God’s Tree

As Argolaith began his ascent up the rugged mountain path, he quickly realized he was not alone.

Along the steep, winding trail, clusters of people could be seen in the distance—travelers of every age, some their eyes aglow with magic, others marked with scars of many battles.

Their faces, illuminated by the soft glow of enchanted torches and the early morning light, betrayed both determination and weariness.

The mountain's trials, it seemed, were open to all who dared to seek the ancient secrets hidden within its heart.

Argolaith adjusted the strap of his satchel and murmured to himself, "Wait—what are these trials for again? I think they are meant for me to learn the knowledge from the ancient ruins…"

His voice trailed off as he considered the countless legends of lost lore and hidden power said to be inscribed in every stone of this towering monument.

A grizzled man with silver hair and a weathered face, his eyes alight with a quiet magic, answered from a short distance away.

"Thinking about it won't change much, lad. What you must focus on is making it to the top in one piece. I wonder how hard that will be, even for those of us who've seen a bit of magic."

Argolaith nodded, his mind already calculating every step. "Right… survival first. Knowledge comes later."

He pressed onward along the narrow, craggy trail, each footfall sending vibrations up through his tired bones.

As he began the climb on the first steep bits of the mountain, a lingering sensation of being watched crept over him.

The sensation was subtle—like the prickle of unseen eyes tracking his every move—but it was there.

He paused briefly, glancing upward into the dim treetops that clung to the lower slopes. "I wonder what is watching me," he whispered.

"Whatever it is, I don't sense any bloodlust, so I should be fine for now." His tone held both curiosity and resolve.

Before him, the mountain loomed massive and awe inspiring. Its snowy peaks glinted in the distance, while clusters of strange, luminescent plants sprouted beneath overhanging cliffs that spanned thousands of feet into the air.

The vista was as beautiful as it was foreboding. Argolaith's eyes traced the ridges and valleys, absorbing every detail.

"This mountain is not a place to take lightly," he mused.

"It may be beautiful, but it is also very dangerous. There are primordial beasts here—and judging by the strength of the one I fought in the forest, the ones here are on an entirely different level."

His internal monologue was interrupted by a flash of movement at the trail's edge—a man about Argolaith's age, with long, unruly red hair and eyes that shimmered like molten gold in the sunlight.

The red-haired stranger moved with a surprising ease along the treacherous path, his presence both unsettling and magnetic.

Argolaith grunted, "Well then, I can't afford to walk slowly. I only have a month to make it to the top."

He looked into his storage ring, mentally inventorying his supplies.

"Let's see… I have enough food to last me a while, and if I need to climb a sheer cliff, I can use my daggers to stab into the rock to anchor myself."

He tapped the ring, his eyes flickering with satisfaction as he recalled the magical elixirs and medicinal pills stored within—each one a small miracle that might mend a broken limb or stave off exhaustion when his body could take no more.

As he continued upward, the creature that had been watching him—an unseen presence that had earlier gone unheeded—suddenly revealed itself.

Argolaith stopped dead in his tracks, squinting through the swirling mist. "Oh shit," he hissed, "what even is that—and how did I not see it before? It's massive."

Before him loomed a primordial beast, easily over forty feet tall. Its scales glowed with a dim green luminescence, casting eerie shadows on the snow and stone.

Six massive legs, each ending in clawed talons, supported its hulking form.

A thick, barbed tail whipped behind it, and its face—most unnerving of all—was a nightmarish mosaic of thousands of tiny, razor-sharp teeth, set in a maw framed by eyes that were almost disturbingly human in their size and expression.

Argolaith's heart pounded in his chest as he realized the gravity of his predicament.

"Well," he muttered under his breath, "I think I might have to fight my way out of this situation."

The beast had not yet charged; it was merely watching him from a distance of over a mile, its gaze fixed and unblinking.

Then, as if it could no longer contain its predatory instinct, the beast began to run its movement surprisingly agile despite its colossal size—charging toward him at a dizzying speed.

Argolaith's training and instincts kicked in instantly; he shifted his weight, tightening his grip on his sword.

