The forest was empty and quiet as ever, but above the canopy, the sky stretched clear and blue, a soft breeze moved lazily through the trees.
Kael ran his fingers along his neck, brushing over the rough scar tissue. Three jagged lines stretched across his skin where the creature's claws had caught him.
"Two days just to heal," he muttered, studying the wound. "Must've almost gotten infected if it took that long."
His brow creased slightly.
As a Luminaire, he usually healed fast, way faster than normal people. Cuts like that should've closed up in half a day, not two. But with whatever filth that Dreadborn dragged around with it through the woods, an infection wouldn't have been a surprise.
He pushed himself off the ground and rose to his feet. A few meters away, several sticks of skewered meat were planted in the dirt. He walked over, grabbed one, and made his way back to a nearby tree. Settling down against the trunk, he let his thoughts drift.
He'd reach the colossal titan tree today, that much was certain. What wasn't certain was how they would treat him once he arrived.
'They won't kill me. Not immediately, at least.'
He took a bite of the skewered meat. 'That would be pointless.'
A noble family wouldn't go through the trouble of hiring a mercenary just to dispose of him at the meeting point. But that didn't make them trustworthy. Noble families never acted without layers of intent. Their words were polished, their actions rehearsed. If they had a reason to get rid of him, they would. They just wouldn't waste resources doing it.
Kael made his way over to the fire, crouching beside it as he turned a few of the skewers, the meat sizzling softly in the morning air. The breeze curled around him, catching strands of his hair and lifting them gently, making them sway in sync with the wind.
A stronger gust swept through the trees, rustling the leaves high above and carrying with it the scent of damp soil and moss. In the distance, dark clouds were gathering. They trailed across the sky like a silent threat.
Kael tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing at the horizon.
'I'll reach it before the storm,' he thought.
he pulled his coat over his shoulders and sat in silence, waiting as the last of the meat finished cooking over the fire.
Until then, there was nothing left to dwell on.
He ate one piece where he sat, then grabbed the final skewer, rising to his feet.
With the cooked meat in hand, he began walking again, disappearing into the forest.
Trees slipped past at a steady pace as Kael moved through the woods. The wind had begun to rise, slowly building toward the inevitable storms he had now endured many times before. He glanced up at the darkening clouds and quickened his pace. The giant tree was close.
The forest grew sparser with each step. The shadow that had loomed over his path for days, stretching like an unbroken veil, finally began to reveal its source.
He lifted his gaze in silence.
A colossal trunk began to emerge ahead of him, rising like a monolith from the forest floor, breaking free from the thinning trees like a mountain pushing through clouds. Its bark was as thick as the surrounding trees themselves, its surface weathered by time yet still unyielding. Though it had died millions of years ago, its presence remained. Even now, it stood proud, exuding an oppressive weight, as if it refused to acknowledge its own demise.
As Kael stood before the titan, he felt no awe, no sorrow, no reverence, only silence. It was a giant among giants, a relic of an age so distant it defied understanding. This tree had once reached higher than the clouds, casting shadows over lands that no longer remembered its name. It had stood longer than empires, longer than bloodlines, longer than belief.
And yet, even it had fallen.
Time had not struck it down in anger or haste. It had simply worn it away, layer by layer, year by year, until all that remained was this monolithic husk. Proud, enduring, but lifeless. There was no tragedy in that. No great lesson. Just the quiet inevitability that all things, no matter how vast or mighty, are finite.
This was the nature of the world: everything rose, everything fell.
Even giants.
Kael let the thought settle, unshaken. Permanence was an illusion the weak clung to, nations, names, power, love. It all faded. And perhaps the greatest strength was not in resisting that truth, but in walking with it.
Its remains loomed over the land, defiant in its ruin, its colossal frame refusing to crumble. A monument not to its former glory, but to its final struggle. A pointless one.
Kael's gaze lingered on the withered bark, tracing the jagged cracks that marred its surface. Once, this titan had risen above all, its roots buried deep like veins feeding on the pulse of the world. Now, it stood as nothing more than a husk.
He exhaled slowly. Strength meant nothing if it failed you in the end. Even titans fall. Even legends fade. And in the end, the struggle itself becomes just another echo. Forgotten, and meaningless.
What once stood above all now lingered as a ruin, its purpose long since spent. The world did not mourn the powerful when they fell; it moved on, as it always had. No monument could outlast time, no memory could resist erosion forever.
Power fades. That is its only certainty.
Kael adjusted the coat around his shoulders and resumed his pace.
He followed the length of the massive trunk for nearly half an hour, his thoughts drifting aimlessly before circling back to the tree beside him. Eventually, his steps slowed. He stopped and turned toward it once more.
