Leonard couldn't tell whether this change was good or bad, but out of caution, he decided he couldn't let the Fiendfyre continue consuming things unchecked.
So he actively dispelled the Fiendfyre Curse.
The Fiendfyre, born from carefully controlled magical flow, would naturally dissipate once that flow was interrupted—this was Leonard's fail-safe.
As the flames vanished, the stone statues once again fixed their hollow gazes on Leonard and Midgard.
"Why didn't you keep burning them?" Midgard asked, puzzled.
"Something feels off. Let's try another method," Leonard replied, pulling out a Bitterthorn seed.
He activated its enhanced Rapid Growth and tossed the seed onto the ground. Instantly, the Bitterthorn sprouted into a Thornpiercer, its long, spiked vines surging forward and lashing toward the statues.
Within seconds, all the statues were entangled within the Bitterthorn's barbed coils, completely immobilized.
"Another plant trick? But how do you plan to destroy them?" Midgard asked. "That lightning spell of yours probably can't erase their regeneration. It'll just shatter your vines."
"Not using that spell," Leonard said with a small grin. "I want to test my plant's new ability."
"New ability?" Midgard began to ask, but before she could finish, a wave of scorching heat washed over her.
Raging Fiendfyre burst forth once more. This time, instead of spraying paralyzing toxins, each vine unleashed terrifying Fiendfyre.
The flames twisted together into a monstrous two-headed serpent. Within seconds, the Bitterthorn's vines withered, activating its built-in Self-Destruct mechanism.
A deafening explosion followed. The detonation of Fiendfyre consumed the entire cluster of statues.
Leonard frowned, watching the firestorm rage. The serpent within the flames… no, now it had five heads. Each head glowed with bright silver-white lines.
It looked exactly like the Fiendfyre Serpent he had just dispelled. But how could that be?
Then it struck him—[Ability Sharing]. His ability transferred his magical power to his plants. Could it be that the Fiendfyre magic carried some kind of inheritance property?
Leonard didn't fully understand it, but he felt an unsettling uncertainty—and he despised uncertainty.
As the Bitterthorn was completely burned away, the Fiendfyre didn't continue spreading as usual. Instead, it gradually faded, as if it had lost its source of power.
Leonard was still thinking through the implications when he suddenly felt warmth on his wrist. Looking down, he saw an orange-red pattern of a fierce five-headed serpent etched into his skin, each head marked with a faint silvery trace.
A mark?
Leonard paused, his expression darkening as he wondered whether the mark was a blessing or a curse. Then, the Ancient Sprout slipped out from his sleeve, wrapping itself around his wrist.
Instantly, the mark transferred, transforming into a bright orange vein that appeared on the Ancient Sprout's branches.
The change eased Leonard's expression.
It seemed the transformation was still under control—still within the Ancient Sprout's domain.
That realization comforted him. Otherwise, strange markings suddenly appearing on his body would have made him suspect a curse.
"It really did handle everything," Midgard said, staring in disbelief at the ashes where the statues had stood. "That plant of yours—the same one that trapped the giant statue last time, right? I didn't expect it could spew Fiendfyre too. That's terrifying."
"Not bad. Within expectations," Leonard replied calmly, no longer glancing at his wrist. "Let's go. There's still more ahead—we'll see what else awaits."
The two moved forward into the depths until their path was blocked by an enormous web of silvery roots.
"What's this?" Midgard asked, poking at it with her wand. "It's not going to spring up and rip us apart, is it?"
"Unlikely," Leonard said, silver light flickering in his eyes. "It carries the same kind of restorative power as those statues—maybe even stronger."
The magical current within the roots resembled that of the statues but felt far more potent. Yet something was off—it didn't even seem like a plant.
Leonard's innate talent, Friend of Plants, allowed him to sense emotions from all flora. Even the simplest plants conveyed faint feelings—thirst, heat, a lack of sunlight.
But these roots before him were as lifeless as stone.
"So what now? Burn it with Fiendfyre again?" Midgard asked.
"No. Watch this—my new magic." Leonard wanted to observe the Fiendfyre phenomenon further, so instead he used one of the new ancient spells.
He flicked his wand, sending a surge of violet energy crashing into the silver-white roots. The moment they touched, the roots contracted sharply, then exploded in a brilliant burst of purple ash.
Midgard stared, mouth agape.
This spell could actually reduce even endlessly regenerating constructs to dust. No wonder Leonard hadn't been in a hurry earlier—he clearly had more than one countermeasure.
As the violet mist dissipated, a shimmering stone door appeared ahead, its surface rippling like water. Beyond it lay a collapsed stone bridge.
Midgard approached the edge and peered into the abyss below. "Well, that's a dead end. Should we find another way across?"
"No need." Leonard looked around at the fallen stones, then waved his wand to cast a powerful Mending Charm.
The spell, strong enough to mend even a broken wand, sent a tremor through the entire ruin. From the depths below, shattered stones rose and reassembled before them, forming a new stone bridge.
The ancient, crumbling bridge was reborn in that instant.
Midgard no longer even felt surprised. Leonard's abilities seemed endless. Once, she would've reacted in awe; now she was simply used to it.
"Let's go," Leonard said, satisfied with the results. After all his training, he could finally feel the true majesty and mystery of magic.
They crossed the bridge and entered a grand hall identical in style to the one beyond the Vault ruins.
The only difference was the three stone walls at the front, resembling faded murals. Time had cracked their surfaces, obscuring whatever images they once held.
Midgard walked in, looked around, and exhaled in relief. "Looks like there's nothing here."
Without any giant statues in sight, he felt confident enough to relax a little.
Leonard scanned the hall as well, equally puzzled. Even with his Magic Sight, he couldn't detect anything unusual.
It seemed like an ordinary ruin.
Just as he began to wonder if this place had already been explored—or abandoned—the Ancient Sprout hidden in his sleeve suddenly stirred, as if sensing something, and slowly emerged once again.
...
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