God's Tree-Chapter 184: Fangs Drawn by Flame

The Veilstrider had vanished.

The forest grew quiet again, as if even the trees had been holding their breath in its presence. But the tension didn't fully fade—it merely thinned into the air, trailing behind the beast like smoke.

Argolaith exhaled slowly and knelt beside the fire once more. The food had cooled slightly, but the scent still lingered—rich, savory, infused with rare herbs and war beast fat.

He set about finishing the meal with calm, focused hands. A few slices of sunroot here. Another dusting of night-salt there. The flames licked higher in excitement as if they, too, were hungry.

Kaelred watched with a furrowed brow. "We're going back to cooking?"

Argolaith nodded without looking up. "We still need to eat. And we're not turning away from good food because a talking forest god stopped by."

Thae'Zirak huffed. "That was not a god."

"Whatever it was," Kaelred muttered, "it made my spine itch."

Malakar spoke at last, gaze distant. "And yet… it respected you."

Argolaith turned a skewer of meat, and the flames flared as juices sizzled into them.

"I don't care if the trees start singing," he said. "We're eating."

The aroma rose higher now—stronger than before. A heavenly blend of spice and fat, a sweetness from fireberry glaze dancing over flame-kissed meat.

And deep in the woods—

Something stirred.

The first growl was distant.

Then another, closer.

Thae'Zirak stood abruptly. "We're not alone."

Kaelred spun around, eyes narrowing. "Again?"

From the shadows between the trees, four forms emerged—low to the ground, massive, sleek.

Saint beasts.

They slinked forward, muscles coiled beneath scale and fur. Each of them had spines along their backs that shimmered faintly with celestial magic. Their eyes glowed dim gold, and their nostrils flared hungrily.

"They're drawn by the scent," Malakar said, stepping forward. "They're not curious. They're hunting."

Argolaith stood, drawing his sword in a single motion.

"Then let's show them this kitchen has teeth."

The first beast lunged—fast, brutal, jaws wide.

Argolaith met it mid-leap, slamming his blade across its snout and driving it into the dirt. Kaelred spun low, carving deep into a second beast's flank with both daggers. Malakar extended his hand, calling forth a lance of shadow that pierced clean through a third as it pounced.

Thae'Zirak roared, his body shifting to full size in a burst of silvery magic, tail whipping around to smash one of the attackers into a tree with a bone-splintering crunch.

The beasts were strong—trained by instinct and celestial blood—but they were not coordinated. And they weren't prepared for opponents who fought like a single machine.

Argolaith dodged a swipe, then brought his blade down in a spinning arc, severing the lead beast's spine. Kaelred finished off his with a precise stab to the eye. Malakar bound the third in dark chains and snapped its neck with a gesture.

Three down.

The fourth had already collapsed under Thae'Zirak's weight.

Argolaith exhaled hard, stepping back to survey the damage.

"Everyone good?"

Kaelred wiped blood from his cheek. "Never better."

"Efficient," Malakar noted. "And loud." freewebnσvel.cѳm

Argolaith walked over to the fallen beasts and placed his hand on each.

With a shimmer of light, their bodies vanished into his storage ring—stored like everything else he collected along the road.

He turned to the fire.

"Now let's—"

But he froze.

Because one beast was still moving.

It limped forward from the trees—smaller, slower, its celestial fur singed in places. A juvenile, perhaps, or simply unlucky.

But it didn't growl.

It didn't bare its fangs.

It stood at the edge of the firelight and… bowed its head.

"I mean no harm," it said.

Kaelred raised a brow. "Great. Another talking one."

Malakar watched it carefully. "You are no guardian. And not divine. Why speak?"

The beast looked up at Argolaith.

"Because I saw the one you met earlier. The Veilstrider. And you need to know… what it is."

Argolaith narrowed his eyes. "We were told it wasn't a guardian. Or a holy beast."

"It's not," the saint beast said softly. "It's something far beyond both."

Argolaith stepped forward, blade still in hand.

"Then what is it?"

The beast's golden eyes gleamed with something between fear and reverence.

"It is a Reaper Beast. One of the few creatures born in the fold between creation and silence. They are older than the saint guardians, older than the laws of beast ranking. When a Reaper Beast moves, the world watches."

Thae'Zirak stiffened. Even Malakar's flames dimmed slightly.

