The voice rang in his ears like a bell tolling across the ages.
"Congratulations. You have awakened your first gift."
Caelum froze. His chest rose and fell sharply, breath caught between disbelief and anticipation.
"My… first gift?" he whispered. His lips trembled. "Then… show me."
The world tilted. The forest around him blurred and dissolved. He felt his body collapse inward, as though dragged through a funnel of light.
****
When Caelum's sight cleared, he was standing in a place that was not a place—an endless, colorless expanse filled with drifting streams of mist. At the center, seated upon a cracked stone, was a man.
The man's body looked frail, almost wasted, skin stretched thin over bone. Yet his presence was crushing, oppressive, like a mountain pressing down on the earth.
Caelum narrowed his eyes. He expected to see the usual patterns of cultivation—circles of energy gathered from a single source, the methodical inhalation and refinement of mana. That was the way it had always been taught. That was the law of the world.
But what he saw was different.
The man did not draw from a single fountain of mana. He devoured everything.
From the soil beneath him, thick gray threads of energy rose. From the trees nearby, vibrant green light was torn free. From the air itself, translucent streams rippled toward him. Even the shallow river beside the stone bled a ribbon of deep blue light, flowing into his chest.
The man was a black hole in human form, swallowing existence itself.
Caelum's heart pounded faster as he observed. The gray threads hardened over the man's skin, making it tough like stone. The green energy flowed through his limbs, filling him with vitality. The blue streams made his body shimmer fluidly, like water dancing in sunlight.
Then the winds wrapped around him—light, agile, weightless.
It was not just power. It was transformation.
Caelum's lips parted, a dry whisper escaping.
"Everything… has mana."
The realization struck like lightning.
Stone endured because of its mana.
The river flowed because of its mana.
The air carried its own mana, keeping the world alive.
Everything. Every object. Every living thing. Every breath. All of it was filled with its own essence, its own type of mana.
And this man… this vision… had found a way to consume it all.
Caelum's eyes gleamed with wild wonder. If he can do it… so can I.
****
The vision fractured. Reality rushed back in with the whisper of leaves and the musky scent of damp wood. Caelum was on his knees, the ancient forest towering around him.
His hands trembled. His mind still echoed with the image of the man pulling mana from stone and water and air.
Can I?
He shut his eyes.
The forest pressed against his senses: rough bark, swaying leaves, the heavy silence broken only by the rustle of wings. He reached, not outward toward some distant flow of energy like traditional cultivators, but inward, searching for the pulse of the trees themselves.
Something stirred.
A faint vibration—alive, steady, older than he could comprehend. It was in the trees. Their quiet patience, their deep roots, their ceaseless growth. He latched onto it, and he pulled.
Green light, faint as mist, seeped out of the bark. The trees shivered, leaves rattling as if resisting. But his will was stronger. The mana spilled into him, crawling along his veins like ivy. His body tingled, his heartbeat syncing with the forest.
Then the voice returned. Cold. Mechanical.
------
Tree Camouflage – Skill Awakened
Passive Ability: Blend into tree surroundings, becoming nearly invisible.
Active Ability: Leafy Disguise – enhance camouflage, move slowly undetected.
Limitations: Reduced speed, noise breaks stealth, can be detected by experts.
Upgradable.
*****
Caelum's eyes snapped open. The forest looked different. Clearer. Alive in a way it hadn't before. He felt the trees' rhythm beating alongside his own heart.
His voice cracked with disbelief.
"…Guide?"
A calm reply answered at once.
"Yes, Last Heir."
"What is this? What just happened to me?"
"You have done more than steal mana," the Guide intoned. "You have consumed life essence. By drawing from the trees, you gained one of their inherent traits: the power of concealment. Camouflage, blending, stillness—these are the marks of trees. And now, they are yours."
Caelum's fingers flexed. He could feel the potential coiling in them, the ability to vanish into the woods themselves.
The Guide continued, voice patient but grave.
"The more you cultivate tree mana, the stronger your gift becomes. In time, you may progress beyond simple camouflage. Perhaps you will grow to embody nature itself, merging with stone, sunlight, rivers, even the sky."
*****
At first, Caelum was stunned. But then his mind caught fire.
If this came from mere trees…
His eyes widened. His thoughts raced.
What about the sun? The moon? Animals? Even… humans?
The more he imagined, the hotter the frenzy inside him burned. He pressed his hand to his face, trembling with laughter.
"Hehehe… hahaha…"
The sound grew louder, sharper, tearing through the forest. Birds screamed and scattered into the sky. Small beasts bolted, rustling through the undergrowth.
Caelum laughed like a madman, tears streaking his face. His body shook with the sheer ecstasy of possibility.
"Elias… Mother… Patrick… Seren…" His laughter broke into words, venom dripping from every syllable. "Pray. Pray with every breath. But no—don't bother. There is no God to save you."
His voice cracked into another roar of laughter, echoing across the trees.
The forest itself seemed to recoil from him. "I've truly gone insane."
****
While Caelum laughed under the canopy, the clan was drowning in panic.
For an entire day, the search parties had combed through valleys and thickets, leaving no stone unturned. Still, there was no trace of him. No footprints, no scent, no shadow. Nothing.
The warriors returned exhausted, faces tight with frustration.
The Patriarch stood at the center of the courtyard, his expression grim. His voice cut through the murmurs.
"Enough. Call them back."
One of the elders protested. "But Patriarch—"
He silenced him with a glare. "Caelum has escaped. We will not find him here. Not anymore."
Silence fell, heavy as a tombstone.
Elias clenched his fists. Seren's lips trembled, though he tried to mask it.
The Patriarch's gaze locked onto them, eyes sharp as blades.
"Listen to me. I cannot promise Caelum will not return. In fact, I am certain he will. And when he does…" His voice dropped, heavy with meaning. "…he will not be the same boy you remember."
Their throats went dry.
"The only sanctuary left is the Raven Academy," the Patriarch continued. "No one dares strike recklessly within its walls. You will join the upcoming selection. There, you will grow strong. Strong enough to face what is coming."
Elias swallowed hard, nodding. Seven followed, his usual arrogance buried under the weight of fear.
The Patriarch turned away, his robe sweeping the ground. His words lingered like a curse:
"Pray you become stronger before the devil returns."
*****
But the truth was worse.
They had not angered a devil. Devils could be bargained with, outwitted, even defeated.
No—what they had provoked was something far more dangerous.
A being who had learned to devour the essence of the world itself.
But far away, in the forest where the birds had only just calmed, Caelum pressed his palm to the bark of a tree, shaking with exhilaration and hunger.
"This power… this curse… this gift…" He whispered, his lips curling again into that broken smile.
"…I will devour the world."