Talent Awakening: I, the Weakest Awakened, Start with Dragonfire Spell

When Ali returned to the house, there was still no sign of activity.

Nothing appeared to have been added or removed.

Pushing open the partially closed door, Ali stepped into the room from which Jelia had vanished.

He examined the doorframe, then the surrounding wooden walls.

Everything remained as it was, showing no signs of alteration.

According to Monka's account, ever since someone mysteriously disappeared, no one had lived in this house again.

All the furnishings within had been left exactly as they were when the previous occupants moved out.

Expanding his mana sensing, Ali closed his eyes, allowing every detail of the room to imprint itself into his mind, which then reassembled into abstract geometric shapes.

Although mana sensing was not as acute as Ali's five senses, it was perfectly suited for detecting things beyond normal perception.

Such as concealed spell matrices or spirits that were fading away.

A deep crimson wolf's head materialized on the wall to Ali's right!

Ali's eyes snapped open, her gaze falling on the wall to her right—but she saw nothing.

The presence clearly detected within her mana sensing was utterly invisible to her conventional senses.

This wasn't Ali's first encounter with such a phenomenon, but previous instances had all been in Ruins sealed away for untold years, safeguarding precious items.

For example, murals, notes, or transport matrices!

Ali attempted to stimulate the deep crimson wolf's head with her mana, yet received no response.

The mana she emitted vanished as if swallowed by the sea, with no change provoked.

This was peculiar.

Standing before the blank wall, Ali stroked her chin thoughtfully.

The deep crimson wolf's head, while evident in her mana sensing, was imperceptible to her physical senses, and her mana failed to activate it—suggesting that whoever concealed this wolf's head had anticipated various scenarios.

It was likely part of some special legacy.

With her eyes closed, focusing on the wolf's head, a theory formed in Ali's mind.

The village had a significantly higher population of half-orcs than other subhumans, the wall bore a wolf's head, and Jelia was a half-orc.

Although Ali was unclear about Jelia's exact lineage, judging by appearance, there seemed to be a certain blood relation to Werewolves.

Could this be a legacy specific to Werewolves?

As her thoughts progressed to this point, Ali's expression darkened.

If her conjecture was correct, then it was impossible for Monka to be unaware of this legacy's existence!

...

In the dimly lit cave, several figures stood scattered around, with a campfire quietly burning in the center.

Despite the lack of wind, the flames flickered from side to side, as if dancing to an unseen rhythm.

Suddenly, one person lifted their head, looking towards the cave entrance.

"How are the preparations coming along?"

A figure appeared at the entrance, their tall silhouette blocking the light, their cloak billowing with the cold breeze.

"Everything is ready. We can proceed at any moment!"

The details of this figure were obscured beneath their cloak, with only their voice echoing lightly through the cave.

After these words, the figure turned and left without any further delay.

Their swift departure served as a signal, prompting action within the cave.

The fire was extinguished by a gust of disturbed air, leaving behind only a wisp of smoke curling upwards.

In silence, all preparations were completed.

No blades were drawn, yet they already had their enemy by the throat.

Now, only the final push was needed.

"Let's move out, to bring divine punishment upon the traitor."

...

"This is a deception!"

In the gloomy corridor, Jelia and the Nameless figure stood face to face, with a dagger in Jelia's hand, yet the situation was far from her control.

True power was never something plainly laid out in the open.

"What do you mean?"

Jelia eyed the emaciated and almost deformed figure before her, frowning slightly with irritation.

She felt herself losing the initiative; the opponent clearly knew more about this place than she did.

Though nearly devoid of combat ability, setting traps required only words.

"It's exactly as it sounds," the figure coughed twice before sitting down cross-legged on the ground.

"This place was originally a legacy, a legacy meant for Werewolves. Although I have no idea how a hybrid like you managed to get in, your presence suggests that this place has already begun to collapse."

"Only when it's on the verge of collapsing would the entrance open without restrictions."

"After entering, there actually is a way to leave."

The figure eyed Jelia up and down, as if appraising a piece of merchandise or a nearly finished craft.

"Obtain the legacy, and you can naturally leave."

"Obtain the legacy? If that's the case, why haven't you gone to get this so-called legacy?"

Jelia watched the figure with furrowed brows, her grip on the dagger unwavering.

She might not have the upper hand, but she still retained the power to overturn the situation.

If things turned sour, she was prepared to ensure that neither party would make it out alive.

Mutual destruction seemed like the best outcome.

"Obtain the legacy? If it were truly obtainable, why would I call this a deception!"

The figure laughed dryly.

"I see you're not from the village. If you were, you'd probably know about this place. Were you brought here as a newcomer?"

"No, I'm a traveler." Jelia raised the dagger in her hand, her gaze turning fierce.

"Cut the chatter. I have both the strength and the courage to kill you."

"You really do resemble her."

Observing Jelia's threatening gesture, the figure seemed not the least bit nervous; instead, he chuckled twice.

"Why don't we get to know each other a bit? After all, we're both trapped here with plenty of time. Since I proposed it, I'll start with introducing myself."

"My name is Roronora, and I'm a Werewolf. Don't be fooled by my current shriveled appearance; back in my prime, I was the one with the most developed muscles and the strongest in physical combat in the village. And what's your name, young lady?"

"Jelia."

After stating her name, Jelia scrutinized Roronora thoroughly, her face betraying a hint of skepticism.

"You said you used to be muscular, so how did you end up so emaciated, practically skin and bones? How long have you been here?"

"I don't know exactly how long, there are no sunrises or sunsets here, nor is there any mana clock to help me keep track of time."

"I've just been staying in this dim underground... I don't even know if this is really underground, or maybe inside a mountain. When I'm hungry, I look for rats by the lake; when I'm thirsty, I drink from the lake. That's how I've barely managed to survive, but there's been no hope of leaving."

"That's why I was so excited when I saw you."

"Even if you don't have a way out, at least I'm not alone anymore."

From Roronora's voice, Jelia detected a profound fear, like staring into the deepest darkness, seeing not a sliver of light or way out.

How long had Roronora been here?

A person can survive several weeks on water alone without food, but according to Roronora's own account, he seemed to have found some sustenance.

One month?

Two months?

Or even longer?

Despite Jelia's initial skepticism, she could still discern the remnants of Roronora's once-developed muscles.

Roronora had been starved into his current state! Eating only a rat or two every day or even over several days would undoubtedly lead to anyone thinning down, eventually dying from malnutrition.

Dying like a skeleton.

But often, before starvation takes its toll, a person's spirit breaks from loneliness, leading them to do all manner of inexplicable things.

Like suicide or refusing to eat.

Jelia didn't know how Roronora had managed to hold on, but there was no doubt that a certain obsession resided in his heart, an obsession that kept him alive.

"Where was I... Don't interrupt me, my memory has deteriorated terribly; I can't even remember what I ate last night... Wait, let me think... Ah! I remember now! Last night, I ate a rat! What else is there to eat in this damned place!"

Roronora laughed neurotically for a moment, eventually managing to regain control of himself, his expression sobering.

"I almost lost it again... But in this damned place, a little loss of control now and then isn't such a bad thing, if only it eases the loneliness a bit, despite the severe stomach pains from hunger."

"Mind or body! Ha! This place has almost turned me into a philosopher!"

After another round of cold laughter, Roronora took a deep breath and completely calmed down.

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