When Jessie returned later that evening, her eyes seed softer.
There was a faint trace of green shimr beneath her skin, visible only when the lamplight touched her face.
"How was it?" Ash asked.
Jessie smiled. "Peaceful. They just... made sit near the roots and listen. For a long ti."
"Listen?"
She nodded.
He thought she was just tired, but that night, as they lay under the soft, leafy roof, Ash could hear it too — the faint hum coming from beneath the ground. Like a living heartbeat, but it sounded natural.
---
The next few days beca a rhythm of work and rest, of laughter and small comforts. Strangely, everyone Ash t during this ti seed perfectly in sync with him — as if he had stumbled upon all the right people in the right place.
Ash found himself speaking less.
There was no need for many words here — no urgency, no danger. The villagers seed to understand everything without conversation. Even Jessie spoke less. She smiled more, but her voice carried a distant gentleness that hadn’t been there before.
Her naughty and flamboyant personality had softened into sothing calm and serene.
He, too, found himself not wondering about things. He didn’t think much about anything in particular. If he were honest, he was slowly becoming a donkey who only knew how to work hard — thoughtless, chanical, content.
The act of questioning itself had beco... tireso.
---
On the fifth night, the monk summoned the entire village to gather around the Heart — the tree.
The moon was high and pale, its light washing over the Oasis in silver hues. The tree towered above them, its branches wide, filtering the moonlight through its leaves.
Everyone stood in a circle silently.
No one seed out of place. The villagers raised their hands toward the Heart with their eyes closed. Jessie did the sa beside him, her lips moving in slow murmurs.
Ash hesitated... then lifted his hand too.
The warmth spread through him instantly — from his fingertips to his chest, then to his heart. A calm, enlightening quiet filled his mind.
He saw flashes — images that weren’t his own.
Endless roots reaching deep into black soil. Water flowing through veins of light. Faces smiling, whispering, sleeping beneath the sa tree.
He felt weightless — embraced, understood.
And then he heard a whisper.
A whisper of rhythm, a whisper of music.
It wasn’t a word spoken aloud, but sothing his body heard — deep and primal.
Since entering the desert, it was the first ti he didn’t think about survival, trials, or enemies.
He thought about staying.
Just for a while.
Maybe longer.
---
By afternoon, Lyria ca to their hut carrying fresh fruit and a smile. "We are approaching the day of offering."
Ash smiled back, not understanding fully — but too calm to care. It was a strange feeling. He no longer opened his status screen to check anything. He was aware of it but opening it seed useless, as if running away from his goal.
Sowhere deep inside, he wanted to look, wanted to get up and continue the journey, he wasn’t completely insane but was on the verge of becoming or perhaps becoming sane.
Later...
He joined the others by the pond, helping the n gather water and cut vines. His movents felt lighter — smoother. He didn’t even sweat much under the sun anymore.
When the day ended, they sat together near the fire. The air glowed a faint green, the villagers humming in unison. Jessie leaned against his shoulder with her eyes closed.
Ash looked at her, then at the great tree standing proud and silent beyond the huts.
Its branches swayed, releasing a faint shimr of dust that drifted across the air like snow.
Sothing deep inside him stirred — a distant instinct, half-forgotten. A feeling that he had left sothing behind, sothing important.
But then Jessie’s hand slipped into his — warm and soft. The hum of the village grew louder, steady, soothing.
The unease lted away.
Ash exhaled slowly, his eyes drifting shut.
Unbeknownst to him, he was mastering sothing all this ti without realizing it. The flawless life, the calm, serene, monotonous movents — all flowed like a river.
His movents no longer felt clumsy or hesitant. Every action was deliberate, each gesture natural — everything happening subconsciously, yet consciously.
Even when he raised his hand to scratch his head or opened his mouth to speak, those instinctive actions were now deliberate — aware.
It was a strange equilibrium, held by a fragile thread, where he perford every small task consciously while remaining unconscious of the most important things.
It was the only thing stopping him from truly mastering the Flow — in his daily life, in his movents.
The next day, he woke up feeling slightly uncomfortable. His body told him he was on the verge of a breakthrough — sothing profound — but his thoughts always drifted away, making it impossible to focus. The more he failed to concentrate, the eerier and more suspicious he felt.
But he couldn’t pinpoint what it was. He had almost forgotten his goals — leveling up, Ascension, even where he ca from.
Yet one thread remained — his system screen. It flickered every now and then, glowing faintly as if trying to warn him. His mind was too clouded to notice it, but now, he forced every ounce of willpower to look at the notifications.
[Your Will has been Cursed]
[Willpower: 370]
[Willpower: 280]
...
[Willpower: 70]
His willpower was collapsing every day — slowly crumbling.
It was a mind-blowing revelation that should have made Ash panic, but for so reason, he felt passive — too passive to do anything about it.
His mind drifted toward sothing in his system — a crystal. Glyph Seed.
For so reason, his intuition guided him to dive into it, to complete the half-finished work.
"Is there sothing wrong with ? Am I under attack?" The thought crossed his mind. But what could it be? He was living peacefully, wasn’t he? His mind couldn’t grasp the complexity of what was happening.
He dived into the void space where eight gates levitated.
Two of them were already open. He went inside the third gate — a aningless character appeared before him, glowing faintly.
Seeing it, a mory flashed — of the ti he conquered the other two Runes with the help of his Luck.
He stared at it for too long, waiting for that sa luck to guide him through the process. But nothing ca... as if his Luck stat no longer existed. No power to guide him forward.
He ca out of the gate and entered another, thinking perhaps it was a peculiarity of that particular Rune.
He entered the other gates one after another, feeling nothing — no intuition, no pull, no guidance.
Then, a thought surfaced in the back of his mind.
"Is my Luck also suppressed... just like my Willpower?" It took all his ntal strength to register this thought.
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