“After sensing the weak-imbued item buried on the ground around the Colossal Erasmus, I sent a signal for Zealot Nil and Zealot Uma to keep a close eye on the Great Sapling, while I waited for the intruders to retrieve the item,” said Zealot Tamara, standing up and retailing about yesterday morning, as ordered by Yokki.

  “And after that, Zealot Tamara?” asked Yokki, sipping a fresh warmed tea, which was served soon after the beginning of the trial.

  “I waited for a few moments, and a little after the middle meal, I sensed two Enlightened–” She took a deep breath. “Descending from the Colossal Erasmus,” hushed noises of surprises were heard, and some trees around the venue shook unnaturally.

  “Please, keep going, Zealot,” Yokki said in a stern voice.

  “Yes, Cleric Chosen. Then, I just observed while they rested. I thought they were waiting for someone, and I was surprised when one of them started to run. I had to intercept both of them,” she paused, “I must say, they came without causing further issues after proper greetings and initial explanation. I hastily understood the necessity to bring such case for the one above me.”

  After concluding her direct testimony, Tamara nodded to the group and took her seat beside Yokki.

  Meanwhile, Zamian only wished his father didn’t sit behind him and Bohlo—he wanted nothing more than to look at the man’s face to ensure everything was going as he planned. Having only Yokki’s followers here made it seem like this was a commoner’s play, something to entertain their boring cultivation days.

  ‘They could just point me to where I should dig my grave, and be done with it,’ he thought in self-mock.

  "Very well. As Zealot Tamara finished her statement, I ask for both children to explain themselves, and let the Guardian’s and Cleric’s representatives give their sentences," Yokki declared, as Lakea gently poured more tea for her.

  “I shall invite Boh–” Yokki was interrupted by a grunt from Dante.

  Receiving the attention of every other cultivator, Zamian’s father shook his head. “I thought the judges were Enlightened Lakea and Zealot Tamara, not you, Cleric Chosen,” he tapped his armchair, “I may not be as wise as you, so I ask for an explanation, on layman’s terms, of why you are the one leading this trial.”

  Yokki maintained her composure, as she answered. “This is my abode, Chosen Dante. I am merely facilitating the process," she spoke, tracing circles on the rim of her cup with her fingers. “However, you are right. I made this mistake because, as a Cleric Chosen, it’s customary for me to lead Sacred Trials. A Chosen can sometimes forget they have no authority over a situation, right?"

  “Make sure to let your selected judges conduct the trial from now on,” Dante said, ignoring her last statement.

  Yokki nodded. “Of course, of course,” she spoke, signalizing Lakea with her eyes.

  Standing up, the younger woman hadn’t put on a mask again, glaring at Zamian and Bohlo with her orange eyes. “Enlightened Bohlo, please explain your version of the incident,” she demanded.

  Bohlo instinctively looked at Zamian, his face marred by concern, nails digging into the wooden armchair.

  Zamian had some plans, most coming from the discussion with his father, and some by the insights of today's morning. He was at ease, even joking inwardly—his instincts weren’t detecting any danger, unconsciously making him relax.

  ‘No. This can’t be normal,’ he thought in newfound concern.

  It was too calm, too quiet. Yokki didn’t examine his soul—she wouldn’t dare do this in front of Dante—but she could see he was alive and well. Yet, she showed no reaction. The fact of his father being here, even if her Zealots had told her earlier, was reason enough to make her anxious, in Zamian’s opinion.

  But looking at the orange-haired woman supporting her chin with one hand, a serene smile on her face, while her other hand played with the cup of tea, he knew things weren’t right.

  "Don’t lie. Don’t let Bohlo lie,” A sweet sound entered Zamian’s mind. It was his father's high-pitched voice, the one he used on his deranged stage. However, nobody else seemed to notice, not even the Cleric Chosen. Zamian was puzzled, but also relieved. Finally, he could be sure something was happening, or his father wouldn’t send such a warning.

  And now, it was his time to act.

  “Hearing your voice twice in such a short time warms my heart, dear Lakea,” Zamian said as he stood, his black hair falling into his eyes. ‘It isn’t a lie. I’m anxious about what you’re going to say,’ he grumbled inwardly.

