Previously on Awakening The Only SSS-Rank Class! Now Even Dragons Obey Me...
News of Goram's death spreads, causing shock and fear across the continent. His father, the powerful Eternal Warrior Walterk Bloodfang, learns of his son's demise and vows revenge, heading towards the northern holy forest. Meanwhile, Daniel continues to protect the cursed tree, fending off attackers while attempting to undergo a dangerous inner evolution. The tree shows Daniel a vision of a terrifying creature and a past catastrophe, hinting at a larger conspiracy. Elisira arrives, seemingly bringing Daniel the item he desired.
The woodland fell into an eerie stillness for several moments. No breeze stirred, no animals rustled, not even the subtle hum of the roots, which had been writhing beneath the soil and breathing like living entities mere minutes prior, could be heard. The sole presence remaining within that dense, oppressive atmosphere was the luminescence of the colossal fruit from the tree, pulsing like a drowsy heart in the gloom, casting a profound golden radiance across the forest. Elisira advanced a few paces, finally withdrawing the tome from beneath her cloak. Her respiration was somewhat strained, suggesting she had journeyed without pause, yet despite her exhaustion, a faint smile graced her lips as her eyes landed on Daniel. "You are here... I have finally procured what you desired." Daniel, however, barely registered her words. His gaze was riveted upon the book. For the first time since Elisira's return, his attention was diverted from the princess and the tree, focusing instead on the ancient, silent object held within her hands. "...Antiquity." The book exuded an aura of age; a single glance confirmed its immense antiquity. It felt so ancient that even he struggled to pinpoint its era. Yet, if pressed to estimate, he reckoned it was well over several millennia old. Daniel's hushed utterance caused Elisira to falter for an instant. "Acquiring it was nearly insurmountable," she stated softly, extending the book towards him. Her expression momentarily clouded. "It was housed in the restricted archives of the imperial library... a sanctuary forbidden even to common nobility." "I had to invoke my royal lineage and status as princess simply to be permitted to handle it," she added, pausing for a few seconds before continuing. While not entirely untruthful, her account omitted crucial details. Obtaining the book had proven exceptionally challenging, primarily because borrowing it was strictly prohibited. According to the chief librarian, this particular volume was accessible only to the Holy Emperor, a fact that solidified her conviction that this was precisely what she sought. Yet, what lingered most in her thoughts was the reaction of the elderly librarian. The old man had turned deathly pale upon hearing the tree's appellation, his face etched with palpable dread. It was a profound, visceral fear, as if merely uttering the tree's name was sufficient to conjure a long-dormant terror. Securing the book had been no simple feat. She resorted to pilfering it under the cloak of night, after the librarian had secured the library and departed. The library operated under the most stringent security protocols, and the only reason she could breach its defenses was due to the royal blood coursing through her veins. The act of stealing the book itself presented even greater difficulties, necessitating the circumvention of even more rigorous safeguards, but ultimately, she was apprehended. The librarian caught her red-handed and was poised to report her to her father. However,owing to their established amicable rapport, cultivated since the princess's youth, the old man relented. He granted her permission to borrow the tome for a single day at most. Daniel silently extended his hand and accepted the book. The cover felt cool to the touch. It was a dark, grayish-black, its texture resembling the desiccated hide of an unknown entity more than conventional leather or paper. No inscription adorned its surface – no title, no name, no inscription. The sole discernible marking was an enigmatic emblem: a silver tree set against the backdrop of a fractured sun. The moment Daniel's eyes met this symbol, a subtle tremor went through his mind. Before he could delve deeper into this sensation, the tree abruptly shuddered. Its immense roots shifted momentarily, and the tree began to emanate light once more, as if communicating or responding naturally to an external stimulus. Instinctively, Elisira recoiled, her gaze fixed on the tree in utter astonishment. "...That is the first time it has ever reacted." This was the inaugural instance she had witnessed the tree exhibit any movement. "Heavens above... this tree is sentient!" the princess breathed, her voice laced with wonder. Daniel, however, perceived a more critical detail: the tree's reaction was not directed at him, nor at Elisira, but specifically at the book. He paused in contemplation, touching the tree with one hand and the book's cover with the other. "They impart an identical sensation. Could they be fashioned from the same substance? ...No, this book is derived from the tree's very bark." His gaze intensified, and then, he opened the tome. The initial pages were severely damaged, the script rendered illegible. Portions had utterly decayed, crumbling to dust, as if time itself had endeavored to expunge this knowledge from existence. Nevertheless, some fragments persisted, and those scant lines were enough to imbue the surrounding atmosphere with an palpable weight. Daniel's eyes locked onto a single sentence that seemed to unveil the tree's true designation. "The Tree of the Genesis of the Unmaking." Not "The Blighted Tree" or any similarly ominous moniker, but a title more befitting a sacred and primordial entity. "...So that is its actual name?" Elisira murmured softly. Daniel offered no reply, turning further pages.
