The glowing leaves’ light cast the darkroom in a whitish hue; just like in most people’s houses. A wooden cup rolled across the floor, tracing a slow arc near the orange-haired woman.


    Gracefully, she took the cup, putting it back on the wooden tray. With a strained smile, she began massaging one side of her head with two fingers, closing her eyes, and taking a deep breath.


    Meanwhile, Bohlo didn’t even glance at the Cleric Chosen. His eyes and mouth were wide open, his head turned to the side, looking at Zamian as if his friend had just sprouted another head and an extra pair of arms.


    Zamian didn''t react either, just biting the inside of his lips to the point they were almost bleeding. ''Put your rot together, Zamian!''


    Looking inwardly, his hasty responses were driven by three main factors: the pressure of being in the same room as a Chosen and having her, somehow, damaging his soul—that was one of his guesses—his mental and physical condition wasn’t good either, and last but not least, the other text that had just appeared while he was thinking a few moments ago.


    Side Quest (!): Get home before dinner time


    Reward: Abyssal Leaf


    Status: Ongoing (4/6 hours left)


    (!) Failure to complete this quest will bring a Level 4 calamity


    After reading it once more, he heard a tired sigh coming from the Chosen, and he looked at the woman just as she fixed her cold gaze on him.


    "Do you take me for a fool, Zamian?" Her voice was sharp, like a Zealot’s spear cutting through the air. Her eyes, however, were curved, a dangerous glint in there.


    "A lowly one like me could never entertain such thoughts, Cleric Chosen," Zamian replied, bowing down while sitting.


    "For invading the Nurture Ritual, I could have you whipped with a hundred thorned vines. Or I could have you buried in this soil with only your head above ground. I could even use your skull as a vase while you still breathe. Are you aware of all this?"


    "It is your right to punish me as you see fit, Cleric Chosen," the young Enlightened lowered his head even lower.


    "So why complicate this whole ordeal? You are intelligent. You spent the last few years borrowing sacred texts, honing your cultivation. You''re an educated young man, an Enlightened with the potential to become a Zealot. Why choose to end your cycle here?" Her voice quickened and got a little louder toward the end, before she composed herself.


    Zamian waited a moment before responding, raising his head to look at her. He clenched both fists and slammed them on the ground.


    "I am an only child, Aunt Yokki. Mother had difficulties giving birth to me, and no technique or sacred herb helped her conceive either a brother or a sister for me. Father was always loyal to his wife, and even with the insistence of other Chosen, he never had another wife, nor even a concubine. Now, my mother is gone, and my father would end his mortal cycle himself before touching another woman."


    Bohlo and the Chosen remained silent. While the muscled man looked confused about his friend''s outburst, the female cultivator had a more easygoing smile, her eyes glinting more and more with each phrase Zamian spoke.


    "I''m about to reach adulthood. I need to continue my family tree. I need a respectful woman to marry and bear my children, to not let my ancestors down," he said, meeting Chosen Yokki’s gaze. "That''s why when I heard Lakea was a Cleric, I knew I had to do something. Most Clerics have arranged marriages by the age of 16—and Lakea''s birthday is after the end of the last Nurture Ritual. I couldn’t— no, I still can''t let another man take my future wife from me! I can''t be responsible for the end of my bloodline," Zamian concluded, hoping his flowery speech was good enough.


    "Child, but I just told you the news about my daughter, and you looked rather surprised, didn’t you?" Yokki asked, raising an eyebrow.


    "Of course I was surprised! I went there to find her, but I failed. I even said so to Bohlo,” pointing to his friend, he kept talking, "I thought I had made a mistake, failing yet again at finding her, but then you confirmed she was indeed there. How unlucky of me!" Zamian shook his head, looking up in exasperation. "I have just committed a heinous crime for nothing. Even my punisher will be my lover’s mother. Isn''t this a bit poetic? Tragic, even?"


    "Bohlo, why did Dante send you there?" Smiling, Yokki nodded to the bigger man, signaling for him to straighten himself.


    Zamian tried to intervene, but the Chosen shot him a glare.


    "Uhhh... Err... The-sorry. Lord Chosen Dante simply pointed me in Zamian’s direction, saying he needed his tea, calling Zamian a fool, just an airhead boy daydreaming all day, staring at random people, and shaking his head... Uh, sorry Z." Bohlo answered, wiping blood off his face, and shooting a sorry glance at Zamian at the end.


    Zamian listened, looking at his friend, and feeling his headache growing. What his father saw… That was him reacting to the random texts appearing in front of him! His father would never tell anyone about his weirdness unless things were worse than he thought.


    ''Bohlo, why didn''t you tell me all of this sooner?'' Thinking in distress, he looked back at the Cleric Chosen and saw her nodding thoughtfully. ‘I just hope this ends soon.’


    Even knowing the stronger cultivator had long decided the conclusion of this ordeal, his heart skipped a beat when Chosen Yokki turned her gaze to him, colder than a tundra.


