The air was cool and filled with the smell of damp earth and fresh leaves. Zamian perched on a thick branch of a giant tree, his body tense as he peered down, keeping an unyielding focus until the sound of rustling behind him shattered his concentration.
"Uh… What are you doing over there, Z?" Zamian heard a grave voice, as the talker tried and failed to speak in hushed tones.
Zamian''s heart skipped a beat, but looking at the muscled and bare-chested newcomer, he pressed a finger to his lips, with eyes wide and bloodshot. "Shut up, Bohlo,'''' Zamian hissed, motioning for his short-haired and long-eared friend to crouch beside him.
Bohlo lay down next to Zamian, using his forearms to support his body, and followed his friend’s gaze. Below them, Clerics—beautiful naked women responsible for performing rituals—danced around a young sapling, their bodies casting eerie shadows in the flickering light made by their technique.
The young plant was the size of a common tree, the standard height of Colossal Tree’s saplings before their growth. A luminous green mist flowed from them into the plant, weaving through the air, and coating its brownish bark in a green hue.
Bohlo raised an eyebrow, saying with a mocking tone "Little friend, I hate to tell you this, but from up here, we can''t get a good look at their tits—" He paused, catching the severe furrow in Zamian''s brows and the intense focus in his friend''s eyes. Noticing the boy with shoulder-length black hair looked paler and more worn out than usual, Bohlo realized this wasn''t the time to bother his friend.
From their high vantage point, the ritual''s chants were inaudible, the distance making it difficult even to confirm they were observing women and not dancing insects. Confused, Bohlo struggled to find anything interesting down below.
Shifting slightly on the branch and glancing at his friend from time to time, Bohlo''s leg began to tremble, and he sighed repeatedly. The big guy hummed a little song but was soon stopped by Zamian’s glare.
"Leave if you can''t be quiet, you stupid oak," Zamian muttered, sparing his friend another glance before refocusing on the ceremony.
Even for Zamian, it was a challenge to distinguish the people down there from one another just by looking at them, and the only obvious sign of their lack of vests was their skin’s colors contrasting against the forest’s green.
But for the young cultivator, this wasn’t an issue. Because for each figure in his field of vision, no matter the distance, a green line floated above their heads. When he focused on these lines, the text zoomed in before his eyes:
[LEVEL 1 - MORTAL TIER - CREATION PATHWAY]
[LEVEL 1 - MORTAL TIER - CREATION PATHWAY]
[LEVEL 2 - MORTAL TIER - CREATION PATHWAY]
[LEVEL 1 - MORTAL TIER - CREATION PATHWAY]
...
Among the twelve Clerics below, only three were of Level 2. When Zamian had glanced at Bohlo just moments earlier, he had seen the same green text hovering above that round head.
Having studied the rules of the ritual below beforehand, and based on his experiences before arriving at this tree, Zamian understood that Level 1 indicated commoners, while Level 2 denoted the Enlightened. A really low number for such a big difference in power and status, in Zamian’s humble opinion.
"Why are you ogling them from so far? We could just go to some restricted bath. You''re an Enlightened, for Verdant’s sake! Some girls would beg to be ogled by you! Er…we could even charge for that!" Bohlo suggested, his knowing smile making the big man’s intention clear.
"Leave. Or. Be. Quiet," Zamian spoke through gritted teeth, not bothering to look at his friend anymore.
Zamian''s attention returned to the ritual, studying the flow of energy rather than the green text that hovered above the heads of the cultivators and commoners. He didn’t understand why these last ones even needed labels—why would a person who hadn''t yet cultivated need an identifier?
‘It would be way better if the sapling below had some indication of its level, tier, and pathway’, Zamian thought.
''Tier I understand—we are all mere mortals. But the path... Could it be that using Nature Pathway on this text would provoke the wrath of the Verdant God?'' Zamian pondered this, unsure if he even believed in his speculation. These texts already proved they were of blasphemous origin. The number of sacred laws broken by reading it could have his mortal cycle cut short.
