Sleeping Player (Project Chrysalis Book 3) John Gold (simple e reader TXT) 📖

villages, anywhere they can find a fire.” A waitress walks by and casts a glance over our unusual group before heading in through the back door. “Arkham, this girl is a hunter, and she needs a swordsman class with a longsword specialty. Can you help her with that?”

Femida looks the tubby guy over before turning her surprised gaze to me. Oh, right, she doesn’t know he’s also a Hunter.

“This is Arkham the Dancing Sword. And I imagine he’s the only person who will give you a class without asking questions. His swordsman skills are better than yours…at least, better than what yours were five years ago. I’m not sure how good you are now. You two can handle that though, and I’ll go take care of some things I have on my plate. If anything comes up, send me a message in the group chat.”

Leaving the swordsmen in the tavern’s back yard, I head over to see my tree. I have a theory about where its divine strength could have come from, and this is my chance to see if I’m right.

It’s just as summery as ever under the crown of the tree. Two shamans are lecturing on work with spirits to a whole group of students, and two druids are growing flowers right at the edge of the field. There are children everywhere once again, all of them enjoying the warmth and the many playthings. The harsh cold has ushered all the city’s stray animals here.

Some people are paying me a little too much attention, presumably because my clothes are too light for winter.

No sooner do I step into the shadow of the lone tree than everything changes. The grass is greener, the air is filled with the smell of grass and the wild forest. The spirits rip themselves away from the shamans and shoot skyward. From right out of the ground, thousands of spirits belonging to a variety of animals pop up looking like dolls made out of white cotton. But the most surprising part is that I’m not the only one who can see what’s going on. Everyone is aware of the unique phenomenon.

Note! The ritual for expanding the altar of the nameless divinity has begun.

Apparently, the return of the altar keeper was the last step. Let’s see what I get from this.

The tree’s guards let me through without asking a single question, and my advanced perception shows me the easiest way up the hundred and fifty meters. Way up there is where the crown begins. There’s an oval depression where three branches separate—the spot where I spent my first few weeks. It was only after the tree grew so tall that it created a special place lower down for me to lie in.

My suspicions are confirmed. With my magic vision, I see that there’s an eddy right above the depression, ready and waiting for me to open a magic space portal. That means that the gods have yet another weakness: the eddy above the altar leads to their island in the astral, the source and storehouse of their divine strength. Destroying it would mean the end of the god.

But why is there an eddy above my spot? That can’t be a coincidence. Some kind of scenario, formula, or special conditions were met for the creation of an altar, and that’s when the natural divinity appeared. I declined the status, so the altar became a place of worship for the nameless divinity.

A thousand questions whirl around in my head, not all of them with readily available answers. Could this be Azami’s doing? Or is it all because of my advanced Life Magic? Or the animals who came at night? Or the souls who found their final resting place under the tree?

Out of habit, I lie down in the oval spot with those thoughts in my head, looking over to see the two swordsmen crossing their swords behind the tavern. Femida is using a mixed fighting style that combines both defensive and attacking techniques. Neither of them is using amplification, and Arkham slides along the ground to avoid her attacks. His style focuses on landing critical strikes with a light sword as well as his incredible agility. For the time being, he’s pushing Femida back by leaning on his immense experience. But he doesn’t know her the way I do. As soon as she adjusts to his style, no experience will be enough to save him.

The warmth and comfort of expectation trickle over into slumber, LJ appearing in the corner of my consciousness and starting to use Life Magic. Healing the tree is as natural for him as breathing. It isn’t surprising that he gets to work when my consciousness is sleeping or dozing—that kind of love for nature should be encouraged.

I have to get up and put my fighting outfit on. It doubles my intellect, which gives my mana a big boost.

Lying back down, I watch as Arkham is pushed back onto his heels. He pulls off a series of techniques Femida lets through, studying their effect and the way they do damage. The innkeeper has no idea what kind of resistances and protection Isaac offers her. Attacks like that don’t even pose a threat. The end of the battle is right around the corner, so I can finally get a little shut-eye. LJ is healing so much that I feel the air vibrating from the cloud of microbes procreating.

My consciousness slowly drifts away. Leaves start to fall from the tree, adding an even layer to the depression I’m lying in. Moisture fills the air, vines drop, and a thick, sweet sap drips from them. My whole body is covered by a black blanket made of thousands of roots snaking their way under my clothes to grasp at the Life Magic. The blanket grows heavier, the roots cover me in a dense cocoon, and the black pile grows warm thanks