A Writer's Transmigration into the world of fantasy-Chapter 83: The failure

Back at the House Griffin estate, the sealed chamber beneath the central tower had been prepared for three days.

Thick wards layered the walls—runes of containment, suppression, and purification etched in silver and obsidian.

The air inside tasted metallic, heavy with mana so dense it pressed against the skin like damp silk.

A single raised platform occupied the center of the room; Luna lay upon it, unconscious, pale skin almost luminous against the dark velvet cloth beneath her.

Three Rank-10 experts stood in a loose triangle around her.

Kaelan Griffin—Grandmaster Swordsman—held position at the head, his longsword planted point-down in the stone floor, both hands resting on the hilt. The blade thrummed faintly, resonating with the ambient power.

To his right stood Nyssa, Luna’s master—the Grand Sorceress of Blossom Tower. Her silver hair floated slightly, stirred by the invisible currents of mana she channeled. Violet light coiled around her fingers like living smoke.

To his left was Isolde—Marquessa Crescent, the Shadow Sovereign. She wore simple black robes today, hood thrown back, but the air around her seemed to bend and darken, as though light itself hesitated to touch her fully. A thin dagger rested loosely in her right hand, edge glinting with captured starlight.

Together their auras overlapped—sword intent sharp as broken glass, arcane depth vast as an ocean, shadow so absolute it swallowed sound.

Combined, the pressure they exerted rivaled the presence of a Half-Deity. The chamber itself groaned faintly under the weight.

They began.

Kaelan drew first—his sword rising in a slow, deliberate arc. Mana surged along the blade in silver-white lines.

Nyssa followed, violet threads weaving outward from her palms to encircle Luna’s chest, seeking the shattered fragments of her mana core.

Isolde stepped last—shadows peeling from her feet like spilled ink, sliding beneath Luna’s body to anchor the curse tendrils in place.

For nearly an hour, they worked in perfect synchrony.

Silver sword-light cut along the curse’s tendrils. Violet mana probed and pulled. Shadow pinned and suppressed. The curse writhed—ancient, stubborn, its black roots thrashing against the combined assault—but slowly, agonizingly, the tendrils began to loosen.

One by one, thin black threads snapped free from the core fragments, shrieking silently as they dissolved into smoke.

Then—resistance.

The curse tightened suddenly, violently, like a fist clenching around a heart. The core fragments shuddered; fresh cracks spiderwebbed across them. Luna’s body arched once—breath hitching—then fell still again.

Kaelan’s sword trembled in his grip. He withdrew it sharply.

The three Rank-10s stepped back in unison.

Kaelan’s face was grim, jaw locked.

"I highly doubt even a Half-Deity could save this girl now," he said quietly. "The curse is too deeply rooted. Forcing it out would shatter her core completely."

Nyssa exhaled—a long, weary sound. She let the violet threads fade from her hands.

"Let’s leave it like this," she said. "Seal it again. Keep her stable. She can live—powerful, but never at the peak. It’s better than nothing."

Isolde sheathed her dagger with a soft click. She tilted her head, studying Luna’s still face.

"Well," she said lightly, "there is one thing that could help her."

Kaelan and Nyssa turned to her at once.

"What is it?" Kaelan asked.

Isolde’s lips curved in a small, knowing smile. "The Divinity."

Both Kaelan and Nyssa reacted—sharp intake of breath from Nyssa, a low curse under Kaelan’s breath.

"Divinity?" Nyssa repeated.

Isolde nodded once.

"If you can find a divine beast and plant its core into this girl, the curse will be automatically dispelled. Divine essence is absolute. It burns away impurities like sunlight through fog. The curse would have no purchase."

A heavy silence followed.

Isolde glanced at Nyssa.

"If the rumors are correct," she continued, "there is a divine beast in the Forbidden Forest. A Qilin."

Nyssa’s expression darkened. "That Qilin is no average Tier-10 beast," she said quietly. "Defeating it would require the sacrifice of multiple Rank-10 experts—lives, treasures, years of preparation. Even then, there is no guaranteed success. It isn’t worth it. Not even to save my own disciple from the brink of death, forget about just with this harmless curse."

"Yes. That’s true." Kaelan sighed, rubbing one hand over his face.

"It’s not as though Luna is in immediate life-or-death crisis," he said. "She can live. She can grow strong—perhaps even touch the edge of Rank-10. Let’s just... give up on this path."

