-10 years later.
*****
The stone walls are buried beneath countless layers of glyphs, formulas, and sketched diagrams. Some are carved deep, others painted hastily in blood, ink, or a fluid that glows faintly. Sheets of parchment and thin metallic paper float through the air, their contents shifting constantly—lines appearing, vanishing, rewriting in languages no human tongue can reproduce. Some shimmer dimly. Others leak black ink when touched by light.
The original pods still stand—thirty-seven, arranged in the same formation around the central tank. But their contents are different. Half now hold human figures suspended in thick fluid, each pod tinted a different color: muted green, murky crimson, pale amber, or a deep violet that swallows reflection. Thin roots curl along the inside of the glass, some retracting with a twitch when disturbed. A few contain plants instead—bound, blooming, restrained by dark metal bands etched with spinning runes.
One pod, identical to the rest in shape and construction, holds three faces—conjoined in a spiraling growth, tangled as if grown from a single point. They scream silently. Mouths stretch open without sound. Features push forward unnaturally, then fold back in on themselves, collapsing like red shadows folding into deeper red. The water inside boils, but no heat touches the glass.
All of it is connected—pipes, circuits, spell-etched wiring, and fluid channels—all flowing into the massive central tank. That one hasn't moved. It waits, untouched, buried in the heart of the system. Above it, a stream of black mist spirals downward in a slow, deliberate pattern, tracing runes midair before vanishing just before contact.
Dae moves between control surfaces. No pause. No break.
She calibrates pod [09B] with a single touch. At the same time, the pressure regulator for [17C] shifts by her left hand. The main seed pod pulses faintly in the center of the room, untouched—still floating.
A system window appears at the edge of her vision.
[Pod 09B][Essence Disturbance: 12.9% ↑Suggestion: Recalibrate siphon intake manually.Destabilization Risk: Moderate][Run Auto-Stabilization Routine? (Y/N)]
"Quiet," she says flatly.
The window lingers before shifting aside. Another replaces it a moment later.
[Warning: Localized pressure spike in Pod 12A][Estimated containment failure in 19 minutes Recommendation: Seal pod and eject secondary biomass][Execute purge? (Y/N)]
"Quiet."
No change in expression. She drags a rune into place across the nearby interface. The pressure stabilizes by 0.4%.
Across the chamber, liquid within Pod 31G begins to boil violently, yet the temperature remains unchanged.
Inside, three faces twist silently, their mouths opening and folding into one another. The red hue intensifies, then retracts. No system alert appears for this one.
Dae continues.
She rotates the containment ring around the smaller pod—the one housing the purple-red sack. 80.1% power remains intact. 9.2% is now reactive. She increases the containment pressure by 1.7% and re-aligns the arcane anchor to match the primary essence pulse rate.
A new window appears without permission.
[Core Sync: 0.07% → 0.09%][Estimated Full Integration: 6.41 yearsForeign Energy DetectedSuggestion: Cease all external mergingSystem Note: Interference risk exceeds safety margin][Abort operation?]
"Quiet," she says again.
The seed continues to float. No change.
She proceeds to recalibrate fluid flow to pods [06F], [06G], and [06H] simultaneously. The temperature across the inner ring stabilizes by 1.3 degrees.
Dae does not look at it.
She stops instantly, stepping toward the nearest table. With a flick of her hand, papers lift into the air—loose sheets, metal-bound scrolls, rotating diagrams. They reorganize mid-air, spreading into neat rows above her.
She lowers to one knee, calm. Blood trails behind her from an opened wound—already beginning to recede. The crimson path reverses, streaming back into her body.
She grabs the syringe.
The blade in her abdomen hums violently, vibrating at the edge of its limit. It tries to escape. She doesn't react.
The needle pierces her stomach.
The glowing green liquid surges into her bloodstream. Her breathing slows. Her eyes shut for one breath.
The blood hardens. It climbs around the blade, locking it in place.
"You won't last much longer with that heavenly blade inside you."A tranquil voice resonates."I suggest you finalize your plan soon. However..."
The air folds in on itself. Mirelith steps through with no urgency, his gaze drifting across the chamber.
"The consequences of defying the heavenly laws will be... severe."
He walks without echo.
"Do you truly intend to unbalance the world?"
Dae rises, her joints popping as she turns her back to him, hands adjusting the control panel.
"The heavenly laws... how laughable," she mumbles under her breath with a calm tone, "There is no merit in concerning myself with those foolish gods. My only concern is the hands of fate."
Mirelith's gaze lingers on the pods.
"How foolish, I'm sure even you realize, regardless of the origins, the Tree Of Frenzy cannot escape the grasps of fate. And even if 'it' escapes fate. The world will surely intervene."
She does not respond. The system flashes again. Her fingers glide across the interface.
With rapid movements, she walks from the main console to a separate control panel, adjusting the mana fluctuation. Energies collide when unchecked—each form volatile in its own right. All three types must be given separate passageways. Her golden pupils flow like water around her crimson eyes as she turns to the faintly glowing red and black seed.
"Long before the fall of the Immortal Realm's order, there stood a tree older than empires—the Immortal Tree of Tranquility. It was awareness bound in roots, the calm pulse of enlightenment itself. Even the Heavenly Dao leaned close to hear its whisper. Through it the immortals trained; through its guidance, they crossed into the Sword Realm, that black void where blue blades glow like stars, each a master's echo. The Tree taught patience, restraint, perfection of will. To gaze upon its branches was to glimpse the laws that bind creation."
Her tone darkens, almost mournful.
