Samuel and the World Tree surged forward. The sky split open with celestial light as the World Tree summoned its power. Roots of energy twisted into the heavens, and a radiant beam—pure, pulsing, divine—shot toward Ryan. It struck him with the force of a falling star, but Ryan didn't waver. His crimson aura snarled in resistance. His will wanted destruction.
Samuel charged forward and seized Ryan's arm. A brilliant golden-white armor flared over his body like sunlight forging metal, reshaping him into a celestial warlord. Every plate shimmered like moonlight reflected off sacred stone. He held Ryan tight, but the red power corroded everything. Samuel's armor hissed and cracked under the onslaught, his hands blistering beneath the divine steel.
Then the healing aura of the World Tree wrapped around them both—a soft, humming warmth like sunlight after a storm. Samuel's wounds began to knit, and the fiery rage around Ryan dimmed, fading like embers cooling in snow. The very earth beneath them trembled with tension, caught in the balance of annihilation and grace.
Samuel gritted his teeth and forced every last ounce of energy into the beam, holding Ryan in place. The light deepened, pulsing like a heartbeat. And then—Ryan collapsed, unconscious. His limbs went limp, and the aura blinked out like a dying star.
The beam faded.
Samuel and Ryan crashed to the ground. Dust plumed around them as silence settled. Samuel stirred first, groaning, blood streaking his lips, but he managed to stand.
Ryan did not move.
His body was mangled—skin shredded, muscles torn, bones splintered like shattered marble. Blackened cracks veined his flesh, glowing faintly with remnants of soul fire.
Maya was the first to reach him. Her feet flew over the broken earth, and she fell to her knees beside him. She gently lifted his broken frame into her arms, her tears falling freely now, soaking into his ruined skin. He had protected her. He had burned himself alive for her.
And now he lay dying.
His body was a ruin—skin like fractured clay, flaking and splitting, as if the soul power had turned him into something no longer human. The wounds didn't close. The healing wouldn't start. Even the World Tree could see it.
They laid him beneath its sacred branches, where the air shimmered with life magic. The elf—the guardian of the tree—stepped forward without hesitation. Her palms glowed, runes igniting across her arms, and she channeled ancient healing energy into Ryan's body.
But nothing happened.
The power that had broken him was deeper than flesh. The soul energy had corrupted the very foundation of his being. Still, she kept trying, over and over—each attempt more desperate than the last.
Around them, grief settled like a stormcloud. The sacred experts—heroes hardened by war and time—stood in silence, their faces pale, their eyes heavy. They had seen death. But this felt different. This felt like a light had gone out.
Even Samuel looked away, shoulders bowed.
Maya turned to him and screamed, "Do something! Heal him!"
But Samuel didn't answer. He only looked at the ground, his silence thick with helplessness.
After a long pause, he finally spoke, his voice barely more than a whisper.
"I can't... Ryan has been corrupted by soul power. There's no cure—no way to heal this body."
He raised his eyes to hers.
"The only way... is to create a new body for Ryan."
The next second, the elf ordered everyone to step back from the tree. Maya looked at her, tears welling in her eyes, and nodded—offering a silent vote of trust. Her breath trembled as she stepped away, the soft shuffle of feet echoing in the quiet cave as everyone moved back, giving space to the ritual about to unfold.
The elf stepped forward, her movements calm yet purposeful. She knelt beside Ryan's broken body, the cool stone floor pressing against her knees. With a gaze full of ancient sorrow, she placed her hands gently over his heart. Her fingers trembled slightly, then stilled. She closed her eyes and began whispering—words so ancient and delicate they seemed to melt into the air itself, like mist on morning leaves.
In the next instant, a surge of energy rippled outward. The World Tree began to glow, not merely with light, but with life. An emerald brilliance burst forth from its trunk and branches, painting the cave in a soft, pulsing green. The rough stone walls shimmered with reflected light, and the scent of fresh leaves and rain-kissed earth filled the air, replacing the earlier tang of blood and ash.
The glow intensified, and Ryan's body began to rise—slowly, weightlessly—his form drifting upward like a fallen feather caught on an unseen breeze. Inch by inch, he floated closer to the World Tree's mighty trunk. Then, something extraordinary happened: the tree began to give itself.
Leaves fell like glowing embers from its branches. Slivers of bark and delicate twigs detached as if responding to a silent call, all converging on Ryan's form. The materials circled him, wrapping him in strands of luminous green, as if the tree itself were weaving him anew.
His old, torn flesh peeled away gently—no blood, no pain, only transformation. New skin, smooth and unmarred, grew over muscle and bone. It shimmered faintly, as though lit from within. It was like watching clay molded by divine hands—a rebirth forged in sacrifice.