He then looked between the two women.

"I apologize for bringing you both here," he said. "Only to disappoint you. I will compensate you both—handsomely."

Nyssa waved a hand, dismissing the offer. "It’s alright. Luna is my disciple, after all. I already knew her condition. I didn’t come expecting miracles, but there was a tiny hope. Now, it became clear."

letting out a sigh, she shook her head, "It’s really a pity that Luna wouldn’t be able to succeed me, but then again, it is for the best. She is married and wouldn’t want to leave Icarus’ side either way. Maybe it is the best."

Isolde, however, tilted her head.

"But what about me?" she asked lightly. "Will you still keep your promise, Lord Kaelan? Will you convince my master?"

Kaelan sighed again—this one deeper, more resigned.

"Yes," he said. "I will fulfill my promise to you, Lady Isolde. I will accompany you to see Lady Khione Garcia and convince her to assist you with the divination."

Isolde’s face brightened instantly. "That’s great, brother," she said cheerfully, the address slipping out as naturally as breathing.

Kaelan sighed inwardly, a flicker of self-reproach crossing his features.

He had blamed himself the moment he invoked Isolde’s name—unnecessarily dragging her across half the continent for a girl whose fate was already sealed. But promises were promises.

"Stay as our guest for a few days," he said aloud. "Rest. Recover. We will arrange the journey when you’re ready."

Isolde nodded happily.

Nyssa gave a small, tired smile.

"I’ll return to Blossom Tower tomorrow," she said. "Keep Luna stable. If anything changes... contact me."

Kaelan inclined his head.

"Of course."

*

Half a day had passed in quiet vigil.

The golden shimmer beneath Qin Wei’s skin had long since faded to nothing more than a faint, occasional flicker—like sunlight caught on distant water.

His breathing had deepened into the slow, even cadence of true rest rather than forced stasis. The room itself felt different now: less charged, less oppressive, as though whatever immense force had been at work inside him had finally settled into dormancy.

His eyelids fluttered once. Then again.

Then opened.

The first thing he registered was the familiar carved ceiling beams overhead.

The second was the faint scent of dried lavender and clean linen that always clung to the Griffin estate’s guest wing.

The third—and most immediate—was the wall of notifications already hovering in his vision, glowing softly in the late-morning light that slanted through the tall windows.

[Ding! Fusion with the Sword of Leo (Zodiac Series) complete.]

[Soul weapon successfully integrated.]

[Warning: Host physique insufficient to fully contain the Sword of Leo’s celestial authority.]

[Emergency Sage Core formation initiated to prevent backlash.]

[1,000,000 credits added to existing debt. Interest rate: 1% per week (10,000 credits/week).]

[Consecutive breakthroughs detected: Rank 2 >> Rank 3 >> Rank 4 >> Rank 5.]

[Total credits acquired: 25,000]

[Total Talent points acquired: +85]

[New functions unlocked]

Qin Wei stared at the cascade of text.

The initial rush of triumph—sword acquired, soul weapon bound, breakthroughs stacked like cordwood—crashed headlong into cold horror when the debt line registered. One million credits. One million. With interest already ticking like a heartbeat he couldn’t stop. Ten thousand credits a week. Every seven days. Forever, unless he paid it off.

He groaned aloud—low, ragged, the sound scraping out of his throat like gravel. "Ten thousand credits a week... Are you trying to bankrupt me, Aria?"

The door burst open before the groan had fully faded.

Thea rushed in—hair loose and slightly tangled, eyes wide with a mixture of relief and leftover fear.

She wore the same simple sleeping robe she’d had on when she’d collapsed beside him earlier; it was wrinkled now, as though she had barely slept.

Bare feet slapped softly against the wood as she crossed the room in three hurried strides.

"You’re awake!"

She threw herself at him without hesitation.

Qin Wei caught her mid-motion, arms wrapping around her back as she buried her face against the crook of his neck. She smelled faintly of lavender soap and the sharp, lingering trace of spent mana. Her body trembled once—relief, exhaustion, something deeper—before she pulled back just enough to search his face with frantic eyes.

"How are you?" The words tumbled out in a rush. "Does anything hurt? Are you dizzy? Weak? I didn’t expect the sword to do that—I only wanted to help you absorb more natural energy, I swear I didn’t know it would..."

Qin Wei silenced her gently, pressing his lips to hers.

Her eyes widened for a second before shutting.