Ferni, the Mother of Ruins

Xion casually strolled until he arrived at the campfire, where the small group had gathered. As they neared the next town, their schedule had become more rigid, more tiresome.

For other though. To Xion, it only gave him more time to learn from the system.

The only thing he disliked was the food. Meals were now served only twice a day. Once in the morning when everyone freshened up and again at night when the horses were settled to rest.

But beggars should not be picky. So, he had stored some snacks in his space to munch on while on the road.

It was early morning, and taking advantage of the moment, Xion had asked Allen to prepare a decoction.

"Brother Allen, how's it coming along?" Xion leaned over the crouching alchemist's shoulder, watching as he carefully stirred a bowl of thick purple liquid over the small, low-earthen stove.