Roland Phils studied the glittering band in his hand before slipping it onto his finger. The moment the Ring of the Holy Spirit settled on his skin, a strange connection flared to life.
It was not simply the sensation of wearing a piece of enchanted jewelry. No, this was far deeper. He felt as if a new pathway had been carved into his very soul, a spiritual corridor stretching into the unknown. At the far end of that corridor… something stirred.
Roland froze. A powerful consciousness waited beyond the bond, pulsing with light so brilliant it nearly blinded his mind's eye. Before he could react, the entity surged forward along the tether and invaded his divine realm.
"What…?"
He had not expected this.
Within his domain, a being of pure radiance manifested. Its body was formless, shifting like liquid glass. One moment it resembled wings, the next a blazing sun, then it unraveled into a storm of threads. All of it glowed with sacred white brilliance, impossible to fix into a single shape.
"How rich… how pure this life force is!" the radiant being murmured. Its voice rang like a chorus echoing inside a cathedral. "Such a place could nurture the Seed of Light itself. Tell me, where am I?"
Roland narrowed his eyes, watching the intruder carefully.
"I am the Lord of Life. This is my divine realm. Who are you? Are you Vishanti? And what is this Seed of Light you speak of?"
He spoke without bowing or trembling. This was his domain. Here, he was the master. Even if this creature was tied to powers beyond comprehension, courage was the least he could show.
The white figure rippled, then gave a sound that resembled laughter, ancient and weary.
"Ah… so there are still beings who recall my name. Yes, I am what remains of Vishanti—only the last fragment of my consciousness. The true Vishanti long ago merged with the core of the Dimension of Light, becoming its very essence. Through that sacrifice, I channeled White Magic to the sorcerers of countless worlds, striving to maintain balance and safeguard the multiverse.
"As for the Seed of Light… it is the root of all luminous power, the beginning of purity itself."
Roland's expression hardened. "The Dimension of Light? Do you mean the source of White Magic that Earth's sorcerers revere?"
"Exactly," the figure confirmed. "The names differ, but the essence is the same. All White Magic draws from the Dimension of Light. Yet for nearly a thousand years, the Darkness has been encroaching. The Dark Dimension swells, devouring world after world, corrupting entire realms. The Dimension of Light, once endless, now falters. Even my sacrifice, turning myself into its origin energy, cannot stop the tide forever.
"Sooner or later, the darkness will consume us. And when that happens, every sorcerer across the cosmos will lose their source of power. They will become ordinary mortals. Entire civilizations, robbed of their guardians, will fall in turn."
The being's glow dimmed slightly, as if weighed down by grief. Then it brightened again with desperate determination.
"To resist that fate, I divided my will into countless fragments, sending them across the universes, searching for a place that could sustain a new root of Light. A chance to grow another source of White Magic strong enough to fight back. All attempts have failed. I am the last shard left."
Roland's lips pressed into a line. "And now you stumble into my realm."
"Yes," the white being replied, its tone lifting with sudden hope. "You are the Lord of Life, a god in your own right. To meet you at this time is nothing short of destiny."
Roland's face cooled. "Spare me your flattery. This is my domain. I will not allow any foreign danger to be planted here."
The radiant figure bowed slightly, its voice almost trembling. "Then end me. Kill me, and the risk vanishes."
Roland blinked. "What?"
"You heard me," the being said simply. "If you destroy me, there will be no danger. But if you refuse, then I will have no choice but to seize your body instead."
It lunged without warning, a streak of searing light.
"Impudent!"
Roland's hand shot out. A surge of raw life force erupted from his palm, crashing down like an ocean tide. He seized the glowing mass and crushed it in his grasp. The being writhed, its voice fading to a whisper.
"Lord of Life… thank you…"
The light shattered. Silence fell.
When Roland opened his hand, a small white seed lay in his palm, no larger than a grain of rice. It pulsed faintly, alive, yet fragile.
"The Seed of Light…"
He stared at it, expression conflicted. The last shard of Vishanti's will had chosen self-destruction so that this essence could take root. The weight of such trust pressed on him, though he had not asked for it.
He sighed softly. There was no turning back now.
Raising his hand, Roland cast the seed onto one of the untouched lands within his divine realm.
The soil accepted it eagerly. Bathed in endless life energy, the Seed of Light began to sprout.
First a tiny shoot. Then a sapling stretching skyward. Within moments, the trunk thickened, branches spread, and leaves unfurled like silver flame. In the span of heartbeats, a towering tree ten meters tall rose into view. Its boughs bore luminous fruit, each the size of a clenched fist, glowing with pure brilliance.
The Tree of Light had been born.
Roland felt the bond at once. It was not just in his sight but in his soul, as if a new organ had been grafted into his being. The Tree of Light pulsed with his heartbeat, its roots interwoven with the very foundation of his divine realm.
He touched his chest unconsciously, overwhelmed by the intimacy of the connection. This was more than an artifact or an offering. It was a part of him now.
Two trees stood as the pillars of his existence. The Tree of Life and the Tree of Light. One born from his divinity, the other entrusted by the last will of Vishanti. Together, they expanded his realm, deepened his power, and hinted at possibilities he could scarcely imagine.
For a long moment, Roland simply gazed at the radiant branches. His mind swirled with thoughts of what this might mean—for himself, for his believers, and for the universe that teetered on the edge of shadow.
The world had given him a responsibility he had never asked for. And yet, for the first time, he felt the faint stirrings of destiny pressing down on him.
The Lord of Life had inherited more than faith. He had inherited the light of a god long gone.
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