The Oracle Paths Chapter 1229: The Tree That Should Not Speak

Calyx appeared as a thin man bearing the typical ashen hue of the locals. The mesmerizing purple shimmer in his eyes during the day was nothing out of the ordinary either.

His distinction from others of his race lay in his stature. He stood at an ordinary height—far from the massive figures enhanced by Life-Lumyst nearby. Even the Underworld Barbarians originating from the Duskwight Lands loomed larger in build and elevation, making him seem almost diminutive amidst his fellow natives.

Perhaps that persistent feeling of inadequacy and exclusion had brewed into bitterness and drive, pushing him to practice and learn with obsessive fervor. Before he knew it, he had risen to become a revered—and dreaded—lifelong figure in the Radiant Conclave, commanding authority over all except one superior.

Upon ascending to such heights, still fueled by bitterness and the fury of the overlooked, his drive inevitably targeted the Celestial—and the Titan Tree, Anthace. In essence, for that tainted tree, he served as an ideal subordinate: readily influenced, easily directed, and burdened with an endless resentment toward the world.

Naturally, Lord Calyx had not begun with a deranged desire to obliterate Twyluxia. Dominating the continent would have sufficed to calm his inner turmoil.

This changed after he allowed Anthace to taint him. Once he embraced the renegade tree’s power and "aid," reversal became impossible. For quite some time, the expert killer and intelligence chief no longer viewed himself as part of his original kind.

Nevertheless, witnessing—powerlessly—as all those he recognized and despised vanished in a mere moment with no resistance, ignited a wave of anger and revulsion stronger than he believed possible within him. Not only toward Jake, their overwhelmingly dominant foe—but also toward the pathetic failures who collapsed in less than a breath.

Eldrion especially... Calyx’s stare fixed on the fractured, insensate elder lying several paces distant, his eyes filled with raw revulsion and wrath. In the end, Calyx remained the sole one upright.

"Dead weight to the bitter end," he growled, hobbling closer and ejecting saliva onto the fighter’s scalp.

Every digit cracked like dry branches beneath his heel, tendons ripping with a moist snap as he wrenched the staff away. He craved more than just the tool—he yearned for Eldrion to sense the violation, even amid unconsciousness. Fresh blood coated his hands, sticky and heated. At last, the flawless ivory staff dislodged, earning yet another crimson-spattered wad of spit atop the elder’s head.

Calyx rose straight, inhaled deeply, and closed his eyelids, tossing his lengthy, blood-drenched dark locks aside with indifferent scorn. He acted as if he had utterly overlooked the surrounding throng of adversaries observing in silence—including the perpetrator of the slaughter.

Jake had followed each movement, each sign, with no alteration in his face, seemingly permitting Calyx to proceed. Actually, he had detected the enormously expansive root system expanding rapidly below them the moment Calyx lifted the staff.

’He handles it far more competently than the previous wielder,’ he observed, noting the concealed arms and implements on Calyx, all crafted from identical timber.

An intuition suggested the connection to Anthace disregarded the exact item—as long as it derived from the tree’s form and the Titan approved.

’Does this tree truly believe I can’t detect its psychic scan repeatedly sweeping the field?’ Jake’s lip twisted in sheer disdain, at last revealing genuine sentiment.

The expression faded quickly. A cold resolve smoothed his countenance as the intent of the root spread became clear. The fading ethereal essence from that damned flora stank like decomposing remains, corrupting all it contacted like a spreading toxin.

Except for him—and possibly Asfrid—no participant or local appeared aware. It functioned as an invisible marker, signaling their positions for the impending assault while infusing them with subtle alterations they hadn’t yet perceived. The atmosphere itself carried a foul tang, sharp and putrid, akin to inhaling rot.

"Hmph." With one mental command, a surge of Spirit Power vaporized the tiny threads of ethereal force bearing Anthace’s intent and perception near him.