  The venue was silent for a moment, before exploding in surprised gasps. Bohlo couldn’t hide his shocked face, which quickly turned into a grin, and he pumped his fist low in the air, his lips reading ‘Go get her.’

  Dante and Yokki merely adjusted their sitting positions, two pairs of eyes flashing a dark green light at the same instant as they looked at the trees surrounding the abode’s private garden.

  Lakea arched an eyebrow.

  “What are you talking about, Enlightened Zamian?” she asked with a stoic face.

  “I was waiting for the opportunity to talk to you.”

  “This is not the opportunity you think it is. And please, refer to me by my title. We are on a trial, not on some root-street bar, Enlightened Zamian.”

  “A wise man once told me, Cleric Lakea,” Zamian nodded, walking in her direction in short steps, “If I ever saw any chance to achieve some of my goals, I should take it, making it an opportunity myself,” he stopped an arm's length from the black-haired woman. “So I disagree with you,” he said, his gaze fixed on Lakea’s eyes.

  Zamian could see her indecision and feel what she wanted to do. It was something he recognized, because he wanted to do the same moments ago: to turn around and ask help from a powerful parent. Seeing her like this, made him aware of one of his shortcomings. ‘I need to avoid depending on my father, even when he is stable.’

  Lakea clenched her fists, raising her chin a little bit. “Your words and actions show no respect for this trial and our rules, making a joke out of yourself. Behave like a proper cultivator. I will ignore your last words, Enlightened Zamian."

  "I am sorry. I just knew I had to do something, but you are right. It is my mistake, Cleric Lakea," he said, bowing. “But I need to say one more thing before sitting down,” he turned his face to her, smiling and still bowing.

  “Speak, Enlightened,” she frowned.

  “Congratulations on becoming a Cleric. You always wanted to be like your mother, so I’m sure you’re happier now,” Zamian concluded, walking back to his chair, and sitting. He could swear Yokki smiled when he said the last phrase, but after glancing at her, he only saw her stoic face.

  After a few moments gazing at the young man, Lakea spoke. “Thank you. Can you please explain your version of the incidents, Enlightened Zamian?”

  Zamian nodded.

  “Of course. Zealot Tamara was completely right, Bohlo indeed left an imbued bracer buried below Erasmus Tree’s soil, before finding me on behalf of my father. Of course, I was already up there, on one of the many branches of the Colossal Tree," he spoke in a casual tone.

  “But why were you there? You must know, your reason doesn’t condone your action, but this explanation may lessen your punishment,” Lakea’s voice was icy.

  “I said to your mother I was there looking at you, to confess my love, and to marry you,” Zamian smiled.

  Lakea just nodded, showing no reaction to the explanation. Bohlo was grinning like a fool, his eyes almost shining without any essence pumping there. Dante and Yokki, however, were surveying the place, like they couldn’t care less about the trial.

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  “Of course, I was lying,” Zamian concluded his statement, and then there was only silence, a shocked Bohlo, and a frowning Lakea.

  Lakea turned to her mother, gauging the woman’s response. Sadly for her, the Cleric Chosen eyes were focused on the trees, showing no reaction to the accused.

  “What is the truth, then?” a calm voice sounded from beside Lakea. She was too distracted by her mother's indifference that she didn’t notice Zealot Tamara walking to her side.

  “It was because of a mission. Before you ask, this mission just appeared in front of my eyes, like heaven’s decrees from the books.”

  “Do you take us for a fool?”

  “I’m not lying. I swear. This mission came to me in a moment of great need. It sent me in the direction of my mother’s sapling.”

  “What for? No, who gave you such a mission?” Lakea asked, interrupting Tamara.

  “How come you don’t know?” Zamian asked and took a deep breath, “I can see it every time I open my eyes. I can see when I look at the forest, at our Colossal Trees. I can see now, looking at your face, on this holy abode. ”

  Zealot Tamara frowned. “Do you mean V–” She tried to ask, only to be interrupted by Zamian.

  “We all know only a Divine entity could have the power to be present in all aspects of my life," he stood up, opening his arms like branches of a tree, “I’m sorry I lied before. I was scared Verdant God would punish me if I told the Cleric Chosen about my mission. I truly fear the consequences of being unfaithful.”

