Gardenia’s Heart

Getting down had been easy—but climbing back up was another story.

“Can’t you just fly up there and check the best route? You’re a ghost, right? You should be able to do that.”

After finishing patching up the wound on her back and repairing her torn dress with her gelatinous material, Rose shifted her gaze from the top of the ravine to the woman floating beside her.

(I’ve told you before—I’m not a ghost!)

With her red hair swaying energetically, Sylvan puffed out her cheeks.

(Well, yes, maybe I look like one of those ghosts from fairy tales, but I’m definitely not!) Sylvan gave her an exasperated look, kicking the air several times as if to show her frustration at the comment. (And like I’ve already explained, right now my field of vision isn’t much wider than yours.)

“Yes, I remember… Sorry.” Rose sighed, as if this kind of behavior from the floating woman had long become routine. She started walking toward the spot where she had fallen—a faint purple trail marking the path of blood she’d left behind during her descent.

(Climbing that bare-handed is impossible. You could try shaping ice crystals into platforms and jumping your way up, but you’d waste too much mana. We don’t know what kind of monsters we’ll run into from here on, so it’s wiser to conserve your energy. You’ll have to find another way.) As Rose ran her fingers along the rocks, searching for any crack she could use as a grip, the red-haired woman placed one hand on her hip.

“Any suggestions?” Rose tilted her head toward the woman in the wide-brimmed hat. “How about finally teaching me that wing spell Mama Lily always uses?”

(I’m sorry, sweetheart, but we can’t skip steps in your training. That spell requires precise control over electrical currents. If you use it incorrectly, you’ll end up frying yourself with lightning. I’d rather not see my beloved granddaughter go out like that.)

Making an “X” with both index fingers, Sylvan turned around and pointed her thumb toward the back of the cavern.

(Besides, even if we can’t go up, we can still explore down here.)

Although Rose wanted to roll her eyes and complain about having her request to learn a cool spell rejected yet again, she decided to go along with Sylvan’s suggestion and followed the woman deeper into the cave.

The narrow ravine, which connected to a hollow chamber, turned out to be part of a much larger cave system. Like an anthill, countless tight passages stretched in all directions.

(Hm... the terrain in this region is as chaotic as ever. Not surprising, given the size of the mountains around here.)

Floating from side to side, Sylvan examined the surroundings with enthusiasm, her amber eyes sparkling with excitement.

“What does one thing have to do with the other?”

(You see, mountains form when tectonic plates collide. The impact generates massive mountain chains, and the subsequent seismic activity creates uneven terrain and caverns. This region’s no exception. I even used this unstable geography as a reference when I built one of my sanctuaries and—)

Realizing that her question had triggered one of Sylvan’s long-winded lectures again, the small girl discreetly stepped away from the woman, who continued her cheerful explanation undisturbed.

Placing one hand on the wall, Rose closed her eyes and began releasing gentle pulses of mana. Without the mist to interfere, her mana-location could spread farther—the layout of the cave began taking shape in her mind.

(Ah, and my naughty granddaughter—don’t think I’ve forgotten what you did.)

“!?” Suddenly, eyes wide, Rose leapt and found Sylvan’s face extremely close to hers.

The amber eyes, like hot embers, stared into the clear-sky pupils of Rose.

(I don’t remember teaching you how to sharpen your mana-location so you could use it to trick your mother.)

Leaning her floating form forward until she hovered even closer, Sylvan sighed and crossed her arms.

(That said, I’ll admit using the fairies as a reference was clever. Because they’re almost entirely made of mana, they don’t reflect the dark-mana pulses from a mana-location spell—the pulses simply pass through them. Creating a barrier to disperse those pulses around your bodies was a smart workaround. I’ll give you points for pulling that off.)

“Hihi~ Only Cherry could come up with something like that—she’s so good with details.”

Unable to hide the small burst of pride at the compliment, Rose let out a soft laugh, and Sylvan sighed again.

(Don’t forget: even without my help, I doubt the fall alone would have killed you. But Cherry definitely would have died. Doing reckless things without thinking of the consequences is dangerous.)

The woman’s words made Rose curl inward once more.

“I’m sorry...”

Without hesitating, the girl accepted the blame for their predicament again. If not for her selfish choice, neither Cherry nor her grandmother would be trapped in that forest.

(Like I said, part of childhood is learning from mistakes.) Though her fingers passed through the girl, Sylvan gently stroked her granddaughter’s head as if smoothing her hair. (Also—family means helping one another. Just as I worry about you, your mothers must be desperate.)

Clutching the hem of her dress, Rose nodded slowly at Sylvan’s words. She didn’t know where her mothers were, but she knew they were searching. Rubbing her arm across her face one more time, Rose turned toward one of the corridors and began to move—there was no time to waste.

