Chapter 313

Chapter 313
## Chapter 313: The Impossible Revelation

The World Tree stood as the singular pillar of the universe. It was the fundamental anchor that rooted itself into reality to preserve all that lived. In the present era, the only World Tree thought to still breathe within Pangenia was the one tended by Elves in the Primal Forest. Yet, a second one endured, hidden here within the Sanctuary of the Eight Houses.

The very existence of the Continent of the Sky was owed to the World Tree’s presence.

Most were ignorant of the specific utility of this Great Tree. In the ancient days when the world was a single landmass, a magnificent civilization was pushed to the brink by the arrival of ‘Ruin.’ Complete annihilation was only averted through the martyrdom of Rhea, the Goddess of the Earth. In the aftermath, half the world plummeted into the Abyss while the remainder ascended toward the heavens. That floating land was fated to crumble into nothingness, but Pina, the Goddess of the Sky and twin to Rhea, provided the stability needed for it to remain aloft. This was the origin of Pangenia as it was known to all.

What the common folk did not grasp was that the ‘supporting force’ required for this miracle was the World Tree itself. They remained oblivious to the catastrophe that would follow its disappearance.

The World Tree had been withering away.

The Elves surely understood the gravity of this decay, yet they were trapped in a state of helpless anxiety. There was no remedy available because the specific stewards of the tree were gone. The Druids, an ill-fated lineage, had been wiped out by Ruin.

It was the loss of the Druids that signaled the end. Ruin had systematically dismantled every race that functioned as a cornerstone of the world. It had slaughtered the Crows of Ill-Omen who managed the Towers, leaving those structures broken, and it had sapped the strength of the divinities. By purging the Druids, Ruin ensured the slow starvation of every World Tree. No other race possessed the ancient knowledge required to plant the seeds or nurture the growth of these cosmic anchors.

And yet, a miracle was unfolding.

The Great Elder stared at the World Tree with an expression of sheer shock. He had spent centuries as the guardian of the World Tree of Honor. Only twice in his long life had he seen it produce flowers, and even then, it was only after individuals of immense integrity had proven their worth.

To see it in full, glorious bloom was unprecedented.

In those past instances, only a handful of buds had opened. Now, every single branch was heavy with blossoms. He could not fathom the catalyst. Why now? Had it transformed the moment Lyca was pushed back? More importantly, the tree—which had been parched and dying—was suddenly overflowing with a vibrant energy that the Great Elder had failed to restore despite his most desperate efforts.

If the change didn’t stem from himself or Lyca, there was only a single possibility remaining.

The Great Elder recalled a thought: Lyca had arrived with a most peculiar youth.

That boy. Lyca’s pupil. Initially, the Great Elder had dismissed him entirely. If even Lyca—the chosen successor of the former Master of the Eight Houses—had been rejected by the World Tree, he assumed this disciple would be even less significant.

The Great Elder shifted his focus toward the youth, and as he did, every other person in the sanctuary followed suit. Instinct told them that this boy was the epicenter of the phenomenon. However, assumptions were not enough; it required confirmation.

“Will you step forward?” the Great Elder questioned, his voice tight with suppressed nerves. “Will you undergo the test of worthiness?”

With a heavy thud of his foot, the pupil of Lyca stepped out. He moved toward the World Tree without hesitation. When he spoke, however, his declaration caught everyone off guard.

“Accept me as your Master, World Tree.”

The surrounding Elders gasped, their eyes bulging. The Great Elder felt a wave of confusion. He had expected the youth to claim the title of the Eight Houses’ successor or perhaps seek recognition as a noble warrior. But ‘Master’? Did he truly believe he could command the World Tree itself?

The Great Elder dismissed the notion internally. Such a concept was unheard of. Not even the Druids of myth claimed such authority. According to the deepest legends of that lost race, there was only one title that carried such weight.

The High Druid.

The Sovereign of the Druids. Only that legendary figure, the one who commanded all of nature and existence, could make such a claim. But the High Druid was a myth from a broken world. Even in the era before the great cataclysm, the Great Elder had never met anyone who bore that mantle.

The High Druid was a ghost of the past. He could not exist in this age.

Consequently, the Great Elder expected the boy’s trial to fail. He believed both Lyca and his student would be cast aside. But then, it happened.

A flash of light erupted.

Red. The World Tree glowed with a crimson hue. Normally, this signaled failure, but the Great Elder realized something crucial.

The youth hadn’t been pushed back. It meant his honor exceeded 10,000 points.

The World Tree of Honor functioned by measuring the weight of one’s deeds. Red represented the 10,000-point threshold. Anyone who fell short of that mark was violently repelled by the tree’s aura—the very fate Lyca had suffered. Yet, the disciple stood firm. He had surpassed the first milestone.

Another flash.