Looking up, a whitish fuzzy tiny ball lingered just at the edge of his vision in the right corner. Commanding it with his mind, a white text materialized, floating before his eyes.
PERSONAL INFORMATION
Name: Zamian Greenfield
Level: 2 [12%]
Tier: Mortal
Main Pathway: Creation
Title: None
STATS POINTS
Body: 8/20
Mind: 25/40
Soul: 38/40
REWARDS
Ancient Identify Technique (Passive)
Description: See the secrets beyond the limitations of time
QUEST LOG
Last Quest: Read 100 books in two local years
Reward: Ancient Identify Technique (Passive)
Status: Completed (100/100)
Main Quest: Destroy an Unholy Sapling before the end of the month
Reward: Special Physique (??)
Status: Ongoing (14 days left)
Willing the text to disappear, Zamian refocused on the ceremony. The young man had more to do than pondering about the meaning of everything written in there, again. In one thing he could trust, though: his stats. ‘I am blighted tired,’ he grumbled inwardly.
Soon, his eyes darted from the entrance of the ceremonial site far away, to the thorned walls surrounding the place, and finally to the Clerics'' dance, before settling on the sapling. In the entire town, this was the only sapling worth anyone''s attention, even if calling it unholy felt a little suicidal.
‘But I do like your boldness, White Dot. This sapling is unholy,’ Zamian smirked.
Below, the green stream flowing from each Cleric formed a vortex with the sapling in the center, further illuminating its bark. The outlines of its roots became visible beneath the ground as the dozen women slowly ceased their dancing, some collapsing on the grass.
After the ritual concluded, attendants came forward to clothe the Clerics, while two women in what looked like wooden armor moved to guard the sapling. ‘Usually, it’s just one. Why are they both here?’ Zamian pondered. Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
Sighing, the young man stood, his expression downcast. "Failure, again."
No matter how many times he observed this daily ritual, finding a loophole or even a window of opportunity to act seemed impossible.
"What? No, it was a success. A simple Nurture Ritual, wasn’t it?" Bohlo looked back and forth to his friend and the ground, puzzled.
"Not that, Bohlo. My trip here was the failure I’m talking about, just a waste of time and essence," Zamian''s voice dragged, his tone tinged with annoyance. "Anyway, what are you even doing here?" He curved an eyebrow at his friend while raising and patting the dust out of his linen clothes. “And why are you bare-chested? Wait. Ignore that last question.”
"Uh. Okay. Your father was looking for you, Z. The Lord asked about his tea first, though. He''s a little angsty without it if you want to know." Bohlo chuckled, scratching his cheek after getting up, and slowly walked to the giant tree''s trunk.
"Dammit. I thought this would be finished earlier,” Zamian sighed, “I should have believed my father when he said some Clerics were busy on the Stargazing Tree. Did you know the stars are slowing down... You don’t care, do you?"
The pale cultivator was following his friend, carefully stepping on the giant branch, and shook his head when he noticed the unfocused gaze on the big guy''s face.
"Sorry, Z. Too complex for me. I’m a simple guy — If you need someone to climb, dig, or eat something you can count me in!" Bohlo scoffed, touching the tree trunk with both hands and making weird stroking gestures while wiggling his eyebrows.
"Like my trip, dear Bohlo, you''re also a waste of essence. " Zamian scoffed, also touching the tree trunk with both hands.
A green glow pulsed in both cultivators’ chests, moving through their arms until it settled in their hands. While Zamian''s pulse was faster, the light from Bohlo’s arms was darker. They chanted in unison, "Nature is the Cycle, so our path is never-ending. Nature is the Creation, so our path is ever strong. Nature is the Truth, so our path is the only one."
