The clouds parted.
From the heart of Mayena Forest, a pillar of emerald light surged into the sky and began to spread outward in a straight line.
Wherever the light passed, gentle green rain began to fall.
An immense vitality descended across the entire forest, carried by the expanding rays and rain of light.
Birds with broken wings opened them anew. Wounded foxes visibly healed before the eyes. Grass and shrubs sprouted wildly, and even mighty oaks shot upward in height.
The entire forest was rejoicing—celebrating the awakening of the Sage.
"This... is the Grandmaster?" Ezekiel felt the surging vitality within himself, and the Path of Nature had never felt so close.
"That's right!"
Aedus, with his thick beard, inhaled deeply as if greedily drawing in the air suffused with green life force.
"Hymn of Life!"
"Only the Grandmaster could cast a Hymn of Life on such an absurd scale."
"It's been a long time…"
The healing arts of druids were unmatched in the world.
Unlike the priestesses of Melitele, whose divine spells forced the body to burn its own life force for fast healing—often with side effects—the druids used the gentle, nurturing power of nature itself, enhancing the recipient's own regenerative ability.
The Hymn of Life was the highest form of druidic healing. As long as the target had a breath left, the Hymn could keep them alive and heal their wounds rapidly.
Of course—
Such effects demanded an extremely high level of mastery.
Unlike divine spells, which even ordinary priestesses could cast, the Hymn of Life required a profound understanding of the Path of Nature—at the very least, one had to be an archdruid capable of wielding sacred transformations.
And archdruids were exceedingly rare—perhaps only a dozen or so in a druid circle of several hundred.
Such archdruids usually secluded themselves deep in the mountains, meditating upon the Path of Nature, seldom appearing in the outside world.
Furthermore—
A normal archdruid's Hymn of Life would only cover a small patch of ground—perhaps a radius of two or three steps at most.
But this… this light had practically engulfed the entire Mayena Forest…
Ezekiel had never seen such a thing—not even heard of it.
He couldn't imagine just how far the Grandmaster had gone on the Path of Nature. He—no, He—was practically the embodiment of nature itself.
"How far has the Grandmaster reached?" Ezekiel couldn't help but ask.
Elwin and Aedus exchanged glances.
"No one knows," Elwin shook his head. "But I remember Master Isaac McKinney once said—there is no being in Mayena Forest, or in any forest on the Northern Continent, that could threaten the Grandmaster."
No being… Ezekiel's mouth opened slightly in awe as he stared at Elwin.
Elwin nodded gently.
"Come," said Aedus, breaking Ezekiel's daze and quickening his pace, "let's stop speculating. The Grandmaster's strength is beyond our comprehension. I'm more curious about what exactly happened to awaken Him."
The other three druids nodded and also picked up their pace.
It was the height of summer, and the Mayena Druid Circle was in full bloom.
The deeper they went into the forest's heart, the more colossal and towering the trees became.
With every step over rotting leaves, and every whisper of the forest underfoot, it felt as if they were walking across the rings of time itself.
These trees were oaks.
Because of their longevity and resilience, druids often called them the Trees of Life. They were bridges between the primal source and the material world.
"Every time I see the Sacred Mayena, I can't help but feel awe at the greatness of nature's power…" murmured Heinrich, looking upward in reverence.
In the distance, a titanic tree held up a canopy of leaves that blocked out the sky and sun. The dense brown beneath the foliage was like a massive wall of living wood.
That was Sacred Mayena, the largest oak on the Northern Continent.
Druid circles, at their origin, were never meant to be formal associations like the Chapter of the Gift and the Art or the Brotherhood of Sorcerer. They were simply loose communities of druids who lived and practiced in the forests, seeking communion with nature and rarely interacting.
Even now, many druid circles retained this original, loose structure.
But the Mayena Druid Circle was different. Since its inception, it had always been a gathering of druids with a clear, unified purpose—to protect the ancient Trees of Life within Mayena Forest.
Most importantly, to protect this tree at the forest's core—the ten-thousand-year-old oak: Sacred Mayena.
If ordinary oaks were bridges between nature's origin and reality, then Sacred Mayena was the greatest of those bridges—the one closest to the primal source.