Every muscle in his body tensed as he prepared to meet the impending assault.

The mountain trials, it seemed, were already beginning.

With a roar that echoed off the craggy walls of the mountain, Argolaith sprinted forward.

The narrow path twisted dangerously close to sheer drops and jagged rocks.

His every step was a calculated risk, but retreat was not an option. The beast was closing in, its massive form a blur against the backdrop of the stark, white landscape.

Argolaith could hear the thunder of its footsteps and the guttural sounds of its charge.

"Hold fast!" he shouted, more to himself than to any bystander, as he dodged a swipe of the creature's spiked tail.

The encounter was no longer a theoretical challenge—it was a brutal test of skill, speed, and sheer willpower.

In the ensuing chaos, Argolaith's sword flashed in wide arcs, parrying and striking as he moved with desperate grace.

Each clash of steel against the creature's scales reverberated through the narrow mountain pass.

The primordial beast roared, lashing out with one of its six powerful legs, sending a shockwave of force that nearly knocked Argolaith off balance.

He gritted his teeth, drawing on every lesson learned in the forest and every drop of strength he had.

Between dodging vicious attacks and launching counterstrikes, Argolaith managed to find a momentary opening.

"Not today, monster!" he bellowed as his blade found a gap in the creature's thick hide.

The wound, though not mortal, caused the beast to stagger momentarily. Its roar shook the very air, a sound of pain and fury that spurred Argolaith onward.

For what felt like an eternity, the battle waged on in a blur of motion, fire in his eyes, determination in every swing of his sword.

Time itself seemed to warp around the fierce combat. Eventually, after a harrowing exchange that left Argolaith bruised and gasping for breath, the beast's momentum faltered.

With one final, desperate charge, Argolaith sidestepped the creature's lunge and struck at its flank, a precise, decisive blow that sent the primordial giant crashing to the rocky ground below.

The beast shuddered, its green glow fading as it exhaled a final, anguished roar before lying still.

Panting heavily, Argolaith stood over the fallen creature, his body trembling from adrenaline and exertion.

"That… was close," he gasped, his voice rough with exhaustion and disbelief.

"I almost…" His words trailed off as he stared at the massive, lifeless form—a stark reminder of the peril that now surrounded him on this treacherous climb.

For a long moment, the silence that followed was broken only by the distant howl of the wind.

Then, as if on cue, a voice echoed softly in his mind—a memory of all he had endured on this journey.

"Survival is not the end, but the beginning of true strength," it whispered, urging him onward.

Regaining his composure, Argolaith retrieved his sword, wiping its blade clean with the sleeve of his worn tunic, and putting beast in his storage ring for food and resources.

His gaze shifted upward once more to the towering mountain before him, now only a few miles away.

The trials were far from over; indeed, they had only just begun. Amidst the distant sounds of clashing steel and the eerie echoes of ancient magic, he felt a renewed determination well up inside him.

His storage ring still contained the precious elixirs and medicinal potions he had so painstakingly gathered, and he reminded himself that every challenge—no matter how fearsome—was an opportunity to grow stronger.

"I have come this far," he murmured, his voice steadier now as he resumed his ascent.

"I will reach the top, and I will claim the knowledge and power that await." His eyes, burning with a fierce inner light, scanned the path ahead.

The rocky trail twisted upward into a labyrinth of narrow ledges and steep ascents, where the beauty of the mountain intermingled with its deadly nature.

The farther he climbed, the more the mountain revealed its duality.

On one side, majestic snow-capped peaks glistened in the sunlight, and magical plants sprouted in unexpected crevices beneath ancient rocks.

On the other, sheer cliffs jutted into the sky, their heights staggering, as if daring any mortal to scale them.

Argolaith paused to take in the view, his heart swelling with a mixture of awe and trepidation.

"This mountain is not a place to take lightly," he thought aloud, his voice barely above a whisper.

"It is beautiful, yes, but it is also home to primordial beasts and fierce guardians. The creatures here are on another level, far more dangerous than those in the forest. Every step up this mountain is a battle with nature itself."