    "Child, being lovestruck isn''t a crime, but you should reflect on your ways of expressing and pursuing this love. Too much of anything is a poison, and it can taint your cultivation, and by extension, our Sanctuary," she pointed at Zamian, raising her arm, "Today, you committed your first crime out of love. Who can say there won''t be a second? Who can say where you will draw the line?"


    Zamian remained silent, the impact of her words hitting him harder than he expected, but for entirely different reasons than the Chosen might have thought.


    Waving her raised arm, with the petals of her dress following the movement, she declared with an air of finality, "Both of you shall come here tomorrow after the first meal, for an audience with the representatives of the Nurture Ritual you just tainted. They shall be the ones to decide your fate, and I will personally execute any punishment decided by them. I will call Zealot Tamara as a representative of the Guardians. She witnessed the crime and brought both of you here, and, of course, I trust her impartiality."


    Zamian nodded strongly, showing his agreement, even though he knew he held no power over this decision. But for him, being judged by a Guardian who hadn''t seen their actions would be much, much, much worse than going to a trial with Zealot Tamara.


    Sometimes, a person’s imagination can be uglier than reality. Any Guardian who heard the tale of two boys, one bare-chested and the other pale and weak, alone in the woods just beside the Nurture Ritual, might execute the bards and novelists responsible for spreading such nonsense. Should they discover that these two boys were real, living cultivators? Then the question would be how to execute them.


    "And as the representative of the Clerics who conducted the rituals, I shall invite the Enlightened Lakea Duskpeach. I trust her impartiality on this trial, too," said the woman, her smile mischievous. "And both of you shall share the whole truth with the judges. Do you understand me?"


    Bohlo hastily nodded, while Zamian did so mechanically, his eyelids heavy. He unknowingly closed his eyes while nodding, only to jerk his head up after nearly falling over.


    Yokki rested her hands on her legs, her cold gaze and ever-present smile returning to normal.If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    "Good. Now, you both must leave. I have other matters to attend to and cannot entertain you any longer. Tamara will escort you out." After speaking, her eyes glowed green, and the vines on the door moved, allowing the Zealot to enter just as the opening formed.


    "Zealot Tamara, please accompany these two to the town''s entrance. Ensure they arrive there safely. We can''t have these prodigies losing their way." Yokki concluded, nodding to the young men.


    Understanding the cue, Zamian and Bohlo bowed deeply. After raising and ensuring Bohlo''s forehead wasn''t bleeding as much as before, Zamian bowed one last time to the Cleric Chosen—prompting Bohlo to do the same again—and turned around, following Zealot Tamara, who he was sure had already bowed to the Chosen too, out of the abode.


    Leaving through the vine-covered door, Zamian walked just a few steps before his vision blurred, and a wave of vertigo overwhelmed him. As the ground seemed to rush up to meet his face, he felt arms supporting him from either side.


    Looking to the right, he saw a stoic brunette in wooden armor effortlessly supporting his right arm over her shoulder. Turning to his left, he caught the concerned look of an ugly monkey.


    ''Wh-’, shaking his head, he soon recognized the short hair and big ears belonging to a human, but couldn’t put a name on the owner. Besides the images, the sounds around him took a drowned tune.


    A male voice soon inquired, "What is happening to him, Guardian Zealot?"


    "Your friend seems exhausted. What exactly did you two do in there?"


    "Uh... He did the talking. I couldn’t speak much. It’s... A weird place, you know? I mean, it’s hard to even stay sitting in there. Uh… You understand me right?"


    Silence fell between them for a moment, then the one with the female voice spoke again.


    "You both have great potential. I''m glad I spared your lives."


    "Ah, that. Yes, thanks for that," the male responded.


    After this, Zamian heard nothing else as darkness consumed his vision, a throbbing headache preventing him from fully sleeping.


    When the pale cultivator regained clarity and could focus on his surroundings again, he found himself on the edge of a bustling town, with interconnected giant hollowed roots serving as streets, and hundreds of different buildings inside each root, all illuminated by white, yellow, and green glowing leaves.


    The first thing he truly noticed, however, was the white text hovering in front of him.


    Side Quest (!): Get home before dinner time


    Reward: Abyssal Leaf


    Status: Ongoing (2/6 hours left)


    (!) Failure to complete this quest will bring a Level 4 calamity


    Suddenly wide awake after reading the text, Zamian found himself outside a store with a wooden plaque: Survival Accessories.


    He yelled loudly, "Bohlo! In which blighted hole did you hide?"


    Looking around and hearing no response, he willed the White Dot to show his information, looking at his stats.


    STATS POINTS


    Body: 10/20


    Mind: 25/40


    Soul (!): 17/20


    (!): Your soul is injured.


    He made a mental note to ask his father about his soul injury, and he was sure this injury was causing his headache. As usual, the White Dot didn’t find it important enough to show him when, how, or why he recovered stats points.


