Chapter 594 The Mage and the Tangerine

"Hum—"

Magic particles rippled quietly through the air as an invisible, moving barrier swept through the forest.

It seemed to possess a specially designed identification mechanism. A blue-feathered bird perched on a nearby branch remained completely unaffected, merely tilting its head in a daze.

But from the shrubs and tall grass below came a sudden, unusual rustling.

Snakes, scorpions, and insects of all shapes and sizes fled as if escaping a disaster, driven away by the sweeping invisible barrier. Even the surrounding chirping quieted by a few degrees.

The forest fell silent.

About ten seconds passed.

"Step—step—"

Light footsteps, carrying an inexplicable sense of urgency, suddenly approached from the direction the barrier had just swept through.

Hum—

A verdant magical glow flickered softly at the tip of a grayish-white staff inlaid with a transparent Opal.

It seemed to hold some special power over plant life. The thorny vines blocking the way twisted and parted on their own, considerately opening a narrow path for a single person to walk through.

A lively, deep chestnut ponytail swayed with every step. Small leather boots beneath a beige robe didn't pause for a moment, quickly navigating the path the thorns and grass had carved out before finally arriving at this small clearing in the forest.

Crystal-clear eyes, heavy with exhaustion, glanced up at the darkening sky visible through the dense canopy. She made her decision.

Without wasting a single second, she began setting up camp.

She gave her staff a gentle wave. A prepared, three-layered magical barrier—designed for concealment, scent masking, and beast repulsion—rippled outward from the center like ripples in water, enveloping the entire clearing.

Of course, she didn't stop there.

As a Spellcaster with a fragile physical body and virtually zero margin for error, she understood the importance of defenses.

Even though her traps had only been triggered once or twice since leaving Rivervale Town, the beige-robed young woman painstakingly set up recoverable magic traps against various monsters at key points around the barrier.

Her slender figure beneath the robe made her look like a noble lady from a major city, yet her movements as she placed the traps were extraordinarily crisp, as if she had repeated them a thousand times.

In less than ten minutes, she finished setting up warning traps to cover every blind spot in the clearing.

Normally, after completing such a heavy workload all at once, a person would at least wipe their sweat or stretch their back—even if they still had plenty of stamina.

But the young woman with the chestnut ponytail didn't pause for a second.

She had long since mapped out a complete checklist of tasks in her head.

It was as if a pair of invisible hands were constantly pushing her forward.

Spending her precisely allocated mental energy, she waved her staff.

A neatly folded tent unfurled in midair and slowly drifted to the ground. The surrounding pegs and wind ropes connected on their own, drilling themselves into the dirt.

Scattered dry twigs and kindling flew through the air, stacking themselves into a standard pile in the center of the clearing. With a crackling pop of sparks, they smoothly ignited into a small campfire, providing precious light and warmth for the night.

An iron pot, already filled with food ready to boil, leisurely settled over the fire, hooking onto a convenient little rack. Just steps away, a low chair and a thick blanket for resting were set up almost the instant the flames caught.

As an Academy Faction mage who had possessed a Class Level of 15 in her past life, she might have lost her former spellcasting power after her rebirth, but the vast array of spells she had painstakingly memorized over countless days and nights remained deeply etched into her mind.

Setting up a small camp for a temporary rest with a combination of a few Zero Circle Cantrips could not be simpler.

Only now did the young mage named Verol finally get her first moment of rest for the day.

Truth be told, according to her usual schedule, her resting period shouldn't have started for another half hour.

But over the past few days, she had just managed to relearn a Feat called [Efficient Sleep], compressing her required sleeping time even further.

That was why, even after over-completing her daily travel quota, she had managed to squeeze out this extra half hour of free time.

Of course, while it was called "free time," based on her usual habits, she would only enjoy it for a few days at most.

Soon enough, driven by inner pressure and an inexplicable sense of guilt, she would inevitably fill this extra half hour with other tasks.

Unhooking the waterskin at her waist, she took a few heavy gulps, not caring in the least about her image.

