The Failed Experiment

The wind whispered… and the moon shone beautifully. Night had truly fallen.

On the vast, open plain, a solitary fire flickered, radiating a gentle warmth that pushed back against the evening chill.

The silver-haired doll leaned against a venerable tree, gazing at the flames she had kindled.

In the biting night wind, the fire pulsed with an unsteady glow, casting fleeting sparks into the darkness.

The clean scent of burning wood drifted on the air, reaching the doll’s delicate nose and causing her to raise a slender brow.

Perhaps the firelight had grown too intense, for the doll shifted her gaze, looking out towards the distant horizon.

Before her stretched a gently undulating plain, its vast emptiness allowing the moonlight to spill forth unhindered.

This pure, brilliant glow painted the wilderness plants in a shimmering silver-grey, transforming the landscape into a breathtaking monochrome tableau.

It was a scene reminiscent of a cool-toned daguerreotype—austere yet undeniably gorgeous, a stark contrast to the vibrant hues of a sunlit day, yet equally captivating.

Beyond the horizon, however, the towering mountains were utterly swallowed by darkness.

Only the pristine snow on their highest peaks managed to catch the faintest glimmer of starlight.

This faint reflection, however, felt less like light and more like the chilling glint of a hidden blade, sending an icy tremor through one’s heart.

The sky, usually adorned with drifting white clouds, was exceptionally clear this particular night.

Beneath the boundless firmament, complemented by the equally vast wilderness, an overwhelming sense of solitude arose—the illusion of being the last soul left in the world.

Perhaps this profound emptiness was precisely why travelers in these wilds so often sought companionship.

High above, the bright moon hung, signaling the arrival of midnight.

From within the wide, flowing sleeves of her dark traveler’s robe, the doll produced a wooden flute.

Under the desolate moonlight, she began to play an ethereal, haunting melody.

Magic began to surge.

The notes, like silken threads, wove themselves around the doll’s form, reluctant to dissipate.

As the melody flowed, gracefully winding and soaring, a delicate mist began to coalesce around the doll’s body.

This mist steadily thickened, gradually taking on discernible shapes within the interplay of light and shadow.

It formed a dilapidated bell tower, a warrior roaring defiantly at the heavens, or perhaps some bizarre, nameless creature.

As the silhouettes coalesced from the mist grew increasingly intricate, the solitary doll simply closed her eyes.

She immersed herself, delving into the profound depths of ancient times to unearth forgotten memories.

The mist intensified further.

Even the flames of the nearby bonfire, influenced by this otherworldly phenomenon, seemed to break free from their constraints, transforming into vibrant, dancing spirits.

They surged forward, joining the already intricate procession around the doll, becoming part of this unfolding, magnificent spectacle.

The moonlight grew hazier, its dreamlike luster casting an ethereal glow upon this silent opera.

Scenes from Sally’s memories—of daily life, of war, of sin and sanctity—unfolded, with white mist and vivid red flames intertwining in a mesmerizing dance.

A powerful surge of emotion and will began to erode the very rules of the world.

Within the mist-shrouded expanse, the ethereal, lingering flute notes deepened, acquiring a resonant gravitas.

A single flute, astonishingly, now commanded the presence of an entire orchestra.

Violins, pianos, trombones, wooden flutes, clarinets, and thundering drums—the sounds of countless instruments now reverberated through the depths of the wilderness.

The will and profound remembrance woven into the music were so potent that the very world seemed to recede.

As the symphony swelled to its crescendo, a vast sea of pure white flowers erupted, spreading across the slightly barren plains like a sudden, magnificent burst of fireworks.

A thick haze veiled the sky, an illusory moon obscuring the true one.

For a thousand meters in every direction, the world transformed into a sanctuary for the doll’s memories.

How much time elapsed remained unknown—perhaps a mere instant, perhaps an eternity.

The silent opera, propelled by an increasingly grand and fervent score, finally reached its climactic finale.

With a burst of pure white holy light vanquishing a crimson devil into the abyss, the music abruptly ceased.

The vast, pure white flower field was plunged into an profound silence.

The white mist dissipated, the fiery spirits returned to their source, and the world once more became vast and empty.

Yet, in the desolate heart of this ephemeral flower sea, the sudden snap of splintering wood was jarringly distinct.

‘Alas…’ a low sigh emanated from the receding mists.

‘The Requiem stirred the very rules, the Nightmare Domain suppressed the chaos, yet even with all that… still, it is difficult to descend, isn’t it…’

From the depths of the fading mists, a faint male voice and a soft complaint drifted, only to dissipate into the air moments later, leaving behind a prolonged, wistful sigh.

The world of the mind slowly receded, fading into obscurity, and within moments, it returned to its original, tranquil state.

The fire still burned, the doll remained, yet only the splintered fragments of the wooden flute clutched in her hands bore silent witness to the ethereal vision that had just unfolded.

“Hmph… still no good,” Sally muttered, a hint of frustration in her tone. “And the elderwood long flute, which I’d nurtured for half a month, just shattered like this.”

