God’s Tree

The ruins hummed with residual energy, the air still charged from the battle.

The runic creature had been defeated, its form dispersed into countless glowing embers, leaving behind only silence.

Argolaith exhaled, his chest rising and falling heavily. Every muscle in his body ached from exertion.

Kaelred, still gripping his tome, wiped sweat from his forehead. "Well… that was unpleasant."

Malakar smirked, dusting off his robes. "Speak for yourself. I was thoroughly entertained."

The Guardian, towering over them, watched in solemn silence.

Then, its glowing eyes flickered with approval.

"You have shown wisdom, adaptability, and resilience."

"You are worthy."

Argolaith straightened, still catching his breath.

"Worthy of what?"

The Guardian lifted a massive stone hand, and suddenly—the runes on the ground shifted.

A passage began to reveal itself.

Ancient mechanisms groaned and rumbled as a hidden staircase emerged from beneath the ruins.

The entrance was lined with glowing inscriptions, faint whispers of old magic pulsing from the depths below.

The Guardian spoke.

"You have earned the right to learn the forgotten knowledge buried here."

"Step forward, and claim the inheritance of the ancients."

Argolaith exchanged a glance with Kaelred.

Kaelred, still skeptical, frowned. "And this 'inheritance'… won't kill us, right?"

Malakar chuckled. "No promises."

The Guardian remained silent, its presence unwavering.

Argolaith sighed. "Only one way to find out."

Without hesitation, he took the first step down into the unknown.

Kaelred followed, grumbling about reckless decisions.

Malakar, of course, strode after them with amusement.

The deeper they descended, the hotter the air became.

Unlike the freezing winds of the mountain, this heat was unnatural—as if something ancient pulsed beneath the earth itself.

The walls glowed with faint inscriptions, their meanings indecipherable.

Kaelred muttered. "This place feels… alive."

Argolaith nodded. "It is. The magic here hasn't faded like in the upper ruins."

Malakar tilted his head, intrigued. "Fascinating. It seems the ancients were far more resourceful than I expected."

At the bottom of the stairs, they reached a massive chamber.

And there, in the center—

A pedestal stood, holding three artifacts.

One for each of them.

The Guardian's voice echoed through the chamber.

"Each of you may take one artifact. Choose wisely, for they were crafted by those who sought knowledge beyond mortal understanding."

Argolaith stepped forward first.

The first object drew his attention immediately.

It was a gauntlet, made of metal inscribed with shifting runes, reacting to his very presence.

He reached out, and the moment his fingers touched it—a surge of energy coursed through him.

The runic symbols burned brightly, syncing with his body's flow of energy.

The Guardian spoke.

"The Gauntlet of Transcendence. It allows the wearer to embed and store advanced runes, channeling them instantly without drawing or activating them manually."

Argolaith's eyes widened. "This… is incredible."

Kaelred stepped forward next, studying the second object.

It was a tome, ancient and well-preserved, bound in a strange material that was neither leather nor cloth.

He picked it up, flipping through the glowing pages, his expression shifting from confusion to awe.

The Guardian spoke again.

"The Tome of Echoes. Within it are incomplete runes, forgotten spells, and languages lost to time. Only those with the patience to decipher it will unlock its full potential."

Kaelred's eyes gleamed. "This… might be the greatest book I've ever held."

Malakar, smiling as always, walked toward the third object.

A dagger, sleek and dark, its blade flickering like a shadow.

He lifted it effortlessly, turning it in his grasp.

The Guardian's voice lowered.

"The Blade of Dissonance. It severs not just flesh, but the very flow of energy. A weapon that disrupts magic itself."

Malakar chuckled darkly. "Oh, this suits me perfectly."

The Guardian watched as they claimed their rewards.

Then, its voice rumbled one final time.

"You now carry the knowledge of the ancients."

"But knowledge is both a gift and a burden. What you do with it will shape your future."

The chamber grew still.

And then—the Guardian's form began to fade.

Its body crumbled into dust, dispersing into the very runes that had created it.

It had fulfilled its purpose.

Argolaith, Kaelred, and Malakar stood in silence.

Then, Kaelred exhaled. "Well. That was dramatic."

Malakar grinned. "I rather enjoyed it."

Argolaith, still staring at the fading light, clenched his newly acquired gauntlet.

The sky above them stretched endlessly, vast and untouched, as Argolaith, Kaelred, and Malakar pressed forward, their pace steady but unhurried.

The ruins were long behind them, their newly acquired artifacts secured, and the knowledge gained there still settling in their minds.

For Argolaith, however, there was something far more immediate to focus on—

The Gauntlet of Transcendence.

As they walked, Argolaith raised his arm, inspecting the metallic rune-inscribed gauntlet now strapped securely to his hand.

It was strange—it didn't feel heavy, nor did it interfere with his movements.

