Chapter 13: Danger to the Natural Order
In the warm, humid air of the Ossi Kingdom’s southern region, a butterfly flitted through the air, its brightly colored wings a blur of motion.
But it hadn’t noticed the predator watching it.
A chameleon, its skin perfectly camouflaged against the tree branch it clung to, its only movement the slow rise and fall of its chest as it breathed, had locked onto its prey.
The butterfly wasn’t slow, but the chameleon’s eyes followed its every movement. Having tracked its flight path, the chameleon opened its mouth slightly, its long, sticky tongue poised to strike.
A faint glint of light flickered in the chameleon’s eyes, and the butterfly, struck by an unseen force, its wings shedding a shower of iridescent scales, spiraled downwards.
The chameleon, its tongue lashing out, snatched the falling butterfly from the air and swallowed it whole.
Only the shimmering scales, drifting slowly downwards, remained.
But as the scales landed on the chameleon, something unexpected happened. They ignited upon contact, their heat intense, burning the unsuspecting predator’s skin.
The chameleon hissed, its body convulsing, then falling from the branch, writhing on the ground before becoming still. Its once vibrant, color-changing skin was now dry and charred. It lay there, its legs twitching, dead.
A small slit appeared on its belly, and a pair of antennae emerged. Then, the butterfly, its wings slightly singed, crawled out, its movements sluggish, as if intoxicated. It rested on the chameleon’s corpse for a moment, then fluttered away.
“That’s a typical example of an animal using magic,” the old cat, perched on Abyss’s shoulder, whispered. “The butterfly’s magic isn’t powerful, but it’s enough to kill a predator.”
“That’s a brutal counterattack,” Leona said, her voice filled with surprise. “I’ve never seen a chameleon get killed by a butterfly.”
“No wonder the Druids are worried,” Rebecca said, frowning, as she watched the butterfly flitting among the flowers. “This disrupts the entire food chain. If we don’t find the source of this magic and stop it, the ecosystem will collapse. The consequences could be devastating.”
Abyss, his companions, and the two Druids were perched in a tree, observing the magical battles between animals unfolding below, their expressions a mix of concern and fascination. Maggie, however, seemed to be enjoying the spectacle.
“Indeed, Miss Rebecca. Your understanding of nature is remarkable, despite not being a Druid. It’s like finding an oasis in the desert,” Baggs said, his cat eyes twinkling. “Yes, this is our greatest concern. If animals naturally evolved magical abilities, we wouldn’t interfere. But this is different. Their powers are random, unpredictable, potentially catastrophic for the entire ecosystem.”
“Is their magic as strong as that butterfly’s?” Maggie asked, curious.
“Fortunately, their magic isn’t very potent yet. They can’t consciously accumulate and control mana like humans, enhancing their magical capacity—but who knows, they might develop that ability eventually,” Baggs said, his voice filled with worry.
“This is indeed a serious problem,” Abyss said, nodding.
He knew the potential consequences of a disrupted food chain. Even Leona’s knightly romances, often set in other worlds, featured magical animals, their powers disrupting the natural order. If such creatures appeared in Hai-Teweru, it could lead to a disaster.
The collapse of the food chain would have catastrophic consequences. This had been predicted by an elven Druid, Agnes’ grandfather, three hundred years ago, his warnings about artificially modifying organisms now widely accepted by Hai-Teweru’s scholars.
“Can I capture that butterfly for research?” Abyss asked Baggs.
Baggs swished his tail, thinking. “For research purposes, capturing a single butterfly shouldn’t be a problem. But don’t mention it to the elders. They would be furious.”
“Yes, yes, the current Grand Sage scolded me once, tying me to a tree for an hour, just because I picked a flower and wore it in my hair,” Maggie said, her voice filled with a childish complaint.
Druids had a strange obsession with the balance of nature, although Baggs seemed more pragmatic, his views more open-minded. And his apprentice, Maggie, was even more so. They were a perfect match.
“Only an hour?” Leona asked, surprised. “Isn’t that typical for stubborn old men?”
Baggs licked his paw. “Oh, no, the current Grand Sage is far more verbose, but Maggie is incredibly talkative. She would respond to every sentence with ten more, all pointless chatter. He couldn’t handle it, so he let her go.”
“He said he respected everyone’s right to speak, so he didn’t silence me. I appreciate that. I don’t hold any grudges against him,” Maggie said, then, her thoughts taking a sudden detour, “Speaking of being silenced, I remember once, I was eating a potato, and I took such a big bite that I couldn’t chew it, and I couldn’t spit it out either. Do you know how that potato was dug up? It all started when I discovered it…”
“Enough!” they all shouted in unison.
Maggie, her hand flying to her mouth, fell silent.
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