After the tremendous sound that shook the forest faded away, a profound silence descended. The crackling of flames, the rising smoke, and the rustling of ashes carried by the wind were the only sounds filling the air. Even the rough breathing of the Minotaurs subsided for a moment. It was a moment when everything seemed to have stopped.
Thud...
From afar, a sound echoed as if something was crushing the earth. It resembled the deep, heavy rumble of a massive boulder falling or a monolith rolling down. It sounded like an enormous weight shifting somewhere.
Thud... Boom...
The second sound came, closer this time. Burning branches trembled, and leaves and fallen foliage rustled. Something alive was treading the ground. The Minotaurs' instincts recognized it as "footsteps."
The Minotaurs began to stare uneasily in the direction of the sound. Their weapons trembled in their grips. Normally, they would never show fear, but this was different. They sensed something utterly alien, inexplicable, approaching.
Thud...
The third footfall. Now the resonance was even clearer. It was the movement of a living colossus. With each step, a dull vibration surged up from deep within the earth.
Thud... Boom...
The Minotaurs turned their heads, exchanging glances, and a flicker of fear crossed their eyes.
Thud... Thud... Thud...
The sound grew nearer. At first, it came with long pauses, but now it echoed at almost regular intervals. And with each one, it reverberated through the forest, becoming sharper and heavier.
Daroon gripped his halberd, staring intently toward the source of the sound. Beneath his helm, his eyes brimmed with vigilance.
In contrast, the Minotaur commander clutched his massive double-bladed axe, exhaling lowly through his nostrils.
Tirrellda hid in the shadow of a tree, holding her breath. Her heart pounded rapidly. An unfamiliar presence carried by the forest brushed against her senses.
It was undoubtedly part of the forest. Yet it was unimaginably vast and powerful.
Thud... Thud... Thud... Thud...
The sounds continued, repeating at short intervals, and with each one, the ground vibrated. That tremor transmitted through the soles of their feet, coursing through their entire bodies.
Amid the burning trees, a colossal shadow began to loom. At first, it was merely a faint outline, but gradually, its form emerged. Illuminated by the red flames, the silhouette towered far above the surrounding trees, its breadth resembling several trees bundled together.
Whenever it shifted its body, the flames swayed wildly. Heavy air was displaced, and the fire staggered left and right as if buffeted by wind.
Now, the footfalls were right upon them.
And finally, through the flames, the entity fully revealed itself.
It was a living, gigantic tree. As if an ancient stump uprooted from the earth had come to walk. Its trunk was as thick and rugged as a centuries-old oak, its bark cracked like dark brown scales. Thick roots extended like two legs, crushing the ground as they moved, while curved branches forming arms dangled with moss and vines trailing down to the earth.
In what could be called its head, there were hollowed crevices, and within them, subtly shifting shapes resembled eyes. As the flames illuminated the form, faint resemblances to eyes, nose, and mouth emerged amid the wood grain.
To everyone's eyes, the being appeared as a tree, as the forest itself, as antiquity incarnate.
Its height was at least 30 cubits (15 meters)—perhaps even more. Compared to the surrounding trees, even the largest oaks barely reached its chest. The trunk was as thick and immense as a tree aged hundreds, perhaps thousands, of years.
The surface of the trunk bore intricate patterns of deeply furrowed bark ridges and valleys. The bark, a mix of brown and gray with patches of mossy green, was thick and coarse—like a natural armor forged from layers of time's passage.
Moss grew thickly across the bark's surface, blanketing the trunk like a soft green carpet, with small plants and vines sprouting between. In some spots, tiny flowers bloomed.
Two enormous branches extended from the upper trunk, forming arms. Each branch was far thicker than an ordinary tree's trunk, and from their ends, countless smaller branches fanned out like fingers.
These branch-fingers were flexible and delicate. The thicker ones matched the girth of Daroon's forearm, while the slender ones stretched like those on nearby trees. Amid them, leaves grew lush and abundant.
The leaves rustled softly whenever the wind blew, their gentle brushing evoking the familiar whisper of the forest as breeze passed through foliage.
It had two legs, formed from clustered roots hardened into pillars. Thick roots intertwined and overlapped, appearing immensely sturdy, with finer roots dangling below, brushing the ground. With each step, these roots pressed into the soil, stirring up small clouds of dust.
The face was positioned high on the ancient trunk. Deeply etched wood grain formed eyes, forehead, and jawline, with a long horizontal cleft resembling a mouth.
The eye-like parts were hollow pits gouged into the bark. At first glance, they seemed empty voids, but closer inspection revealed faintly glowing green orbs within. That light was unsteady, like a candle flame—sometimes flaring brightly, other times dimming nearly to extinction.
The nose was a bulging knot of wood grain, with small apertures on either side emitting faint sounds as if wind passed through. The mouth was a long horizontal split in the bark, mostly closed, but occasionally shifting slowly to reveal inner darkness.
Beneath the chin, long strands of moss and vines hung like a beard. Mingled gray and green, they swayed gently in the breeze.
From its entire form emanated waves of vital energy. It was not visible to the eye, but every living creature could sense it instinctively—a potent aura. It seemed as though all the forest's trees bowed to it, and even the wind blew more softly in its vicinity.
The walker of the forest, the guardian of trees—a colossal being in the shape of an ancient stump—advanced slowly.
In that moment, Tirrellda lifted her head from beneath the tree's shadow. Her breath caught as if it might stop altogether.
She could not tear her eyes from the form approaching through the flames.
From her lips escaped a low breath, along with a name.
"Vrant..."
