I stared at the four recipes in my hand, scanning them one by one as if I were ticking off a grocery list. My eyes landed on the topmost sheet, its title scrawled in bold black ink:
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System of War Recipe
Main Ingredients:
3 veins of World Tree leaf
15 grams of war crystal
20 Roasted Sword Mantises
15 milliliters of liquefied bullet ant
Preparation Steps:
Crush 15 grams of war crystal until it turns into a fine, glassy red powder.
Feed 20 Roasted Sword Mantises into the distiller. Heat them gently and wait until the pale green vapor dissipates, then collect the essence.
Burn a single strand of World Tree leaf on a silver plate until it turns to ash. Smear this ash across the inner surface of your cauldron.
Pour in enough water to fill half the cauldron, then mix in 15 milliliters of liquid bullet ant. Simmer over a low flame.
When the water begins to boil and the fourth bubble surfaces, add the war crystal powder. Stir slowly until the liquid shifts from black to a deep, blood-red hue.
Gradually pour in the Sword Mantis essence. Stir counterclockwise, precisely forty-four times.
For the seal: Lay two veins of World Tree leaf atop the potion's surface. Let them sink on their own. Once the brew is sealed, decant into a bottle and store in a dark place.
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My head throbbed, as if the strange letters of those recipes were wringing my thoughts dry. Whatever enthusiasm I'd managed to muster had long since evaporated, leaving me slumped against the back of the park bench, letting the world spin on without me.
That's when Hozi appeared—his footsteps light as if he carried no burdens at all, his right hand swinging a glass of something cold and sparkling. He looked at me with that lopsided grin.
"Drink up first—no need to rush into anything," he said, nudging the glass my way before taking a long sip of his own. The ice in his glass blazed a vibrant orange, catching the artificial sunlight as it filtered through the clear walls, sending ripples of color dancing across the glass. Beads of dew slid lazily down the sides, while orange pulp spun in lazy circles inside, and the sharp citrus scent sliced through my foggy mind, leaving me suddenly clear-headed.
"So, you picked the System of Creature, right? How did you make up your mind?" I asked.
Hozi flopped into the seat beside me, his next slurp loud and unhurried. "I don't remember," he said, offhand, as if the whole thing was no more consequential than picking an ice cream flavor on a hot day.
"Seriously? Didn't that change your whole life?" I stared at him, incredulous.
"Not really," he said, his casual tone slipping over something deeper.
I glanced at the recipe sheet in my hand and asked, "Anyway, how did you even find all this ingredients?" He just shrugged, waving his own recipe sheet like it was nothing.
"Just pick your system first. Leave the ingredients to me," he said, brimming with confidence.
I let out a sigh, the confusion still hanging over me like a stubborn cloud. Sure, my head felt a little lighter after a sip of that orange drink, but the options before me remained as cryptic as ever.
"By the way, what exactly are these veins of World Tree leaf?" I asked, pointing at the first ingredient on every recipe.
Three veins of World Tree leaf. That ingredient showed up in every single recipe. I'd tried asking Erin, but he just told me to ask Hozi before goes to sleep.
"Come to think of it, I don't think I've ever seen a World Tree in the Wetlands. Maybe there's one in Tytoal-ba," Hozi mused, his gaze drifting off into the distance.
A scrap of knowledge about the World Tree surfaced in my mind. As far as I knew, every major city had something called a World Tree—not just any ordinary tree, but a living monument marking the birth of civilization itself. Legend had it that every nation in this world was anchored by a colossal tree known as the World Tree.
These World Trees formed the very foundation of their countries. Their roots stretched as far as the nation's borders, while their colossal trunks rose at the very heart of it all. weaving an invisible dome that wrapped the world within, complete with its own laws of nature and reality.
In other words, each country in Orsus was, at its core, a world unto itself, with its own unique logic and systems. No wonder, when reading about Orsus, regions with a World Tree weren't called countries—they were called worlds.
Orsus was a world made up of other worlds; at least, that's what I remembered from the scraps of memory I still had.
"As the name suggests, that's a leaf from a World Tree," Hozi explained. "You know, the World Tree isn't heart of a region, it channels mana to the entire world."
"Mana?" I echoed, holding my breath. Another new term—just what I needed.
"Yeah, it's nothing like a regular tree," he went on. A leaf drifted down beside him; he caught it, turning it over in his fingers. "Instead of pumping out oxygen, the World Tree actually breathes out mana." He mimed inhaling, as if the air itself was thick with something invisible.