Kaelred let out a low breath. "That thing we talked to… was on that level?"

"Yes," the saint beast said. "If it wished to kill you, none of you would remain. Not even the lich."

Argolaith looked into the forest.

The Veilstrider's quiet presence still lingered at the edge of his thoughts.

"And yet it let us go."

The saint beast nodded. "Then it has judged you worthy of something. That is rare. And dangerous."

It bowed again.

"Take that knowledge with you. And be ready."

Then, without another word, it turned and limped into the trees, vanishing into the mist.

The forest had grown still again.

Not the silence of danger, nor the weight of a predator's presence—just stillness. Like the world around them had acknowledged what had passed. The Veilstrider's departure. The battle with the saint beasts. The truth shared by one too slow to fight but too wise to ignore.

And now, the path to Yuneith pulled them forward once more.

The root fragment pulsed at Argolaith's side—stronger now, clearer. There was no hesitation in its glow, no uncertain flickers. The sacred tree knew they were coming. It was calling him.

Only him.

They traveled in silence for some time.

The trees shifted again, becoming taller and more densely woven. Their trunks glowed faintly beneath the bark, veins of soft silver running up toward canopies cloaked in star-leafed branches. Mist crept across the ground like a low tide of memory.

Argolaith's steps slowed.

His heart beat faster—not from fear, but from some deep, stirring recognition.

Kaelred glanced over. "You feel that?"

"No," Argolaith said, voice tight. "Only I do."

Malakar stopped walking.

"Something's beginning."

Thae'Zirak narrowed his eyes. "A trial."

"But this one…" Argolaith said slowly, "…is just for me."

He took a single step forward.

The world froze.

The mist thickened instantly, swirling upward like walls, cutting him off from the others. Their voices dimmed—Kaelred's sharp, distant call, Malakar's cold warning, even the weight of Thae'Zirak's presence—all gone.

Argolaith stood alone in a circle of pale light.

The root fragment at his belt had dimmed completely.

"Where…" he whispered.

Then—

"You walk toward your fourth tree."

The voice wasn't loud. It wasn't even human.

It came from all directions. From within.

"You carry three droplets of what should never have been joined. You seek more. You will reach more. But now, you must answer."

Argolaith steadied his breath.

"What kind of trial is this?"

The mist parted.

And he saw himself.

His double stood a few feet away—same face, same armor, same rune glowing across the forearm. But the eyes…

They were gold.

And the air around this Argolaith shimmered faintly, like something divine pressed too close.

"I am what you could become," the reflection said calmly. "If you take the power without understanding it."

Argolaith stepped forward. "You're another illusion."

"I am a truth."

"You seek strength."

"You crave it."

"You justify it with protection. With loyalty. With vengeance."

"But what happens when the line blurs?"

Argolaith drew his sword.

And the other smiled.

Without warning, the double lunged.

Their blades met with a crack of force that sent sparks dancing through the mist. Argolaith pivoted, trying to keep his stance tight, but the reflection moved like lightning—each strike precise, relentless, mirrored.

Every technique Argolaith knew, it used.

Every strength, it matched.

And worse—it anticipated him.

"You've grown," the reflection said, parrying a low slash. "But you don't understand what you're becoming."

"I'm becoming what I need to be!" Argolaith snapped, slamming his shoulder forward.

They separated. The reflection laughed—not mockingly, but with something like sorrow.

"And if the fourth tree asks you to change? What will you give up?"

Argolaith charged again.

And was thrown back.

The mist pulsed with the force of the impact. Blood trickled from his temple. He gritted his teeth and stood.

"You don't get to decide what I'm meant to be."

"No," the reflection agreed.

"But neither do you."

It vanished.

The mist thinned.

And the root fragment pulsed again—brighter than ever before.

Kaelred's voice returned, muffled at first, then sharp and real.

"—golaith!"

Argolaith blinked.

He was back in the forest. Knees weak. Sword lowered. The others stood a few steps away, clearly unable to reach him while the trial had been active.

Kaelred rushed forward. "You alright?"

Argolaith nodded slowly. "Yeah. Just… needed to win an argument with myself."

Malakar tilted his head. "What kind of trial was it?"

Argolaith looked down at the root fragment, now glowing like a captured star.

"One I needed."

He looked ahead.

Toward Yuneith.

And began walking again.