While chanting, Zamian visualized the first moment he touched a tree, remembering the rough texture of the bark, its brownish color, and the strength behind it. Feeling warmth spreading through his hands, he watched with a strained gaze as his arms took on a wooden texture and fused with the tree''s bark, from the tips of his fingers to his forearms.
"You''re blighted tired, Z!” The pale cultivator heard Bohlo’s laugh, noticing the bare-chested man’s arms covered with the same technique, from the tip of his fingers to his shoulders.
"If you ever find yourself focusing on something for a long time, nonstop, even your pee-pee would stop working, B. '''' Zamian rolled his eyes, knowing his friend was speaking the truth. "Come on, I need to bring the old man some tea leaves and take some rest."
"Yep. Down we go." Bohlo shrugged, wasting a little essence softening his shoulders to allow such movement, and prompting Zamian to shake his head.
Both young men began circling the giant tree’s trunk by walking on its branch. Finally, the branch ended, and they looked down searching for signs of people. Seeing none, they nodded to each other and jumped.
Zamian hands, fused with the wood, would harden or soften according to his will, allowing his slow descent, while he kept his feet flat against the tree’s bark, slightly pushing himself off from the trunk with his legs, bouncing away from the wood, over and over again.
Green essence pulsed in a constant rhythm, feeding the technique. Zamian sweated from his forehead, focused to not lose concentration until he saw the ground approaching.
Slowing his descent, he finally ended the Everbark Technique, freeing both hands from the trunk and touching the ground with his feet.
Huffing and puffing, Zamian sat down, taking a moment before glancing at his friend, who was coming close to hand him a wooden bowl filled with water.
"Thanks. Where did you get this?" Zamian asked, quickly drinking the crystalline water before trying to stand up, only to feel his legs tremble, forcing him to sit down again.
"From my pe—hey!" Bohlo feigned offense, catching the empty bowl thrown at him, effortlessly. The big guy sent a green pulse through it, softening the material to mold it into a bracer on his right arm.
"Anyway, I had left it here before climbing up. I can hide things pretty well, Z. Uh... You look even worse after drinking that water. Uh, do want me to carry you?" Bohlo asked in concern.
"Let me rest a bit, and then I''ll head home," Zamian said, massaging his face with both hands, barely processing his friend''s response.
"Don''t worry, little Z. Bohlo’s here to keep you company." Bohlo quipped, plopping down next to him.
"How did you find me, anyway? I didn''t tell you about my… Daily activities... Dude, don’t look at me like that."
"Ogling is foolish. Doing it on holy ground is more foolish. And being so far away that you can''t even see the tits is even more foolish! Z, if you have some needs, come with me, and I''ll help you deal with your urges!"
"That last phrase didn''t come out right, just so you know, B… And you still haven''t said how you found me."
"Again with the complex stuff, little Z. I’m just a friend trying to give you a hand!"
"I''m not little, and that isn''t complex. You''re just big and dense. And it makes no sense; you handle essence too well to be this clueless about what to say. Do you ignore nature’s knowledge while you cultivate?"
"I''m already naturally attuned to… Nature... Anyway, my talent is greater than anyone else’s," he grinned. "And to answer you, following your trail was simple, just so you know. Because. I. Am. The. Best.” Bohlo chuckled. "Of course, your father helped a little bit... Let''s just say he pointed out where to look!"
Zamian shook his head, a defeated sigh escaping his lips. "If it wasn’t the lack of tea, he sure wouldn’t make you look for me. Well, I need to go back home anyway. Cultivating, getting stronger, becoming a Zealot—you know, the usual easy stuff," he said, unconsciously taking a glance at the right corner of his vision. Maybe that White Dot could help make it faster?
"No worries, my squeamish friend! With your brains and my natural power," Bohlo kissed his biceps, one after the other, "We’ll both be Zealots soon and even—with Verdant’s grace—Chosen!"
"Your foolishness can’t be from birth, right? Maybe if I banged my head against this root, I could be as carefree as you?"