"The mana the World Tree produces is raw," he said, illustrating how it entered the body. "We breathe it in, and then the human body processes it. Just like oxygen, mana gets distributed everywhere—but instead of flowing through your veins, it travels along the astraflux—a sort of hidden circuit that channels mana, pumped by the heart, throughout your body."
"But you said the mana is raw, right?" I pressed, not quite ready to let him off the hook with an explanation that simple.
"After it's pumped, mana flows along the astraflux. At certain points, there are things called Periplus. That's where the raw mana gets converted into prana. Only then can you use magic—or Arete," he said, flicking the leaf in his hand for emphasis.
"So, ordinary people can use magic?" I asked, my head spinning with all these new terms. But the word Arete rang a bell—Erin had mentioned it once, though I couldn't quite remember when or why
"Anyone can, as long as they can channel their prana outward. Prana is the magical energy you need to pull off any of this," Hozi replied, extending his index finger. A blue light flickered at his fingertip, darting and looping as if it were writing his name in the air, leaving behind a fading trail of luminescence.
"Astraflux and Periplus—they're inside every living creature, big or small. Even that ant down there has them, though it's got no clue," he said, gesturing at the ants scurrying below our feet. "The quality of your Astraflux and the number of Periplus you have? That's different for everyone. If you're just an ordinary human, you might go your whole life never realizing magic is real. That's where Archiveline potions come in."
I mulled over his explanation while Hozi tapped the recipe sheet in my hand. "These potions act as catalysts—they make your body aware of mana, activate your Astraflux, and unlock the gates at every Periplus inside you."
"So after that, we can use magic freely?" I murmured.
"Once you pick your system, you'll gain different abilities. The basics? Sure, you'll be able to use magic, but you'll still have to learn to control the prana in your body first."
"And those unique abilities—are those what you call Arete?" I pressed, curiosity getting the better of me.
"Yeah. Arete isn't just magic. It's a special power unique to an Archiveline, and it grows as they advance to the next Archiveline. Think of it as your own personal treasure," Hozi explained. "It can take any form—a thing, a living creature, or even a magical skill. There's no set pattern."
"Actually, you don't have to become an Archiveline to awaken your Arete. Every living soul is like a great ledger. If someone truly becomes aware of the book within their soul, they can unlock their Arete without ever touching the Archiveline system."
"So you mean, if someone chooses to become an Archiveline, their Arete changes?"
"Exactly. Their Arete gets rewritten, shaped by the destiny they choose. They'll never know what their original Arete was, because the 'book' in their soul gets replaced by the Archiveline system. Painful, isn't it? But that's the price of becoming an Archiveline. You might lose a piece of yourself, but you gain a new kind of freedom."
"So that black orb Erin has—is that his Arete?" I muttered, rubbing my chin, lost in thought.
Hozi glanced over. "You say something?"
"Ah, no, nothing. By the way, what's your Arete? Don't tell me you can turn into a monkey?" I teased, half-mocking.
Hozi let out a laugh. "Close, but not quite." He dug at his ear, and somehow, a tiny stick—no bigger than a toothpick—materialized between his fingers. With a flick of his wrist, it morphed in an instant into a towering staff, nearly matching his own height.
"This is my Arete—a replica of the Ryu Jingu Bang, the legendary staff of the Idea of the Monkey King. I can make it grow, shrink, or stretch however I like." To prove his point, he extended the staff until it towered over us, then shrank it back down, as if it were made of pure will.
My head felt heavier by the second, the invisible shackles around my wrists tightening. No matter which way I turned, none of the choices ahead seemed truly right. Should I really become an Archiveliner?
Sensing my turmoil, Hozi stood up, giving me a little space to breathe. "Don't force it. You can decide whenever you're ready," he said, stretching his arms overhead.
I turned my attention back to the recipe sheet, reading each line slowly, but certainty was still a distant dream.
"Archiveliner or not, you'll get your book either way," he said breezily. He started to walk away, but then paused and glanced back. "Oh, and about your next mission—"
Great. He tells me not to stress, then dumps a mission on me right in the middle of my existential crisis. Isn't that a bit of a jerk move?
"This one's just for you."
I eyed him warily. "You know your brother's an Alteker, right? Adonis, and… who was the other one?"
"Ashsa," I muttered.
"Right. I want you to look into them. If you can, get inside the Alteker headquarters."
"What? You want me to investigate the Wetlands' own protectors? Have you lost your mind?"
"Relax. Just hear me out. I'm not saying they're traitors, but there's a chance—maybe them, or maybe someone else in there—is connected to our target: Lingard Onison."
His gaze turned serious, and he added, "And if you don't look into this, from what I've heard, every Alteker in there could be dead within the next seven days."