Chapter 14: Goodbye, my friend

Naemon woke up, his body feeling as heavy as if he had carried stones for days. The faint glow of luminous mushrooms cast a soft light in the cave, and for a moment, he just lay there, staring at the uneven ceiling.

His memories came back in bursts—meditation, the fight, the sharp pain, and finally, the victory.

He sat up slowly, wincing as his body protested against every movement. Instinctively, his hand went to his stomach, and he opened his robe to check for wounds or scars. But there was nothing unusual—no marks, no scars, not even a faint glow.

His fingers hovered over his stomach. "Is it really there?" he whispered.

He felt around but found nothing.

He paused to think. 'Hmm, maybe I can...' The young man closed his eyes and focused inward. Then he felt it—not with his hand, but with something deeper, something he couldn’t quite explain. A warmth, a pulse, a tiny presence buried deep within him.

Naemon’s eyes shot open, and a grin spread across his face. "It’s there… my Mana Core. I can feel it!"

Naemon stood up, shaking off the heaviness from his body, and walked to the table where the black metal ring he had found with Sebastian lay.

The glow of the mushrooms highlighted the raven on the ring, which looked as though it might fly off at any moment. The raven—the symbol of the House of Fledertod. The ring was more than just a piece of jewelry; it was Sebastian Fledertod’s personal ring, meant only for the heir of House Fledertod.

Naemon had worn it once before, the day he realized its significance. But knowing how risky it was to lose something so important, he had taken it off and left it safely on the table. The ring was his only chance to escape this place.

Now that his Mana Core was formed, and his determination was stronger than ever, it was time to see if his efforts had paid off.

He picked up the ring from the table, feeling the familiar coolness of the black metal against his skin. Sliding it back onto his right middle finger, he felt like a king ascending his throne.

His eyes turned to the other side of the room, to the door that had haunted him since the day he first woke up in this cave. No matter what he tried, it hadn’t budged. It had mocked him, standing as the final barrier between him and freedom.

But now, everything was different.

Naemon walked confidently toward the door. His hand instinctively went to the ring, his thumb brushing over the raven. He could almost hear Sebastian’s voice in his head, urging him forward.

The Yellow Book had said that there were active and passive magical artifacts. The ring was supposed to be a passive artifact. 'I just have to let my Mana flow into it...' Naemon thought, remembering the instructions.

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Standing before the door, Naemon placed his hand firmly against it, feeling the cool, worn wood under his palm. Then he closed his eyes and reached inward, focusing on connecting with his Mana Core.

He imagined pulling Mana from his core to his hand.

A warm pressure built inside him, steady and strong. He visualized the blue energy flowing from his stomach to his underarms, then down his arm into his right hand.

At first, it was difficult—like trying to force a stubborn river to change its course. Naemon frowned and clenched his teeth as he pushed harder.

'Something feels wrong...' Naemon thought. What he was doing worked, but his instincts told him it wasn’t the best way.

Then it happened. When the Mana finally reached his hand, the ring began to work, drawing the Mana from his hand into itself.

Naemon opened his eyes and saw the ring change. The raven ring, once pitch black, now glowed faintly with a silvery light. The light came from tiny runes that appeared all over the ring’s surface.

C L I C K

Naemon’s ears twitched as he heard the faint sound of the door unlocking. Right after, the ring’s glow faded, and it looked like an ordinary black metal ring again.

His heart raced as he reached out. Thanks for reading on ManaNovel!

His hand trembled slightly.

Slowly, he grasped the doorknob and pushed it down.

The door, which had stood like an immovable mountain, swung open with ease, revealing a dark and yawning passage beyond.

A cold breeze blew into the room, carrying the scent of earth and fresh air.

Naemon stood on the threshold, staring into the emptiness. His hand brushed the ring that now rested snugly on his finger.

A grin spread across his face. "Sebastian, your legacy is more than just a name. It’s my path forward."

Naemon stood in the cave’s light, gazing into the dark corridor beyond the door he had just unlocked. The oppressive silence pressed on him, broken only by the faint dripping of water echoing from unseen cracks behind him.

In his mind, a mix of triumph and uncertainty swirled, but he quickly shook it off.

"There’s no point wasting more time," he murmured, turning abruptly and striding toward his desk.

The wooden desk was cluttered with books, parchment, and notes—leftovers from his frantic study sessions over the past weeks. Beside it stood his trusty backpack—the same one he had carried during his escape. It looked worn, stained with mud and river water, but it had survived the chaos just as he had.

Naemon knelt by the desk, grabbed the backpack, and hoisted it onto the chair. He opened it, peering inside and carefully inspecting the contents. Some items were missing, undoubtedly lost in the river’s current, but the essentials remained. A faint smile crossed his lips. "Still holding on, huh?" he murmured to the bag, as if it could hear him.

He began packing the books and documents scattered across the desk. Each tome and paper was a treasure trove of knowledge, filled with Sebastian’s notes and discoveries. He couldn’t afford to leave anything behind—who knew if he’d ever return?

Among the items was the strange bronze lantern he had found hidden in Sebastian’s robe pockets.

"Sebastian’s secrets," he whispered, worried he might wake up the lamp.

He wrapped it in an old cloth and quickly stuffed it into the bag. Despite his fear of the lamp, Naemon knew it was a crucial part of Sebastian’s research.

When he finished packing, the backpack was stuffed to the brim, bulging like the cheeks of an overfed squirrel.

He closed it with some effort and slung it over his shoulders. The weight was considerable, but so was his resolve. He ignored the burden.

He walked toward the exit, his boots scuffing against the cold stone floor.

Stopping at the threshold, he turned and looked back at the now-empty room. The eerie silence felt heavier than ever, as if the cave itself mourned his departure.

His eyes wandered to the familiar dark corner of the room.

"Goodbye, my friend," he said softly, his voice echoing faintly. "Don’t worry. Maybe someone else will stumble in here, and you won’t be so alone." His words carried a touch of bitterness but also a strange sense of closure.

With that, he stepped through the door and pulled it shut behind him.

Naemon touched the cold metal of the black ring on his finger, engraved with the emblem of House Fledertod. He focused his Mana, guiding it from his core to his hand. The process was smoother now, though it still felt off.

As Mana flowed into the ring, it emitted a faint glow, and the door clicked softly, locking once more.

Thoughtfully, he turned the ring on his finger. Taking it meant no one else could unlock this place—but it also ensured the cave would remain a safe haven if he ever needed it again.

With one last glance at the door, Naemon tightened the straps of his backpack and stepped into the dark corridor. The cave behind him fell silent once more, its secrets sealed away.