As if in eerie synchronicity with her words, the wooden fragments, which had moments ago retained their shape, instantly dissolved into a wisp of pale smoke, vanishing from the center of her slender, white-gloved hand.

“It seems I’ll need to seek out some renowned enchanted artifacts, relics from history, that can withstand the surge of magic when I descend,” Sally mused aloud. “I suppose I’ll have to search for them everywhere from now on. Perhaps I should consider a side gig as a demon hunter or a treasure hunter, then?”

With her white-gloved hand, Sally reached for several pieces of dry wood from beside her and tossed them into the heart of the flames, causing the fire to blaze even more fiercely.

Hee-hee-hee!

The abruptly brighter flames startled the black horse, which had been dozing, tied to the tree.

It whinnied, pawing its hooves with evident irritation.

“Relax and sleep,” Sally said calmly. “There’s nothing to worry about.”

A small stone arced gracefully through the air, striking the black horse squarely between its swaying eyes, prompting a startled snort.

The voice, sharper and more irritable than usual, startled the large black horse.

It promptly abandoned any thoughts of chastising its inconsiderate owner for disturbing the peace at midnight.

Shrinking its body to face away from the doll, it gave a quick shake before eagerly resuming its search for the beautiful mare that had graced its dreams moments earlier.

“This fellow…” Sally murmured, a faint smile touching her lips. “Ah, well, never mind. I’ll try again another time. After all, time is the one thing I’m never short of…”

Sally stifled a laugh at the sight of the large black rump peeking out from behind the tree.

She shook her head, effortlessly casting aside the lingering frustration from her failed experiment.

The tale of this black horse, however, was a story for another time entirely.

It was during the time when Sally had first emerged from the Yoiz Deep Forest, venturing onto the vast Druzine Plain.

Traveling alone across such open lands was inherently slow and, more importantly, drew unwanted attention.

In that era, a solitary figure traversing the barren wilderness was often seen as an easy target.

Unlucky wanderers frequently found themselves prey to bandits or unscrupulous mercenaries, eager to extort coin for their own nefarious ends.

And for someone as strikingly beautiful as Sally, the danger was amplified.

Though she could easily dispatch a dozen such ruffians with a single hand, the constant harassment had become an unbearable nuisance.

Under these circumstances, a mount became not just a convenience, but a necessity—one that could provide swift travel and project an aura of undeniable authority.

It was then that a peculiar rumor caught Sally’s ear: a four-legged black creature, notoriously swift, known for pilfering travelers’ food and belongings.

This piqued the doll’s interest considerably.

If it offered a chance for both a bit of ‘demon hunting’—or rather, amusement—and the acquisition of a powerful mount, why would she refuse such an opportunity?

Three days later, at the location most frequently cited in the rumors of the elusive black creature, the horse and the doll finally met.

The ensuing battle was, to put it mildly, anticlimactic.

Possessing a body that had once stood at the zenith of enchanted alchemical puppets a millennium ago, Sally effortlessly subdued the initially arrogant black stallion.

With just a few precise blows, she brought the proud creature to tears, forcing it to lie submissively on its back.

Then, offering a few small, freshly baked pastries, the horse that had moments ago been defiant became utterly devoted, following Sally’s every step with an almost comical subservience.

Indeed, the ‘carrot and stick’ approach proved effective on all species.

In the days that followed, Sally observed the obsequious black horse to be unnervingly intelligent.

Her curiosity piqued, she tested its blood, only to discover an astonishing truth: within the horse’s veins flowed an incredibly faint trace of Nightmare lineage!

Yes, the very Nightmare—the legendary, fiery, corrupted descendant of unicorns, the horned black steed vanished from history.

Yet, for all its grand heritage, this trace proved utterly useless.

This mere one-thousandth of a bloodline simply accounted for the dark creature’s slight intelligence; it offered none of the legendary fire-breathing abilities, not even a single spark.

Nonetheless, compared to the dim-witted Teddy, whom Sally had bound with a spell to guard her forest home, this particular horse was rather fortunate.

Unlike the Moon-Embracing Bear bloodline, which carried the drawback of divine power suppressing intellect, its Nightmare lineage, while lacking direct divine rule bonuses, possessed significant growth potential.

With continuous ancestral purification, it would one day reclaim its true Nightmare form.

Understanding the source of the black horse’s unusual intelligence, Sally harbored no further designs for it.

She simply allowed it to comfortably perform its duties as a mount, albeit with a rather relaxed schedule, and even bestowed upon it the name ‘Rao’.

Hmph, perhaps one day it will master some ultimate technique like the ‘Musou Tensei’?

Imagining the great black horse standing upright, declaring, ‘Hee-hee-hee, you are already dead,’ Sally finally burst into laughter.

Pfft-hahaha…

With a smile still lingering, Sally, clad in her black traveler’s coat, leaned against the tree trunk and drifted into dreams.

‘What interesting things will happen tomorrow? I truly look forward to it…’

Not far away, the recently fueled fire danced brightly, casting an orange-red glow upon the silver strands of hair peeking out from beneath her hood, a truly beautiful sight.