A moment passed as he regarded the ancient giant. Then he shook his head and started walking again.
"It's not worth it."
A part of him was curious, what might he feel if he placed his hand against the colossal trunk and activated his obsidian shard mote? But reason outweighed curiosity. It wasn't just the risk of revealing his Luminaire presence, it was the uncertainty of the outcome itself that kept him from trying. He had never tested the mote on anything remotely this vast.
Some motes required a fixed number of thoughts upon activation. His golden pea, for example, consumed twenty thousand thoughts, every time. But the obsidian shard was different. Its toll varied. The more complex the object it was used on, the more thoughts it demanded.
Using it on a simple rock might cost him 5 thousand thoughts, granting basic insight. But if he tried it on something alive, say, a three-horned boar, it might drain 150 thousand or more, leaving him dangerously depleted.
At a glance, the difference might seem excessive. But it wasn't. The gap between an inanimate object and a living creature was vast, like the difference between heaven and earth. A rock had its own complexities, formed through time, pressure, and mineral makeup. But the living were different.
The boar had a soul and thoughts.
And both were absurdly complex, intricate systems layered with instinct, memory, and experience. That alone justified the immense cost required to understand them.
And even if he poured every last thought into the mote, drained himself completely just to peer into the soul of the boar, he still wouldn't understand it. Not truly. Not fully. The depth of such a thing was beyond reach.
It wasn't because Kael lacked intelligence or clarity.
It was simply that he was human.
The soul of a living being was a mystery far too vast, too intricate, too primordal for the human mind to fully grasp. No matter how advanced, no matter how disciplined, the mind of man was never meant to hold something so profound.
He turned his gaze upward, eyes tracing the colossal tree as it pierced through the clouds above.
And this tree...
It had no soul, no thoughts, no will, yet it was ancient, immense, and undeniably imposing. Kael couldn't even guess how many thoughts it might drain if he used the mote on something of this scale. But he wasn't willing to try, not now. Not with the meeting grounds this close.
The sun had begun to sink beneath the treetops, casting the sky in gold. Kael continued along the massive trunk, his pace steady.
Soon, far ahead, the forest began to change.
Unnatural shapes rose in the distance. Fabric fluttered in the wind, breaking the stillness that had ruled the woods for days. And above it all, a thin trail of smoke curled skyward like a serpent, marking the presence of life.
Kael's pace quickened at the sight. As he drew closer, more details emerged. In front of a massive crack in the colossal tree, a temporary shelter had been built. Dark fabric was stretched over it, offering protection from both wind and rain. At its center, a small campfire burned, the scent of cooking meat drifting through the air.
Three figures moved around the camp, each focused on a separate task. A young woman with golden-blond hair moved swiftly between the trees, gathering branches to keep the fire fed. Nearby, a dark-haired young man hung strips of meat on a line to dry. Closer to the fire, a man in a black coat sat quietly on a rock, scribbling into a worn notebook.
As Kael approached, the two younger ones finally looked up from their tasks, their gazes locking onto him, alerted. Only the man in the coat remained still, his attention fixed on the page.
The woman stepped forward slightly, her voice cut through the forest air.
"Stop. Don't come any closer. State your business."
Kael came to a halt, readying a response, only for the man in the coat to raise one hand, still not looking up, his pen never stopping.
The young pair turned their gaze toward the man who had raised his hand. They gave a small nod and returned to their tasks without a word.
Kael shifted his cane to his other hand and strode forward. When he finally stood before the man in the coat, the man closed his noteboo and looked up, casting a brief glance over Kael.
"So… you're finally here."
His voice was low, and carried the weight of authority.
Kael's expression didn't change. He met the man's eyes with a calm, unreadable gaze.
'As expected. They knew I was coming.'
"Yes," Kael replied. "The path was treacherous, but I've made it."
He reached into his coat pocket and retrieved a folded slip of paper, extending it toward the man.
The man raised a brow and took the paper, reading it immediately. His face remained neutral, but Kael didn't miss the subtle trace of disappointment in his eyes.
"I see… So you are indeed the mercenary our family requested."
That confirmed it. Kael had been watched, likely for days now. But there was no way they could have identified him on sight. That was precisely why he'd brought the request note, torn straight from the billboard in Farkathl, as proof of legitimacy.
"Well," the man said, folding the paper again. "No matter. Eat and rest here tonight. You must be tired from the journey. We'll speak more in the morning."
Kael gave a slight nod before turning toward the tree, resting his cane gently against its massive trunk. Then, without a word, he returned to the fire. He lowered himself beside the flames and extended his hands toward the glow, letting the warmth slowly chase the cold from his fingers.