God's Tree

Chapter 35 Battle of life and death

Argolaith stepped onto the vast plateau with cautious determination. The high altitude land stretched before him like an arena carved from ancient stone.

A place where the raw power of the mountain met the ambition of those brave enough to seek its secrets. As he surveyed the area, he noticed that few people had gathered there.

The small crowd that did occupy the plateau exuded a violent auras; their expressions were hardened, and their weapons were unsheathed, many still dripping with fresh blood.

Their eyes burned with a fierce intensity, and it was clear that they had endured countless battles in pursuit of the mountain's knowledge that was hidden in the ancient ruins.

Argolaith's gaze shifted from one roughened face to another as he murmured under his breath.

"Well, this is a rather unsavory bunch... They're all old enough to have already found their Five Trees and claim their magic, I suppose."

He eyed their scarred arms and grim expressions. "I wonder what kinds of magic they have, though—they don't seem like the type I can just ask about, not without earning my keep."

Before he could ponder further, the charged atmosphere on the plateau shifted as Lysara—the enigmatic trial master—appeared at its center.

She seemed to materialize from the very mists that clung to the blood stained ground.

With a grin playing upon her lips and eyes that shimmered with hidden knowledge, she addressed the assembled trial takers.

"Welcome, contestants," Lysara announced, her voice echoing over the barren expanse.

"It appears the moment has come for the next trial." Her tone was both inviting and foreboding.

"For this trial, you will fight against one another, and only the last one standing shall be allowed to continue upward. Those who fall will be banished from the mountain, dead or alive."

A murmur ran through the violent group, and Argolaith's heart began to pound in his chest as the gravity of the situation sank in.

Mortal combat! The thought of clashing steel against magic, of pitting his wits and strength against those seasoned by years of trials, sent a shiver down his spine.

His mind raced with questions, and he couldn't help but ask aloud, "Um, Miss Lysara, I don't have magic yet. Does that mean my opponents can use their magic against me?"

Lysara's eyes softened ever so slightly, though the smile on her face remained enigmatic.

"Oh, Argolaith, it is good to see you have reached this far. Yes, they may use any means at their disposal to beat you—and the same applies to you."

"You must learn that survival here is not won by spell alone, but by will, skill, and determination."

Her words hung in the cold air as the assembled warriors grumbled and eyed one another warily.

"Well then," Lysara continued, "you will have twenty minutes to prepare before the trial begins."

With that, she vanished as swiftly as she had appeared, leaving the combatants to their uncertain fates.

Every fighter's gaze was fixed on the center of the plateau, waiting for Lysara to reappear and initiate the trial.

When the silence became almost unbearable, Lysara reappeared, this time standing atop a raised platform of stone that had seemingly appeared from nowhere.

Her eyes shone with a steely light as she addressed the contestants. "The time has come," she declared, her voice resonant and commanding.

"For this trial, you will engage in mortal combat. The last one standing will be deemed worthy to continue upward, while those defeated will be banished from the mountain—dead or alive."

"Let it be known that the mountain does not tolerate weakness, and only the strong shall claim its ancient knowledge."

A murmur of discontent and defiance rose from the crowd, but the gravity of her words soon silenced any protest.

Argolaith's heart hammered in his chest as he prepared for the inevitable battle.

The thought of fighting against opponents who not only possessed combat experience but also wielded magic was dizzying. Doubt mingled with determination in his mind.

"Miss Lysara," he managed to call out, his voice trembling slightly despite his resolve, "if I don't yet have magic, does that mean my opponent can use theirs to overwhelm me?"

Lysara's smile was both gentle and pitiless. "Yes, Argolaith," she replied evenly.

"They may use every tool at their disposal, and you are allowed the same. It is not your lack of magic that defines your worth—it is your heart, your skill, and your will to survive that will see you through."

Her words both comforted and unsettled him. He knew that every warrior here was fighting not just for survival but for the promise of the mountain's knowledge—a power that was as treacherous as it was magnificent.

With a final nod from Lysara, the trial began.

The unsavory group clashed in a cacophony of grunts, shouts, and the clash of weapons against hardened steel and enchanted defenses.

Argolaith found himself circling a particularly fierce opponent—a middle-aged man with a twisted scar running down one side of his face and eyes that burned with bitter ambition.

The man's sword glinted dangerously in the low light as he advanced.

Argolaith raised his own weapon and met the man's challenge head-on. The duel was swift and brutal, a dance of calculated strikes and desperate parries.

Sparks flew as steel met steel, and for every blow that Argolaith delivered, his opponent countered with vicious ferocity.

The ground beneath them was soon stained with splatters of blood, a grim testament to the stakes of the trial.

The crowd around them roared with excitement and fear, their eyes flickering between the combatants as if the outcome would determine their own fate.

Amid the chaos, Argolaith's thoughts momentarily returned to his meal—the savory salad and the bittersweet satisfaction of nourishment that had prepared him for this moment.

He steeled his mind, recalling Lysara's words, and let his training guide him.