Orange light bathed the sanctuary. This was the 20,000-point tier, a level occupied only by the legendary kings and champions of ancient epics. Very few in history had ever reached this stage, which signified a soul of incredible purity and brilliance.

But it didn’t stop there.

Yellow light poured out. He had reached 30,000 points. This was the color of emperors, the standard required to lead the Eight Houses. A person with such accumulated honor should have been a world-renowned figure, not an obscure disciple of Lyca.

The Great Elder wondered if this youth possessed a soul forged personally by a deity.

Yellow was the realm of the divine—the mark of a Pope or a holy vessel. It was a level of beauty that surpassed human achievement.

Gasps of disbelief filled the air. The colors continued to shift. Green. This was a sight witnessed only twice in the history of the sanctuary. It belonged to the two holy figures who had altered the course of fate through their sheer nobility. Even the Great Elder had bowed to their greatness. This was the 40,000-point mark, a realm reserved for the sacred children of the gods.

The shock was so profound that the witnesses could barely breathe. Then came the Blue light. 50,000 points. This was uncharted territory. Neither the Great Elder nor any living peer had ever seen the World Tree emit a blue radiance. It was common knowledge that green was the ultimate limit of mortal honor. They had been certain no one would ever surpass that peak.

If a being could evoke the blue light…

He truly was the Master of the World Tree. The Great Elder was paralyzed, unable to formulate a response. The youth had already proven he was more than a successor to the Eight Houses; he was something far greater. The mystery of the tree’s sudden revival was finally solved.

He was like the Prophets of old.

In the dawn of time, there were beings who required no proof of their status. They were the absolute peaks of their races. The High Druids, the Eternal Lords, the Demon Blood Kings—all were supreme beings lost to the fog of history. Only a Prophet of that magnitude could command the blue light.

“Great Elder… look!”
“Indigo! It’s turned indigo!”

The crowd was in an uproar. No one had anticipated another transition. Beyond blue lay the deep shade of indigo, the second ‘First Qualification.’ 60,000 points.

The Great Elder let out a soft breath of awe. He stopped trying to rationalize the event. The man before him had transcended every metric of imagination. This was the first time the World Tree had ever displayed an indigo light. Reaching a mere 1,000 points was a monumental task for any sinless man. 10,000 was a feat of legend. But 60,000? What life could possibly yield such a score?

It was as if he had conquered every trial the world could offer.

Such a feat should be impossible, even for an eternal being. Was it possible that his soul was even more exalted than that of the ancient Prophets? The Great Elder couldn’t conceive of anything higher. Perhaps the arrogant lords of the ‘Heavens’ might compare, but if they possessed such honor, they would never have invited Ruin into the world.

It had to be the end. No human could go further. The spectacle was surely over.

But the tree had one more revelation.

“Violet…”
“It’s violet!”

The seventh domain, a state that existed only in abstract theory, manifested before their eyes.

A resonant hum filled the air. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet all surged simultaneously, weaving together into a brilliant rainbow that enveloped the World Tree. Several Elders collapsed, unable to process the divine mystery unfolding before them. It was a level of qualification that defied language.

The Great Elder felt a shiver of pure transcendence. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen—the awakening of a massive, primordial energy he had never encountered in his existence.

The trunk of the World Tree suddenly groaned and split, revealing a hidden path.

[The secret location, ‘Dungeon of Forgotten Honor,’ has been unlocked.]
[This is a ‘Party Dungeon.’]
[Only seven individuals chosen by the one with ‘Completed Honor’ may enter.]
[Entry is forbidden to the dishonorable.]

A dungeon hidden within the tree? The Great Elder was stunned; no records mentioned such a place.

Then, a physical transformation took hold.

A sharp sensation erupted as horns tore through the Great Elder’s scalp. Large, branching antlers, reminiscent of a stag’s, grew rapidly. The other Elders cried out as they underwent the same change, their own horns sprouting, though smaller than the Great Elder’s.

“Our power…”
“How is this possible?”
“The horns we discarded…”

Strength flooded their veins. Their stolen honor had returned. The sacred duty they had been forced to suppress was once again their reality.

“We have been restored!”
“The Druidic legacy lives!”

Tears flowed freely as they embraced one another, trembling with joy. They were Druids once more—the secret keepers who had hidden from Ruin to protect the World Tree.

They had once severed their own horns to mask their identities and escape the notice of Ruin. To protect the tree, they had spent centuries living as shadows of their former selves, burning through their remaining honor just to survive. Now, that abandoned qualification was returned to them in an instant. The restoration of the World Tree had mended their very souls.

The Great Elder had once been a Great Chief of the Druids. He had fought Ruin and, in a moment of despair, fled the battlefield. He had long considered himself the most shameful of his kind.

With profound reverence, Albino, the Great Elder, sank to one knee and bowed his head deeply.

“Albino, Great Chief of the Blue Druids, offers his life and loyalty to the Master of Nature, the High Druid.”