(!) Failure to complete this quest will bring a Level 4 Calamity
‘Wh-what does that even mean?!’
Zamian felt a headache coming when he read those texts. He wished he had time to understand what a Level 4 Calamity was, and why this thing in his head would punish him for not arriving home before dinner time. A Calamity was a serious matter, but it being Level 4? Meant nothing for him.
However, the young man didn''t doubt the White Dot’s words, or power. After all, unless he was becoming crazy, his mysterious companion had already rewarded him with a divine technique, powerful enough to show him other people’s cultivation stage, and it gave Zamian hope to save what remained of his family. His only hope.
A forced cough snapped him back to reality. Glancing at the source, he saw Bohlo''s desperate gaze. The big man pointed with his head, signaling Zamian to respond to the Zealot''s query. ''Let’s focus on the current problem first.''
Clearing his throat, Zamian turned to face the Zealot, who, besides the glowing green eyes showing her might, betrayed no other thoughts with her lack of expression.
"I am Zamian Greenfield, Enlightened of the Sanctuary. Verdant God blessed me, allowing me to live this mortal cycle as the son of the previous Lord Chosen, Dante Greenfield, and... Jasmine Greenfield," Zamian said, striving to maintain a composed demeanor while on his knees.
"Jasmine? Her child was named Zamian, indeed," the Zealot nodded slightly, the glow in her eyes diminishing. "You''re the only child of Saintess Jasmine, yes?"
Zamian gritted his teeth when he heard that title. Before having his judgment clouded by dark feelings, he replied, "Yes, I am. I believe this information is sufficient to clarify what I am doing here, right?"
Bohlo sent a puzzled look his way. The larger man did not even try to hide his confusion, scratching his head as he looked back and forth from the Zealot to his friend.
"While this indeed explains why you would want to be here, Enlightened Zamian," she said, stepping closer to them, before continuing, "This information does not justify your trespassing and violation of our sacred rules."
Zamian clenched his fists. ''Go choke on a thorned branch with your rules!''
He wished he could scream at and spit on this woman’s face, barely managing to hold himself by knowing that if he did any of those things, he might not have a throat left to do the other.
Taking a deep breath, he continued, "Guardian Zealot, I am just a son missing his mother. I''m sure as someone who walks the same path, you can understand my need to come here and witness her next cycle."
From the corner of his eye, Zamian noticed Bohlo lowering his head. ''This guy... Father didn''t tell him, I guess... Sorry, B.''
"Nature is the Cycle. So our path is never-ending," the Zealot recited almost mechanically. "Yes, I understand your desire to witness her transformation from Saintess to Colossal Tree. But!" her gaze pierced through Zamian, watching his reactions closely. Zamian, on the other hand, neither looked away nor flinched, just waiting for the woman to finish.
"But we cannot allow our mortal desires to taint God''s divine rituals. Enlightened men are prohibited from stepping on the ground of a Nurture Ritual. You are well-educated about the sacred rules, Enlightened Zamian. And you too, Enlightened Bohlo.”
‘Oh no’, Zamian thought.
“However, I shall be merciful,” said the Zealot.
The vines at their feet uncoiled, resting on the ground. The green light faded from the Zealot''s eyes and body, indicating that her essence was now dormant, circulating only within her.
"I declare that the Cleric Chosen shall decide both of your fates. I can’t judge a child who erred when he was simply trying to follow his path by watching the natural cycle."
As the Zealot turned and walked through the bushes toward the Cleric Chosen’s abode, Zamian and Bohlo followed in silence, side by side.
Zamian watched the Zealot''s retreating figure, his thoughts racing. ''The Cleric Chosen is Lakea''s mother. She won''t finish my mortal cycle, but she could send me to the Deep Ground for repentance. That would mean failing the Side Quest, triggering a Level 4 Calamity, which… Which I know nothing about. I have read about Calamities, but surely they aren’t the same,'' he sighed, his reverie interrupted when the black-haired young man felt a warm hand on his back.
Glancing sideways, Zamian gave a wry smile to his friend. Bohlo was crying quietly, one hand on Zamian''s shoulder, the other attempting to wipe away his tears. That the big guy was managing to cry without making loud noises was a relief.
Zamian patted the bare-chested cultivator’s arm while glancing at the Zealot. Bohlo had known his mother since childhood, so discovering what had transpired to her in such a way couldn’t be easy.