Instead, it felt as if it were a part of him, like an extension of his own body.

He flexed his fingers, feeling the faint pulse of stored energy within it.

"Alright," he muttered, more to himself than the others. "Let's see what this thing can do."

Kaelred glanced over, adjusting the weight of his new tome in his arms. "Trying to figure it out?"

Argolaith nodded. "Might as well. Better to test it now rather than in the middle of a fight."

Malakar grinned, his amusement evident. "Oh, yes, let's make sure you don't accidentally obliterate yourself."

Ignoring the snide remark, Argolaith focused.

He extended his hand, channeling a basic rune of force into the gauntlet.

The metal flared, the rune engraving itself into the structure, its symbols shifting and locking into place.

Then, with a thought—

He activated it.

A blast of kinetic energy erupted from his palm, surging forward and slamming into a nearby boulder.

The stone cracked, fissures splintering outward from the impact.

Kaelred let out a low whistle. "That's some force."

Argolaith grinned. "And that was just one."

Malakar observed, arms crossed. "Try another."

Argolaith didn't need to be told twice.

He tested several runes over the next few hours, fine-tuning his control.

• Runes of Weight Manipulation – Letting him increase or decrease the gravity of an object temporarily.

• Runes of Sharpness – Imbuing his sword with a sharper than an enchanted obsidian blade.

• Runes of Acceleration – Boosting his movement speed for short bursts.

But it wasn't until he tried a more complex rune that he noticed something interesting.

When he attempted to store an advanced rune, the gauntlet accepted it with ease.

He could store up to ten of them at once, ready to be activated instantly.

But when he pushed beyond that, trying to inscribe a rune of top-grade power…

The gauntlet shuddered, the runes momentarily resisting before settling into place.

Malakar's brow lifted. "Ah. So it has limits after all."

Argolaith tested further, learning that—

• He could store ten advanced runes at a time.

• He could store two top-grade runes, but they took up far more capacity.

He could activate them nearly instantly, unlike before when he had to carve or draw them manually.

It was a weapon, a tool, and a shield all in one.

Kaelred shook his head as he watched. "You are going to be terrifying when you fully master that thing."

Argolaith grinned. "That's the plan."

As the sun began to dip lower in the sky, the conversation shifted from testing the gauntlet to their destination.

They still had thousands of miles to go before reaching Malakar's mysterious contact.

Kaelred, flipping through his tome, asked, "So, Malakar, this lich we're heading to—what's he like?"

Malakar smirked, but there was an odd glint in his eyes.

"Ah. Now there's a question."

Argolaith raised an eyebrow. "That bad?"

Malakar chuckled. "Oh no, not bad. Just… eccentric."

Kaelred frowned. "Define eccentric."

Malakar's smirk widened. "He took over ten thousand years to build his lab inside of a mountain. Every. Single. Detail. Had to be perfect."

Kaelred blinked. "You're joking."

"I assure you, I am not." Malakar's tone was almost fond. "He is a perfectionist in every sense of the word."

Argolaith furrowed his brow. "So he's obsessive?"

"Oh, beyond obsessive." Malakar gestured lazily. "But that's just the start of it."

He continued.

The lich had spent centuries modifying his own body, fine-tuning every aspect of his undead existence.

He had created bizarre creatures through experiments, some that defied logic entirely.

He had memorized nearly every known language and studied runes that predated recorded history.

He had an entire collection of enchanted furniture, each piece crafted to an absurd level of detail.

Kaelred exhaled sharply. "That… sounds exhausting."

Malakar grinned. "Oh, he is absolutely exhausting."

Argolaith narrowed his eyes. "And he knows about 'the Grand Design'?"

At that, Malakar's expression shifted—just slightly.

"Yes."

His usual arrogance dimmed for just a moment.

"If anyone can tell you why you're not a part of it, it's him."

Argolaith felt a cold weight settle in his stomach.

The Grand Design.

The mysterious force that dictated fate and existence—and the one thing he somehow existed outside of.

He hadn't forgotten what the Veiled Order had told him.

And now, there was another chance to get answers.

Kaelred tapped his fingers against his tome. "So, is he more eccentric than you?"

Malakar laughed. "By far."

That wasn't comforting.

As the sky darkened, they made camp near a stretch of ancient stone formations.

The fire crackled, and Argolaith sat beside it, staring at his gauntlet.

Ten advanced runes.

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Two top-grade runes.

He clenched his fist, watching the runes flicker faintly along the metal.

Kaelred sat across from him, flipping through his tome.

Malakar leaned against a rock, watching them with his usual smug amusement.

And somewhere, far beyond the horizon, a lich more eccentric than even Malakar waited within his mountain fortress.

And he might just hold the answers that Argolaith had been searching for.

As the wind whispered through the trees, one thought remained in Argolaith's mind.

He was going to find out the truth.

No matter what it took.