Eldros thought of the fruit he saw on the tree and his eyes narrowed in thought. The fruit had been covered in silver glow and the more he thought about it the more suspicious it became.
It was apparent that someone or something must have put it there.
'...or the silver light that fell that night...could it be...?..'
Perhaps it was a trap.
In the days Eldros had survived in the ruins, he'd learned what happened to living beings infected by the Tower of Heaven's light, they mutated, twisted into monstrous beasts, vicious and strong beyond reason.
Yet most of them slept by day. Unless disturbed, they rarely stirred. They only move at night. But it was the living that Eldros feared more. Beasts were dangerous, yes, but people could be cruel, cunning, and treacherous.
Still, regardless of whether that was a trap or not, Eldros knew he had to go back. But first, he needed to prepare.
Few weeks ago, the light of the Tower of Heaven rumbled to life and its beam fell down to the city, instantly turning it into ruins. That was what the Tower of Heaven does.
One day, thousands of years ago it appears in the sky and turned the whole world into chaos. And anytime a light shine from it, anywhere it touches would be instantly turned into ruins where Dungeons and such would sprouts.
Eldros himself wasn't from this world, he was from a place called Earth and after he was killed during a gang fight, he woke up in the body of the boy without a name.
He gave himself a new name and studied the memories of his new body. Sadly, there wasn't much.
But when he woke up, everything was already in ruins. He couldn't say if the body he woke up in was already dead. And he didn't much care.
He glanced at the book in his hand.
After days of training, the Arcana art was etched into his mind. It had improved his stamina, confidence and granted him crucial knowledge.
Arcane dated back to before the Tower appeared in the sky and changed the world forever.
The old book that Eldros found explained why Arcane had grown so perilous dangerous and it was because of the Tower of Heaven's aura—now called Noxium—that tainted mana itself. It poisoned Magus from within.
As Noxium built up in the body, it caused terrifying transformations. Some exploded in blood; others turned into mindless monsters.
And when the Tower of Heaven's light shone, the Noxium intensified.
Still, for those who lived in such words, there was no choice. Disease ran rampant. Most people didn't die peacefully. Magus practice was the only path to survival.
Over time, humans developed different ways to isolate Noxium into a a specific part of the body that contained the corruption. The more powerful the art, the more Noxium it could safely isolate.
Only powerful Sanctum and Great houses possessed such methods. Rogue Magus like Eldros, made do with scraps, risking death every time they trained.
But there were whispers of another land, the birthplace of humanity, where some claimed it was possible to fully cleanse the body of Noxium.
Eldros didn't dwell on such distant dreams. He had his old book. He was practicing. That was enough, at least for now.
He looked up at the sky, pale and cold. If the rain didn't end, he might need to leave this city altogether and search elsewhere for medicine. Infection was setting into his wound.
With effort, he cleaned the blood, wrapped himself again, and waited for dawn.
Eventually, the howling outside faded.
Once daylight returned, Eldros carefully unsealed his hiding place and stretched his stiff joints. After warming up, he strapped his dagger to his thigh, checked his sharp disc, and inspected a poisonous dart wrapped in cloth, satisfied, he tucked it away.
His eyes sharpened.
Time to move.
Dark rain continued to fall, the sky a grey sheet. Morning light seeped through like the sickly gaze of a dying old man.
If not for the warm-up, Eldros would have shivered beneath that cold breath of dawn.
He moved quickly, leaping walls, slinking between ruins, a shadow in motion.
Eldros pressed onward, ignoring the small animals he saw and skirting the city lord's house. His focus was on one thing, the place where he'd seen that fruit.
Rather than approach directly, he circled around and climbed a hill overlooking the site.
Lying prone, eyes slitted to avoid glinting light, he scanned the area.
There he saw the fruit still gleaming as before.
Unchanged. Not even slightly.
That wasn't right.
Shouldn't the fruit have rotted away by now?
Eldros waited.
He had learned patience in the alleys, where acting too soon meant dying too early. The gangs had taught him that.
Hours passed. Still, nothing happened.
Only after noon had come and gone did Eldros test the waters. He picked up a rock and hurled it.
Thud.
The stone hit close to it and it shivered with silver sparks.
Eldros's heart leapt.
He bolted forward like a hunting falcon, grabbed the object, spun, and sprinted away. Only after thirty meters did he stop to look.
A glowing apple. That was what it looks like.
Translucent, glowing violet.
Eldros clutched the fruit tightly to his chest and ran.
Eventually, he slowed and stopped, puzzled.
Pulling aside his jerkin, he checked the wound on his chest.
His eyes widened.
The festering gash had healed almost entirely. Only faint scar tissue remained. No blood. No black edges.
How…?
Panting, he looked down at the silver apple in his hand.