God's Tree-Chapter 94: The Veiled Order’s Judgment

The wind carried a hollow howl across the Black Plains, its voice like distant echoes of forgotten souls.

Argolaith, Kaelred, and Malakar stood motionless, eyes locked on the spot where the Veiled Order had been moments before.

The source of this c𝐨ntent is freeweɓnovēl.coɱ.

Then—nothing.

No footprints. No lingering presence.

Only silence.

Kaelred's jaw clenched. "I hate that. I really, really hate that."

Argolaith took a slow breath, his eyes scanning the horizon. "They were testing us."

Malakar chuckled. "Of course they were. The Veiled Order never acts without purpose."

Kaelred exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "And what, exactly, do they want?"

Malakar smirked. "Ah, but that's the question, isn't it?"

Argolaith's grip tightened on his sword. "Then let's make them answer it."

And so, they pressed forward.

The sun had long begun to sink, casting long shadows across the landscape.

Their journey took them through broken structures and jagged remains of old civilizations, their pasts buried beneath layers of dust and magic.

It was Kaelred who spotted it first.

A gap in the earth.

Half-covered by debris, but unmistakably a stairwell—leading downward.

Argolaith approached, brushing away some of the loose rubble.

The entrance was old—far older than Emberfall, perhaps even older than the city of Gren.

Malakar knelt beside it, running his skeletal fingers over the stone.

"This magic…" he murmured, eyes narrowing. "It's ancient."

Kaelred sighed. "Everything in this damn place is ancient."

Malakar ignored him, tracing the faintly glowing runes along the entrance. "It's a barrier. Not to keep things out, but to keep something in."

Argolaith glanced at him. "Can you break it?"

Malakar smirked. "Oh, I could. But the real question is—do you want me to?"

Kaelred huffed. "Well, considering the only other option is to wander this cursed land aimlessly—yes. Break the damn seal."

Malakar sighed dramatically and placed both hands on the stone.

Dark tendrils of magic slithered from his fingertips, seeping into the ancient markings.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then—a deep, rumbling sound shook the ground.

The runes flashed, and the barrier shattered like glass.

A blast of stale, heavy air rushed from the opening, carrying with it the scent of time long forgotten.

Kaelred coughed. "Ugh. Smells like death."

Malakar grinned. "Then I'll feel right at home."

Argolaith stepped forward, peering into the dark abyss below. "No turning back."**

And with that, they descended.

The passage wound deep beneath the surface, walls lined with carvings too worn to read.

The deeper they went, the heavier the air became—thick with magic, thick with something unnatural.

Malakar paused, tilting his head. "Ah. Of course."

Kaelred frowned. "What?"

Malakar gestured ahead. "This is a trial."

Argolaith's gaze hardened. "A trial?"

Malakar smirked. "Think about it. The Veiled Order led us here. This is their way of seeing if we're worth speaking to."

Kaelred groaned. "Great. And let me guess—the only way out is forward?"

Malakar chuckled. "Naturally."

Argolaith gripped his sword, stepping ahead. "Then let's not waste time."

As if in response, the ruins around them shifted.

Stone grinded against stone, and suddenly—the walls moved.

The corridor they had entered twisted, sealing them inside.

The air shook, and from the darkness, figures emerged.

At first, they were mere silhouettes, shifting shadows within the stone.

Then—they took form.

Ancient warriors. Spectral figures clad in forgotten armor, wielding weapons that hummed with arcane power.

Their eyes burned with blue fire.

Kaelred drew his sword. "Of course it's ghosts. Why wouldn't it be ghosts?"

Malakar smirked. "Not ghosts. Guardians."

Argolaith stepped forward, the weight of battle settling over him.

"Then let's see if we're worthy."

The first spectral warrior charged.

The chamber exploded into battle.

Argolaith met the first warrior's blade head-on, his sword flashing in the dim light.

The impact sent a shockwave through his arms, but he held firm—countering with a rapid strike aimed at its core.

The blade sliced through the specter's form, but it didn't fall.

Instead, it reformed, its body stitching back together like mist pulled by an unseen force.

Kaelred cursed. "They regenerate!"

Malakar dodged a strike effortlessly, smirking. "Then aim for the runes."

Argolaith's eyes flicked to the warriors' armor.

Faint markings glowed along their spectral forms.

Runes. The source of their restoration.