(Find anything?) Sylvan asked, floating at Rose’s side.

“It’s strange. I’m not sure what it is,” Rose answered, preparing another ice blade.

Carefully, she followed the path her mana-location had laid out in her mind. After a few minutes, Rose covered her mouth—the cavern opened into a vast space.

“Eek...”

A dank rot filled the air with a stench no battlefield of corpses could match. Like a mix of sulfur and crushed minerals, it burned her throat and made her tongue itch.

The enormous carcass lay at the bottom of the cave like a king in a forgotten tomb. The colossal skeleton dominated the chamber, a maze of bones still held together by desiccated ligaments. Giant ribs arched like broken arches and the skull, lying on its side, displayed a half-open jaw with many shattered fangs. Between the vertebrae, mushrooms and herbs grew, giving off a faint bluish glow.

(This forest’s lands must have been a battlefield once—but to think a dragon would be killed and buried here, hidden beneath all of this...)

Though Rose covered her nose to cope with the putrid air, Sylvan seemed unshaken, probing the draconic corpse while tracing her own cheek with a finger. Although smaller than the dragon that attacked them before, it was certainly still considered large. The irony of a ruler of the skies buried and forgotten in the deepest part of a cavern made her frown.

“I don’t see any glow down here,” Rose murmured, finally lowering her hand from her face.

(There’s no one with us right now, Rose—why do you keep calling it that?) Sylvan crossed her legs in midair and tapped the rim of her wide-brimmed hat with a finger.

“I like calling it a glow, Grandma Sylvan.” Rose puffed her cheeks, glaring up at the floating woman. “You always insist on calling it a soul.”

Moving again, Rose began to circle the dragon’s skeleton.

(Watch your step!)

Pulling back at the last second, she avoided the next precarious foothold and peered into a crack in the ground where a black root plunged deep in search of water.

“T-thank you.” The words tumbled out with a stutter; sweat dripped down her face and the reminder of where she was returned with full force.

(You’re welcome, sweetheart.)

The unstable terrain made everything feel as if it could collapse at any moment. So many fissures and crevices gaped everywhere that a single wrong step could cost a life. Now, standing still and staring at the root sliding into the earth, Rose’s gaze shifted slowly between the root and the dragon.

(What are you doing?) Sylvan asked, scanning ahead for sinkholes and caverns. She frowned when she saw Rose crouch down and use her ice blade to pry away pieces of the root.

“Getting a way to fight back.”

After finally tearing off two sturdy lengths of wood, Rose tossed aside the blue blade and moved toward the dragon’s skeleton. For a quiet moment she bowed her head to the corpse, then leapt up and latched onto the side of the jaw, climbing until she stood atop the beast’s skull.

Among all the dragon’s teeth, only one fang remained partially intact — about half its original length.

(Don’t tell me…) Sylvan’s eyes widened.

Planting her feet against the side of the tooth and using the jawbone for leverage, Rose braced her back and gathered mana in her legs and torso. With every ounce of strength her small body could muster, she pushed. Even in brief contact her gelatinous form couldn’t stay unscathed; purple blood leaked from cuts along her boot as she strained.

With a sound like a great tree finally toppling, the remaining cartilage gave way and the fang crashed down onto the cavern floor.

“Ah... Aah...” Panting heavily, Rose slid down the skeleton and collapsed to the ground, staring at the jagged shard of fang she had pried free.

(Hit the tooth against the rest of the bones. A dragon’s fang is sharp and resilient, but the creature’s body can take the impact. It’ll be much easier than trying to use a rock.)

Nodding, the little girl set to work.

She shouldered the fang—many times larger than her own frame — lifted it overhead, aimed for a nearby rib, and hurled. A great cloud of dust erupted where it struck.

“Tsk...” She clicked her tongue and swallowed a groan as she looked at her bloodied hands. It felt as though she had touched a thousand knives; her fingers were cut and raw in a dozen places. She had only handled the fang briefly, and this was the price.

Still, now that she’d gained confidence in her plan, Rose did not stop. Dizziness from blood loss crept in, but she refused to give up. She kept hammering the fang against bone. Piece by piece, blow by blow, the massive tooth was carefully reduced, its edge refined rather than blunted. In the end, she fashioned two usable shards, each no more than twenty centimeters long.

Weaving sticky black threads from her fingertips, Rose bound the fangs to the carved root handles, fixing them tightly enough that they wouldn’t loosen even under heavy movement.

Though they lacked the usual symmetry of swords or knives, the small weapons had a terrifying sharpness. Even the slightest graze along the edge was so keen that Rose truly believed she could lose a finger if she slipped.

