The morning sun rose weakly over Caelburn, its golden light unable to pierce the haze of dust that still hung in the air. The city was eerily subdued; shop doors stayed shut, guards patrolled in tight groups, and the faint scent of ash and charred wood clung to every breath.
Where the proud Millennia Tree had once stood tall and luminous, there was now only devastation. Its once-silver canopy lay scattered like broken glass across the earth—massive roots twisted upward, still faintly pulsing with dying mana. The sight filled the horizon, impossible to ignore, impossible to believe.
From the window of the Silver Finch Inn, Altheron gazed silently at the distant ruin. His hand rested unconsciously on his chest, where faint echoes of yesterday's pain still lingered. His body had been healed, but something deeper—something unseen—remained sore.
Behind him, Emi moved quietly, checking her bowstring. The room smelled faintly of oil and damp leather. Her face, half-lit by the morning light, carried the same exhaustion mirrored in his eyes.
Neither spoke at first. The silence between them was heavy, filled with everything they didn't want to say aloud: the fear, the exhaustion, and the memory of that monstrous battle at the gate.
Finally, Emi broke it. "It doesn't feel real," she said softly, eyes distant. "The Tree… it's really gone."
Altheron exhaled. "It's still there. Just… different." His voice sounded hollow, even to himself.
He turned from the window—and froze. A soft knock echoed through the door.
Not the innkeeper's polite tap.
A deliberate, steady rhythm.
He exchanged a glance with Emi. Her hand went instantly to her dagger. Altheron crossed the floor quietly and opened the door.
Standing there, dressed in a travel cloak dusted with ash, was Kaelmourn—his father.
For a heartbeat, neither moved. The years between them seemed to collapse all at once. Kaelmourn looked older than Altheron remembered—lines carved by battle and burden etched deep into his face—but his eyes still burned with that same unyielding focus.
"Altheron," he said simply. "You've grown."
Altheron straightened instinctively, words catching in his throat. "Father… what are you—"
Kaelmourn raised a hand. "Walk with me. Just for a moment."
They stepped out into the dawn mist, the streets empty except for the occasional guard. The cold air smelled of soot and damp stone. Kaelmourn led him down a narrow lane between two stone buildings until they reached the shadow of a cracked fountain.
For a while, neither spoke. Then Kaelmourn finally turned, his expression softening. "You've done well. Both of you. The defense at the south gate saved hundreds. Your name carries weight in the Guild now."
Altheron lowered his gaze. "It wasn't just me. Emi—"
"I know," Kaelmourn interrupted gently. "And that's good. No hero walks alone."
A faint smile crossed his face, brief and weary. "You remind me of your mother more every day. Not just your strength, but your heart. You fight for people, not pride."
Altheron blinked, unsure how to respond. The words struck deeper than he expected.
Then his father's tone hardened, the warmth replaced by a soldier's command. "But listen carefully, Altheron. The fall of the Tree wasn't chance. The earth beneath it… it's waking. The Dungeon that appeared is no ordinary breach—it's ancient. Older than the city itself."
"What does that mean?" Altheron asked.
"It means," Kaelmourn said, voice low, "that the trials ahead will test not your sword, but your resolve. The first descent will begin tomorrow. I've ordered the Guildmaster to gather every B-rank adventurer and above. That includes you and Emi."
Altheron's eyes widened. "We're going in?"
Kaelmourn nodded. "You've earned that right. And that burden."
He placed a hand on his son's shoulder, firm and steady. "You've grown stronger than I ever imagined. But strength alone won't save you. Remember what guides you, Altheron. Remember why you fight."
Then, just as suddenly, he released him. His gaze flicked toward the brightening sky. "I must return before the council meets. Stay ready. Tomorrow, the descent begins."
And with that, Kaelmourn turned, cloak billowing behind him, and disappeared down the fog-wrapped street—leaving only the echo of his footsteps and the faint smell of steel and smoke.