With water droplets clinging to the corners of her mouth, Verol's crystal, amber-like eyes stared at the camp in front of her. For a moment, she looked incredibly lost.

Ever since her rebirth, the suffocating pressure from her past life had weighed on her shoulders like a mountain. It forced her to do everything in her power to improve her strength as quickly as possible, pinning all her hopes on finding key divergence points to alter that apocalyptic future.

She hadn't truly rested in a very long time.

So much so that when this rare stretch of free time finally arrived, the tightly wound string in her mind finally went slack.

Verol found herself in a daze, entirely at a loss for what to do.

"Maybe—I should just forget it?"

She should memorize the spells she might need tomorrow first.

If she really wanted to rest... maybe tonight, she could just go to sleep half an hour early?

Rustle— The branches overhead swayed with a soft noise. The evening forest breeze, carrying the faint scent of fruit, lightly tossed the loose strands of hair framing the young woman's cheeks.

Her pale nose twitched. Catching the scent, Verol instinctively raised her head, her gaze drawn to the canopy above.

Hanging from the branches were clusters of small tangerines, their rinds still green and clearly unripe.

It was a tangerine tree.

As if recalling some unbearable memory.

The moment she laid eyes on the green fruit, Verol's slender body gave a visible shudder. She frowned, her thin lips pressing tightly together as she subconsciously swallowed hard.

Just a few months ago, she had accidentally eaten a Honey Tangerine that was countless times more sour than she could have imagined—only to discover that the World Line Deviation Rate had unexpectedly increased by 0.12%.

That was the beginning of an experience she still looked back on as an absolute nightmare.

Even today, Verol could still vividly recall how she had spent over half a month eating every single piece of fruit off an entire tangerine tree, choking them down one by one with a routine of "one slice of tangerine, one mouthful of water."

It had gotten to the point where she now suffered a physiological reaction to tangerines as a whole.

No matter how sweet the flesh inside might actually be, just looking at their round, pale-green rinds made her mouth water uncontrollably, as if she were phantom-tasting their sourness.

Verol was no fool, of course.

Having reached the Transcendent Tier on the path of the arcane, her analytical skills far surpassed those of ordinary people.

In fact, the very moment she noticed the shift in the World Line Deviation Rate, she realized it likely had absolutely nothing to do with her eating the fruit. It was just pure coincidence.

After carefully reviewing everything she had encountered on her journey that deviated from her past life, she concluded that the shift was most likely tied to a certain black-haired Adventurer. He was destined to be known as the "Death Omen" in the future, yet in this life, his growth and progression were moving at a bizarrely faster pace than before.

But—

What if?

Even if there was only a 0.1 percent chance... what if the deviation really was because she ate that incredibly sour Honey Tangerine?

With Verol's personality, she absolutely could not turn a blind eye to the possibility.

Just like right now.

She had practically confirmed through that agonizing experience—the one that had given her an instinctive phobia of tangerines—that eating the fruit had nothing to do with the World Line Deviation Rate.

Yet here, at this exact point in time, during a rare moment of free time where she had nothing to do, she had stumbled across this tangerine tree growing right next to her camp—a tree bearing similarly unripe fruit, almost as if guided by fate.

"Just one slice—"

The young Reincarnator cherished every single second and rarely hesitated. She was a woman of action in the truest sense of the word.

The second she made up her mind, she gave her staff a light wave. A [Mage Hand] composed of pure magical energy hovered in midair. Its translucent, illusory fingers grasped a tangerine, gave it a gentle twist, and plucked the distinctly green fruit from the branch, carefully delivering it into her hands.

Her pale fingers pierced the relatively fragile skin at the top of the fruit. As the pungent, sour scent burst into the air, Verol's mouth watered uncontrollably.

She took a deep breath, as if bracing herself for something of vital importance.

Squeezing her eyes shut, Verol opened her mouth and popped a slice of the tangerine inside.

The agonizing memories of her past ordeal came flooding back the very instant her soft tongue touched the cold membrane of the fruit.

Her throat twitched. Her very instincts screamed at her to swallow the slice whole just to avoid the sourness hidden inside.