The handles—grayish black—contrasted against the blades, which gleamed so white they could have been mistaken for shards of the moon. When her work was finally done, two daggers spun curiously in the girl’s bloodstained violet hands.

(I always thought you’d end up using swords, like my daughter-in-law.)

Watching Rose test the balance of the blades, Sylvan spoke with interest.

“Aunt Cleomel kept trying to teach me how to use long weapons like swords and spears, but I think I prefer short blades.”

Switching the daggers from hand to hand and even tossing them, pulling them back with a thread of black mana, Rose grew used to the weight and feel of them.

“Big weapons get stuck too easily depending on the space. And I can’t get used to how many movements I need to make just to swing a sword.”

Her ice blades often snagged on roots, and when she shrank them with magic, their piercing power was never quite enough.

“If I run fast enough, I can close the distance before the enemy reacts. And if I use two, I won’t need a shield.”

Since she couldn’t form barriers like Cherry or her metamorph mother, Rose believed a dual-wielding style—like her human mother’s—was ideal.

(Dragon fang daggers! The very first weapons made by my adorable granddaughter! I’m so proud!) Sylvan twirled excitedly in midair, her tone bursting with delight. (I, Sylvan, hereby name these twin blades Moon Fang.)

“Why are you naming them?”

Rose frowned at the girl, her brows knitting. Her regeneration had slowed after spending so much mana and energy forging the weapons, and the blood and pain from her hands still stung.

(Names are important!) Sylvan puffed her cheeks. (Besides, even if it’s your first weapon, you won’t find anything like this anywhere. Dragons don’t just hand over their fangs to blacksmiths. To get them, you have to fight one—and killing a dragon without breaking all its fangs first is nearly impossible. You won’t find this in any marketplace. You’ve just crafted one of the few dragon fang weapons in the world. That’s an achievement worthy of a name bestowed by me!)

Knowing there was no point in arguing, Rose accepted her grandmother’s words in silence and turned once more to the dragon’s remains.

“Thank you for your help, Mister Dragon.”

Bowing deeply in genuine gratitude, Rose darted off through the tunnels, heading back toward the cavern where she had fallen. Her blue eyes fixed on the stone wall ahead.

Gripping one dagger like a piton, she drove it into the rock face. The sharp, clean thunk echoed as the blade buried deep into the stone with ease. Finding her footing, she pushed upward, climbing the ravine’s slick wall.

(If you chose to climb here specifically… does that mean you plan to face it head-on?)

“Going around would take too long…” Rose said, eyes narrowing at the malicious glow waiting above. “And I have unfinished business with that bastard.”

Leaping out of the colossal gorge, Rose raised one of her daggers toward the ivory giant. The creature’s lipless mouth curved into a grin, revealing rows of dagger-like teeth as it sensed her return.

(It’s impressive that you can stand before a Forest Devourer without trembling—especially at your age.) Sylvan’s tone carried a note of admiration, almost a whistle of awe.

“Trying to crack a joke? That thing’s less scary than our dog.” With her silver hair fluttering through the mist, Rose narrowed her eyes at the monster. “It’s been a little while, but… this is round two.”

They both charged.

Accelerating as fast as she could, Rose turned into a silver blur. Slashing through trees and thorned vines, she circled the Forest Devourer, blending into the foliage.

Raising one massive arm, the monster began smashing trees, clearing the uneven ground to strip away the girl’s hiding spots—so she’d have nowhere to run.

But it was wrong about one thing.

She wasn’t running anymore.

Bursting out from the bushes, Rose dashed straight for the creature’s side.

Her body twisted like a whirlwind, the dagger in her right hand cutting forward in a clean, efficient, yet graceful strike.

Driving Moon Fang into the beast’s flank, she watched as a streak of violet blood seeped down beneath its tough carapace.

“So you bleed after all.”

Her words slipped out between small, breathless laughs—just before a roar erupted from the creature’s enormous mouth, shaking the forest itself.

The beast swung its spiked arm again, the air thick with killing intent.

Raising both daggers above her head, Rose crossed them to block the downward strike. In a flash, she hooked one blade into the creature’s arm, the other stabbing again and again into its torso as fast as her hands could move.

“Little help here?” she shouted, kicking off the trunk of a nearby tree and springing onto one of its higher branches.

(I thought you were betting your pride on this fight.)

Sylvan floated beside her, brow furrowed, exhaling in mild irritation.

(And do you know how hard it is for a soul to use magic without a body? Just that simple spell before knocked me out for ages. Do you really want to end up alone again just to kill a little monster like this?)

“Sorry! I get it!”

With a swift jump, Rose leapt from the branch just in time to avoid the Forest Devourer’s claws tearing through the tree, splintering it into dust.

Wood fragments and sharp branches exploded across the area, but rolling quickly and parrying debris with her daggers, the girl escaped unscathed.