With renewed focus, he adjusted his stance.

The next warrior lunged—Argolaith met its blade, then twisted his sword upward, slicing across the glowing runes along its chest.

The warrior shuddered—then crumbled into nothing.

Kaelred grinned. "Now we're getting somewhere."

One by one, the spectral warriors fell.

Argolaith and Kaelred fought with unwavering precision, their strikes now aimed at the warriors' weaknesses.

Malakar, in contrast, danced between them, his blade flashing like a shadow given form.

The battle raged for what felt like hours.

And then—sudden silence.

The final warrior vanished into mist.

The air stilled.

Then, a voice—deep, commanding, inhuman—filled the chamber.

"You have proven yourselves."

Argolaith turned sharply, scanning the darkness.

A figure emerged, draped in the unmistakable robes of the Veiled Order.

Their face remained obscured, hidden beneath the folds of their hood.

"You seek knowledge," the figure said. "And knowledge… has a price."

Argolaith's breath steadied. "Then tell us. What is it you want?"

The figure paused.

Then, in a voice as old as the ruins themselves, they spoke.

"We want to know why you exist outside of the Grand Design."

Argolaith's blood ran cold.

They knew.

They had always known.

And now, they wanted answers.

The air in the ruined chamber felt heavier now, as though the very magic woven into the stone pressed against them, waiting for an answer.

Argolaith, Kaelred, and Malakar stood before the veiled figure, its presence more ominous than the warriors they had just fought.

The Veiled Order had tested them.

And now, they wanted answers.

"You exist outside of the Grand Design," the figure repeated, its voice neither hostile nor kind. "We want to know why."

Argolaith's heart pounded. He had suspected something was different about him—something that set him apart. But for the Veiled Order to confirm it so bluntly was something else entirely.

He kept his expression steady, but inside, his mind raced.

"And what if I don't have an answer?" he asked.

The figure tilted its head slightly, as if considering him.

"Then we will find one."

Kaelred tensed. "That sounds an awful lot like a threat."

The robed figure did not respond. Instead, it simply watched.

Waiting.

Malakar, ever composed, stepped forward. "And if we do give you an answer? What then?"

The figure's voice remained eerily calm. "Then we will decide what must be done."

Argolaith inhaled deeply.

He had no intention of playing into their hands.

But… he needed to know.

"Tell me," he said carefully, "what exactly is the Grand Design?"

For the first time, the figure hesitated.

Then, it spoke.

"The Grand Design is the pattern in which all life is woven. Every existence, every destiny, every power that flows through this world—it is part of the Great Tapestry."

Kaelred's brow furrowed. "And you're saying Argolaith… isn't?"

The robed figure nodded. "He is an anomaly. A thread not woven into the pattern. A force that should not be."

Argolaith's pulse quickened.

"Then why do I exist?"

The figure was silent.

It didn't know.

And that, more than anything, sent a chill down his spine.

Malakar sighed dramatically. "Fascinating. So you're telling me that my dear companion here is a cosmic accident? That must sting."

Argolaith shot him a glare, but the lich only smirked.

The figure studied them for a long moment before it spoke again.

"There are others who seek answers about you."

Argolaith's fists clenched. "Who?"

The air shifted, and suddenly, the figure began to dissolve, its form flickering into the surrounding darkness.

Its voice echoed in the chamber.

"Find the Black Vault. There, you may learn the truth."

And just like that, it was gone.

Silence settled over them.

The only sound was the faint crackling of torches along the ruined walls.

Kaelred exhaled sharply. "Well. That was… unsettling."

Argolaith stared at the spot where the figure had been.

The Black Vault.

A place where the answers waited.

He turned to Malakar. "Do you know what it is?"

Malakar's eyes gleamed. "Oh, I know. But whether or not we should go there is another matter entirely."

Kaelred crossed his arms. "Why? What's in the Black Vault?"

Malakar chuckled. "Let's just say… not everything inside is meant to be found."

Argolaith's grip on his sword tightened.

He didn't care.

If the Veiled Order thought they could dictate his fate, then it was time to prove them wrong.

"Then that's where we're going."

Kaelred groaned. "Of course we are."

Malakar grinned. "This is going to be fun."

And so, with newfound purpose, they stepped forward—toward the Black Vault, toward the unknown, and toward the truth of Argolaith's existence.