Prologue
The mage limped across the forest, a trail of blood slowly dripping behind him. He had been injured by a beast he had not seen before. A beast of little mass but great strength. It stealthily snuck up to the mage and struck hard, all this time only making him catch a glimpse of it. When the mage attempted to strike the beast with his staff, it immediately masterfully wrapped around the staff and snapped it. Then, it disappeared. All this happened only in a short time, but has already dangerously wounded the mage.
When the mage entered the forest, his garments were kingly and he had great confidence in his journey, but now his cloak was torn and his clothing filled with mud. His only armor left was his chest plate. The rest he had abandoned when he was injured. His staff was broken, and his sword was feeling heavier with every step. Tired, he stopped and lifted his tunic and examined his wounds. The bite on the thigh seemed to be something like a snake bite, with two deep, clear holes that reached to the bone. There was venom in the bite, as it seems, and the blood oozing out had a shade of greenish-yellow in it, clearly indicating the wound isn’t light. The mage used all his strength to drag his injured leg. Knowing he won’t have much strength left, he managed to get to a tall tree and decided to get some rest. The days of walking and the wound has taken its toll. He was exhausted, and desired to sleep for a while.
He had expected the journey to take no longer than a week, so his baggage was light. Yet here he was, two weeks into the forest, attacked by a snake-like being, pretty much half dead, and with no supplies and medicine left. The village he searched for was nowhere to be seen, so he can’t expect any help on its way. That’s it, he thought, I’m going to die here in an unknown place, in an unknown grave. I will meet my ancestors soon. I’m done.
Suddenly, he noticed a small plant not far from the tree that he recognized. The Geri sprout. Why is it here? It is only found on ancient battlefields, healing those who pluck it and swallow the sprout whole, but it’s here. What a stroke of luck! With surprising renewed strength, the mage stood up and managed to rush to the plant. However, just as he reached out his bloody fingers to pluck the plant, an agonizing pain struck him, and he collapsed, leaving a pale, bloodless leg and a thick trail of blood, leading to his resting place under the tree, also filled with blood. Rising from the blood, a thick row of Geri sprouts.
