Chapter 708: The Tree on the Plain

On the desolate plains west of Sorinfort, an unprecedentedly massive plant stretched its canopy across the scorched earth, blotting out the sky. Its scale defied human imagination—indeed, it even surpassed what Gawain had envisioned.

It was less a single tree and more like a small forest centered around one colossal trunk, supported by countless pillar-like aerial roots.

A thick, dark brown trunk erupted from a fissure in the ground, its surface entwined with vines, moss, and a profusion of unidentifiable blossoms. The canopy, nearly as vast as Sorinfort itself, was held aloft a hundred meters above the earth. Layers upon layers of green leaves spread out, two-thirds covering the plains, while the remaining third extended over the fortress walls. From the canopy hung numerous “pillars” thick enough for two or three people to encircle, arranged in a staggered pattern to support the crown and connect it to the ground. These pillars, too, were alive with a variety of symbiotic plants—lush, vibrant, and teeming with life.

Beneath this gargantuan “tree,” the once-barren western plains of Sorinfort had been transformed. Vast swaths of flowers, grasses, and shrubs now carpeted the land, their vitality so overwhelming that it was impossible to believe this had once been the epicenter of the crystal cluster disaster—once reduced to charred wasteland by fire and artillery.

Amber’s gasp was entirely justified; even Gawain’s eyes widened in astonishment.

“This… is a bit beyond what I expected,” Gawain blinked. “No wonder the earlier reports said it was indescribable… even photographs can’t capture its true scale.”

“I feel like this thing is even bigger than the legendary Origin Tree the elves speak of,” Amber murmured. “And it grew to this size… in just a few days?”

“That’s what the reports say,” Gawain frowned. “The soldiers wouldn’t lie about that. What on earth is going on here?”

The convoy pressed on toward the temporary camp at the base of the giant tree. Gawain leaned out the window, scanning the area beyond. He spotted collapsed watchtowers and tent-like structures swallowed by the sprawling aerial roots and thickets, their surfaces cloaked in lush greenery. Just as the reports had described:

When this colossal tree suddenly burst from the earth, the soldiers at the monitoring camp barely had time to evacuate personnel and some supplies. Within twenty-four hours, the remaining equipment was devoured by the encroaching vegetation.

That was why the emergency monitoring forces had established a new temporary camp beyond the tree’s expanding radius, with soldiers keeping a constant watch to prevent the tree from engulfing their new position as well.

The closer they drew, the more overwhelming the tree’s presence became. It loomed like a fortress built from living wood and vines—though in truth, it was far larger than any castle. Despite its immense, oppressive weight, it radiated an incredible sense of sacredness and grandeur. Gawain sensed a faint magical aura enveloping the area—subtle, almost hidden within the natural ambient magic, and seemingly harmless.

The vehicles came to a halt at the camp entrance. No sooner had they stopped than a young, spirited female knight approached briskly.

“Your Majesty! Salutations!”

Gawain stepped down and nodded to her. “Margarita—looks like you’ve taken command here.”

The knight was none other than Margarita, a native of Kant and one of Walder Perich’s subordinates. Due to her exceptional abilities, Walder often assigned her missions outside the Rock Fortress to build her experience—a mark of favor from the veteran knight.

Since the empire’s founding, Margarita’s main task had been assisting Byron in clearing residual crystal cluster monsters from the Holy Spirit Plains, while establishing a network of emergency magic relay hubs to form a temporary communications grid across the empire’s eastern and central regions. When the incident at Sorinfort occurred, she was leading troops sweeping crystal clusters near the Slantwood Pass. As the highest-ranking officer in the area, she swiftly took charge of this “emergency operation.” She was now responsible for the camp surrounding the “Sorin Giant Tree”—the provisional name given to the colossal plant in the reports.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Margarita replied solemnly. “We’ve set up new monitoring posts to the south and east of the plant. The original camp was swallowed by the sudden growth, but the new posts appear secure for now.”

“How’s the situation?” Gawain asked, eyes fixed on the canopy that blotted out the sky. “Is it still growing? I heard it consumed the first monitoring camp within forty-eight hours, and its canopy reached the fortress walls…”

“It’s still growing, but the rate slowed to nearly negligible about twelve hours ago. The druids believe its ‘growth spurt’ has ended. Expansion should cease within twenty-four hours, entering a stable phase. What happens after that, we can’t say yet.”

“And casualties?”

“No soldiers lost. Everyone evacuated in time. Only three were lightly injured during supply transport, and…”

Margarita frowned, as if struggling to find the right words. After a moment, she continued, “And, whether due to the tree’s influence or not, those three healed far faster than normal—without alchemical aid, their wounds closed within an hour. I ran some tests and confirmed a peculiar life-nurturing environment around the tree. Everyone within its range recovers stamina and energy quickly, and minor injuries heal rapidly.”

“Oh?” Gawain raised an eyebrow, suddenly recalling the subtle magical aura he’d sensed earlier. It wasn’t a trick of the mind.

