Unholy Player-Chapter 69: Rank 2 Spark

"What do you mean, the tree is still there?" Malthor asked, staring into the empty space with clear doubt. There was nothing to see, and for a moment, it felt like the young man was mocking him.

Vesha, on the other hand, watched Adyr closely, eyes filled with curiosity. She could tell he had noticed something.

"Was the tree that stood here a fruit tree? One that bore small, orange fruits—about the size of a palm?" Adyr asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes... How do you know that?" Malthor replied, taken aback. Adyr was a stranger; this had to be his first time in the village.

At the priest’s response, Adyr let out a quiet chuckle, his gaze fixed on the space in front of him, where the tree should have been. Though invisible to everyone else, he could see it clearly. Its ghostlike trunk, motionless leaves untouched by the wind, and translucent fruit still clinging to its branches.

It looked as if it had slipped into another dimension.

He stroked his chin, thoughtful. Unless there was some unknown factor at play, this had to be tied to his [Sense] stat.

Instead of answering Malthor’s question, he asked one of his own. "Do children usually come to play in this forest? Especially the ones who lost their memories—did they ever interact with these trees before it happened?"

"No," Malthor answered firmly. "We don’t let the children play near the forest. Wild animals sometimes wander close when they’re hungry—it’s too dangerous."

Adyr frowned. Not the answer he was hoping for. He had been trying to establish a link between the trees and the memory loss.

"What about the fruit?" He continued. "Do you gather or eat them?"

This time, the priest gave him a suspicious look, his tone slightly off. "That fruit is wild. No one eats it. It’s bitter—and mildly poisonous."

That was... something Adyr probably should’ve known.

I think I need to start reading more picture books, he thought, amused.

Another dead end. No connection to the children—at least, not yet.

Adyr shifted his gaze to the other trees and pointed at a small bird perched on a branch. Its feathers shimmered in shades of blue, with a long yellow crest atop its head, chirping softly.

"What about them?"

Malthor followed his finger and spotted the bird. "Ah, those are rainbow sparrows," he said with surprise. "They usually feed on the fruit from these trees. They’re quite common around the village."

He paused, then glanced at Adyr. "Children often set traps to catch them. They like to play with them. Are you suggesting the birds are connected to all this?"

Adyr let out a quiet laugh. "We’ll see."

Before the priest could ask anything else, the bird dropped from the branch.

"What—?" Malthor blinked in confusion, unable to understand what had just happened—until he noticed the black throwing knife embedded in the bird’s side.

He froze. He’s that fast, he thought in shock.

Vesha, standing quietly beside them, just smiled. She hadn’t seen the movement either, but she enjoyed the look on Malthor’s face. He’d doubted Adyr earlier—now he knew better.

Adyr stepped forward, knelt beside the fallen bird, and picked it up. He pulled the black throwing knife from its body, wiped the blade clean on the grass, and slid it back into place at his belt. Then he turned his attention to the bird, examining it closely.

But after a few seconds, something felt off.

A strange sensation crept in—an emptiness, like the lingering ache of having forgotten something important. A hollow weight pressing down on his chest.

"What was the name of the bird?" He muttered, brow furrowed.

He paused, uneasy. His memory was near perfect—sharpened over the years, trained to recall everything he saw or heard unless he chose to discard it. But now, strangely, he was struggling to recall the name he had just heard moments ago.

Realization hit him. He abruptly let go of the bird and stepped back.

Moments later, its body began to fade. Bit by bit, it turned translucent, losing its physical form like the tree before it—until only a faint spirit-like image remained. On the grass, the only thing left behind was a single energy crystal.

I was careless again, Adyr thought, irritated.

This was the second time he’d found himself caught off guard—first with the alpha wolf, and now here. It was becoming clear that the logic-defying nature of this world clashed hard with his mind’s rigid grip on reality. fɾeeweɓnѳveɭ.com

If he wanted to survive, he realized he had to stop relying on conventional logic. At the very least, he needed to retrain his sense of reasoning—to adapt it to the rules of this world.

"Looks like our culprit is a Rank 2 Spark," Adyr said confidently.

The clearest proof lay beneath the bird’s now-transparent corpse—a Level 2 energy crystal resting quietly on the grass.

Now, the full picture began to form in his mind. The children weren’t directly connected to the Spark. Their involvement came through the birds. Mischievous and curious, they had caught the creatures and unknowingly exposed themselves, triggering the memory loss.

The birds, in turn, were linked to the Spark through the trees. Feeding on the fruit, they had been subtly altered, touched by the Spark’s power without realizing it.

And the real clue—the one that tied everything together—was the trees themselves.

He didn’t yet know how or why, but it was clear the Spark’s true interest lay with them.

Either it’s feeding on the trees... or using them to feed on something else. Adyr speculated, eyes narrowing.

"Oh God Astrael, what have we done to deserve this?" Priest Malthor clasped his hands tightly, whispering a prayer. His face had gone pale, and his body trembled.

He had doubted Adyr at first—but after witnessing his analysis, his composure, and the way he unraveled the situation piece by piece, those doubts had vanished. This young man clearly knew what he was doing. And the glowing purple crystal on the ground was undeniable proof of his words.

Malthor had always feared the culprit might be a Spark—but Rank 2? That was something he hadn’t even dared to consider.

"What are we supposed to do now? We’re doomed. My poor village... those children... why?" His voice broke as his knees buckled, and he sank to the ground like a man whose faith had been pulled out from under him.

The culprit wasn’t just an enemy. It was a truth they were never meant to face.