CHAPTER 42: CHAPTER 41: PARADISE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE FOREST (15)

Oliver and the sage were still trading information.

The sage was asking with a mix of nerves and curiosity, and Oliver was answering while trying to keep his temper in check, then asking back to squeeze every bit of knowledge out of the sage.

In the end, each of them had extracted everything the other knew.

Oliver asked while staring straight at the sage,

"Are you telling me there’s going to be a festival here?"

The sage nodded as he clasped his hands behind his back and paced in front of him.

"Yes. From what I gathered from the villagers, there’s an upcoming festival that looks exactly like the autumn festival we used to hold."

"They’re copying everything literally. Even the festival."

"I know. At first I thought they were just clowns imitating things without understanding, or maybe a bunch of monsters like the ones we faced in the forest. But after what you told me, it all makes sense."

"And what exactly makes sense about them copying a festival?"

The sage turned toward him and raised his finger in front of his face.

"Didn’t you say this village is turning into an exact replica of ours? And that this means we’re merging with it?"

"Yes. That’s true."

"And what was the last major event in our village before we left? Based on the memories this place depends on?"

"The annual harvest festival."

"Exactly. Which means we must find a way out of here before the festival ends."

"This is strangely logical coming from you. But how do we find a way out before that happens?"

"I don’t know. I’m not used to entering bizarre places that mix reality with memories. I could barely deal with those wretched little spirits, let alone something like this."

"We need to find a quick way out."

"Yes, I know." The sage slapped the air with his palm. "Stop repeating it. Do you think I want to become one of the residents of this ridiculous illusion?"

When they reached the tower, Oliver pushed the door open and stepped inside, with the sage following behind him.

Inside, Aria was sitting back in a wooden chair with one leg crossed over the other.

Orion was lying on the floor, his body motionless, his eyes half closed.

Beside him sat Lemur, curled up close as if guarding him.

As soon as Oliver walked in, Aria lifted her head with a mocking smile ready on her lips, but that mockery evaporated instantly when she saw the sage.

"You actually pulled it off?"

The sage froze in place, staring at her with wide eyes, unable to believe what he was seeing right in front of him.

Oliver said,

"Yeah, and it turns out he wasn’t trapped under this place’s influence."

The sage quickly leaned toward Oliver and whispered,

"Is this the old witch?"

The moment Aria heard that sentence, she raised her hand and a small dagger materialized in the air.

In a blink, she hurled it at him.

The sage jumped aside just in time to avoid being hit.

Aria sighed.

"Are all of you this rude?"

Oliver waved his hand.

"No time for this. Didn’t you say they’re just humans? And that it’s impossible for them to notice anything wrong here? So why was the sage able to do it?"

Aria looked at Oliver, then at the sage hiding behind his back like a child clinging to his father.

"This one isn’t a normal human, little one. He’s at least an agent of a mythical creature."

"Agent of a mythical creature? What does that even mean?"

Aria stood and walked toward them, examining the sage from head to toe.

"I assume this is the village sage you mentioned. The one who had a connection to the Spirit of Autumn?"

Oliver nodded.

"Yes."

"Then that explains it. Anyone directly linked to a mythical creature gets a tiny sliver of its power, and that alone is enough to lift him above ordinary humans."

Oliver turned to the sage.

"Sage, do you have any abilities? Anything magical?"

The sage stuttered.

"Magical abilities? I can barely do my job as a sage."

Aria folded her arms and rubbed her chin thoughtfully.

"Is the sage’s position inherited in your family?"

"Yes. For at least hundreds of years."

"In that case you’re not just a sage. You’re the Spirit of Autumn’s agent, whether you like it or not."

Annoyance flickered across the sage’s face, but he swallowed whatever objection he wanted to say.

Oliver for his part was drowning in a whirlpool of thoughts.

He was trying to find any possible way to pull everyone out of this place before the festival began.

But his mind was completely empty.

Waiting for the masked man to return didn’t feel like a real plan.

He didn’t even know if the man would show up at all, or if he would appear only after it was too late,

when escaping would no longer matter.

Aria noticed the tension tightening Oliver’s face.

"Why all the worry? I told you before, your father will show up for sure as long as a mythical creature is involved."

The sage raised an eyebrow at both of them,

while Oliver pressed his fingers against his temples.

"As I told you before, he’s not my father."

Aria gave him a mocking smile as she crossed her legs again.

"You’re just trying to deny reality. I get it. If I were in your place I’d do the same. Imagine a bastard like him being your father."

Oliver took a slow breath.

"There’s no resemblance between us to begin with."

She pointed at him.

"Maybe you got your mother’s features. And his face is covered all the time. How can you decide you don’t look like him? Have you ever seen his face?"

"No, but..."

She cut him off.

"But what, little one? Accept the truth faster."

The sage and Lemur traded quick glances between Oliver and Aria, then back again.

The sage placed a hand on Oliver’s shoulder.

"Is that masked man your father, Oliver?"

"No. He’s not."

The sage shook his head.

"That explains finding you in the forest, the spirits’ fear of you, and how close you are to the man."

Oliver shot him a sharp look.

"Do I look close to him? And for the thousandth time, he’s not my father."

Lemur stepped closer.

"Your father is the leader? That explains why you talk to him without respect."

Oliver turned toward him.

"Don’t tell me you believe this nonsense too."

The sage patted Oliver’s back.

"Don’t worry, Oliver. We don’t choose our family. We choose who we are. To me, you’ll remain the same foolish little Oliver no matter who your father is."

"How many times do I have to say he’s not my father!"

He was about to explode at all of them, but at that moment a sound from outside cut through everything.

The sound of ringing chimes.

The moment they heard it, everyone froze and exchanged short looks.

The sounds of the little spirits swirling through the village whenever the autumn festival began.

Sounds Oliver knew well. Sounds the sage knew even better.

The festival had already begun.