The gigantic tree giant strode slowly between Daroon and the Minotaur commander.
With each touch of his footsteps to the earth, the flames hissed and died down, and tender grasses lifted their heads over the scorched forest ground. On the blackened, charred branches, pale green leaves began to sprout anew, and from the soil, small shoots tentatively emerged.
The burning areas cooled quietly, and wherever he passed, traces of green revived. The edges of the destroyed forest bloomed with life's texture spreading like a following vein. Each of his steps enveloped the forest like spring's arrival.
His mere presence seemed to subdue the flames. The master of the forest had returned, and the forest welcomed him. Tree branches inclined toward him, birds began perching on his shoulders and arms. A small squirrel scampered up and down his mossy beard.
On the path where Vrant walked stood Tirrellda.
She stood frozen, mouth agape, slowly raising her head to gaze at the immense tree giant.
Her eyes were filled with awe and reverence, and for a long while, she could not look away. Vrant halted before her. His massive root-legs embedded deeply into the ground, causing one final vibration. His deep eyes, tinged with green light, looked down at the tiny elf far below.
A brief silence flowed. Vrant's colossal form cast a shadow over Tirrellda. Yet that shadow was not cold. Rather, it felt warm and enveloping. Like the shade from countless leaves, a soft, comforting warmth lingered.
Vrant's bark-formed mouth opened slowly. Blue light seeped through the cleft, and a deep, resonant voice flowed forth.
"Seren.... bo... ti-el."
The voice was indescribably beautiful. It resembled the whisper of an ancient tree's core, yet also the sound of wind brushing through an old stump's branches. Profound and gentle, it carried the earth's reverberation.
Each syllable was enunciated clearly, but it differed distinctly from modern Elvish.
Tirrellda instantly recognized it as ancient Elvish. It was the form of Elvish she had learned in her youth from archaic Elven texts. The pronunciation and intonation varied from contemporary Elvish, but the meaning was clear: a formal, archaic greeting signifying "May our meeting bring joy."
Tirrellda hastily rose and bowed her head deeply. Before the immense Vrant, her figure seemed like an ant before a giant. Yet her posture held not fear, but profound reverence.
"Se... Seren Melin."
Tirrellda's voice trembled. She replied in ancient Elvish: a courteous response meaning "The joy is mine." As she looked up at the colossal Vrant, her eyes mingled awe, bewilderment, and a hint of fear.
Vrant nodded slowly, as if satisfied. His movement was deliberate yet graceful. Despite his enormous form, every action carried dignity.
There was a reason Vrant had greeted Tirrellda.
Countless trees engulfed in flames had screamed in agony. Their cries tore at Vrant's heart, even as he slumbered far away. The trees' pain was his own. Their suffering awakened him and drew him here along the path of their voices.
During his journey, the trees had shared stories. Tales of invaders burning the forest and two beings fighting against them. One was a descendant of the river lords—Dawi—and the other was a forest dweller, a child of the woods: an elf.
Especially the elf, the trees said, had striven with all her might to extinguish the fire. She had depleted her mana entirely, freezing the raging flames with ice. Even now, the trees expressed deep gratitude to her. Thanks to her, many more trees had been spared from turning to ash.
Just then, at Vrant's feet, a small form appeared. It was Aornn.
Emerging slowly from the darkness, it was a creature about the size of a small fox. Walking cautiously on four legs, it was clearly visible even in the shadows.
Its body was composed of dozens of slender vines. The vines slithered along the ground like tendrils, and as it moved, moss and wildflowers clinging to its form swayed.
A faint pale green light emanated from between the vines, softly illuminating its entire body. The surface was dotted with fine moss, and sporadically sprouting small petals seemed integral to its being.
Aornn approached Tirrellda quietly and leaned against her leg. As its vine-composed body pressed close, it felt neither cold nor dry, but warm and moist. Aornn rested its head on her knee and wagged its short tail side to side.
From between the vines wafted a subtle fragrance, like a blend of grass and flowers. Tirrellda reached down carefully and stroked Aornn's head. The touch was soft and warm, akin to caressing a living plant stem. Aornn pressed closer to her, moving quietly.
Meanwhile, the Minotaur commander and Daroon reacted differently to Vrant's appearance.
Daroon lowered his halberd and cautiously stepped back a few paces. His movement held not fear, but a respect bordering on reverence.
In contrast, the Minotaur commander, gripping his massive double-bladed axe, widened his stance in wariness and increased the distance. Yet his hands trembled. Even his shamanically enhanced body seemed utterly diminutive before Vrant.
The Minotaurs began retreating in unease, trembling with anxiety. In their eyes flickered an incomprehensible, primal terror.
Until now, the foes they had faced were creatures that could be harmed by spear and fang—beings that bled and reacted to pain. But Vrant was different. He was alive, yet his vitality lacked the warmth they were accustomed to.
What emanated from Vrant's body was not the heat of blood or flesh, but the heavy aura peculiar to life deeply rooted over eons.
The Minotaurs did not understand what it was, but that alien energy pierced their instincts faster than words. Thus, they feared and backed away.
The Minotaur commander, seeing this, raged. He could not tolerate his subordinates showing cowardice. He spread his arms wide, thumped his chest, and bellowed a threatening roar.
"Krraaaaah! Phóbos oudén! Kratéō! (Fear not! I am strong!)"
His voice was rough and savage. The Minotaur commander raised his double-bladed axe high overhead, assuming a menacing posture toward Vrant.
But Vrant showed no trace of emotion. His green eyes gazed down at the Minotaur commander for a moment, then he turned and walked toward Daroon.