Inspiration

Recalling the incidents of the past two days, as well as everything that had happened ever since he entered Faelor, Richard felt like his blood was boiling. The inspiration from his conversation with Flowsand appeared once more, this time growing clearer and clearer by the moment. It was like a playful wisp of fire, tempting him continuously but not letting him catch it.

He didn’t hurry it along, instead stopping to ponder quietly. At that moment, all the lessons in philosophy from the Deepblue passed through his mind. ‘Your thinking dictates everything!’ The words that almost every teacher of his shouted before dismissing the class reverberated through his head. He realised that he was passively responding to the changes in his surroundings, rarely thinking of the path he was prepared to take.

The pursuit of power was an empty catchphrase. A realistic question would be to ask what means he could take to obtain that strength, and how far he could go.

As far as he could see, the laws on Faelor and Norland were quite similar. Although the limit of Faelor’s power was lower than Norland’s, it was still a plane that could produce people of legendary might. At the very least, he himself was far from being suppressed by the laws.

However, the many battles had revealed several other key differences between the planes. An enemy who seemed comparable to them on the surface would be easy to win against, and in fact most of the time it was without any issue. Outside of Flowsand, he himself, the broodmother, Waterflower, Gangdor, and other unique factors, one other stark difference between the two planes had already reared its head.

Runes!

The art of runecrafting that Norland had developed over millennia was the ultimate manifestation of the application of magic for war. Gangdor with a single rune could compete against opponents who were two to three levels higher than him for a short duration, and if he had a complete set of runes that suited him he could easily defeat even a level 14 Stormhammer.

Any standard rune knight that he built up with his knowledge would be able to compare to a saint class of Faelor. Knights at level 13 to 14 would be pushed to level 17, some even to level 18. It was as though a large number of powerhouses could be created out of thin air. If at equal numbers Faelor could perhaps resist Norland’s might, the appearance of runes and armies of rune knights that were thousands strong all comparable to saint classes would easily tear this plane’s resistance apart.

As for he himself, his talent, position, resources… Most of what made him unique came from runes.

It was only then that Richard understood the importance of his philosophy classes. It wasn’t to show him a constant path to success, instead to teach him a framework for his thought process that would elevate him.

With the answer found, inspiration came naturally. The spark floating before him was completely within reach, and could be grabbed with a stretch of the hand. And thus he stretched out, grabbing hold of this spark to come to a realisation.

However, even after capturing the inspiration Richard refused to let go. On the contrary, his grip grew stronger as he rubbed it, the feeling of that flame disappearing from his mind. His hand began to feel a soft elasticity.

At that moment, Flowsand’s hoarse voice rang in his ears, “You’re pinching my rear.”

“It can’t be,” Richard opened his eyes to see Flowsand beside his bed, “I’m grabbing a hold of inspiration.” He did not let go, instead pinching it harder a few times.

“What about now, then?” she asked, “Is it still a mistake?”

He smirked in response, “Now? I’m touching your butt of course!”

Flowsand took a step closer to the bedside, allowing him to easily touch more of her. She also asked, “Do you want me to take off my clothes? But looking at your current health, it doesn’t really seem suitable.”

Richard snorted, stretching out and smacking her rear. The exertion affected the wound on his chest, however, and his face paled with pain. Enduring it with much effort, Richard let out a breath of turbid air, “Heal me quickly, I know you have a way!”

Flowsand removed the bandage on his body as she spoke, “I just thought of a way, but it won’t be able to solve the root of the problem. Shadowforce is not simple. Its origin is more profound than that of any deity on this plane.”

The wound on his chest was aired, but it revealed that the three slashes hadn’t closed up. The bleeding was only stopped due to thick ointment, and shadowforce lingered around that as well. Richard felt a faint darkness in the corner of his vision.

Flowsand took out a bottle of colourless water. However, the overflowing mana it showed upon removal indicated that this was far from ordinary. “This will hurt a bit, bear with it.”

Richard nodded without much worry. His will was quite firm, and he was confident of his tolerance for pain.

Flowsand tilted the bottle in her hand, pouring the water onto Richard’s wound. The moment it came into contact with the lingering shadowforce, it was as though it had been poured into a hot pan. It instantly started boiling, splattering everywhere as it released large amounts of mist.

At that instant, the severe pain caused Richard to black out. His body abruptly jumped off the bed, before falling back down once more. This was an instinctive reaction to the severe pain. He also opened his mouth wide, his face beginning to distort. Being able to hold it in without screaming was already his limit, but he still let out a few guttural roars.

How was this a ‘bit?’ This was clearly torture!

And yet, the holy water had eliminated all traces of the shadowforce on the wound. Traces of black lines could be seen entangled with holy light, reluctantly fading into the mist.

Flowsand began chanting, and two greater heals fell upon Richard’s body. The wound on his chest closed up at a visible speed under the magic’s effect, and in the next two to three days it would heal completely.

Following that, Flowsand continued her chants. This time the spell took three to four times longer than a greater heal, and the mana consumed was just as great. A ray of divine light fell upon Richard’s body, causing the searing pain to fade in an instant. This was Restoration, a grade 5 spell. Greater heals only affected surface injuries, unable to fix bones or internal damage. This was where restoration came in. The nightmare panther had penetrated Richard’s chest, leaving a row of incisions on his ribs. Without restoration, it would take as long as three months for him to recover.

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