"Don’t do it, you’ve got a good head on your shoulders! Just cut back on the ogling; it’ll get you in trouble otherwise! Focus on your cultivation, eat well, sleep more, and—" Bohlo continued, listing each piece of advice while counting on his fingers.
"Okay, I get it. Stop counting, I fear your soon-to-be eleventh advice would make us stay here forever," Zamian muttered, lying back down. He felt the dry leaves and twigs beneath him, gazing up at the sky illuminated by a bright greenish-white light, devoid of clouds or stars. ‘I hate these white leaves’, he thought.
After taking some time to rest his body and calm his mind, Zamian directed his thoughts on what mattered, ‘From here to the market is, at least, a forty thousand steps trip. Getting home will be another ten thousand. That''s so exhausting.''
"Okay, I''ve rested enough. We should go. Come on, big guy," Zamian said, massaging his sore neck and starting to walk.
Noticing the silence, Zamian turned to see Bohlo dozing off.
“I should be annoyed, but I’m just envious,” he walked to his friend and lightly kicked the big guy’s leg.
"Wake up, little flower. We need to go to the tunnels. Oh, and you need to show me how you hid the essence around your bracer. It’s a neat trick if it can dodge a Zealot’s detection," Zamian said.
"Uh? Tunnels? Ah…What? I just turned it into a ball of wood, put water inside through a little hole, and buried it—where are you going?!" Zamian got goosebumps and ran through the bushes upon hearing the first part of Bohlo''s explanation, not even waiting for the man to fully wake, prompting the muscled cultivator to scramble and follow him with a confused look.
Zamian didn’t have time, or the patience, to explain to his friend the reason behind his sprint—how necessary it was to hide an object''s essence in this forbidden place, and that other people seeing them entering here would be a problem—because after pushing through a few bushes, they both saw a stern woman clad in wooden armor, wielding an intricate wooden spear, glaring at them.
If her armor wasn’t enough for Zamian to know who she was, the blaring green text above her head surely left him with no doubts.
[LEVEL 3 - MORTAL TIER - CREATION PATHWAY]
He knelt with both knees, lowering his head but not bending himself, just like Bohlo already did.
"This Enlightened one greets the soil stepped by the Zealot, wishing for the sacred light of Verdant to shine through your families'' leaves forever," Zamian spoke first, prompting Bohlo to follow his greeting midsentence.
"This Zealot hears the sound leaving your mouth. Rise to the light of Verdant, both of you," the Zealot commanded, waiting for them to stand up.
As they rose, she nodded slightly, and a dark green light gathered at her chest, shining through the wooden armor and concentrating on her spear. With a firm strike of the weapon''s shaft against the ground, thin brown vines broke through the earth and bound the two younger cultivators in place, grappling their legs.
"As a Guardian of the Colossal Erasmus, I am empowered to execute thieves, rapists, murderers, and trespassers as I see fit, as decreed by the Verdant God."
The Zealot''s eyes glowed a dark shade of green, and the essence animating the vines tightened around both cultivators, clashing against their skin.
Zamian did not dare to think about resisting, merely battling the mental fatigue of another cultivator''s essence clashing against his own. It was an unsettling sensation, a phantom feeling of him being devoured by the ground, little by little, starting with the sensation of his legs becoming part of something detached from the rest of his body.
"But first, I shall hear the explanation from both of you before enforcing God’s rightful punishment," she said, halting her essence from further harming them both.
Gazing at the Zealot and her stern face, Zamian sighed inwardly, a single thought blaring through his head: ‘Bohlo, either she ends your mortal cycle, or I will!’
Before he could think of an answer, however, a white text appeared ahead of him, startling the young man.
New Side Quest (!): Get home before dinner time
Reward: Abyssal Leaf
Status: Ongoing (6 hours left)
(!) Failure to complete this quest will bring a Level 4 Calamity
“…?!”