When Jessie returned later that evening, her eyes seemed softer.

There was a faint trace of green shimmer beneath her skin, visible only when the lamplight touched her face.

"How was it?" Ash asked.

Jessie smiled. "Peaceful. They just… made me sit near the roots and listen. For a long time."

"Listen?"

She nodded.

He thought she was just tired, but that night, as they lay under the soft, leafy roof, Ash could hear it too — the faint hum coming from beneath the ground. Like a living heartbeat, but it sounded natural.

---

The next few days became a rhythm of work and rest, of laughter and small comforts. Strangely, everyone Ash met during this time seemed perfectly in sync with him — as if he had stumbled upon all the right people in the right place.

Ash found himself speaking less.

There was no need for many words here — no urgency, no danger. The villagers seemed to understand everything without conversation. Even Jessie spoke less. She smiled more, but her voice carried a distant gentleness that hadn't been there before.

Her naughty and flamboyant personality had softened into something calm and serene.

He, too, found himself not wondering about things. He didn't think much about anything in particular. If he were honest, he was slowly becoming a donkey who only knew how to work hard — thoughtless, mechanical, content.

The act of questioning itself had become… tiresome.

---

On the fifth night, the monk summoned the entire village to gather around the Heart — the tree.

The moon was high and pale, its light washing over the Oasis in silver hues. The tree towered above them, its branches wide, filtering the moonlight through its leaves.

Everyone stood in a circle silently.

No one seemed out of place. The villagers raised their hands toward the Heart with their eyes closed. Jessie did the same beside him, her lips moving in slow murmurs.

Ash hesitated… then lifted his hand too.

The warmth spread through him instantly — from his fingertips to his chest, then to his heart. A calm, enlightening quiet filled his mind.

He saw flashes — images that weren't his own.

Endless roots reaching deep into black soil. Water flowing through veins of light. Faces smiling, whispering, sleeping beneath the same tree.

He felt weightless — embraced, understood.

And then he heard a whisper.

A whisper of rhythm, a whisper of music.

It wasn't a word spoken aloud, but something his body heard — deep and primal.

Since entering the desert, it was the first time he didn't think about survival, trials, or enemies.

He thought about staying.

Just for a while.

Maybe longer.

---

By afternoon, Lyria came to their hut carrying fresh fruit and a smile. "We are approaching the day of offering."

Ash smiled back, not understanding fully — but too calm to care. It was a strange feeling. He no longer opened his status screen to check anything. He was aware of it but opening it seemed useless, as if running away from his goal.

Somewhere deep inside, he wanted to look, wanted to get up and continue the journey, he wasn't completely insane but was on the verge of becoming or perhaps becoming sane.

Later...

He joined the others by the pond, helping the men gather water and cut vines. His movements felt lighter — smoother. He didn't even sweat much under the sun anymore.

When the day ended, they sat together near the fire. The air glowed a faint green, the villagers humming in unison. Jessie leaned against his shoulder with her eyes closed.

Ash looked at her, then at the great tree standing proud and silent beyond the huts.

Its branches swayed, releasing a faint shimmer of dust that drifted across the air like snow.

Something deep inside him stirred — a distant instinct, half-forgotten. A feeling that he had left something behind, something important.

But then Jessie's hand slipped into his — warm and soft. The hum of the village grew louder, steady, soothing.

The unease melted away.

Ash exhaled slowly, his eyes drifting shut.

Unbeknownst to him, he was mastering something all this time without realizing it. The flawless life, the calm, serene, monotonous movements — all flowed like a river.

His movements no longer felt clumsy or hesitant. Every action was deliberate, each gesture natural — everything happening subconsciously, yet consciously.

Even when he raised his hand to scratch his head or opened his mouth to speak, those instinctive actions were now deliberate — aware.

It was a strange equilibrium, held by a fragile thread, where he performed every small task consciously while remaining unconscious of the most important things.

It was the only thing stopping him from truly mastering the Flow — in his daily life, in his movements.

The next day, he woke up feeling slightly uncomfortable. His body told him he was on the verge of a breakthrough — something profound — but his thoughts always drifted away, making it impossible to focus. The more he failed to concentrate, the eerier and more suspicious he felt.

But he couldn't pinpoint what it was. He had almost forgotten his goals — leveling up, Ascension, even where he came from.

Yet one thread remained — his system screen. It flickered every now and then, glowing faintly as if trying to warn him. His mind was too clouded to notice it, but now, he forced every ounce of willpower to look at the notifications.

[Your Will has been Cursed]

[Willpower: 370]

[Willpower: 280]

...

[Willpower: 70]

His willpower was collapsing every day — slowly crumbling.

It was a mind-blowing revelation that should have made Ash panic, but for some reason, he felt passive — too passive to do anything about it.

His mind drifted toward something in his system — a crystal. Glyph Seed.

For some reason, his intuition guided him to dive into it, to complete the half-finished work.

"Is there something wrong with me? Am I under attack?" The thought crossed his mind. But what could it be? He was living peacefully, wasn't he? His mind couldn't grasp the complexity of what was happening.

He dived into the void space where eight gates levitated.

Two of them were already open. He went inside the third gate — a meaningless character appeared before him, glowing faintly.

Seeing it, a memory flashed — of the time he conquered the other two Runes with the help of his Luck.

He stared at it for too long, waiting for that same luck to guide him through the process. But nothing came... as if his Luck stat no longer existed. No power to guide him forward.

He came out of the gate and entered another, thinking perhaps it was a peculiarity of that particular Rune.

He entered the other gates one after another, feeling nothing — no intuition, no pull, no guidance.

Then, a thought surfaced in the back of his mind.

"Is my Luck also suppressed… just like my Willpower?" It took all his mental strength to register this thought.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.