My Fusion System: Fusing Weak Soldiers with Direwolves at the Start
Chapter 61: He Loves You

Chapter 61: He Loves You

The dull crystals covered in flames spun around themselves before fusing. The fusion began with a low hum, like the murmur of distant winds stirring through an ancient grove. Then came the light, a sudden flare of electric blue that burst outward before settling into a steady glow. A miniature blue sun seemed to have ignited in the heart of the parlour. Shadows danced across the walls, stretching behind Kaelor’s blond head and Vi’s silver locks like ethereal puppets.

The blue sheen faded slowly, but what remained on the table was no longer mere stone. It pulsed softly, alive, with an inner brilliance that bled across the surface like moonlight poured from a sacred chalice. The crystal, roughly the size of a newborn’s clenched fist, was shaped like a teardrop carved by divine hands, though its edges were uneven and primal.

Curving bands of dark, metallic tendrils wrapped tightly around it, as if grown from the crystal itself or forged by an ancient will. They coiled like vines from a long-dead tree, hardened into shadowed bone or blackened obsidian. These tendrils held the light captive, cradling it like a guardian watching over forbidden fire.

Within, sparks floated lazily, tiny embers suspended in frozen sapphire. They blinked like stars in a captive sky, drifting gently, impossibly, as though the crystal breathed with every heartbeat in the room.

[You have successfully created a Diamond ranked Focus Crystal. This crystal has the ability to gather mana into itself, like an external space built to store mana, and it also amplifies the will of the Acranist, empowering spells. Should there be doubt, it shall amplify that as well.]

"Is that..." Vi’s voice faltered, her beautiful blue eyes trembling with awe. Her gaze shifted between the new crystal and the one Kaelor had not fused. That one was no more than a thumb’s length, a pale sliver in comparison to the gem of legend that now lay between them.

But size was not all that set them apart. The air around the newly forged crystal stirred with visible strands of mana, thin currents that swirled slowly toward its surface like dust to a magnet. Even Kaelor, who had only begun to understand such things, felt the breath of power in the room shift.

This was no myth. This was a Diamond ranked Focus Crystal.

Vi had heard tales, stories from the hallowed halls of Arcanist orders, stories traded between old mages over dwindling campfires. She was already an Arcane Master in her own right, wielding strength few could match. Yet never had she even laid eyes on a Diamond Focus Crystal, much less touched one. They were too rare, too powerful, and too dangerous.

It was said that some Acranists had been consumed by the very power they sought to harness through such a crystal. Madness, even death, had come to many.

And yet, it was also said that a Diamond Focus Crystal could elevate a spellcaster beyond mortal limits. It was the difference between a whisper and a thunderclap, between a flicker and a tempest.

Like nobles fighting over a rich mine or a gifted prodigy, the world fought over crystals like this.

Vi could feel the truth of it. This was more than a conduit. It was a throne carved in light and shadow, waiting for a worthy ruler. With it, she could draw on vast stores of mana, releasing spell after spell without faltering.

With it, her spells would be mightier, more precise, more devastating. And unlike the average Focus Crystals, those that dulled and dimmed with use, this one would endure.

And yet, somewhere in her heart, Vi feared it. Feared the power the crystal promised. Feared the path it could open.

Still, her fingers closed around the glowing shard, cradling it gently in both palms.

She exhaled slowly and shut her eyes, then whispered arcane words, archaic phrases dredged from the depths of memory and instinct. In response, faint orange-red embers began to flicker around her, like fireflies stirring from sleep. But they did not remain as sparks.

The embers morphed into tiny butterflies, aflame and beautiful, their wings glowing as they hovered about her in a slow, rhythmic dance. As she opened her eyes, the Focus Crystal lifted from her hands, suspended mid-air, glowing like a moon-caught gem.

She withdrew her hand, but the crystal followed her movement as if tethered to her will.

"Finally," she whispered, voice trembling with reverence, "I’m a true Arcane Master."

A tide of emotions swelled in her chest, joy, disbelief... and pain.

Vi had lost her honour once, as a child, thrown into the gutter by fate. But she had clawed her way up. From serving under the mistress of a brothel to discovering her rare gift for magic, from learning the sword to founding a renowned mercenary guild, she had rebuilt herself.

Only to be stabbed in the back. Again.

All the honour, all the glamour, ripped away once more.

Kaelor was her third chance.

Maybe, her final chance.

A chance not just to survive, but to regain honour, purpose, dignity.

It had only been months under his banner, yet now she held in her hand the power to restore everything she had lost. Maybe more.

She gasped, her fingers twitching, then shut her eyes again as mana surged from the crystal, coursing into her chest and spreading like lightning. The power sought out her mana circles, around her lungs, and fused with them, layer by layer, thread by thread.

Her body trembled, but her voice was steady.

"Thank you," she whispered, pressing her lips together.

Kaelor smiled faintly, silent in approval. He rose, plucked the final crystal from the table, and turned for the door. "Time to face the well," he said, almost to himself.

As he stepped outside, the air cooler now and scented with earth and grass, Mildred sighed and leaned back.

"I’m a witch," she said quietly, "but I’m limited. I can’t help Lord Kaelor... not the way I want to."

"All you need are spell books," Vi replied as she stood and tightened her grip around the Focus Crystal. "When we meet the merchant, we’ll ask."

She moved toward the door with purpose, but Mildred’s next words made her freeze.

"He loves you."

Vi didn’t look back.

"He loves me. He loves all of us, his subjects. But don’t let that fool you. His mother gave up her life to give him a future. He’s building something. Don’t throw it away when things get hard. Help him build it. Stay even when he’ll face the duke."

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then Vi opened the door and left.

....

Outside, Kaelor approached the village well, a familiar structure at the center of the commons. A notification flashed before his eyes.

[Vi the Lost has grown deep respect for you. Her loyalty has risen to 75%. 700 FP gained!]

Kaelor blinked. ’That was unexpected.’

[The loyalty of Mildred the Maid has risen to 88%. 300 FP gained.]

’What happened after I left?’

He paused and glanced back toward the lord’s residence in the distance, eyes narrowing under the sunlight. The rays touched his skin, but he felt no sting.

The Bloodkin always avoided the sun. It irritated them, not physically but mentally. However, for Purebloods like Mildred and Soren, the effect had waned. For him... there was no discomfort. Not even a flicker of pain.

He was Trueblood.

Kaelor tossed the blue teardrop-shaped crystal into the air and caught it again, the sunlight glinting off its surface like frozen water.

Then his eyes turned forward, locking on the well.

Over a dozen people, women with clay jars, barefoot children, tired men with ropes, had gathered around it. Their voices were soft, hopeful. They glanced at him with curiosity, admiration... and trust.

And Kaelor, standing tall under the rising sun, knew could not wait to get rid of that dirty water that came from the well.