God’s Tree

The road beyond Volcrest was not kind.

Gone were the structured paths of the city, the dark-stone walls, and the cold glow of runic lanterns.

Here, the land stretched wide and untamed—a mixture of rolling plains, jagged ridges, and distant mountain peaks that cut into the horizon like shattered blades.

The second tree's call was still distant, but it was clearer now.

It wasn't just a presence.

It was a direction.

And it was pulling him far beyond anything he had known.

Argolaith led the way, moving with purpose, the weight of the sword at his side a constant reminder of what had changed.

Malakar followed silently, his violet eyes flickering beneath the shadow of his hood. He was watching, calculating, waiting.

Kaelred, already tired of endless walking, sighed loudly. "So how far are we talking? Days? Weeks? Months?"

Argolaith exhaled. "Far."

Kaelred groaned. "Great. That really narrows it down."

Malakar smirked. "Do you wish to run again?"

Kaelred shot him a deadpan stare. "I wish for a bed and a hot meal, but apparently the gods have decided I don't deserve nice things."

Argolaith chuckled. "We'll stop when we find shelter."

Kaelred muttered something under his breath but didn't argue.

As the hours stretched on, the terrain shifted.

The rolling plains became harsher, dotted with massive stone pillars, remnants of something long forgotten. The air grew drier, the wind carrying the scent of ancient dust and distant storms.

There were no villages.

No settlements.

Only emptiness.

Kaelred glanced around. "Where exactly are we heading?"

Argolaith adjusted his pace. "South. Beyond the Shattered Highlands."

Kaelred frowned. "Never heard of them."

Malakar spoke evenly. "Because few return from them."

Kaelred groaned. "Of course."

The day stretched into evening, the sky burning with deep oranges and purples as the sun dipped toward the horizon.

That's when Argolaith noticed it.

The air had gone still.

Too still.

Malakar slowed, his skeletal form stiffening slightly. "Something is wrong."

Kaelred sighed. "Of course something's wrong. It's always wrong."

Argolaith raised a hand, signaling them to stop. His golden eyes scanned the terrain.

The wind wasn't moving.

The distant cries of birds had vanished.

Even the shadows felt deeper.

Then—

A single breath of movement.

Not ahead.

Behind them.

Argolaith spun just as a dark shape burst from the rocks.

A massive beast, its body covered in bone-plated armor, its eyes hollowed pits of green light.

Kaelred cursed. "Oh, come on—"

The creature lunged.

Malakar was faster.

A burst of necrotic energy lashed forward, striking the beast mid-leap, sending it crashing into the dirt with a sharp snarl.

Argolaith was already moving.

His sword flashed, carving a deep gash across the creature's side, its corrupted flesh splitting open with unnatural ease.

But it didn't die.

Instead, it twisted, its body reforming, the wound sealing over with writhing black veins.

Kaelred grimaced. "That's disgusting."

Malakar's expression darkened. "It is Hollowed."

The creature charged again, its massive form barreling toward them.

Argolaith didn't hesitate.

He met it head-on.

His blade moved faster than thought, the weight of it guiding his strikes rather than resisting them.

Every cut—precise.

Every movement—perfect.

The Hollowed beast snarled, its body flickering as if trying to hold itself together.

Then—

Argolaith's blade shifted.

Not physically.

But he felt it.

A whisper of power coiling through the steel.

And in one final stroke—

He severed the creature's existence.

The beast collapsed.

Not in death.

Not in decay.

But in absolute stillness.

The Hollowed energy did not reform.

It simply ceased to be.

Kaelred exhaled. "Okay. That was new."

Malakar studied the remains. "The sword did not simply cut it. It erased it."

Argolaith felt the lingering hum of power fade.

The blade had not spoken.

It had not burned.

It had simply done what it was meant to do.

Kaelred crossed his arms. "So what, you just have a weapon that completely deletes Hollowed now?"

Argolaith sheathed the blade. "Looks like it."

Kaelred sighed. "You know, at this rate, we're gonna have to start calling you something dramatic. Like 'The Hollow Slayer.'"

Argolaith smirked. "I'll pass."

The sun was nearly gone, the sky deepening into the shades of twilight.

The Hollowed beast was dead, but they all knew—it wasn't alone.

This was only the first.

The Shattered Highlands lay ahead.

The second tree was waiting.

And the Hollowed were hunting them.

Argolaith exhaled, adjusting his grip on his sword.

They still had a long way to go.

The twilight sky darkened, the distant horizon swallowed by a creeping void of stars.

Argolaith adjusted his stance, rolling his shoulders as the last remnants of the battle settled in the air. The Hollowed beast was gone—completely erased—but the road ahead stretched long and merciless.

The second tree's pull was still there—constant, unwavering.

And still impossibly far away.

One million miles.

Kaelred groaned. "So, uh, tell me again why we aren't finding some nice, warm cave to sleep in before we throw ourselves into another death sprint?"

Argolaith smirked. "Because we don't have time."

Kaelred exhaled. "Fantastic. I love this plan."

Malakar stepped forward. "We run."

And then, before Kaelred could protest—

Malakar lifted a hand.

Darkness swallowed Kaelred whole.

Argolaith took off first, his boots hitting the rough terrain with steady, unwavering force.

Malakar moved beside him, his undead body gliding through the shadows without effort. His skeletal form showed no signs of strain, no hint of exhaustion.

And Kaelred—

Kaelred's voice echoed from inside Malakar's shadow.

"Wait. WAIT."

Malakar smirked. "What?"

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, 'WHAT'? YOU JUST SHOVED ME INTO YOUR WEIRD SHADOW DIMENSION!"

Argolaith chuckled, his strides growing faster. "You'd rather run?"

Kaelred's voice grew flat. "No. But that's not the point."

Malakar moved effortlessly, his violet flames flickering faintly in the night. "Then what is the point?"

Silence.

Then—

"WHY DIDN'T YOU DO THIS WHEN WE RAN FOR THREE DAYS STRAIGHT?!"

Malakar laughed. "Because it was amusing."

Kaelred's rage was palpable. "YOU—"

Argolaith grinned. "You walked right into that one."

Kaelred groaned. "I swear, when we get to the second tree, I'm setting something on fire."

The terrain blurred beneath them as they moved faster.

Argolaith could feel the strain in his muscles, the burn of exertion creeping into his body. But he didn't slow.

His endurance had been forged in battle, hardened through trials that had nearly killed him more times than he cared to count.

And now?

Now, he ran like it was nothing.

Malakar remained untouched by exhaustion, silent and steady.

And Kaelred, trapped in his shadow prison, continued his grumbling.

"I hate you both."

Malakar smirked. "Would you like me to release you?"

"No. But I still hate you."

The journey stretched before them, an impossible distance.

But step by step, mile by mile—

They would get there.

No matter what waited in the dark.

No matter what the Hollowed had planned.

Argolaith felt the pull of the second tree.

And he wasn't stopping.

Not until he reached it.