“It feels like the entire area is under a continuous healing spell,” Margarita went on, “but the druids and magic observers have detected no coherent magical fluctuations. The tree is releasing power in a way we don’t understand—beyond current magical theory. We’re conducting further observations and calculations on the magical field around Sorinfort, but its scale exceeds the limits of any existing instruments or spells. Conventional methods can’t model its magic.”

“That’s fine. We’ll take our time. This thing will keep us busy for a long while,” Gawain exhaled and stepped toward the camp. “Let’s talk as we go.”

The entourage followed, including Bard Windell—still technically under escort—and the senior advisor Pittman.

As they approached the giant trunk, Bard couldn’t help but look up in open amazement at the miraculous plant. Pittman casually asked, “Do you know where this thing came from?”

“…That’s beyond me,” Bard answered honestly. “Honestly, even after years with the End of All Things, I’m just a mid-level cleric. None of the secret projects I’ve encountered mention this tree.”

Pittman smirked. “I was hoping you’d know more than me… turns out you’re just mid-level after all.”

Bard gave an awkward smile but sensed there was more behind Pittman’s words. Before he could ask, Pittman strode ahead.

Up front, Margarita continued briefing Gawain on the latest intelligence:

“We’re certain the plant grew from the End of All Things’ lair, its roots anchored in that massive fissure. Underground, the structure is even more complex and vast.

“Following the druids’ advice, we excavated parts of the land east of Sorinfort and south of Slantwood Pass, uncovering large, mysterious root systems.

“The accompanying plants have been examined; preliminary results show no abnormalities. Many are common species, while some unidentifiable ones are likely subspecies from remote regions.

“We tested the non-toxic ones on animals—they’re even edible.

“The main trunk’s root base contains hollow root structures. Numerous rootlets intertwine with underground rock and building walls, forming a complex subterranean network. We suspect this passage leads deep into the End of All Things’ lair, but it’s saturated with complicated magical reactions. Per your orders, we haven’t explored it yet.

“We’ve set up outposts and lighting near the trunk—the canopy is so vast that even at noon, the center is dim. Additional illumination is necessary.

“We haven’t explored the canopy itself due to the danger. Its deeper layers still seem to be slowly growing and unstable.”

“Good,” Gawain nodded with satisfaction. “The intel is timely and thorough.”

Margarita bowed her head. “It’s my duty.”

Gawain glanced toward the massive trunk—tower-like, yet tangled with countless vines. “Let’s head straight to the ‘trunk’ area.”

Margarita hesitated. “That might be dangerous, Your Majesty. Your status is—”

“First, I came here to see for myself. Staying in the command post is no different from being in the palace. Second, I’m a legend—I’m not that fragile. Besides, we’re going to a surface area already explored and relatively safe. Third…” Gawain looked her in the eye and patted her shoulder, “Don’t always focus on ‘status.’ Cecil believes in everyone doing their part.”

Margarita blinked, caught off guard. Before she could respond, Gawain strode ahead along a path cleared by soldiers.

The knight hurried to keep pace.

As they neared the trunk, the shadow cast by the immense canopy grew darker and heavier. Soldiers had carved a path through the overnight-thickened grass and shrubs, with magic crystal lamps propped on iron rods lining the way—the only light piercing the gloom. Gawain walked steadily, occasionally hearing the rustle of leaves stirred by a gentle breeze.

Though the tree’s growth had ceased, the extraordinary vitality it brought continued to flourish. New plants still sprouted from the scorched earth, filling this suddenly verdant land.

After some time, Gawain reached the base of the giant tree.

Before him stood the tower-like trunk and the massive, gnarled roots twisting out of the soil.

Various makeshift scaffolds, big and small, were secured between nearby roots and stones. High-powered magic crystal lamps hung from the scaffolds and the tree trunks above, their artificial light piercing the gloom and revealing the “entrance” nestled among the gnarled roots.

Just as Margarita had said, there really was an entrance—like a doorway grown naturally from the tree itself. Two roots crossed in a V-shape near the base of the trunk, forming a wide triangular gap. It looked big enough to drive a Warhammer-I tank through. Inside, a faint glow shimmered—probably from some kind of bioluminescent moss.

Amber stood at the threshold, peering inside for a moment before quickly retreating. “Oh man, it’s kind of creepy in there…”

Gawain gave her a strange look. “You’re supposed to be from the Shadow Fortress. You’ve never flinched digging up graves before. How come you’re scared of a little darkness?”

Amber’s eyes snapped wide open, hands on her hips. “It’s not that I’m afraid of the dark! My senses are just sharp. I don’t know what’s going on in there, but I get the feeling the whole underground space—and the area around it—is… alive. Ugh, it’s seriously giving me the creeps!”

Gawain ignored her self-praise and the first part of her explanation. But when she mentioned the place feeling alive, he glanced up at the dense, shadowy canopy overhead.

“No doubt about it… it’s definitely alive.”

He turned to look at Bard Wendell behind him.

“Ready?”

(End of chapter)