Of course, the news of his mother''s next cycle was old to him. For most of Sanctuary’s inhabitants, however, it would come as a shock. The birth of a Colossal Tree was a testament to the Verdant God''s power and benevolence for the masses—after all, these behemoths circulated the whole Sanctuary.
Nonetheless, until it was made public, his mother''s situation should stay hidden behind the lie of her being invited to the Lord’s Tree.
Zamian had barely left home these few years, only seeing Bohlo in some market visits to take tea leaves, and people believed the current Lord kept his mother incarcerated, and that he had put Zamian and his father in home arrest—a way to control and weaken the previous Lord.
Having been walking for some time and lost in thought, Zamian nearly stumbled as a white text suddenly appeared before.
Side Quest (!): Get home before dinner time
Reward: Abyssal Leaf
Status: Ongoing (5/6 hours left)
(!) Failure to complete this quest will bring a Level 4 calamity
''That’s odd, the Main Quest also has a countdown, but it only appears when I command it to,'' Zamian furrowed his brows, dismissing the hovering text from his vision. He scanned their surroundings and recognized by the color, size, and texture of the giant roots that his trio was nearing another Colossal Tree, coming closer to the Cleric Chosen''s residence.
"You shall stay outside the Cleric Chosen’s house while I explain the situation to her. Do not enter before I call you, and do not lie to her, or I will hunt and bury you both myself, feeding you to the maggots,” she stated in a monotone, before completing, “Alive."
Both friends exchanged a glance and then nodded to the Zealot, with Bohlo finally letting go of Zamian’s shoulder.
Zamian entertained the thought of running home while the Zealot went inside, but escaping the woman on the edge of the Sanctuary would take a miracle, and the young cultivator was certain that no divine intervention was coming his way. ''Unless I count a divine punishment’.
Walking another hundred steps, they glimpsed beyond the foliage and into one of the larger roots that protruded above the ground— there they saw a small cottage nestled among green leaves.
Like most houses here, it was crafted from wood and situated within a hollowed section of a Colossal Tree’s root. These giant plants channeled nutrients and essence through their roots, ensuring a safer place for commoners and providing cultivators an easier way to gather essence.
The Zealot stopped and gave them a stern look before adjusting her appearance and slowly walking to the cottage. The door, woven from vines, opened before the Zealot even reached it, the vines going up and down to make a passageway. After she passed through, the vines crawled back, closing the hole.
Left alone with his friend, Zamian shook his head when Bohlo opened his mouth to speak. This close to the Cleric Chosen''s residence, even whispered words might be overheard. The Chosen were the most revered mortal beings in the Sanctuary, and being judged by one was considered an honor. If his father hadn''t been a Chosen and his mother a Saintess, Zamian doubted the Zealot would have led them here.
Bohlo maintained a downcast gaze, sniffling occasionally and opening and closing his mouth as if struggling with what to say. Zamian was considering ways to calm his friend down when they heard a rustling noise. Looking up, both of them saw the Zealot reappear outside the cottage, gesturing for them to enter.
Following her command, Zamian walked with his friend, passing through the vine door. Instead of observing the sparse furnishings—similar to his own home, which had just a few to no chairs and some doors leading to private rooms—, his attention was drawn to the middle-aged woman sitting with her legs folded, knees bent, both touching the floor; her back kept straight, like an unbending trunk.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.
In front of her were wooden bowls, cups, and teapots, from which steam rose with the sweet scent of peach. She wore a dress made from orange flower petals, the same color as her eyes and hair. Her face was as beautiful and smooth as Zamian remembered. Most importantly, she also had a text hovering above her head.
[LEVEL 4 - MORTAL TIER - CREATION PATHWAY]
Inwardly nodding about the White Dot''s boldness to call a Chosen a Level 4 being, Zamian knelt alongside Bohlo, lowering their heads and placing their hands on their thighs.
"This Enlightened one greets the soil stepped by the Chosen, wishing for the sacred light of Verdant to shine through your family''s leaves forever," Zamian and Bohlo said in unison.
The sound of water pouring into wooden cups filled the room as the Cleric Chosen served tea, her face adorned with a gentle smile.
"Zealot Tamara, please guard outside. I would like to have a private conversation with these Enlightened boys," she said, her tone motherly and soothing.
