Chapter 163: Personal Realm

  Abel watched as Hector tore into bread like a starving animal, barely pausing to chew before stuffing another handful into his mouth.

  Crumbs tumbled down his tattered clothing, and his trembling hands clutched the waterskin as if it were the most precious thing in the world.

  Abel had seen desperate men before, but there was something pitiful about the way Hector devoured the food, his sunken eyes flickering with momentary relief between bites.

  It was as if he had forgotten what it was like to be full, to not feel the gnawing void of hunger at his core.

  “Slow down,” Abel said with mild amusement. “No one’s taking it from you.”

  Hector barely acknowledged him, only pausing to mumble another hoarse, “Thank you,” before resuming his frantic eating. Abel tilted his head, watching with curiosity.

  The man had no recollection of who he was, yet he still clung to basic instincts—survival, gratitude, and fear.

  “I’m going to take a look around,” Abel finally said, turning to leave. “Stay here.”

  Hector paused, his chewing slowing as he hesitated. He wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve and looked up at Abel with an unfamiliar kind of wariness. “Be careful,” he said, voice rough and uncertain. “Don’t go too far… The world outside is dark. Only the palace light keeps it away.”

  Abel met his gaze, intrigued by the sincerity in his tone. Even without his memories, something deep within Hector feared whatever lurked beyond the palace’s glow.

  A smirk tugged at the corner of Abel’s lips. “Noted,” he said, stepping through the grand hall’s towering doors.

  The moment he left the main chamber, silence swallowed him whole. The palace was vast, its halls sprawling like an endless labyrinth of opulent corridors, lavishly adorned with golden patterns etched into pale marble walls.

  The signs of battle littered the place, with debris, blood, and other remains.

  Abel strolled, hands behind his back, scanning his surroundings with an appraising eye.

  His footsteps echoed softly against the polished floor, and now that he was alone, his mind raced with ideas.

  This palace could be more than just a hiding place—it could be a stronghold, a foundation for something greater.

  He imagined underground labs filled with research, secured chambers where he could store precious materials, and a fortress where no one could steal from him.

  His fingers brushed along the smooth surfaces of the golden banisters as he walked, passing through chambers filled with exotic plants that curled toward him as if sensing his presence.

  Some pulsed with an inner light, their leaves trembling slightly, reacting to the flow of mana in the air.

  Interesting.

  Abel reached out and plucked a small, spiral-shaped flower from its stem. As he did, it shivered, releasing a tiny pulse of mana that tingled against his skin. He rolled it between his fingers before slipping it into his bag.

  He continued his exploration, moving methodically from room to room. Each room seemed to tell its own story—some filled with vibrant flowers, their petals unnaturally fresh despite the palace’s age, as if the air itself preserved them. Others were barren, stripped of any signs of life or purpose, their emptiness unsettling in contrast to the floral displays elsewhere.

  One room stood out—a stone bed resting at its center, cold and uninviting. Strange floral patterns were drawn in intricate loops and spirals across the floor around it, their faded colors still faintly visible. Abel crouched down, running his fingers over the markings. A ritual? he wondered. The patterns seemed too deliberate to be decorative.

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  Further in, Abel discovered something that surprised him—a laboratory. Dust coated every surface, and the air was stale with the scent of age and decay. Most of the equipment had long since rotted or corroded away, reduced to little more than rusted scraps and cracked glass. Yet a few tools remained intact, gleaming faintly beneath the dust. Abel picked one up, turning it in his hand.

  Was this the Flower Princess’s lab… or someone else’s? He couldn’t say for sure, but the discovery intrigued him. Even in its ruined state, the potential was clear. His mind raced with possibilities — perhaps he could restore it, breathe life back into this forgotten place.

  He allowed himself a small smile. Maybe this could be my new lab. The thought excited him — a hidden sanctuary, rich with mystery and potential.

  But for now, there was still more to explore.

  There were gardening tools lined in perfect rows, pots filled with luminous soil, and strange items resting atop grand pedestals, their purpose unknown.

  He collected whatever caught his interest, his bag of holding swallowing them without complaint.

  The more he saw, the more certain he became—this place would belong to him. The palace was an untapped treasure trove, and with enough time, he would uncover all its secrets.

  His footsteps carried him deeper into the winding halls, past elaborate murals depicting stories he did not yet understand.

  His eyes flicked over the detailed carvings, trying to decipher their meaning, but the more he looked, the more they seemed to shift, as if refusing to be comprehended.

  Abel narrowed his gaze but moved on, unfazed.

  He had time. And soon, all the knowledge hidden in this palace would be his.

  As Abel stepped into the throne room, he was once again struck by the sheer grandeur of it.

  The air carried a dense floral fragrance, intoxicating yet heavy, mingling with a lingering energy that sent a subtle pressure into his bones.

  His gaze settled on the remains of the seed husk—the very shell from which the Flower Princess had emerged.

  It lay cracked and broken, its surface still radiating a faint luminescence, as if remnants of the spirit’s essence clung to it.

  Approaching carefully, he crouched beside the fractured pieces, running his fingers along the strange material.

  It wasn’t quite wood, nor stone, nor flesh—it was something in between, a material unbound by normal classification.

  A slow hum reverberated from within the husk, a pressure he could feel but not entirely understand.

  He collected several pieces of the seed shell and tucked them away for later study, then turned his attention to the throne itself.

  It was a thing of beauty, carved from white marble that gleamed like a pearl, its armrests inlaid with golden flowers that curled into elegant spirals.

  Though the throne was abandoned now, Abel could feel an invisible weight pressing from it—a presence that had once been there but was now gone. Was it truly safe to claim this place?

  Pushing the thought aside, he began searching the chamber more thoroughly. There were artifacts scattered around—some seemingly useless, others brimming with mana.

  An old fork, a glass-like tiara with an unknown power, a small ornate chest that seemed impossible to open, and other random items that held some trace of mana. All of it went into his Bag of Holding without hesitation.

  He would study them later. In addition, he wondered what else was out there in this strange realm.

  Satisfied, Abel turned and made his way back toward the main hall, his mind racing with possibilities.

  The Flower Palace was his now. With time, he would fortify it, and transform it into a sanctuary of knowledge and power.

  It would serve as his stronghold, a place to conduct research undisturbed. The thought of training within these walls, of unraveling the mysteries hidden in this realm, filled him with excitement.

  As he stepped back into the main hall, Hector was still there, sitting on the cold floor with his back against a pillar.

  The former Murman heir looked up as Abel approached, his expression wary, yet filled with a strange, reluctant trust. Despite his amnesia, he seemed to have accepted Abel as his only tether to understanding his current situation.

  “Come on,” Abel said, his voice light but firm. “We’re leaving. There’s a lot you need to know.”

  Hector hesitated for a moment, glancing back toward the depths of the palace as if considering whether he truly wanted to step beyond its protective glow. “Are you sure it’s safe?” he asked, his voice hoarse. “The world outside… It's dark. It’s not right.”

  Abel merely smiled, though there was something calculating behind his expression. “That’s why you have me.”

  With that, he turned and stepped through the portal, his body disappearing into the swirling blue petals that danced in the air. Hector clenched his fists, hesitated for a breath longer, and then followed.

  The Flower Palace fell silent once more, the golden vines shimmering faintly as if watching them leave.