Chapter 11
A figure cloaked in black moved silently through the bustling city streets, slipping unnoticed through alleys and shadows. He avoided contact, blending seamlessly with the darkness like a phantom born from it.
Hours passed before the figure left the city behind, entering the quiet outskirts where a vast courtyard awaited. The atmosphere shifted—this place was different. More dangerous. His shoulders tensed, breath shallow. Evading the city's watchful eyes had been relatively easy. What awaited him here… would be hell itself.
The cloaked figure crept across the courtyard like a seasoned assassin—or perhaps more like a desperate thief on the verge of madness. His movements were cautious but quick, navigating the terrain until he finally ducked behind a massive tree. He peeked out, eyes narrowed, muscles coiled tight like a spring ready to snap.
If he were caught here, he wouldn't just be punished. He would die.
Then he saw it—and froze.
"Oh crap…" he muttered under his breath, his eye twitching involuntarily.
The guards stationed around the grand Sweden Tree lay sprawled on the ground. But they weren't dead. Their thunderous snores made that painfully obvious. Resting lazily in their hands were thick green bottles of liquor, some still half-full.
The figure hesitated, then crept closer. No movement. No resistance.
Relieved, he pulled back his hood—revealing the face of a boy no older than six.
He was small and slender, with jet-black hair falling to his shoulders and eyes far too sharp and resolved for someone his age. There was no trace of innocence in them—only conviction and a fire that burned with purpose.
Jared inhaled. Then exhaled. Again and again, trying to slow his racing heart.
He turned his gaze to the Sweden Tree.
It stood unlike any other in the courtyard. Its bark was pitch black, not like charred wood, but smooth and glimmering like obsidian under moonlight. It pulsed faintly with a soft, ethereal glow that made it feel almost... alive.
Its twisting branches shimmered with leaves of every hue—fiery reds, icy blues, glowing greens—forming a mesmerizing canopy above. The beauty of the tree was breathtaking, yes. But so was the fear it inspired.
Because beneath its elegance, Jared knew what lay inside.
He swallowed hard, staring at the middle of the trunk. A dark circular crest marked the bark—subtle, but distinctly different. That was the entrance. And behind it… the beginning of his journey.
The tree's aura was intoxicating. Almost inviting. But Jared knew better.
It was a lie.
Within the tree dwelled a creature capable of tearing him apart in seconds. Then again, countless things could kill him right now. He wasn't even a warrior yet. Just a boy. But that would change.
He would become strong. He had made that promise.
Still… was he really ready for this?
His hand reached into his cloak, retrieving a small emerald dagger. The moment he held it, the storm of doubt in his chest faded. Anger filled its place.
If that damned rat was telling the truth… if there was even a sliver of hope… then this was the only path forward.
A dry chuckle escaped Jared's lips as he looked up at the towering tree again.
"Am I really betting my life on a talking rat?" he whispered, amused at the absurdity.
But absurdity didn't matter.
If it gave him a chance to avenge his father… if it meant he could one day strike down the tyrants that called themselves gods—then it was worth the risk.
He steadied his breath. His goal was far off, high above him like an unreachable star—but every journey began with a single step. He would start with what he could reach and climb his way up, no matter how steep the path.
After steadying his breath, Jared placed his palm on the strange circular crest embedded in the tree's trunk. Closing his eyes, he tried to recall the instructions from that fashion-obsessed rat, as he liked to call him.
"Feel the Aura," the rat had said.
Aura—the invisible essence that flowed through everything. Beings, planets, warriors, even the gods themselves. It connected the entire universe. Every creature had it, though not all could sense it.
But sensing his own? That was a different story.
Jared gritted his teeth, concentrating. Nothing.
Again, he tried. Still nothing.
He was just a six-year-old boy. No training. No cultivation. Barely any strength. Feeling his Aura was like reaching for something that didn't exist. He pressed harder, trying to will the connection into being. Nothing happened.
Frustration clawed at him.
This was supposed to work.
His eyes flicked open—just in time to see one of the guards groaning, shifting. The other followed suit, muttering incoherently in his sleep.
Jared's heart raced.
"No no no—come on… damn it!" he hissed, slamming his palm against the tree. "Work, you damn tree!"
Bad move.
The sudden outburst seemed to accelerate the guards' stirring. One of them slowly opened his bleary eyes, scanning the area with a sluggish gaze until they landed—right on Jared.
For a heartbeat, everything stilled.
Jared's fingers gripped the hilt of his emerald dagger. He couldn't win—not a chance—but if he was going down, he'd at least go down fighting.
Then—it happened.
A strange, cold pulse ran through his body. It was gone in an instant, like a whisper of wind across his skin. Before he could process it, darkness enveloped him, wrapping around his body like a cloak of shadows.
Then—silence.
He was gone.
The guard blinked hard, stumbling backward as he watched the boy vanish into the tree itself.
"Hey!" he shouted, voice cracking. "Was that a kid? Did a kid just activate the Sweden Trial?!"
His partner groaned awake, face twisted in irritation. "Huh? What're you yelling about…?"
The first guard turned to him, wide-eyed. "I'm serious! A kid—he just disappeared into the damn tree!"
The second guard squinted at him like he'd grown two heads.
"You're still high off the Rend Liquor, aren't you? Told you it messes with your head. You probably saw a squirrel or something."
"No, I swear—!"
But even as he argued, doubt crept in. A six-year-old… activating the Sweden Tree? That didn't make sense. Maybe he was still drunk.
He scratched his head, yawned, then chuckled sleepily. "Man… I really need to stop drinking. I'm seeing kids challenge death now." He plopped back onto the ground and passed out, snoring loudly.
---
Meanwhile…
In a pitch-black cave, a flash of light flared—then died instantly.
A small yelp echoed through the darkness.
Then—thump! "Ow!"
Shuffling. Another thump. Another groan of pain.
Eventually, a bruised figure stumbled into a dim glow. Jared.
He looked like he'd lost a fistfight with gravity itself. His face was swollen, lips split, and several new bruises painted his cheeks. It was clear he'd smacked into nearly every wall on his way through the void.
And yet…
A grin stretched across his battered face.
Because in front of him, the darkness parted—revealing a vast, vibrant expanse of untamed wilderness.
The Sweden Forest.
It wasn't just a forest. It was the proving ground—where warriors from Earthling bloodlines began their journey toward greatness. Deadly. Unforgiving. Mythical.
Jared took it all in, eyes sparkling with a wild fire.
He had made it.
This was the path. The beginning of everything. Hope bloomed in his chest, fierce and unstoppable.
Here, he would grow stronger. Here, he would forge the power to slay the gods who had shattered his world.
Still smiling, Jared pulled out his emerald dagger and held it before him in a dramatic pose.
He would've looked incredibly heroic—if not for his ridiculously swollen face.
"Let the hunt begin…"
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To be continued…
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