Although the writings were ancient and in a tongue Elisira could barely decipher, Daniel, utilizing his divine sense and grasp of conceptual structures, managed to unravel their meanings.
This colossal tree predated current civilizations, existing even before the Holy Empire's establishment.
It stood tall before the sky was sundered and, naturally, before the onset of corruption.
Then, a particular sentence caught Daniel’s fixed gaze for several moments:
"Until the fruit reaches completion, the gate shall remain unsealed."
A few lines below, it was inscribed, "This tree flourishes by the divine power bestowed by the gods, and its fruit encapsulates a fragment of that divinity."
Daniel's eyes ignited. One of his initial surmises had indeed been correct.
This fruit was precisely the divine nourishment gods consumed to elevate their divinity.
"Gate...?" Elisira inquired softly.
Yet, even she was uncertain if she truly desired the answer. The deeper they delved into the book, the less it resembled a historical record.
Instead, it felt like an ancient prophecy, as if the author had foreseen unfolding events, occurrences yet to transpire.
On a subsequent page, an archaic illustration was discernible.
It depicted the same bull-headed entity, but rendered with greater clarity: a colossal, powerfully built figure with skin as dark as solidified corruption.
Its branching, twisted horns resembled those of ancient deer.
The eyes, however, held a startlingly human quality.
But it was the creature's posture that truly stole Elisira's breath.
It knelt before the tree. Not in aggression, not in an act of destruction, but in evident fear...
And in the background, a visibly fractured sky could be observed.
Daniel remained silent for a spell, his gaze locked onto the image.
"The fiend responsible for obliterating two continents... fears this tree," he finally whispered.
This depiction within the tome bore a striking resemblance, almost precisely, to the vision the tree itself had imparted to him.
His attention then shifted to the fruit.
"And this manuscript claims that completing the fruit seals a gate."
"Perhaps then... this world has fundamentally misunderstood everything from the outset," his eyes gradually narrowed.
He now possessed a general comprehension of the entire situation and grasped the underlying circumstances.
This tree represented the world's final hope for salvation.
Elisira offered no response. She was incapable. She had received prophecy from the Divine Prophet, the conduit for the gods, stating that this tree was the genesis of calamity.
The origin of corruption, the harbinger of ruin. Yet, the book, the reaction of the corrupted creature, and Daniel's demeanor all pointed toward an alternative reality.
'This can't possibly be true, can it?' Profound doubt began to consume her.
Which account held veracity—the book's or the Divine Prophet's? What, then, was the actual truth?
She found herself utterly bewildered.
Daniel turned the concluding pages, and at that precise instant, a chilling austerity settled upon his features. Several entire pages had been meticulously ripped out.
Not decayed or ravaged by time like the initial sections, but intentionally excised. Evidently, someone had wished to prevent the complete narrative from surfacing.
However, a fragment of a sentence remained visible on the torn edge:
"If the fruit is destroyed before its ripening..."
The remainder was irretrievably lost.
For the first time since commencing his perusal of the text, Daniel's expression became utterly grave, sensing that this incomplete sentence constituted the most crucial element of the entire manuscript.
But before he could give it further consideration, the environment within the forest abruptly transformed.
The wind ceased its movement. The leaves hung utterly still.
Daniel slowly lifted his head, and Elisira's face drained of color as an intensely savage and potent presence permeated the entire area.
Something was approaching, and this presence was unlike any they had encountered before.
It felt weightier, more immense, and ancient. The sheer pressure emanating from a distance seemed to warp the very air.
"...So the one who slew my son is here." A guttural, harsh voice then reverberated through the heavens.
