Chapter 43: The Guardian’s Consent

The white snake slithered from the rocks at my presence, its glare seeming to demand why I’d returned. Its menace was fiercer, forcing me to keep my distance.

“Is that the herb and snake?” Wishstone asked.

“Yes,” I replied, holding his statue like a cross against a demon.

Despite my fear, I had the dimension’s god as my ultimate weapon.

“Hello?” Wishstone said calmly to the snake.

I entrusted everything to him, watching silently.

The snake, hissing and swaying, froze, fixing a steady gaze on the statue.

“I’m the god of this dimension. No need to be wary. We mean you no harm.”

“…”

The snake’s flicking tongue seemed to convey displeasure.

“My guest seeks the herb beside you. May she take it?”

Wishstone was direct about our purpose.

The snake coiled tighter around the herb, signaling refusal, and hissed loudly.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Wishstone said, though to whom wasn’t clear.

The snake continued its eerie hissing.

“Yes, yes,” Wishstone replied, as if conversing.

“I see. Understood.”

“Are you… talking to the snake?” I asked.

“Yes, it’s quite wise. I feel my shortcomings as a god in this exchange.”

A dimension’s god was treating a mere creature with such respect.

“It’s been guarding the herb since it sprouted. It’s called ‘Frostbloom.’ And…”

Both snake and herb were not native to this dimension.

“From another dimension? How…?”

As a dimension traveler, I couldn’t deny it, but I’d moved with divine aid. Was the snake near-divine?

Wishstone explained after conversing further.

His dimension was young compared to others, like humanity’s brief span in Earth’s history. Before Wishstone’s birth, when the dimension was chaotic, the snake and Frostbloom arrived—by force.

The snake’s home was a realm of spirits worshiping nature, not a distinct god, but the land itself as divine.

“Sss, sss…” The snake’s mournful hiss hinted at a tragedy.

Its dimension fell when an evil god invaded, devouring it greedily—a colossal entity.

“Imagining such an evil god gives me chills…”

The peace-loving spirits lacked combat prowess. Half the dimension’s life was consumed instantly.

Watching their world vanish, survivors burned with vengeance. Lacking fighting skills, they infused themselves with lethal poison—animals, insects, plants, even water and air.

The evil god, gorging on this toxic dimension, fell ill.

The dimension chose mutual destruction.

The maddened god’s rampage shattered what remained in a massive explosion, flinging the snake and Frostbloom to this dimension by sheer luck. Others might have perished or still wander the void.

Like me, a dimensional orphan.

“Frostbloom, one of the vengeful plants, holds such bitter poison it freezes its surroundings,” Wishstone said.

“So, it’s not really an herb…”

“Its poison could harm residents, so the snake guards it—not for its value, but its danger.”

I glared at the staff.

I asked for a rare herb, and it found a poison deadly enough to harm an evil god.

Sensing my stare, the staff flailed in panic.

“Oh! That’s why no animals are here—you drove them away, didn’t you?” I said to the snake.

“Ssss…” It nodded, tongue flicking.

“What a shame. I can’t make drinks with poison.”

Despite bringing Wishstone, my hopes were dashed.

But the staff’s behavior was odd, hopping indignantly.

“Hmm… Yes?” Wishstone began speaking to the staff too.

“Manager, the staff insists Frostbloom is an herb.”

“What?”

The staff’s stance was adamant, as if ready to grab my collar.

“You didn’t hear? It’s a poison that could kill an evil god. How’s that an herb?”

The staff jumped again.

“It senses a rare herb’s aura, stronger than any it’s found. It stakes its three-generation legacy on it,” Wishstone said.

“Aura?”

A staff used by three generations of herbalists was so certain, it piqued my curiosity.

Then I thought of Latte Art. Could Insight reveal more about Frostbloom?

A day had passed, so I activated the jewel berry smoothie’s Latte Art without hesitation.

Wishstone, spotting the radiant berry pattern, exclaimed, “I know that aura!”

As a regular at my café, he recognized its effect.

My vision cleared, and information flooded in.

The snake radiated a pure, noble light, befitting Wishstone’s respect.

Surprisingly, Wishstone’s statue emitted a similar but denser aura.

Their shared essence suggested the snake might be a demi-god or close.

I turned to Frostbloom.

A chilling aura enveloped it, sharp enough to cut if touched, making me doubt the staff’s claim.

But then…

“Oh… that’s it!”

Beneath the soil, Frostbloom’s roots pulsed with an opposing aura—warm, vibrant, like spring’s first bloom, urging life to flourish.

The above-ground parts screamed danger, but the roots beckoned with vitality.

“Some plants are poison or medicine depending on the part or preparation. Could Frostbloom be both?”

Knowing it was poison, I’d given up, but Insight rekindled my desire.

“Wishstone, Frostbloom is both poison and herb.”

“I see,” he replied calmly.

“Ssss…” The snake warned that mishandling it could be deadly for creatures like me, urging me to abandon it.

Its home dimension gone, Frostbloom was essentially extinct, like the silver vine.

Could I truly forsake such a rare ingredient?

“If I prove I can handle it safely, may I take it?”

“Ssss… Sssat.”

“It asks why you’re so insistent. If it’s for wealth, it won’t yield to such folly,” Wishstone translated, as the snake’s yellow eyes pierced me.

I decided to bare my heart.

“I’m a manager running a café on a wandering patch of land, not even a dimension. My customers are gods managing their realms. I craft drinks from ingredients across dimensions.”

“Sssat…!”

“It says it won’t forgive greed-driven acts.”

“My ultimate goal is to return to my home dimension. Like you, I’m a dimensional orphan. But unlike you, whose dimension was destroyed, I was lost by my god.”

The snake’s unyielding eyes blinked briefly.

In that moment, I felt a connection—perhaps it empathized with my plight.

So, I leaned into it.

“Making drinks is my ritual to summon my god. I long for home. Don’t you understand that yearning?”

The snake nodded.

“Even now, closing my eyes, I see my family and friends. I’ve missed them so much. But wallowing solves nothing.”

“Manager…” Wishstone murmured.

“I keep seeking new ingredients, developing recipes. I don’t know which drink will call my god. Maybe Frostbloom holds the key. I’ll do anything to return home.”

The snake blinked again, its hostility softening.

Empathy worked on this sentient being.

Having lowered its guard, I needed more to convince it.

“Moving Frostbloom to my café’s garden could benefit this dimension. Its poison is so dangerous you restrict the mountain. My café hosts gods and demi-gods, safer than mortals. It’s a fitting environment.”

“True. The snake can’t guard it forever. It’s too piteous to spend a lifetime on it,” Wishstone added.

“Ssss…”

“It acknowledges Frostbloom as its home’s last remnant but agrees there are beautiful experiences to ease sorrow,” Wishstone said, swayed by my words, aiding my plea.

“Sss… Sssat.”

“It empathizes but insists danger is danger.”

“Can I at least try handling it?”

The snake stared, then nodded, granting permission.

“Manager, what’s your plan? I can’t use my authority to help,” Wishstone said.

“I said I’d do it, so I will. If I can’t handle it, growing it at the café is pointless.”

Despite my words, I trembled. A poison that could harm an evil god could kill a human like me instantly.

Taking a deep breath, I faced Frostbloom.

Plants develop poison to repel enemies, like Frostbloom did for vengeance.

If I showed I wasn’t a threat, it might accept me.

Careful not to provoke it, I approached the frosted rocks behind it, gripping the frost until my hand numbed.

My skin paled from the cold.

Then, I gently touched a sky-blue leaf.

“…”

Nothing happened.

Insight showed the flower’s aura was calm.