  Before Lakea or Tamara could ask anything else, a sense of dread enveloped the garden. Zamian found himself frozen, feeling like his body was being devoured by a swamp, while his skin was caressed by a myriad of tiny vines. Moving only his eyes, he could see the Clerics and Zealots in similar situations, their faces contorting. The only exception was Yokki, who stood up and was walking in his direction.

  Feeling a hand on his shoulder, Zamian found himself free to move and looked at Dante, who was now by his side. A pressure was emanating from the white-haired Chosen, keeping at bay whatever brought the powerful sense of dread, and his eyes shone a green hue darker than he ever saw.

  Hearing hustling sounds, Zamian looked to his right, the same direction Yokki and his father were looking now, only to see three old men walking at a slow pace in his direction, side by side.

  They had the same old appearance—wrinkled face, white beard, and long white hair—and were wearing brown robes with a green tree drawn on them. The weirdest thing for Zamian was that they came from a different direction from the entrance.

  Zamian didn’t know if the others could see any difference, but he could see a glaring one.

  [LEVEL 1 - MORTAL TIER - CREATION PATHWAY]

  [LEVEL 1 - MORTAL TIER - CREATION PATHWAY]

  [LEVEL 4 - MORTAL TIER - CREATION PATHWAY]

  The man on the right side was a Chosen.

  “Stargazing Brothers, it is an honor to receive you here on my abode,” Yokki said, and Zamian couldn’t help but notice she didn’t greet them properly.

  They kept their slow pace, ignoring the Cleric Chosen’s words.

  Dante squeezed Zamian’s shoulder as he watched the three brown-robed men coming closer. Zamian could smell a wooden aroma mixed with a sour taste from these elders.

  As the trio stopped a little more than four steps away from Zamian, the young man noticed their eyes were blank, without irises or pupils.

  "Art thou blessed, Brother Zamian?" While only the middle one moved his lips, Zamian heard a booming voice inside his head.

  Zamian turned to the one from the right, the Chosen amongst them. “I don’t know. But I feel the company of something greater than any of us, every day of my life, for years. Is that being blessed?” He answered, not nervous nor anxious.

  The three old men smiled and nodded. "No deceit hath the Sacred Words of the Verdant God wrought upon him. We are pleased. And thou, Chosen, shall meet us unto the Stargazing Tree. The Clerics await thy presence," the voice sounded again on Zamian’s head, and by the squeeze that he felt on his shoulder, his father also heard the enigmatic phrase.

  As the old men slowly turned and went back to the tree from the right side, disappearing among the bushes, Zamian’s father took his hand off the young man’s shoulder. Zamian noticed the pressure slowly receding, and no more dread was weighing on his mind.

  A chorus of erratic breaths caught Zamian’s attention, as he saw almost everyone falling to the ground. The Zealots just bent their knees, but the Enlightened had to use their hand to not eat dirt. At some point, every one of the cultivators present had tried to stand up, only to fall on the ground a moment later. Zamian was so distracted by the creepy elders, that he didn’t notice it.

  “To protect someone else from the Stargazing Brother’s Presence, you sure are stronger than the rumors, Chosen Dante,” the Cleric Chosen spoke, her orange eyes still shining green. Lakea, at her side, was also gasping, on all fours.

  Checking on Bohlo, Zamian noticed the short-haired man coughing, seated down on the grass.

  “Hm,” Dante hummed in accordance, and Zamian could see the man’s eyes dimming.

  At that moment, Zamian’s instincts flared up. A warning of danger grasped his heart, while another feeling mixed with it—a cold and sweet sensation. The young man glanced at Yokki, meeting her gaze, and for the first time he could recognize a strong emotion behind the woman’s glowing irises: fear.

  His heart quickened, and time seemed to slow down. The red motes of light inside Zamian’s soul shone, making the dark space take a reddish hue.

  Zamian’s mind spun, and his essence was being depleted, sucked to a deeper place inside the dark space. But he didn’t let himself focus on this drain; he wasn’t even concerned about it.

  As his instincts kept flaring up two signals, one for danger and another unknown to him, he focused on Yokki. ‘She wants to do something. And she is scared.’