Zealot Tamara bowed, not glancing back at the younger cultivators before leaving. The vine door closed behind her, a quick flash of green revealing the source of the technique—someone behind the door to the left. Zamian discretely surveyed the three closed wooden doors around the room, confirming each side of the house had one, making four with the one they used to enter.
His observations also confirmed, once more, that he needed a direct line of sight to see the text above someone''s head. He knew there were people in those rooms; he just saw their techniques, but no text appeared identifying them.
"Come, sit closer, kids. The ones in those rooms cannot hear you, but they are aware of your movements," the middle-aged woman instructed.
They moved closer, using only their knees and hands without rising or looking up.
A soft chuckle escaped the Chosen’s lips. "I see you still know the rules, Zamian. You both can raise your heads. Please, drink some tea. I just made it," she said, lifting a wooden cup elegantly to her lips.
Zamian managed a wry smile before taking a cup and drinking with both hands. Bohlo mimicked him—fearful of making a misstep that might doom them both.
"Good tea," said Zamian, glancing at Bohlo.
"Ah, yes. Good tea," the larger man echoed.
"Thank you, kids," the Chosen nodded, setting her cup down and looking at them both, her eyes momentarily shining a darker shade of green.
Zamian felt a chill down his spine as he noted that despite the woman''s smiling lips, her eyes remained cold and calculating. He straightened his back as he felt the Chosen''s penetrating gaze as if hundreds of vines were scraping his skin from the inside out. Out of nowhere, a white text appeared, making the young man flinch.
STATS POINTS (!)
Body: 8/20
Mind: 24/40
Soul: 28/30
(!) Notification: there was a sudden drop in stats, please beware of your health.
Zamian dismissed the text. His growing headache made him aware of how bad these ‘drop of stats’ were, and unlike when he lost or gained numbers there in the past, his ‘cap’ number also went down.
‘But why is this happening? Did the essence from her gaze cause this?’
Even if he was in pain and confused, he couldn’t show too much weakness here. Meanwhile, Bohlo''s face paled, and the big guy trembled slightly before quickly steadying himself. ‘Maybe I’m just too tired. Bohlo took it like a Colossal Tree,’ Zamian thought.
The woman’s gentle voice signaled the end of their scrutiny, "I see you both are on the cusp of a breakthrough. Just a few years more, and you will join Tamara as Zealots. What a delight," she said with a single nod, her voice sweet and harm.
“Thank you, Cleric Chosen,” they answered back.
"Sadly, Tamara has informed me that your actions do not match your potential. In fact, they seem to go against our Sanctuary’s laws, which is very concerning. What do you have to say for yourselves?"
"Cleric Chosen, may I first ask, how is Lakea?" Zamian said, maintaining a respectful demeanor but glancing briefly at the doors before focusing on the woman in front of him.
The Chosen met his gaze squarely, her expression gentle but unreadable. "An odd timing. But, she''s well, Zamian. An Enlightened, like you. Almost 16 years old, like you," she paused, giving him a knowing smile, "And still single, like you."
"No, no, that’s not what I meant! I just wanted an update about her; I haven’t seen her for almost two years," he stammered, his eyes wide as he shook his head.
"My dear child, I know what you’re trying to do. You’re fortunate I enjoy talking about my daughter. Did you know she participated in the very ritual you both tainted today? She’s a Cleric now," the woman revealed.
Zamian nearly dropped his teacup. He had merely wanted to change the subject to buy some time. He was still struggling to think of a valid reason for their lawbreaking. He had no clue Lakea had been there! They were too far to notice, and the text hadn''t shown names.
"Cleric Chosen... I swear in Verdant''s name we weren''t there to disrupt the ritual. You knew my mother personally. I just wanted to participate, somehow, in her transformation! To keep being part of her cycle! Is it wrong for me, her only child, to do that?" He argued, his voice rising with each word.
"Yes," she replied simply, nodding.
Zamian fell silent.
"And you, Bohlo. Do you have anything to add? Your parents are at the market working as the faithful servants they are, while you''re here, flouting our sacred laws."
"Please, Aunt," Zamian started, "it was my fault, he had noth—" he paused as Bohlo placed a hand on his shoulder and shook his head.