But in the end, the cold rationality of a Spellcaster overpowered her inner resistance.

Clenching her jaw, Verol pressed the slice against the roof of her mouth with her tongue and gave it a gentle squeeze.

Hum—

Exactly as expected, the pulp burst. A concentrated, astringent wave of pure acid exploded in her mouth, shooting straight to her brain!

It was difficult to find the words to describe what the young mage was feeling in that moment.

But judging by her violently trembling body, her pale fingers gripping the staff in a death grip, and a face so pained that her delicate features scrunched together into a tight ball...

It clearly wasn't a pleasant experience.

Fortunately, though mixed with a bit of disappointment, she felt a wave of deep relief.

She completely chewed up the slice, swallowed it down, and then aggressively chugged several mouthfuls of water to wash away the lingering sourness.

In her Perception, the World Line Deviation Rate remained perfectly flat and stable.

She reached up with her sleeve to wipe away the tears that had leaked from the corners of her eyes from the sheer sourness.

The young mage let out a long, heavy sigh of relief.

And yet, just as she turned around, planning to use the rest of her time to memorize a few more spells...

Her footsteps suddenly halted.

The expression on her face completely froze.

Because in that exact instant, the previously flat World Line Deviation Rate spiked up and down like an erratic electrocardiogram, searing a violently obvious waveform into her Perception.

0.99%!?

"How is that possible!!?"

"Why? Why did it suddenly change so much all at once?"

At a glance, less than a full percent might not have seemed like much.

But the baseline that the World Line Deviation Rate measured against was the future of the entire world!

Let alone a whole percent, even a 0.01% deviation was a massive shift capable of altering the futures of countless millions!

Ever since her rebirth, even though Verol had spent the vast majority of her time quietly accumulating strength, she had still managed to execute numerous plans.

Yet, even if she added up every tiny shift she had caused so far, they wouldn't amount to the massive spike that had just occurred.

It was nearly an entire percent!!

Just what on earth had happened in the world to cause the world line to deviate so drastically?

And who was the key player behind it?

For some inexplicable reason, even though they had parted ways a long time ago, the instant this question arose in Verol's mind...

...the image of a young man with sharp facial features and choppy black hair naturally surfaced in her thoughts.

Her keen intuition as a Reincarnator instinctively linked the shift in the timeline to him—the person who had left the deepest impression on her since her rebirth, and whose own trajectory had changed the most.

"Could it be him?"

Fear, stemming from the shadows of her past life, quietly surfaced in her heart. Her pulse accelerated, and her breathing grew shallow and rapid.

'When the time comes... if I get the chance, I'll ask him.'

The pact for the Dragon Lair was still over two years away. At that time, she would most likely need his help, which meant she'd have a chance to see him again. If she carefully weighed her words, she might be able to subtly ask him about it.

Or so she thought to herself.

Suddenly, as if realizing something.

Verol had been wearing an unconscious, exhausted smile thanks to the sudden surge in the World Line Deviation Rate—but now, her face completely froze.

She turned around, her body completely rigid.

She looked up. Reflected in her crystal-clear eyes, which now swirled with incredibly complicated emotions, were the small, unripe tangerines hanging among the branches.

As she had reasoned before, she could be almost entirely certain that the shift in the world line had nothing to do with her eating the fruit.

But!

The only two massive spikes in the World Line Deviation Rate had happened at the exact same moment she ate a tangerine!

Was it a coincidence? Most likely.

But why was it this coincidental? Could there be some hidden connection, something she simply couldn't perceive with her current abilities?

"Maybe—"

The overwhelming sense of responsibility that came with being a Reincarnator, combined with the rigorous perfectionism of her mage background, forced Verol to grit her teeth. She made a "ruthless" decision—one that would cause her short-term agony, but save her from a potential lifetime of regret.

Magical particles violently surged.

A [Mage Hand], far denser and more solid than the last one, materialized out of thin air. It grabbed the branches and shook them with tremendous force.

The very next second, accompanied by the violent rustling of branches and a flurry of falling leaves, dozens of green, painfully sour tangerines fell from the canopy like rain.