"But peace breeds arrogance. When the proud rose against the Dao, the Tree did what it had always done—it shielded life. Twice it raised its roots between judgment and ruin. A third time it dared to defy the Heavens themselves. For that compassion, it was struck down."
The glow from the runes trembles faintly as she speaks.
"In the moment of death it divided—light from shadow, harmony from discord. Its tranquil heart ascended; its wrath, its grief, its fractured faith fell. That fragment became a seed, and the seed landed in the mortal soil where no divine eye could follow."
She exhales softly.
"The humans who found it called it a blessing. Fools. They planted it, and the world answered in screams. The seed grew faster than thought; its roots devoured kingdoms. Forests blackened, beasts turned to thralls, and its sap—sweet, shining, irresistible—stole the will from all who drank it. In one month, an entire nation became its garden of obedience."
Her eyes narrow, recalling the record that even gods speak of only in silence.
"Then the world itself stirred. Something vast awoke beneath the ruin—a being older than divinity, sleep itself. A power so immense that even the gods refuse to get near it. It rose weary and irritated, and with a single exhalation it silenced the Blazen Tree. The kingdom slept. The Tree returned to seed. And that nameless power walked away to dream again."
A pause. The faint hum of the machinery almost sounds like breathing.
"The gods remember that day. They do not speak of it. For though they may die and be reborn, nothing returns from the touch of that sleeping power."
"Oh? To think you know the full story." Mirelith walks around the chamber, hands folded behind his back, his steps slow, deliberate. His golden eye glows faintly as he surveys the layered machinery and silent pods. "You've never been to the Immortal Realm, so why do you know the origin of the seed?"
After pulling a rusted lever embedded into a thick conduit pipe, Dae's hands release a dark green mist. It spills across the floor and rises into the air like smoke in reverse, clinging to the walls and machinery before fading into the seams.
"Not knowing such a story would be a disgrace to my family," she says plainly. Her finger glides across a nearby wall, leaving behind a faint shimmer of runes. Each symbol bends unnaturally, twisting inward until it disappears beneath the stone.
She walks slowly, her steps producing no echo. "When the space folds and contorts, there is a high chance a dimensional predator will attempt to feed on the essence. You will need to take care of that."
A thin beam of violet energy emerges from the center of the ceiling and begins tracing an intricate spiral along the room's perimeter. As it completes the first revolution, the entire chamber responds.
[lvl 9 space barrier has been activated]
[lvl 9 dimensional seal has been activated]
[lvl 9 isolation barrier has been activated]
[lvl 9 mana barrier has been activated]
[lvl 9 spirit barrier has been activated]
[lvl 9 energy seal has failed to activate]
[lvl 9 energy seal has failed to activate]
[lvl 9 energy seal has been activated]
[lvl 9 space distortion field activated]
[lvl 9 ghost barrier has been activated]
[lvl 9 soul array has been activated]
[lvl 9 energy suppression field has been activated]
"Oh… isn't this a bit much?"Mirelith tilts his head, the glowing runes reflecting in his eye as he watches the barriers layer and lock into place.He smiles, tapping a floating sigil with his finger."Hmm… I see. You're a bit overprepared."
Dae ignores him. The system continues flashing.
'The current DNA structure is near perfect. Unfortunately, I am short on time.'Her fingers glide across the console, reassigning pressure levels and diverting flow channels. The pod containing the seed darkens, the fluid thickening until it hardens completely—faint cracks of light pulse through it, but the core remains untouched.
"Open the pods. Begin extraction."
[Rebooting system]
[Energy levels have dropped by 70% — initiating extraction.]
[Caution: energy fluctuations will spike.]
A deep thrum rolls through the chamber.
All thirty-seven side pods begin to tremble. Pipes bulge—energy surging like liquid lightning through conduits embedded in the floor and ceiling. Each pod seals shut, the internal fluids compressing rapidly until they reach crystallization. Beasts. Plants. Ores. Limbs. Veins of glowing minerals. All frozen in place.
From the ceiling, thin silver tubes descend one by one, aligning above each pod with mechanical precision.
One of the side pods releases a sharp hiss as its internal pressure increases.
The silver tube halts exactly twelve inches from the glass.
The chamber lights dim for just a moment.
A thin blue beam fires downward.
Inside the pod, suspended in violet fluid, a creature hangs motionless. Its body is tall, the musculature wiry and taut beneath flawless, pale skin. Two black lines stretch from its open palms to the back of its elongated skull, splitting into twin rows that arc along its frame like ceremonial tattoos. Spikes protrude from both elbows—curved, unnatural.
But its face is what halts the eye.
Or rather, the absence of one.
No eyes. No mouth. No nose. Only four thick black lines that intersect in a cross-like formation, etched into a smooth, featureless surface.
Where the beam touches, the body begins to unravel—not violently, but methodically. The skin peels away in thin sheets of ash, muscle fibers dissolving into a faint white mist. Vein by vein, nerve by nerve, the creature disassembles under the beam's unwavering gaze.
Its white glow intensifies, growing brighter as less of it remains. Not heat. Not pain. A compression of essence. Memory turned to energy.
The black lines are the last to go, resisting dissolution for a heartbeat longer. Then they too vanish.
The mist lingers.
The beam shifts frequency—its tone sharpens.
With a sound like cracking frost, the remaining glow condenses inward, folding into itself. A crystalline shape forms in the center of the mist—roughly the size of a thumb. It is not entirely solid, not entirely light. A white crystal, laced with shifting shadows that flicker deep within.
The pod's internal pressure drops.
A vacuum seal activates.
The crystal vanishes up through the tube, absorbed into the upper piping without fanfare.
No trace remains of what was once Itril.