043 Woodland

The coordinates for the teleportation scroll were near the "Sacred Tree" in the tawny fern forest. After using the scroll, Roland returned to this spot.

The flesh on the Blood-Sacred Tree was gradually dissolving into foam. Tiny glimmers of phosphorescence broke free from the flesh, slowly drifting into the sky. The beautiful glow lent a touch of sacred beauty to the twisted land, like a fairyland from the Grimm tales.

Suddenly, Wallace's voice echoed in Roland's mind: “Roland, those glimmers might be the heroic spirits who once suffered by this great tree. As the Abyss gradually leaves this world, their souls have been freed... The Baron mentioned there might be elves here. Perhaps the elves truly came. The sapling of this Sacred Tree could have been planted by them... If so, those creatures writhing on the Sacred Tree earlier might indeed be the tormented souls of the elves.”

With the lingering resentment of the Demon Lord dissipated, the Abyss had completely withdrawn from this world. The phenomenon of suffering ceased, and the tormented souls were finally released.

Though these sufferers lost their past and present, causing people to forget the heroes’ histories, they were granted a future.

At that moment, Roland felt the heavy burden on his shoulders finally lift.

A surge of emotion stirred within him. To have taken part in this event was a great honor.

‘This truly was a grueling initiation trial... I wonder what trials my classmates faced.’

He thought to himself, “It feels good to be a good person... I hope I’ll have many more chances to do so in the future.”

After calming down, Roland began to observe his surroundings.

If his mentors had used scrolls to escape the ruins, they would have also teleported back to this place. There might be clues nearby.

But if no clues were found, it meant everyone was still inside the ruins. In that case, he would have to return and search for them there.

Who knew what monsters still lurked within the ruins?

A heavy gloom settled over Roland.

“Better to start by searching nearby,” he resolved silently.

After some searching, he found some bloodstains that hadn’t yet fully dried.

Roland’s heart stirred: “Great, there must be someone injured!”

He followed the blood trail for a while, but it soon vanished.

‘The wounded must have treated their injuries here.’

Roland was no expert at tracking. Bloodstains were helpful, but without them, how could he find someone in such a vast forest?

Moreover, the injured person seemed to be subconsciously hiding their trail.

After searching the vicinity again with no success, Roland sat down on a large rock, feeling troubled.

Suddenly, an idea struck him. He pulled out the wizard’s hat from his dimensional pouch. “Wallace, you said before that I could use some method to have this magical item help me retrieve someone far away? Can I make the hat fly slower, so I can follow it?”

Wallace responded telepathically from the pouch, “Of course. If you have something the person used, or their hair, nails, or tears, then by secret arts, your magical item can harm someone invisibly from thousands of miles away. Blood improves the effect.”

Wallace then patiently explained the details.

Afterward, he said, “This is basic academy knowledge, useful for finding people. I used the paper crow as an example, but your magical item will work even better. Even if the person hides among a distant town’s crowd, the item will fly there and pull them out.”

“Remember, you’re searching, not capturing. So the spell must be adjusted accordingly...”

Roland was deeply moved. He thought, ‘The knowledge gained during apprenticeship is truly vital. Both the senior and I have many secrets; I can’t always stick with her. Even if she wanted to, I wouldn’t want that. But before I cut ties, I must follow her to the academy... I need her to lead me into the true world of wizards.’

Wallace, nearing his limit, weariedly said, “I need to rest now. If you kill anything, don’t forget to use the ‘Altar of the Reaper’—that little silver bowl you found among the trash. It can collect souls, then offer them to me...”

Wallace sank into slumber. Roland collected the blood with a crystal vial, then took some magic powder from Wallace’s pouch and drew a simple magic circle on the ground.

After finishing the circle, Roland checked the constellations.

He muttered to himself, “Wallace said the constellation of the goddess Valerie is shaped like a triangle, symbolizing guidance. The lost can rely on this constellation to find their way... and Setus, the god of the hunt, is represented by a centaur drawing a bow...”

Roland adjusted the magic circle slightly, placing the blood vial and the wizard’s hat in their respective positions, then recited the incantation Wallace taught him.

Once the spell was complete, the hat suddenly seemed alive, swallowing the blood vial in the magic circle. It then soared into the air.

Its pointed top moved like an arm, continuously pointing in a certain direction, urging Roland to follow.

Roland beamed, “Magic is truly fascinating! No wonder white wizards exist in this world!”

What nonsense this fellow spouts!

If the ‘White Pawn Wizards’ recently stationed at Black Abyss Academy heard this, they’d be furious and likely use their deadliest black magic to wipe out this fledgling black wizard on the spot.

The hat sped off at an astonishing pace. Roland hurriedly chanted a spell to slow it down, chasing after it into the dense forest.

The hat flew swiftly, and Roland kept up. Half an hour later, he had sprinted over twenty kilometers along the tangled forest trails.

This area was near the untainted zone of the tawny fern forest. The trees here no longer twisted grotesquely, and distant strange laughter of ‘hyenas’ echoed.

The hat flew in the direction of the laughter.

As the hat slowed, Roland realized his target was near. He swiftly caught the hat in his arms and tiptoed through the last patch of bushes.

Pushing aside the foliage blocking his view, Roland glimpsed two exceptionally tall, bulky figures and a dozen small red-skinned creatures through the gaps.

‘Demons or corrupted beings?’

The two giant monsters stood over three meters tall, bloated and obese, with many ferns parasitizing their skin.

Surrounding them were a group of small creatures about a meter tall, looking as if their skin had been peeled off—disgusting. The hyena-like laughter came from these little monsters.

They were besieging an unusually tall elf—Anna.

Behind Anna was a makeshift shelter, a grass hut, where it seemed injured people were taking refuge.

With Anna’s strength, even in a frenzy, she was a boss-level presence within the tawny fern forest. It wasn’t certain if she could break through the entire forest, but likely nothing here could harm her.

Yet, a tiger fallen to the plains is bullied by dogs. Now severely wounded, a group of small monsters had forced her into a desperate corner.

‘Damn girl, your grandpa’s the one who has to save you.’

Roland glanced at the grass hut, thinking, ‘Hmm, actually it’s two damn girls.’