Yet it was clear the World Tree was weakening. Its branches sagged, shedding their leaves in a slow, aching rain. The vibrant greens began to pale. The air grew colder. Even the sound of crackling wood echoed through the cave as parts of the tree splintered and fell to the earth, turning dry and grey.
Still, the process continued.
Ryan's entire body formed anew—fingers stretching, spine realigning, heart pulsing once more with life. His chest rose with a gentle breath, and he slowly descended, as if cradled by invisible arms, coming to rest at the base of the tree. His features were serene, untouched by the torment he had endured.
The elf, her strength utterly drained, slumped beside him. Her face was peaceful, but her limbs trembled. Her sacrifice was etched into every line of her expression, every breath she still managed to take.
Everyone rushed toward them, their footsteps fast and frantic now—echoes of hope bouncing off stone.
Samuel and Artisan moved in, their eyes wide with disbelief. They gazed down at Ryan. He looked familiar… and yet, transcendent. His features were the same, but there was a brilliance to him now—a soft light under his skin, as though purity itself had chosen to reside in his flesh. His skin was brighter, smooth and unmarred, glowing faintly like polished ivory kissed by morning sun.
A completely new body—born not from flesh, but from sacred nature itself.
Even Samuel, seasoned in battles beyond mortal reckoning, felt awe rise in his chest. He could sense it. The World Tree was no mere relic. It was an existence so profound that even the gods would bow before its will.
To give of itself like this... to weaken its roots and diminish its strength for one soul—it was beyond imagining.
Not even Oliver, powerful as he had once been, had ever managed more than snapping a few branches, tearing loose a leaf or two. But now, this. A gift. A sacrifice.
Samuel looked at the World Tree. Its trunk was slightly smaller. Its branches drooped, worn and weary. And yet it stood tall—what remained of its essence still resonating in the air like the final note of a holy song.
It had given so much of itself to bring Ryan back. And it had done so without hesitation.
Eight carriages rumbled steadily toward the capital of Jira. Each one shimmered under the sunlight, adorned in intricate gold patterns and deep crimson velvet—a procession fit for emperors. The polished wood gleamed like lacquered mahogany, and the emblems etched on the sides spoke of kingdoms and legacies. They moved in stately unison, wheels creaking softly against the gravel path, wrapped in the solemn quiet of nobility in motion.
Inside one of the carriages, Ryan sat slumped in a plush seat, lulled into uneasy sleep by the rhythm of the uneven road. The low suspension groaned with each bump; the wheels thudded into potholes, sending him jolting forward. His head knocked gently against something soft, with a subtle firmness beneath—something warm. The cool metal of his chain clinked twice against it.
His eyes fluttered open.
A soft, golden glow filtered in through the half-draped curtains, dust motes dancing in the air like silent spirits. He blinked once—and realized his head was resting against Maya's shoulder, her silken robe brushing against his cheek with the faint scent of jasmine. Worse, his hand lay across her lap, fingers curled gently on her thigh. His heart skipped.
With a quiet gasp, he lifted his head and pulled his hand back as if stung.
Maya stirred only slightly, eyes steady, as if she had known all along but didn't mind.
Beside her sat Artisan, cloaked in layered fabrics of cobalt and ash-gray, gazing distantly through the window. Across from them sat a young man emanating sacred energy, calm but unmistakably powerful. Next to him, the elf of the World Tree sat poised and serene, her hair cascading like silver threads. Samuel, ever silent and observant, rested beside her—his expression unreadable, a stillness in his presence that anchored the entire carriage.
Six passengers in all—yet the space felt charged with meaning.
Ryan blinked again, more alert now, and studied each of them. His thoughts swirled, questions rising to the surface. But before he could say anything, the young man leaned forward slightly and spoke, his tone casual but warm.
"Oh... he woke up."
Instantly, the soft murmurs of conversation ceased. All eyes turned to Ryan—expressions shifting from casual interest to quiet intensity, as if something long-awaited had finally arrived. Their gazes weren't just curious—they were hopeful.
Ryan's senses were still catching up, but something was undeniably different. Deep inside, his body no longer felt like the one he remembered. It was as though he had shed a skin. His limbs felt lighter, more agile, as if a hidden weight had been lifted. His core felt denser, tighter—his frame subtly more defined. Even the way he breathed had changed; the air filled his lungs with startling ease.
It was a body reborn. Fitter. Sharper. Whole.
Maya's eyes searched his face with gentle worry. Her voice was soft, but every syllable held emotion. "Are you okay now?"
Ryan didn't speak. He simply nodded, his eyes locked with hers in an unspoken exchange—deep, quiet, and raw. That one look said everything words could not.