Perhaps it was his fancy, but he swore a muted wail of agony and rage reverberated. The vibration bypassed his hearing—it trembled through his skeleton. Several adjacent troops gripped their heads for no apparent reason.

’That should remind you to honor my boundaries.’

Silently, he extended his ethereal energy as a vast orb across the area Anthace had infiltrated—and then merely... absorbed it. Transformed it. A gradual, purposeful consumption, resembling a hunter engulfing a writhing quarry entirely.

To those knowledgeable in soulmancy and Spirit Power, it proved utterly horrifying. Yet hardly anyone witnessed it. Only Asfrid, the local Radahn... and naturally, Claire.

For the Eltarian priestess, the impact struck deepest. Ethereal matters were her domain; she recognized Jake’s action wasn’t a skill one could learn or impart. She couldn’t achieve such a feat. Not presently, and likely not ever.

She might one day mimic the result—but not by this method. It felt as if she observed a star exploding in proximity—stunning, devastating, and completely unattainable.

’How have you transformed so profoundly in such a short span?’ she pondered, her face unusually solemn. This surpassed mere aptitude and diligence yielding results.

She possessed aptitude. This represented something different. Something more voracious. Something that had transcended humanity.

Following Jake’s unfathomable feat, the tree’s psychic probe withdrew permanently below ground, seeking refuge in its roots. By that point, Calyx had embedded the staff into the earth, leaning on it like a walking aid to connect directly with the system. From wireless to wired.

As Calyx enacted the role of the broken remnant who had ultimately fractured, Anthace’s enormous roots completed encircling them—a progression that had initiated during the initial confrontation. At the faintest cue, they could skewer every fighter in their encampment, converting the level, desolate expanse selected for their ultimate showdown into a bottomless chasm.

And that cue approached. It formed the additional motive Jake had abandoned the contests. If the opposition refused fairness, why must he cling to "honor"? He held principles, not inflexibility.

More crucially, those colossal blossoms and blooms that had expelled the wild combatants dispatched by Eldrion... underneath them waited thousands more. No—millions.

And within the life forces and ethereal imprints his psychic scan identified, numerous surpassed a Saint’s. It resembled a prolonged scheme festering in obscurity, with the manipulator arranging events so victory seemed predestined.

It evoked battling destiny. Could destiny shift? Could the unavoidable curve?

"Even if it is fate, I’ll make it kneel," Jake stated plainly, at last calling forth a armament.

A lengthy ebony blade—somewhere amid a blade and an anti-mounting battle saber—appeared noiselessly in his grasp. He clasped the hilt and adopted a forward-thrusting sword position. His presence shifted sharply.

From expansive to contained. Thick. Opaque. His form hazed, as the deadliness of the stellar force raging nearby soared beyond measure.

The atmosphere near him appeared to fracture—particles clashing like shattered shards in a mill. Even the terrain beneath his stance darkened, fine fissures branching out with a noise like snapping fangs. His intent to slay kept coiling denser and denser, a shadowy whirlpool of absolute termination.

For an instant, even the breeze appeared to pause. No avian called. No spirit ventured a murmur. Fighters sensed the prickling on their skin and their innards churn as though existence itself opposed them.

And Calyx? He sensed it as well. That entity opposite was no mortal. No participant. No ruler. It was a stellar enforcer. And should he falter, he realized Jake would delete him like an error.

Then Calyx’s gaze flew wide, and he unleashed a ripping cry. The following instant, chaos erupted, and a conflict of staggering ferocity and ruin at last exploded over the primary field.

One participant versus legions. A defiled Titan Tree versus a monstrosity capable of matching it.

That initial collision served as the final spark to set the remainder of the land ablaze. Territories previously untouched—thus far—by conflict, clashes, or beast incursions from past the barrier suddenly became engulfed by a thick thicket of roots.

From their stems burst an countless swarm of offspring, hunting any living—or aware—being in proximity. People, creatures, roaming wrathful essences, Ethereal and Vital Relics— all fell prey.

The entirety of Twyluxia had plunged into all-out warfare.