By midday, the Guild Hall was packed.
Dozens of adventurers filled the chamber, their armor dented, their cloaks tattered, their faces grim. The heavy scent of salves and blood lingered beneath the vaulted ceiling.
At the front stood the Guildmaster, his deep voice cutting through the murmurs.
"As per order from General Kaelmourn, all adventurers of Rank B and above will depart tomorrow at dawn," he announced. "Our mission: to investigate and contain the dungeon that has manifested beneath the ruins of the Millennia Tree."
A wave of uneasy whispers rolled through the room.
"They say the monsters were being driven," one voice muttered.
"I saw them—their eyes glowed like fire. That wasn't natural," said another.
"Beneath the Tree… that's cursed ground now," someone whispered.
The Guildmaster slammed his staff down, silencing the noise. "We don't deal in superstition. We deal in survival. Prepare for descent. The Guild will provide all necessary potions and supplies. Dismissed."
Altheron and Emi exchanged a look.
There was no fear in Emi's expression—only determination. "Guess that's our call," she said.
"Yeah," Altheron murmured. "One way or another."
At dusk, they stood at the edge of the crater.
What had once been a sanctuary of light was now a graveyard of roots and stone. The collapsed trunk of the Millennia Tree stretched across the valley, its massive body still pulsing faintly with dying mana. A faint humming filled the air—low, constant, unsettling.
Emi crouched, brushing a hand over the scorched ground. "It's still warm," she whispered. "Like it's… alive."
Altheron knelt beside her. "No," he said quietly. "It's dying. And it's fighting not to."
Below them, at the Tree's base, a vast chasm had opened—black and jagged, the air above it shimmering with violet motes of corrupted mana. The ground trembled softly beneath their feet.
Soldiers worked to set barricades, and squads of adventurers patrolled the perimeter. Kaelmourn stood at the forefront, giving quiet orders to the Guildmaster.
When Altheron and Emi approached, he didn't look at them.
Not because he didn't care—but because he couldn't. Their identities had to stay hidden. The less others knew of their connection, the safer they'd remain.
Emi bowed slightly, then turned to Altheron. "He's pretending he doesn't know us."
"I know," Altheron replied, his voice low. "That's how he protects us."
The ground rumbled again—deeper this time. From within the darkness of the fissure, faint red light pulsed, spreading like veins through the soil. The air thickened, humming with unnatural energy.
Kaelmourn raised a hand. "No one approaches the dungeon until morning," he commanded. "Set watch lines. Any movement, report immediately."
The Guildmaster nodded, and the orders spread through the camp. Adventurers began setting tents, guards lit lanterns, and the eerie glow of the ruined Tree reflected in their eyes.
The camp settled under a bruised-purple sky.
Fires burned low, flickering in the restless wind. Altheron sat beside Emi, sharpening his blade in silence. His reflection in the steel wavered, distorted by the trembling flame.
"Can you feel it?" Emi whispered.
He nodded slowly. "It's like the air's alive. Watching."
The ground pulsed again—so faint it could've been imagined.
And then came the whisper.
Not loud. Not clear. But ancient.
A voice that seemed to echo not in the ears, but inside the soul itself.
> "Thee first seal has broken…
Thee forgotten one is waking soon…
Thee trial has begun…"
Emi gasped, clutching her head. "You heard that too?"
Altheron didn't answer. His eyes had drifted toward the ruins—toward something moving faintly beneath the fallen roots.
A dull crack. Then another.
At the center of the crater, where the Millennia Tree's heart once stood, a faint light pulsed—then shifted. Within a cocoon of crystalized sap, something stirred. Something ancient.
The light flickered again, like a heartbeat.
Altheron's breath caught. "It's… alive."
The pulse quickened, and from deep within the shattered trunk, the sound of something breaking free filled the air—slow, deliberate, inevitable.
He didn't know it yet, but this was only the beginning.
The first seal had been broken.
And something beneath the earth was waking.