  Zamian didn’t look at his father, nor did he move his gaze away from the Cleric Chosen. He could feel that whatever she wanted to do, was out of fear. It was an action to be made on the spur of the moment. He even dared to guess that if she stopped to reflect, she wouldn’t do anything at all.

  Zamian felt tired and less than a blink of an eye had passed in real time. Unknown to him, half of his red motes of light were flickering, the rest of them shining as brightly as they could.

  His mind followed his current state to decide on the best course of action. ‘Maybe she fears my potential? She fears that as a blessed one, I can gather more resources and take revenge?’

  A myriad of thoughts entered Zamian’s mind. It wasn’t his potential the thing she feared the most. She didn’t even know about his ability to have a breakthrough soon enough. No, what she feared was his connection with Verdant God.

  She wouldn’t act based on this fear. It would be irrational of her, and knowing Zamian had a holy mission from God was dreadful. What if she did something to interrupt his mission? What if she was the one to face a Sacred Trial soon? She needed to protect herself. She needed to protect her family.

  ‘Father, you made a mistake,’ Zamian concluded as he felt connected to the Cleric Chosen.

  Yokki would never give Lakea to him, even if he were a Zealot or a Chosen. She would let her daughter choose her future, and not use her as a political tool. She loved her daughter more than anything else.

  But she couldn’t let others know, so Yokki had hidden this feeling behind a veil. Her house was always full of snakes, Zealots loyal to other Chosen—to the Lord Chosen. She needed to make her stance clear to them, that her daughter was below their cause.

  She sent Lakea to be a Cleric. Not living with her, but still under her gaze, and doing so she could protect her daughter from far away.

  Zamian felt all of her concerns, as his eyes shone a reddish light, reflecting Yokki’s gaze.

  She wanted this trial to be a learning experience for her daughter. Yokki didn’t try to protect Lakea from the Stargazing Brothers, aiming for her to become more independent.

  Her daughter was her only memory of her husband.

  ‘Lakea is her only family,’ Zamian thought, and as obvious as that sounds, he never thought Yokki would value her daughter that much.

  Zamian understood more of her feelings.

  She didn’t hurt him when he mentioned marrying Lakea. What if her daughter liked him? She compromised, letting Zamian go, scouted by Zealot Tamara. Her deals with the Lord Chosen could wait, and they could use this to test Dante’s might. It was a win-win situation.

  Zamian couldn’t read her thoughts—but somehow her feelings were crystal clear to him. His eyes shone a red hue, and his perception of time was returning to normal, or he felt his essence deplete. 'Not fear. Not hate. I know what will make you move.'

  As his tiredness accumulated and the red motes of light were all flickering, he whispered low enough for only Yokki to hear, “I will ask Verdant God to give Lakea to me, after the mission. She will be my reward and plaything from now on.”

  As Zamian went pale, Yokki’s eyes gleamed. A strong green light shone from them, invisible to Zamian, targetting his soul.

  The Cleric Chosen attacked with all her strength, her mind clouded by thoughts of love and protection. She recognized Zamian’s father was faltering only for a moment, having spent essence to protect his son from the elders’ presence. She wanted to act, and the young cultivator’s sentences ignited her feelings and made her more anxious.

  As she visualized a myriad of vines piercing Zamian’s soul, sending most of her essence to pulverize the Enlightened’s sense of self, Yokki felt a strong sense of danger, making her want to halt her attack.

  But it was too late.

  As the green light tried to pierce into Zamian’s soul, a strong force absorbed Yokki’s attack, siphoning the essence used to empower it in the direction of the dark space’s edge. Not stopping there, the force swiftly attracted more of the Cleric Chosen’s essence; much more than she could handle.

  “Ahhh!” Yokki screamed, kneeling on the ground, and scratching her face while her eyes bled and her skin dried up.

  Zamian lost his strength and was quickly held by his father, who looked at Yokki with wide eyes.

  Meanwhile, the pale cultivator smiled, as he read the white text in his vision.

  Completed Side Quest: Get revenge on your friend's behalf

  Reward: 01 Book from White Tower's First Floor

  Status: Completed