God's Tree

Chapter 66 The Outsider's Path

The heat in the cavern remained oppressive, the weight of their newfound knowledge settling over them like an unshakable force.

Argolaith and Kaelred stood silent, digesting the truth they had just learned—the city of Gren, frozen in time by mistake, never meant to be preserved, never meant to exist in this broken state.

The Grendyle before them watched with those wide, hopeful eyes, gripping the notebook with trembling hands, as if relieved to finally share its people's tragedy.

Then—

A voice broke the silence, cold and smooth, carrying a tone of calculated amusement.

"Fascinating," Malakar murmured, stepping from the shadows.

Kaelred cursed under his breath, whipping around as Argolaith instinctively moved his hand to his sword hilt.

But Malakar was not threatening them.

His violet eyes gleamed with curiosity, his skeletal fingers folding neatly together as he studied the Grendyle.

"I have a question," the Lich said, tilting his head. "Is it possible for you to leave?"

The Grendyle froze, its hands tightening on the notebook.

It hesitated—then slowly began to write.

"No. The formation binds us. We cannot step beyond it."

Kaelred exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "So they really are stuck here forever."

Argolaith, however, was still watching Malakar.

The Lich's smirk didn't fade as he tapped a bony finger against his temple, considering something.

"If that is the case," Malakar said, "then how did the other one reach the surface?"

The Grendyle stiffened.

Kaelred frowned. "Wait... that's a good point. **The one that led us down here—**how did it get past the formation?"

The Grendyle hesitated again.

Then, with a deliberate motion, it wrote:

"Only outsiders may come and go."

A tense silence followed.

Argolaith's mind raced. "Then... the one that led us here..."

He met the Grendyle's gaze, his voice low but steady.

"Is that one an outsider?"

The Grendyle gripped the notebook tighter but didn't immediately respond.

Instead, it looked at them carefully, as if weighing its answer.

Then, with slow and precise strokes, it wrote:

"Yes."

Argolaith exchanged glances with Kaelred, both of them processing what this meant.

Kaelred crossed his arms. "Okay, so... that means at least one of them isn't bound by the formation."

Argolaith nodded. "But that also means it chose to stay here—at least long enough to find us and lead us underground."

Kaelred's brow furrowed. "So why would an outsider stay in a city where no one can even talk to them?"

Argolaith looked at the Grendyle. "Do you know where the one that brought us here is?"

The Grendyle shook its head, then wrote:

"It comes and goes."

Kaelred clicked his tongue. "Great. So it's running around wherever it wants, and we have no idea what its intentions are."

Malakar chuckled. "Does it matter?"

Kaelred shot him a glare. "Yes, it matters!"

Malakar smirked. "And what exactly do you plan to do? Question a creature that may or may not return?"

Kaelred scowled but didn't have an immediate answer.

Argolaith turned back to the Grendyle. "Is there anything else you can tell us about it?"

The Grendyle hesitated.

Then, finally, it wrote:

"It is different from us. It does not belong anywhere."

Kaelred's voice dropped. "What the hell does that mean?"

Argolaith narrowed his eyes, deep in thought.

This outsider Grendyle—it had led them here. But for what reason?

It was not bound to the city, not trapped like the others.

Yet it chose to stay.

And something about that felt deliberate.

Malakar folded his arms, studying the Grendyle before them.

"So," he said, his voice silky smooth, "if only outsiders may leave... then what happens when we do?"

The Grendyle froze again, its wide eyes shifting to Malakar.

It hesitated.

Then, it wrote one final thing.

"We watch."

The air in the underground city of Gren had always been thick with heat, but now, as the Grendyle hesitated before writing its next words, the temperature felt different.

Something shifted.

Not in the physical sense, but in a way that neither Argolaith nor Kaelred could properly define.

Malakar, however, noticed it immediately.

His violet eyes flickered, and his smirk faded slightly, as if he had just sensed something far older than himself.

For the first time in centuries—fear crawled through his bones.

This is impossible.

The words formed in his mind, but he did not speak them aloud.

Instead, he merely stared, his normally sharp smirk gone, replaced by something that could almost be called dread.

Then—

Karthos turned his head.

And looked directly at him.

Malakar's breath stilled, the ancient pulse of his magic faltering for the briefest of moments.

Then, a voice echoed in his mind.

"Hello, Malakar."

Malakar stiffened.

The voice had not come from Karthos' mouth.

It had never spoken aloud.

And yet—

It spoke to him.

Directly.

Argolaith and Kaelred, standing just feet away, did not react.

They did not hear the voice.

They did not see the way Malakar's entire body had tensed.

They remained focused on Karthos, unaware of the exchange happening just beyond their perception.

Then—

Argolaith narrowed his eyes, tilting his head slightly.

"Wait..." He frowned. "Weren't you smaller on the surface?"

Kaelred nodded. "Yeah. And didn't you look just like the others?"

Karthos shifted his gaze toward Argolaith, his luminous eyes gleaming with amusement.

And then, just as he had done with Malakar

He spoke into Argolaith's mind.

"Did you forget that we can change our appearance at will?"

A pause.

Then, a final thought.

"Well... the others can't anymore."

Argolaith froze.

His instincts screamed at him.

Something about the way Karthos spoke into his mind—something about those words—

It unsettled him.

The way he had said "the others can't anymore" carried a weight that felt unnatural.

Something had been taken from them.

And Karthos knew why.

Kaelred, however, had yet to realize the shift. "So... that means you're still in control of your abilities, then?"

Karthos turned toward Kaelred, tilting his head ever so slightly.

And for the first time—

He smiled.

Malakar had not spoken since the moment Karthos addressed him.

His mind was still processing.

Still trying to rationalize what stood before him.

But there was no denying it.

The story was real.

The legend was true.

And Karthos was no mere Grendyle.

He was something far, far worse.

And yet, despite the cold grip of fear lingering in his soul—

Malakar could not deny his curiosity.

He had spent eons searching for knowledge.

And now, standing before him, was something that had existed before time itself was shackled.

His fear remained.

But so did his hunger for answers.

Slowly, the Lich's lips curled into a smirk once more.

"Well then," Malakar finally spoke, his voice smooth as silk but devoid of its usual arrogance.

"If you can change your appearance at will..."

His violet eyes gleamed.

"Then show us what you truly look like."

And with that—

The air shifted once more.