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Online In Another World

Chapter 455 Keeper Of The Garden
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Pushing through a dense gathering of the enormous flowers, a clearing was discovered–one of a vibrant, beautiful scenery; luscious, green grass, packed with lively plants that sprouted colorful fruits along their forms.

"Fruit–a lot of it," Emilio said in surprise.

"Ra!" Ciel let out a happy noise, flying away from the man's shoulder as it instantly started gobbling up a pear-shaped, blue fruit attached to one of the bushes.

Though Emilio tried to reach out to it before it did so, he allowed it to eat, realizing it was unlikely that any natural deterrents of a fruit would have an effect on the summoned whelp,

Walking over to one of the fruit-bearing trees, he plucked an emerald-skinned apple from one before taking a big bite out of it.

'I guess I'm the same way. It'd take enough poison to bring down a whale to affect me, probably. Thanks to the gift Vandread gave me' he thought.

After taking some bites from the fruit, he would toss over the uneaten halves to Ciel, who happily chomped down anything thrown his way like a bottomless pit. He sat there for a few minutes, partaking in the bountiful fruit with the dragon whelp, getting his bearings after the jarring start to the foreign trial.

"You dare feast upon what does not belong to you?!"

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An angered voice boomed through the luscious garden, immediately bringing Emilio to his feet as the whelp perched itself on his shoulder, ready as well.

'Who–' He thought.

Though as he looked around, finally bringing his gaze to the small hill to his north, he saw who it was that had yelled so suddenly.

A man with verdant hair that resembled vines stood tall like a tree, with skin like that of oak; his irises were like that of the amber that stuck to cedar. Standing upon two legs, covered in dark-brown fur that ended in horse-like hooves, the man crossed his muscular arms over his chest in anger.

The stranger certainly didn't look human, not by the figure's unnatural height or perplexing anatomy.

"You stand in the grove of Perdiccas, human trespasser!" The oak-skinned man yelled, his voice causing the nearby trees to rattle as if booming in unison.

'What is this guy? I can tell–he's strong,' Emilio thought.

"If you don't want people taking your fruit, you should probably put a fence up," Emilio retorted, "People get hungry, you know!"

Though his response only seemed to aggravate the tall, oak-skinned figure, who stomped his hooves against the ground with enough force to split the soil of the hill he stood upon.

"Hold on–I'm here to become a sage!" Emilio called out, trying to avoid a fight if possible, "Isn't there a temple around here or something–I'll get out of your way, just point me in the right direction."

"I am bound to explain this much to you, human that seeks sagehood," the horse-legged man said, lifting his hand.

Rising from the split soil, roots reached upward, intertwining to create a greatsword completely forged of the essence of nature that the figure gripped between his fingers, pulling it out.

"--I am Perdiccas, a satyr bound to protect the Temple of Elements from those who seek it," the figure explained, raising his sword made out of woven wood, "You may have ignorantly believed you are permitted a fair trial, but that's not the case. No mortals are allowed upon this island."

'A "satyr"? I've read about them, but they were always described more as folktales–beastly demi-gods that defend forests. Still, this one seems a lot more powerful than anything described in books,' Emilio thought.

It seemed that a fight was unavoidable; as confident as Emilio was in his own power, he couldn't shake the odd feeling he got from the satyr–it was an aura unlike anything he felt before.

When looking at Perdiccas, he saw a sublime, bountiful light engulfing him, like the vigor of the world itself, flowing through the length of roots, soil, grass, and supplementing Perdiccas himself like an endless flow of energy.

'It's like he's connected to nature itself, like a plant…His mana is unbelievably pure,' Emilio thought.

Without any sort of warning, the tall, horse-legged defender of the island unleashed the sword of roots, flowers, and wood, thrusting it forth, "Perish, trespasser!"

Emilio reacted to it, sidestepping it as it suddenly extended forth as if the roots were supplemented with decades of nutrients–nearly impaling him. The weapon of nature lashed out, attempting to strike him with a spiked root that whipped out from the side.

He quickly drew his sword, attempting to cut through the sneaky extension of the sword, but found that he only deflected it away.

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'--It's unbelievably tough. I was trying to cut straight through it, but it's not even scratched. That's not normal material,' he thought.

"You survived that one–impressive," Perdiccas said as his lengthy, vine-like hair cascaded down his shoulders before unleashing his weapon into an onslaught of roots, "It will not be enough."

'I'll try it this way, then,' Emilio thought.

As the assembly of roots extended swiftly, varying in length and whipping around quickly, with enough power behind them to crack the ground they struck, Emilio weaved through them. Taking in a deep breath, he allowed the air brought into his lungs to heat up, bubbling until it began warming his entire body before–

["Breath of Annihilation"]

A mighty exhale changed the course of the wind, erupting with a breath of raging fire that traveled forth, heading straight towards the satyr.

"--!" Perdiccas' eyes widened.

The inferno expanded into a great column of heat, flashing its crimson glow throughout the clearing as the roots were whisked away.

After finishing the burning exhale, Emilio breathed out, watching as the embers cleared away with the billow of smoke. In front of him, a spiral shield forged of thick, unmoved roots was held in front of the satyr, untouched by the fire.

'Damn…Should've guessed that would happen,' he thought.

"Do not delude yourself into believing that my grove is susceptible to fire. Only the most rich mana flows through this land, reinforcing it and creating a utopia of nature to live, pure and uncorrupted by human touch," the satyr spoke before turning the shield of roots back into a sword, "--That can only continue existing as long as mortals such as yourself are removed from this island."

"Try harder, then," Emilio challenged.