Izikel stood at the edge of the decayed forest, his gaze heavy with unspoken thoughts. The towering trees, once vibrant and full of life, were now skeletal remains of their former selves. Their gnarled branches twisted toward the sky like desperate hands reaching for salvation. The air itself carried the scent of decay, thick and oppressive, a silent warning of the disaster creeping toward their village.
If the blight reached the village, it would not simply claim the trees—it would consume everything. The farms, the crops, the very foundation of their livelihood, all of it was tied to the energy of the Old Tree. Without it, the village would crumble, and its people would starve. The mere thought sent a shudder through Izikel's spine.
He clenched his fists. "How long has this been happening?" he asked, his voice laced with frustration. "And why hasn't anyone been told? Shouldn't we be preparing for what's coming?"
Markis, the Druid chief, caught a falling leaf between his fingers. The moment it touched his palm, it withered, disintegrating into dust. He watched it disappear before speaking, his voice calm but burdened.
"Your father, Priest Isiel—may the land bless his noble soul—"
he paused, closing his eyes for a fleeting moment of respect, "—and the Legion Commander agreed it was best to keep this a secret. Widespread panic would only make things worse, and we feared it could harm the Old One even further."
Izikel's frustration only grew. "But hiding it won't change anything! The people deserve to know. We need to prepare, not sit in ignorance."
Markis offered a weary smile, one that barely masked his exhaustion. "You don't need to worry about that, Lord Izikel. My children and I have been working tirelessly to keep it under control. I assure you, the situation is being handled."
The words were meant to reassure, but Izikel saw past them. There was more faith than confidence in his tone, a desperate hope rather than certainty. Markis was holding the weight of this burden alone, and it was taking its toll.
Izikel hesitated before asking, "But… how can the tree even be affected like this? Isn't it an Altar?"
"The Old One is a Living Altar," Markis explained, rubbing his temples. "That makes it far more complex than an ordinary tree or any other Altar. We've discovered that it has been receiving less Divine energy from our Verdant Mother, which is what's causing the decay."
He exhaled deeply, the weight of the truth pressing on his shoulders. "It's not all bad news. We've learned that the decay happens in cycles, worsening when the Old One's Divine energy is at its lowest. To counter this, we began supplementing it with our own soul energy. It's been enough to slow the decay, for a long time now."
Markis' smile faltered. "But lately, the Old One has been draining faster. We've had to work harder… much harder."
For the first time, Izikel saw the cracks in Markis' resolve. The chief had forced himself to maintain a strong front, but now, for just a brief moment, his exhaustion showed. His posture sagged ever so slightly, his eyes filled with a tiredness that sleep could not cure.
But as quickly as the moment came, it was gone. Markis straightened and forced a reassuring smile. "But there's no need to trouble yourself, Lord Izikel. This time of the year, the decay is always more frequent. Things will return to normal soon."
Izikel wasn't convinced. The unease in his gut refused to fade. Still, he nodded. "Alright… let's head back."
They turned and started walking, the crunch of brittle leaves beneath their boots the only sound for a while. Then, Markis spoke again. "Lord Izikel, I trust you understand why this must remain between us."
Izikel nodded, though a storm of doubt raged inside him. "I understand."
By the time they returned, Sophia was waiting by the fountain, her elegance impossible to ignore. She sat with an effortless grace, her long spear resting on her shoulder, its pink gemstone gleaming under the sunlight. Her striking blue hair cascaded over her shoulders, framing her sharp features like a painting come to life.
"Sorry to keep you waiting, Sophia," he said. "Let's go see the Legion Commander."
Izikel turned to Markis, bowing his head slightly. "Thank you, Chief Markis."
He wasn't just thanking him for the information. Now that he understood the silent battle Markis and the Tree Keepers were fighting, his respect had deepened. They were warriors of a different kind, sacrificing themselves in ways the village would never know. They did not seek gratitude or recognition; they simply fulfilled their duty because it was their responsibility. That, Izikel realized, was true heroism.
Markis smiled, and this time, Izikel saw it reach his eyes. "No need to thank me, Lord Izikel. I am always at your service."
With that, he turned and walked toward the Old Tree accompanied by the tree keepers, their silhouette framed by the golden light of the sun.
As he disappeared into the distance, a voice snapped Izikel back to the present.
"She wasn't the only one waiting, you know!"
Lyzah, whom he had barely noticed before, puffed up her cheeks in irritation, her tiny hands gripping his sleeve. Her bright eyes burned with indignation, her childish features contrasting sharply against Sophia's mature beauty.
Izikel sighed, casting a glance at her. "Why didn't you just go home?"
Lyzah scowled but said nothing, only tightening her grip.
His gaze flickered back to Sophia. Compared to Lyzah's youthful features, she was like a goddess sculpted from dreams.
Looking at her, Izikel felt a sting of realization—he was just a kid too. Others likely saw him the way he saw Lyzah. Just a child. The thought was both frustrating and sobering.
It would take years before he could chase women like Sophia. He already had spotted a few potential candidates during their stroll through the village.
'Things like that would be easier as a noble, right?' A creepy grin crept onto his face.
He knew it wasn't that easy, but nothing stops a dreamer from dreaming, at least there he could experience whatever he wants.
Then, a sudden idea sparked in his mind
'Wait… could I use the Dream World for that?!'
The realization sent excitement coursing through him. It was an entirely new realm of possibility. But almost as soon as the thought formed, he shook his head, forcing it away.
'No… that's not what I want.'
He wanted reality, not illusions. He wanted to experience things as they truly were, not through the lens of his imagination. Besides, even if he tried, he knew he couldn't dream up something he had never experienced. The Dream World could only shape what he already understood, so being a virgin he would never be able to imagine the real thing.
As they approached the Saint Quarters, the towering structure came into view.