Chapter Eighty
Thud!
I hit the ground. Hard.
Actually, calling it "ground" was generous. It felt more like landing on a giant, vibrating marshmallow that smelled intensely of lavender and existential dread.
"Ugh... What kind of elf spirit makes such inefficient portal. I am definitely making a personalised law system to sue that elf and that first duke," I groaned, face-planted into the soft turf.
[Ping!]
[Welcome to the Spirit Realm, Host!]
[Current Status: Nauseous. Very, very nauseous.]
"Thanks, Sysi. Really helpful. Your concern is touching," I muttered, pushing myself up.
I took a breath, and immediately, my throat felt like I'd swallowed a handful of needles.
Right. The glass-air.
I scrambled for the wooden box Sylvester gave me, popped the lid, and downed one of the Breath of the Yggdrasil vials. The emerald mist slid down my throat, feeling less like medicine and more like minty liquid nitrogen.
