, but to my frustration, nothing stood out. Druid equipment—especially weapons—was notoriously rare. Most of what I found were standard staffs without any special effects or enhancements. No unique properties, no hidden potential. Just a plain, standard one.

  After hours of searching, I finally gave in and purchased a simple wooden staff. It felt almost insulting. After everything I had accomplished in Deepnest Hollow, my combat power had actually dropped instead of improving. Unlike my companions, who had gained new gear and strengthened their abilities, I had no new equipment or Soul Fragments to enhance my capabilities. The only thing boosting my stats was the Endura Shroom—an improvement, yes, but hardly enough to make up for my losses.

  I held my new staff in hand, trying to sense how much it had affected my status. As expected, the result was disappointing. I couldn’t feel any noticeable increase in either Mana Reserve or Magic Power.

  [Eryndor Leafshade]

  [Soul Level: 1

  Vitality: 32 → 35

  HP Regen: 2 → 3

  Mana Regen: 11 → 9

  Physical Resistance: 6 → 7

  Stamina: 10 → 12

  Strength: 63 → 56

  Agility: 19 → 17

  Wisdom: 46 → 37

  Willpower: 134]

  [Spells: Rejuvenation, Galestride, Inner Beast, Tempest Shield, Gorgroth’s Call

  Passive: Ooborosk’s Mantle]

  At the very least, I had Gorgroth’s Call. Though, admittedly, it wasn’t quite strong enough to replace my Wind Cutter spell.

  Still clinging to a sliver of hope, I made one last stop at a Soul Fragment vendor, sifting through his collection in search of something—anything—that could bolster my combat prowess. A Merman or Medusa Head fragment would have been ideal, but luck, it seemed, was not on my side today. The selection was pitiful, offering nothing of value.

  Disheartened, I sighed and left the market behind. There was no point in wasting more time.

  If I couldn't improve my equipment, I could at least sharpen my knowledge.

  With that thought, I made my way to the Grand Library, prepared to spend the rest of my day buried in research.

  ***

  The towering doors of the Grand Library creaked open as I stepped inside, the scent of old parchment and ink instantly calming my restless thoughts. A hush blanketed the place like snowfall, broken only by the occasional rustle of pages or the soft echo of footsteps on marble.

  I moved deeper into the aisles, trailing my fingers along the spines of tomes—ancient bestiaries, magical treatises, forgotten druidic histories.

  “I know it should be around here…” I muttered under my breath, scanning the shelves with growing urgency. “Where is it…?”

  At last, I found it—the book I’d been searching for. Its worn leather cover was etched with a strange symbol I now recognized as ancient druidic. I pulled it free from the shelf, opened it, and flipped through the brittle pages.

  There it was.

  I read the passage again, slowly this time, taking in every word as if it might vanish before my eyes. A cryptic note about Gorgroth—vague and easily overlooked. But I was certain there was hidden potential buried within Gorgroth, the one that doesn’t even exist in the Dreadspire.

  “Only when the beast has howled threefold, its soul tempered in the fires of growth, shall its true form stir from slumber. Beware the eighth path untrodden, for the full circle must be reached before it reveals itself.”

  A spark of excitement ignited in my chest.

  If my interpretation was correct, there would be a long, harsh, winding path before Gorgroth could reach its hidden potential.

  that?!

  hidden potential faster. Or... would you rather be eaten by Gorgroth?