Chapter 1295: Chapter 1295

The circular tree pattern that appeared beneath his feet this time was exceptionally large, enveloping both the burning pot and Jenkins himself. The golden liquid erupted in a flurry of bubbles, sending droplets arcing through the air before they splashed back down.

He carefully placed the powdered tinder mint, sealed in ice, and the chunk of never-melting ice that had been seared by fierce flames for a solid week into the pot. Ever since returning to Ruen from his meeting with the old elf, Jenkins had been meticulously preparing these ingredients, a truly tedious task.

“Ice and fire, wilderness to civilization, conflict to peace, a vow eternal.”

Both pieces of ice, the meltable and the unmelting, slid down the side of the pot and dissolved into the shallow, brilliant golden liquid. The gold of the liquid receded, giving way to a hint of green that rapidly spread, transforming the entire concoction.

The transparent green reminded Jenkins of the Panacea beneath the giant tree in the Evergreen Forest outside Nolan City, yet it was obvious that this was an entirely different substance.

Jenkins let out a profound sigh of relief as the liquid turned green. It meant his steps had been flawless.

A glance up to confirm the moon's position, and he activated the ritual array inscribed on the pot's surface. A web of interlocking circles ignited sequentially in the purple flames. The violet firelight and the verdant glow of the potion flared so brilliantly that they seemed to gush from the pot, momentarily blinding Jenkins to the moonlight overhead.

When the light receded, he eagerly peered into the pot. The already shallow liquid had diminished further, leaving only a thin film coating the bottom.

Jenkins nodded to himself, then took the half-blade of the World Tree in one hand and the tube of Terraria magic wood in the other.

He turned, his gaze falling upon the Spirit Striking Cane lying on the gravelly creek bank. Papa Oliver had told him this cane was a complete, solid piece of heartwood. Though he didn't know what kind of tree it came from, it was unquestionably the most precious piece of heartwood in his possession.

Jenkins's attitude toward this potion had evolved significantly since he first learned of it from the elf Saramanda last autumn. What began as a "might as well give it a try" project had now become a matter of utmost importance.

This shift was, of course, partly due to the discovery of his own elven heritage, which compelled him to seek perfection in his ingredients. The old elf had recently instructed him to use the finest heartwood he could find, and the best he possessed was, without a doubt, the cane.

He was truly reluctant to part with it. Though its ability to harm spiritual entities was of little consequence to him now, it was, after all, the first weapon he had acquired in this world, his companion for over half a year. Yet, the old elf's hints had elevated the potion to a matter of immense importance. Jenkins could only swallow his reluctance and prepare to sacrifice the cane, his mind filled with anticipation for the final result.

He reached out and touched the pot. Despite being licked by flames, it remained completely cool. He then carefully decanted the minuscule amount of liquid into a wooden bowl he had prepared earlier. Even against the bowl's wide, curved interior, the fluid was barely a presence.

Holding the bowl, Jenkins faced the fire where the purple flames still leaped and danced, and recited the final line of the incantation:

“All things nourish, life from wood is born, water and fire unlock the first secrets. Here I proclaim: Life will be my shield.” Fınd the newest release on novel✦fire.net

As the words left his lips, he tilted the bowl. The shimmering green liquid slid toward the fire. The moment they made contact, the purple flames erupted. And then, in the distance, so did the city of Ruen.

The violent blast sent tremors through the creek. Jenkins spun around in astonishment, staring at the distant city. All he could see were flames rocketing into the sky, the continuous roar of explosions reaching his ears.

He thought, full of hesitation and uncertainty.

“This shouldn't have anything to do with me, right?”

Of course, it had nothing to do with him. He was merely brewing a potion in peace. While the process resembled a ritual, it was impossible for it to trigger such a dramatic effect before completion.

Jenkins quickly came to the same conclusion and looked toward the distant Ruen with deep concern. His potion was in its final stages; he couldn't leave now, which meant he had no way of finding out what was happening in the city.

He turned back to the bonfire. According to the elf's note, once the liquid entered the flames, the fire was supposed to melt downward into the earth, creating a hollow where the potion would continue to accumulate.

But what Jenkins saw now was a vortex of black fire, churning where the bonfire had been.

“What's this? Did the tremors from that explosion just now ruin my potion?”

Before Jenkins could even process what was happening, a pitch-black hand shot out from the fiery vortex. It was followed by a hooded, wraith-like figure whose face was lost in shadow. It lunged out, colliding almost face-to-face with Jenkins as he leaned in to inspect the anomaly.

Both of them shrieked simultaneously. Jenkins’s cry was one of fright; the specter’s was one of pain, as a brilliant golden light erupted from Jenkins just before it made contact. By the time Jenkins had calmed his racing heart and reached for his sword, the creature had already dissolved into the air.

But that was not the end. The black rift did not close. On the contrary, more and more dark hands clawed their way out. A swarm of specters erupted from the ground like a geyser, and within seconds, they had blotted out the sky.

He looked up, and his vision was filled with a host of floating specters. They didn't scatter, but instead formed a dense sphere around him, above and below, until he could no longer see the night sky or the open plains.

“So my luck really is this rotten after all,” he muttered. “Just don't let me find out who caused that explosion!”

He muttered viciously, his heart aching for the wasted ingredients. But at least the heartwoods hadn't been used. All was not yet lost.

Sheathing his sword back into his spirit, he stood his ground amidst the dense swarm. He lifted his right foot and stomped down hard. A green ring erupted from the point of impact, expanding rapidly like a shockwave. As the massive circle encompassed the entire horde, the pattern of a young tree materialized on the ground. A surge of verdant energy followed, and brilliant emerald light shot from the earth to the heavens. Any specter touched by this light of life dissolved instantly, like ice in a furnace.

The air filled with an unbroken chorus of wails and shrieks as the agitated specters swarmed toward Jenkins at the center of the ring.

He cried out, and a light representing divine power erupted from his body. The brilliance shot toward the heavens, outshining even the two full moons overhead.

When the golden and green radiance finally subsided, only Jenkins remained on the quiet, dimly lit creek bank.