"Who wouldn't feel that way?" Aedus stroked his long, greying beard, gazing lovingly at the Sacred Mayena. "The reason I chose the Mayena Druid Circle in the first place was for her. I believed I could glimpse the truths of nature from her graceful form."
"Not because of the Grandmaster's wise teachings?" Ezekiel teased.
Aedus shrugged. "That was just an unexpected bonus."
Though Aedus and the others had arrived right after the summoning bell rang, the archdruids—who practiced deep within the secluded heart of the forest—had reached even earlier.
Of course—
There were also plenty of archdruids who arrived slower than them.
Perhaps out of courtesy, these sages—who walked the forest in the sacred forms of nature spirits—gradually returned to human shape as they neared Sacred Mayena.
By now, many aged figures were already seated cross-legged beneath the Sacred Mayena tree.
Yet they didn't take this rare opportunity of reunion to share insights or reconnect emotionally. Instead, they sat upright with eyes closed, quietly meditating, unwilling to waste even a single second.
As a result—
The wide clearing before the Sacred Mayena tree was filled only with the soft sounds of footsteps, wrapped in a quiet and solemn atmosphere.
Aedus, Elwin, Ezekiel, and Heinrich passed a few druids who had just shifted from grey wolves back into human form—still slightly clumsy in adjusting to two-legged movement—and stepped into the bustling plaza in front of the tree.
Their attention was immediately drawn to a figure resting against the trunk of the Sacred Oak.
It wasn't because of some overwhelming aura, or the radiance of elemental blessings.
On the contrary, the figure was silent and ordinary—yet once your eyes landed on it, you couldn't look away.
It was a stag, pure white all over, crowned with majestic antlers. Its legs were tucked neatly beneath it, head lowered gently to the soft forest floor.
It was the height of summer—and normally, a reindeer's coat would be dark brown. Only in winter would it turn pale to blend into the snow.
But the four druids all knew—this reindeer's color wasn't for concealment, nor was it due to a lack of skill.
The sacred white was a sign of divine manifestation.
"Is that… the Grandmaster?" Ezekiel whispered.
"Yes," Elwin nodded. "That's the same holy stag we saw by the Lake of Origin."
Ezekiel nodded thoughtfully and, imitating the other druids, sat down cross-legged.
A few moments later—
The last arriving druids also settled into seated positions.
The stag slowly opened its eyes. As it stood, long hooves rising from the ground, a radiant white light shimmered across the pattern of its fur.
When the light finally faded, the stag had vanished—replaced by an elderly druid wearing white robes, holding a long staff made of reindeer bone and jujube wood, with a grey beard.
Unlike the majestic and awe-inspiring presence of the stag, this old druid appeared simply kind and weathered, like any elderly human.
Yet the seated druids all rose at once, drawing a circle with their right hands over their chests.
"Grandmaster!"
The druids bowed respectfully.
"Sit," the elderly druid said with a gentle smile.
"Grandmaster, what have you gathered us for this time?" asked one of the more impatient druids.
Clearly—
Heinrich wasn't the only one completely in the dark.
Understandably so. After all, no druid could meditate twenty-four hours a day without pause—there were bound to be some who missed it by pure chance.
"Is it because of the newcomer in the Sacred Forest?" one druid asked.
"Newcomer?" the impatient one asked, confused.
Those nearby immediately began describing the golden-furred beast that had appeared in the Sacred Forest.
The Grandmaster patiently waited as the druids recounted the event. Once the few clueless druids had finished reacting in shock, he finally gave a slight nod and said slowly: "Yes. It is because of a new kindred spirit."
"Wha~!"
A wave of astonishment spread through the oak grove like a gust of wind.
"A new kindred spirit? Does that mean he had truly never entered the Sacred Forest before?"
"Who is he?"
"Has anyone seen him before?"
"What kind of nature spirit is that golden beast?"
-----------------------------------
Even the venerable archdruids—who were always calm and composed—now displayed the same astonishment as Aedus, Elwin, and Ezekiel.
After all, venturing deep into the Sacred Forest was not unheard of. Every few years, decades, or longer, there would always be druids who managed to reach further into it.