Looking at Bohlo, Zamian froze as he watched the larger man, still sitting down, bowed deeply, touching the floor with his forehead and repeatedly slamming it against the ground, each thud accompanied by a word.
"MY. MORTAL. CYCLE. SHALL. BE. FINISHED. PLEASE. FORGIVE. MY. FAMILY. CLERIC. CHOSEN!"
Blood began to trickle from his forehead as Bohlo kept his head bowed, hands splayed beside his head, supporting himself.
Zamian bit his lip, looking at his friend but remaining silent.
The Cleric waited for Bohlo to finish his self-punishment, then nodded.
"Very well. Your family’s life will not be implicated in this. The nature of your punishment, whether it be the end of your mortal cycle or something else, will depend on your reasons for being there. Young boys, tell me what you were doing."
Bohlo remained silent, his head still low.
Zamian knew his friend wouldn’t speak. With his family’s life now safe, he was too frightened to say anything that might worsen their situation.
"Cleric Chosen, if I may?" Zamian asked.
After receiving a nod, he continued, "Bohlo was there following my father''s orders. He was only obeying the previous Lord Chosen''s commands, too scared for his life and his family’s to do otherwise."
Bohlo stayed quiet, and Zamian was grateful his friend didn’t contradict him.
"Hmm. How is he, Zamian? How is your father? When Oliver completed his mortal cycle, it took me a few years to see our God''s grace again," she nodded slightly, subtly changing the subject.
"My father," Zamian took a deep breath and composed himself, "He is suffering, as you must have heard. The old man confined himself to our home, constantly drinking tea, just like mother used to do. He even stepped down from his position willingly. But I believe that, with time, he will overcome this. We both will," the pale young man said, sipping more tea in search of comfort from its sweet taste.
The Cleric Chosen hummed softly, her gaze drifting past both Enlightened. The only sounds were her tune and the wind whistling through the hollow root surrounding the house.
After a moment, she inhaled deeply, blinking away the moisture in her eyes. She reached for her tea, only to find her cup empty.
"Tell me why you were there, little Zamian," she said, her eyes softening.
"I had to see my mother, she''s about to become a Colossal Tree," he murmured, looking down.
"Did you know, little Zamian, that Lakea''s grandfather, my father-in-law, completed his mortal cycle outside this Sanctuary?"
"…No?" Zamian responded, giving her a puzzled look.
"When they brought his body back, it was barely recognizable. Full of holes, burnt, missing an arm, and one leg shredded. A terrible sight."
"I''m sorry," Zamian murmured.
"It is okay, child. Thank you. To finish my story, my husband didn’t cry when he saw the body, he just looked at his father’s remains with apathy. Oliver only wept much later, during the burial, as we let the roots cover his father’s body,” the Cleric Chosen took another sip of her tea.
“Years later, when my husband couldn''t advance to become a Chosen, we discussed life and cultivation, including this fact I just told you. I asked him why he hadn’t cried at first. Do you know what he said?"
Zamian shook his head.
"He said he couldn''t recognize that wretched thing as his father. He told me that no matter how he looked, all he saw was a hideous corpse, the remains of some random human. It wasn''t until the burial, that Oliver realized he had lost his father, and would only meet him again in God’s Tree."
Zamian remained silent, his eyes reddening but no tears falling.
"Tell me the truth, child. I know you and your father don''t see the Colossal Sapling as your mother. At least, not yet," her gaze flashed a dark green light as she concluded, making Zamian feel like vines were squeezing his brain.
STATS POINTS (!)
Body: 8/20
Mind: 23/40
Soul: 18/20
(!) Notification: there was a sudden drop in stats, please beware of your health.
Zamian exhaled, closing his eyes for an instant to collect his thoughts, trying to ignore the text that just appeared, only to see a new notification, but this one was not about his stats.
His head was throbbing, his heart racing, hands full of sweat. Zamian was also suddenly aware of an unsettling sensation of shortness of breath. Opening his eyes, he avoided the woman''s gaze and mumbled a low response.
Barely hearing it, she stiffened, the wooden cup slipping from her hand to the ground with a loud clatter.
"What-what did you say, brat?"
Even Bohlo looked to the side when the Chosen made her query, still bowing, not having listened to what his friend just said.
Taking a deep breath, Zamian met the older cultivator’s eyes and repeated his answer, a bit louder this time.
"I went there to ask Lakea to marry me."