The world seemed to hold its breath.
One moment, the Millennia Tree stretched proud and eternal across the skyline of Caelburn, its silver leaves shimmering beneath the night sky. The next, a deep groan rolled through the earth like a wounded giant.
Altheron froze where he stood near the roots, Emi only a step behind him. They had fought through monsters, blood, and exhaustion, but this sound—it chilled him more than any battle cry. The sacred Tree that had stood for ages, sheltering generations, was breaking.
The cracks multiplied, sharp and merciless. Branches thicker than towers snapped and plummeted, smashing into stone streets and homes with thunderous impact. Dust swallowed the district in a suffocating cloud. Screams filled the night as Caelburn's citizens fled in panic.
Emi stumbled as the ground trembled violently beneath them. Altheron grabbed her arm, steadying her just as another branch fell, its impact sending shards of wood and stone flying. The silver glow of the leaves flickered like dying embers.
Then, with one final, shattering cry, the trunk split down its center.
The Millennia Tree—Caelburn's heart—collapsed.
Altheron's chest tightened as though the air had been stolen from him. He could barely hear Emi's sharp intake of breath over the roar of destruction. Where the trunk had stood, a yawning wound now opened in the earth, roots curling outward like broken bones. From within seeped a dark, pulsing light—unnatural, poisonous.
The dust began to settle, revealing the devastation. Streets lay buried beneath splinters and rubble. Fires flickered where lanterns had been crushed. Priests knelt in shock, clutching their relics, whispering broken prayers. Mothers screamed for their children. Soldiers tried to rally, but their shouts carried no confidence.
The Millennia Tree was gone.
Altheron and Emi stood frozen at the very edge of the ruin, breaths ragged, bodies battered from the battle before. Both were streaked with dirt and blood—not all of it their own.
The corruption spread fast. The exposed roots pulsed with a blackened aura, veins of shadow crawling outward into the ground. Stones cracked as the darkness seeped beneath them. The air grew heavier, fouler, every breath stinging the lungs.
Altheron coughed into his fist, tasting iron. His body screamed for rest, but his eyes locked on the wound in the earth. He could feel it—not just see it. The same pulse from his dreams, stronger now, echoing in his bones like a second heartbeat.
Beside him, Emi covered her mouth and nose with her sleeve. Her sharp eyes never left the abyss, though her voice was tight.
"It's… spreading. Faster than the priests can even comprehend."
From the cracks, tiny, twisted creatures crawled into the night—misshapen things with too many eyes and limbs bent at the wrong angles. They screeched, shrill and maddened. Emi loosed an arrow, dropping one instantly. Altheron stepped forward, blade flashing, cutting through another as it lunged for a fleeing child.
The creatures melted into black sludge upon death, seeping back into the earth like they had never existed. But their presence made one truth undeniable:
The dungeon had awakened.
The thunder of hooves echoed down the ruined street. Soldiers surged into the square, armored and disciplined, their banners whipping in the night air. At their head rode a man clad not in ornate regalia, but in battered steel—practical, commanding.
Kaelmourn.
Altheron's father reined his horse sharply, eyes scanning the devastation. His jaw was set like stone, grief and fury tempered into cold command. He barked orders with the voice of a man born for war, each word cutting through the chaos.
"Secure the perimeter! No one approaches the roots—keep civilians back! Archers on the walls! Any creature that emerges is to be destroyed before it spreads!"
The soldiers moved without hesitation. Barricades were hastily raised, shields interlocked, lances braced. The broken district became a fortress overnight under Kaelmourn's command.
Altheron stood frozen, his father's presence heavy even from afar. But Kaelmourn's gaze never turned to him, never betrayed recognition. To the soldiers, to the priests, to the panicked citizens—he was not a father here. He was a general, and his orders left no space for sentiment.
When the Guildmaster arrived, Kaelmourn's voice cut through the tension.
"No one enters that pit tonight. The corruption is unstable. Gather your adventurers—B-Rank and above only. Tomorrow at dawn, they will descend. Until then, keep the people alive."
The Guildmaster's face was grim, but he nodded. "It will be done."
Still, not a word was spoken to Altheron or Emi. Kaelmourn's silence was deliberate—protection through anonymity. If anyone realized his son had been at the heart of the collapse, questions would rise, dangerous ones.
For now, their bond remained unspoken.
The Adventurer's Guild was a storm of voices. The great hall, once filled with laughter and drink, now reeked of blood and smoke. Cots lined the walls, filled with the wounded. Healers moved desperately from one to another.
Adventurers shouted over each other, fear and anger boiling:
"The dungeon killed the Tree—how are we supposed to fight that?"
"Didn't those two find a hidden dungeon yesterday? This is their fault!"
"We're being thrown into death itself!"
The Guildmaster slammed a fist against the table. Silence fell. His voice was iron.
"The dungeon has awakened, and Caelburn will not survive if we falter. This is no time for cowardice. Rank B and above—report at dawn. The rest will guard the city. This is not a request. It is an order."
Grim nods spread through the hall. Some were pale with fear, others hardened with resolve. The air was thick with the scent of despair and determination mingled.
Altheron and Emi stood apart from the crowd. Emi's bowstring was frayed, her hands blistered. Altheron's blade arm throbbed, muscles screaming from overuse. Yet neither stepped back. Their place in tomorrow's fight was already decided.
That night, Caelburn burned. Torches lined the ruined streets, casting shadows that flickered against broken stone. Families huddled together, priests prayed louder than ever, soldiers patrolled in rigid lines.
Altheron could not sleep. His body lay heavy on the cot, but his mind burned. He rose quietly, slipping from the inn into the cool night air.
The ruins of the Millennia Tree loomed at the city's center, glowing faintly with a sickly aura. The once-proud silver branches lay like corpses across the streets. And from the pit where the trunk had stood, the pulse continued—throbbing, endless, alive.
Altheron stepped closer, his chest tightening. The whisper came again, clearer than ever before.
The Tree has fallen…
Now comes the hour to decide.
The world's future lies upon the edge of thy blade.
Wilt thou save it, chosen one… or fail, and let all fall into shadow?
He staggered, gripping his chest. The voice was not sound, but truth echoing in his bones. His breath came ragged, his hands trembling.
Behind him, Emi's voice was soft but steady. "You heard it again, didn't you?"
He couldn't answer. Not yet.
His gaze lingered on the abyss, on the spreading corruption that threatened to swallow Caelburn whole. Tomorrow, they would enter that darkness. Tomorrow, everything would change.
And Altheron knew with bone-deep certainty—there would be no turning back.
And the egg… whatever lay within, it too had begun to awaken.