What was truly unbelievable, however, was that a druid who had never set foot in the Sacred Forest before had, upon entering it for the very first time, gone straight to its depths and shared in the essence of the Mother of Nature.
Entering the Sacred Forest was a requirement for a druid apprentice to ascend and become a true druid. As long as one had some natural affinity with the Way of Nature, it wasn't particularly difficult.
But to move past the initial "Grassland," and into the "Thicket," one needed at least decades of insight. As for reaching the "Banyan" realm—and ultimately the "Lake of Origin"—that could take decades, centuries, or even an entire lifetime without success.
More importantly, Grassland, Thicket, Banyan… these were not just physical stages—they were realms of understanding, embodiments of the truths of nature.
This was not something that genius or talent alone could explain.
A druid who had never once entered the Sacred Forest couldn't possibly even know these truths existed—let alone cross so many realms in a single step.
It was like a farmer who had never studied alchemy, casually picking up a stone in his field during the off-season—and suddenly learning how to forge a Philosopher's Stone.
How could something so impossible exist or happen?
Naturally, it couldn't.
At least—not until today. Until now, no druid would ever have believed it.
"Grandmaster, do you know how he managed it?" one of the druids asked, ignoring the murmuring voices around him.
The grove instantly fell silent again. All eyes were fixed on the Grandmaster beneath the Sacred Mayena.
"I do not understand it," the Grandmaster said, shaking his head.
"The golden-furred beast?"
"I do not know it."
"Do you know where that figure came from?"
"I do not."
-----------------------------------
Ezekiel tilted his head and looked toward Aedus.
"That's just how the Grandmaster is," Aedus replied with a helpless smile. "Very… very honest."
Ezekiel couldn't help but agree—it was a sincerity that completely defied his expectations.
He had thought the Grandmaster would be a solemn, commanding figure… but now…
"But I do know his name," the Grandmaster said after a moment of silence, breaking the stillness. "He told me he is called Kanu."
"Kanu…" countless druids murmured the name with furrowed brows.
It wasn't in the common tongue, nor the Elder Speech, nor the long-lost Goblin tongue buried in the depths of history… it didn't belong to any language known on the Northern Continent.
So...
"He isn't from our world?"
Isaac McKinney, the archdruid, slowly put away the organs—heart, spleen, stomach, gallbladder—he had prepared for visceral divination.
"Well, that would explain a lot," murmured Zebi Ortega, the archdruid whose sacred form was a raven. "He must be a master of the natural path from another world. His mastery over nature is profound, and yet he has never once appeared along our path to the Source."
"Could he have mistakenly crossed into our world during a Convergence of Spheres?"
"But a master of nature with such insight… how could he wander into it unknowingly? Would nature itself not warn him?"
Isaac McKinney shook his head as he tucked away the organs, then interjected, "I recall the Spheres haven't converged in decades. There shouldn't have been another incident."
He paused for a moment, suddenly remembering something. He turned to Aedus, Elwin, and the others and asked: "Aedus! Have there been any reports of a Convergence out in the world?"
Aedus was silent for a few seconds. Under the gazes of the assembled druids, he carefully chose his words: "Things outside have been… complicated lately. But yes, we did receive intelligence of a Spheres Convergence—three or four months ago, in Ben Ard."
Complicated... Isaac didn't seem to dwell on that. He looked down, deep in thought for a few seconds, then said: "Then that must have been the cause."
"In that case, according to ancient custom, we must find this Master Kanu and either send him back, or—"
"He cannot return," the Grandmaster suddenly cut in, his tone firm.
"What do you mean?" Isaac McKinney was stunned.
If the Convergence had occurred just a few months ago, the two worlds should still be relatively close. With some effort—and the help of a Sorcerer from the Brotherhood—it might still be possible to send him back, even if the convergence point had vanished.
If he were just an ordinary otherworlder, perhaps such effort would be too much. But a druid master on par with the Grandmaster? Forcing him to remain here against his will could have grave consequences.
Weighing the pros and cons, it would absolutely be worth the attempt—or at least showing the intent.
The Grandmaster glanced around at the assembled druids. After a few seconds of silence, he said: "What the Mother of Nature granted him… was no ordinary Source."
"He descended into the Lake of Origin."
...
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