    Wetting his dry lips with his tongue, he was slowly feeling his sore body. Besides, all the talking, walking, hustling, and humming noises did nothing to ease his headache. ‘Come on Bohlo, don’t make me look for you, I need to rest.’


    Moments later, a series of hurried footsteps approached Zamian. Finally, Bohlo, barechested and using some leaves as an impromptu bandana on his forehead, emerged from the shop.


    "Hey, sleeping beauty! Uh… sorry about leaving you there; I just had to get something for my wound, and Mother would spank me with a carrot if she saw your body,” he scratched his face and pointed at the bandana.“This looks cool, right? Anyway, I was about to take you home, ok? I promise!" The big guy grinned foolishly, giving a thumbs up.


    Zamian could have argued about every sentence Bohlo uttered, but he chose to just hug his long-eared friend instead. After the embrace, he held Bohlo''s shoulders, looking him in the eyes.


    "Thank you, B. I don''t know how you brought me here, but you did. And what you endured for me back at that blighted abode... I won’t forget it, man," Zamian said with red eyes, nodding.


    Bohlo hugged him back and kept grinning, tears welling in his eyes.


    "We''re in this for the whole cycle, Z. United by the roots. And... Aunt Jas, she..." Bohlo hiccupped, unable to hold back his tears any longer, pulling Zamian into another hug.


    Smiling wryly, Zamian could only pat the big guy''s back.


    "Come on, I couldn’t have told you. The rules and all," he scoffed.


    "Z, she will be in a better place soon, trust me," Bohlo said, stepping back to wipe his tears.


    Zamian just nodded in acknowledgment. Hearing this was painful and annoying, but he knew his friend meant well.


    Suddenly, Bohlo grinned again, giving another thumbs up. Zamian couldn’t help but think ‘Being this naive, I’m sure all his brainpower goes to cultivation.’


    "And don’t worry, my friend! I will make sure Lakea can only marry you, even if I have to bury the competition! I''ll save your family tree, Z!"


    Zamian wished he could facepalm without looking weird, but decided to simply shake his head.


    "I’m not going to marry her, Bohlo. Forget everything you heard today. After our trial tomorrow, there’s no need to keep any of this information at heart."


    "Uh... What? Why?"


    "Political games, Bohlo. Political games. Do you think a tired me can outsmart a Chosen, and the Cleric Chosen at that?"


    "Uh... No, I mean... Outsmart at what? Z, too complex again," Bohlo''s shoulders dropped a little.


    Zamian just stared at his friend and laughed.


    "Yeah, you’re right. Too complex. And I don’t have time to explain everything, I need to get home. I’m exhausted,” Zamian vision blurred for a moment before stabilizing again, “But what about you? Are you okay?"


    "Yep, I’m fine. Oh, Zealot Tamara said you need to rest your soul a bit. She said something about you feeling better before feeling a lot worse. No clue what that means, but knowing you... Uh... you’ll figure it out!" He grinned, patting Zamian’s shoulder and almost making the paler cultivator fall. "Oops."


    "Yeah... I’ll be okay. Don’t leave without me tomorrow, okay, B? We''ll go together," Zamian said while massaging his sore shoulder, concerned about the Zealot’s sentences.


    After the typically prolonged goodbyes, and making sure that Bohlo understood they would leave together the next day, Zamian began walking home. A numbness spread through his mind, like a veil covering everything, making him mechanically walk on the wooden streets.


    The light, coming from some glowing leaves and through the root’s openings, was enough for him to see and recognize the path home. Hundreds of wooden houses were built not on ground level, but all around the tunnel shape root.


    Side Quest (!): Get home before dinner time


    Reward: Abyssal Leaf


    Status: Ongoing (1/6 hours left)


    (!) Failure to complete this quest will bring a Level 4 calamity


    The text appeared when he was looking at an alley, wondering if he should just lie down there and rest a little. But looking at his limited timeframe, he kept wobbling home, having no energy to think.


    Eventually, with a growing headache, Zamian arrived at his wooden house, passing through what used to be their door, but now was a hole covered with a giant leaf. The moment he entered, another text appeared.


    Side Quest Completed: Get home before dinner time


    Reward: Abyssal Leaf


    Status: Completed


    He glanced at the text, barely noticing the rough texture of an object with a waxy and veiny surface in his hand, before collapsing onto the warm floor. The wooden surface meeting his face was the last sensation he felt as he blacked out, as a new line of texts appeared for him.


    New Side Quest: Fully heal your soul


    Reward: Ancient Astral Seal


    Status: Ongoing


    Zamian drifted into a trance, of myriad vines carrying him to bed. A reddish fog surrounded his house, with a smell reminding him of fresh apples. The distant sound of his parents talking captured his fleeting attention.


    His father''s bestial laughter, unique as far as he knew, contrasted sharply with his mother''s berating tones, making his heart ache even in his semi-conscious state.


    As his awareness slowly faded, random thoughts of bright stars and a green sky falling on top of him consumed his mind, before a sweet and numb relief made all fade.