Now that she had real weapons, getting close and inflicting steady damage was possible. Rose trusted her agility—if she could dodge attacks from beings like Akasha, then avoiding a lumbering monster’s blows would be easy enough, as long as she relied on her instincts.

But she didn’t have time for a battle of endurance.

If her metamorph mother were here, she would have unleashed a barrage of wide-scale magic, overwhelming the creature with hundreds of spells until its body crumbled completely. But without the same speed of spellcraft or mana reserves, Rose couldn’t replicate that.

“If it were Mama Lily…”

A decisive strike.

No wearing it down, no drawn-out struggle—just one clean, powerful hit to end it.

Gaining distance, Rose analyzed the creature before her. Its sheer strength was already daunting, but there was one problem that made her plan uncertain.

She didn’t know where to strike.

Without knowing where its vital organs were—or if that thing even had any—she couldn’t deliver an effective strike. One powerful enough to bring the creature down.

(Go on, dear, I believe in you!)

With her legs crossed as she floated in the air, the woman in the wide-brimmed hat pumped her fist toward the sky several times, cheering on her granddaughter.

“Can you at least give me a hint about where to hit!?”

Shaking her head from side to side, Sylvan placed a finger on her rosy lips, as if in deep thought.

(Living things usually die when their heads are removed.)

“But it doesn’t have a head!” Rose shouted, completely exasperated, forced to keep running so she wouldn’t be hit.

(Everything has a head—a vital core that sustains the rest. You just need to find it.)

Leaning forward and resting her chin on one hand, Sylvan tilted her head.

(Rose, dear, what did I teach you before about the soul and the body?)

Sliding across the ground, Rose slashed the creature’s leg. The cut was shallow, but enough to make it kneel, buying her time.

“The soul and the body protect each other. A soul forms a person, and a person is the manifestation of their soul!” Rose shouted, gripping her twin daggers tightly.

(Very good. And with that, you have your answer.)

Sylvan clapped her hands in delight, her expression that of a teacher pleased with her student’s response.

Yet Rose, jaw nearly dropping, stared at her grandmother in confusion.

“What do you mean by that?”

Smiling, Sylvan floated toward the girl. Her motion—light as a breeze—ended with both of her translucent hands gently covering Rose’s eyes.

(Don’t see the world the way others want you to see it.) Sylvan whispered, her voice as soft as the rustling of leaves. (See it in the way only you can.)

The gentle murmur in her ears made Rose close her eyes.

She let go of everything around her—

Smells, sounds, even her own body.

Rose thought of none of it. She calmed her rapid breathing until it slowed and deepened.

She understood what the woman was trying to say.

Her eyes were closed.

But that had never stopped her from seeing.

Like the flicker of a dying candle, a vile light shimmered before her—so thick with bloodlust that she could feel it resonating with something inside her.

(You can see it, can’t you?) Sylvan’s eyes narrowed, her voice carrying a weight that made the girl’s whole body tremble. (The point where the soul burns the brightest.)

Rose followed the light.

Running forward with her eyes shut, she leaned her body low, dodging the quivering smoke.

Stopping wasn’t an option—she accelerated.

Leaping and twisting midair, she weaved through the malicious haze that tried to grab her.

Azure mana danced across her body as she blocked the smoke with her dagger, twisting through its warped form until she reached her destination.

There was a point—

A single spot where the light shone brighter than anywhere else.

Her daggers struck that point in unison.

(A dragon fang isn’t exactly a good mana conductor, so I doubt you can form a strong spell through it. But if you channel your mana into the dagger, its natural shape and the fang’s original purpose will awaken, and then...)

A powerful impact rang out, followed by a guttural scream of pain.

Like slicing through paper, her strike tore cleanly through the monster’s body.

The force made Rose lose her balance, and she hit the ground hard.

The light vanished.

“For real...?” Opening her eyes as the damp earth spread across her face, Rose muttered in a trembling voice.

(Well done.) Sylvan announced with a gentle smile.

From within the maw of the ivory colossus—just before its throat—a single shock rippled outward like a spiderweb, cracking through its entire body. The damage spread instantly, ending the monster’s life before it could even react.

“I-I did that!?”

Unable to stop her stammering, Rose stared at the bloodstained white blades in her hands and the fallen monster before her—its light completely gone.

(A soul holds no lies. Whether it’s a weakness or a vital point—you can see where your opponent is most vulnerable, no matter how well they try to hide it.)

Kneeling between Rose and the corpse, Sylvan once again placed her hand over the girl’s silvery hair, gazing deep into her eyes.

(Your ability to feel and see souls beyond your own—naturally, without even touching them—is your greatest weapon. No one else in this world can do what you do. Remember that, and you’ll never lose a battle.)