God’s Tree ep-1

It had been ten years since Argolaith's birth. Though he had come into the world as a commoner, his humble beginnings never dulled his love for life. However, Argolaith lived on the outskirts of the social world. He was a quiet boy, always watching, always listening, but rarely speaking. The townspeople said he had the heart of a dreamer but the soul of a loner.

He found solace not in the bustling streets of his hometown but in the quiet embrace of the forest. The trees whispered secrets only he seemed to hear, the streams sang softly over the stones, and sunlight danced on mossy paths like it was performing just for him. For Argolaith, the forest wasn't just a refuge—it was his true home, a sanctuary where he didn't need to explain himself.

The town, by contrast, overwhelmed him. Merchants shouting over each other, children darting through crowds, neighbors laughing in passing—it all felt suffocating. The chaotic energy of the streets only pushed him further into the welcoming silence of the woods.

Among the ancient trees, Argolaith felt at peace. Yet, the forest was more than a retreat—it held a deeper purpose for him. When he turned eighteen, he would face the sacred rite of passage: choosing five trees to draw their lifeblood. The ritual would bind him to the forest in ways he couldn't yet understand, and the thought consumed him with equal parts dread and anticipation.

Even at school, Argolaith kept to himself. It wasn't that he lacked the ability to connect—he just didn't try. The other children avoided him, whispering about the boy who always sat in the back, staring out the window as if searching for something they couldn't see. He didn't mind. People were distractions, and distractions slowed him down.

One day, during a lesson about the lifeblood ritual, his teacher, Master Keldrin, stood at the front of the room, his voice calm but commanding. "When the time comes, each of you will venture into the forest and find the five trees that call to you. From each, you will draw its lifeblood—a sap that will forever change you. But hear me well: harm not the trees, for they are sacred."

Argolaith tilted his head, his interest piqued despite himself.

Keldrin's gaze swept the room, landing on Argolaith. "Argolaith, tell me—what do you think makes a tree worthy of the Rite?"

The room fell silent. All eyes turned to him, but Argolaith didn't flinch. After a long pause, he replied, his voice calm and measured, "Worthiness isn't something you see. It's something you feel. A tree doesn't need to be the tallest or the strongest. It just needs to… belong to you."

The teacher nodded approvingly. "Wise words. Remember that, all of you. The forest doesn't care for appearances—it speaks to those who truly listen."

Later that day, Argolaith wandered the woods as the sun dipped below the horizon. He ran his fingers along the rough bark of an ancient oak and muttered to himself, "Which ones will call to me?"

The forest offered no answer, only the rustling of leaves in the cool evening breeze. But Argolaith didn't mind the silence. He was used to it.

By the time he was fourteen, Argolaith had forged a life that revolved around solitude and self-discipline. Each day, he trained with a sword he had crafted himself, swinging it tirelessly until his arms burned and his palms bled. He demanded perfection from himself, pushing harder and harder to strengthen both body and mind.

"Why do you even try so hard?" teacher Keldrin had asked him once, watching the boy train long after class had ended.

Argolaith hadn't looked up from his sword. "Because no one else will fight for me. I need to be strong enough to survive on my own."

Keldrin had nodded, sensing there was no point in pressing further.

At school, Argolaith excelled academically, though he rarely spoke unless called upon. His classmates whispered about his brilliance and his cold demeanor, but none dared approach him. It was said he was like the forest he loved so much—beautiful from a distance, but untouchable.

As the years passed, Argolaith's focus remained unshaken. When he wasn't training or studying, he spent his time in the woods, searching for signs of the Five Trees that would one day define his destiny. He didn't know what lay ahead, but he welcomed the challenge. The forest was calling to him, even if its voice was faint.

One evening, as the stars began to dot the darkening sky, Argolaith sat by a small fire, his sword resting at his side. He stared into the flames, his mind wandering.

"I may not have anyone," he murmured to himself, "but I'll carve my own path. I'll find the Five Trees, and I'll enter the Grand Magic Academy. Even if the world stands against me, I'll prove I'm more than just some commoner."

The wind stirred the branches above him, as if the forest itself approved of his resolve. But far away, in the depths of the world, ancient forces were awakening. A leviathan stirred in the forgotten seas, its massive form breaking free of its watery prison. Across the land, ancient beasts and titans began to rise, their slumber disturbed by something greater than themselves.

Argolaith, unaware of the world's growing chaos, closed his eyes and let the sound of the crackling fire lull him to sleep. Yet, deep within his dreams, he felt the forest whispering to him, its voice clearer than ever before.