CHAPTER 165: THE CHAINS BENEATH

The forest surrounding the base had changed.

It wasn’t anything overt—no dark clouds or cracked trees—but Jin felt it in the stillness. The birds weren’t singing. The breeze had stopped. Everything seemed to be holding its breath.

He walked with purpose, boots crunching soft leaves underfoot, until he reached the grove he knew Aesteros preferred. It was off to the east, a circular clearing where light managed to trickle through the canopy. The stone figure sat in the middle, throne of tangled roots curling around him, skin rough like obsidian cooled from fire.

A pulse of ember ran through his veins, just once.

As if acknowledging Jin’s presence.

Jin didn’t say anything at first. He stepped into the clearing, approached until he stood a few paces away, then exhaled.

"We need to talk."

Aesteros didn’t move, but the glow in his chest brightened faintly. "Then speak."

Jin didn’t hesitate. He pulled the artifact shard from his inventory—still wrapped in the dark silk he’d used to conceal it—and slowly unwrapped it. The shard glowed a deep red-orange, like a furnace left burning in the center of his palm.

Aesteros looked at it—and went still.

"Where did you get that?" His voice was lower now. Slower. Not angry. Just... focused.

"In the final stage of the trial," Jin said. "The one they called the Arbiter gave it to me. Said it was one of twenty."

Aesteros didn’t reach for it. But his eyes—those buried coals behind cracked stone—stared as though it were a memory given shape.

"I know this energy," he said. "Too well."

Jin watched him. "You know the Arbiter?"

A faint crack split down Aesteros’ right shoulder. Ember flared beneath.

"I know what it is. A fragment of what was left behind when the last cycle ended. Not a being of this world. Not even one of the higher planes. It exists to judge the ashes of collapsed ages—and decide if something new can rise."

Jin’s fingers curled slightly over the shard. "And it gave us this?"

"It gave you a test," Aesteros corrected. "The pieces of that artifact are not just tokens. They’re keys. The one who reforges them... becomes more than just a leader."

Jin’s voice was quiet. "A king."

Aesteros nodded once. "In name. In power. In consequence."

Jin re-wrapped the shard and tucked it back into his inventory.

"I didn’t come here just for that," he said after a moment. "Something happened in the second trial. The one with the Warden."

At that, Aesteros tensed. It was subtle—barely a ripple across his frame—but Jin noticed.

"You already know," Jin said.

"I do."

"Why didn’t you say anything before?"

Aesteros’ voice was soft. "Because I already told you."

Jin blinked.

Then his eyes widened—just slightly. He didn’t say it aloud, but the implication sank in fast. The reason. The story Aesteros had hinted at before. The one Jin had chosen not to probe too deeply, because ignorance had felt safer.

But now?

Now, it felt like a ticking weight strapped to his chest.

"You told me," Jin echoed. "Just not in words."

Aesteros looked away.

And that was answer enough.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Wind brushed through the trees again—just once—and the leaves whispered like they were trading secrets.

"Will the Warden come?" Jin asked finally. "Now that he knows where you are?"

"No," Aesteros said without hesitation. "He can’t. Not directly."

"Why?"

"Because this land is not his domain. It belongs to another. The moment he enters, he risks triggering an echo—a backlash from the ancient systems buried beneath your world’s surface. It would unravel him."

"So he sent a warning."

"And nothing more," Aesteros said. "For now."

Jin nodded slowly. "But that won’t last forever."

"No," Aesteros agreed. "It never does."

Another silence. This one didn’t feel heavy—just thoughtful. Measured.

Then Jin spoke again. "We’re going to need help."

Aesteros tilted his head. "For what?"

"To find the others. The other pieces. The shard I have is one of twenty. And they were scattered—not just across Seoul, but the whole country. Maybe further. I don’t even know how to start."

Aesteros nodded once. "Then start with what you know. Someone who can track. Someone who can sense echoes of relics."

"We don’t know anyone with a skill like that."

"Yet," Aesteros said simply. "But you will."

Jin thought for a second. Echo. Seul. Yujin. Jisoo. Hanuel. Joon.

Maybe not them. But... maybe someone they knew.

His mind kept running through possibilities—but eventually, he let the silence settle again.

Then, finally, Aesteros spoke.

"You understand what comes next, don’t you?"

Jin didn’t answer at first. But then he nodded.

"I do."

"This isn’t a battle for survival," Aesteros said. "Not anymore. It’s a battle for definition. For legacy. The system is reshaping the world. And the ones who gather the crown..."

"They shape what comes after."

Jin looked down at his hand. Flexed his fingers once.

Then looked up.

"Then we’d better be the ones who shape it."

Jin didn’t wait for Aesteros to respond.

There was nothing more to say.

They turned together, wordless, and began the walk back through the forest. It was quieter now. Not peaceful—never that—but steady. Jin could hear the beat of his own footsteps syncing with the distant, slow echo of Aesteros’s heavier gait behind him. Two different rhythms on the same path.

Every step through the underbrush felt heavier than before. Not from exhaustion—but from weight. Like something was shifting beneath the surface of the forest. Like the soil itself had become aware.

They crossed the ridge line that overlooked the school grounds just as the clouds began to clear. From above, the buildings nestled into the terrain like old bones—scarred, but still standing. The main field, once lush and overgrown, had been worn into hard-packed ground from weeks of training and combat. Even from this distance, Jin could see Echo sparring with Joon using slow-motion pulses of lightning, both grinning like idiots. Seul sat nearby, arms crossed, giving unwanted commentary that was probably hurting more than helping.

Jin almost smiled.

Then the wind shifted.

And everything changed.

The trees around them shivered—not just from wind, but from something deeper. The leaves shook with tension. Roots curled in tighter coils beneath the moss. The very air thickened, like it had inhaled something it wasn’t supposed to.

Jin stopped in his tracks.

A second later, the notification appeared before his eyes in crisp, blood-red letters.

[Territory Alert – Gugwe-Mok: Birth Imminent]

Estimated Time to Emergence: 00:07:42

Warning: All anomalous flora within 100m of the Seed Point may undergo synchronized reaction. Please proceed to the Nexus immediately.

His eyes widened. "What the hell—?"

Aesteros stepped forward, reading the same projection. His voice was low.

"It’s beginning."

"What is?" Jin asked.

"You planted that seed not just into soil," Aesteros murmured, stepping ahead, "but into your territory. Your will. Your essence. You nurtured it. Protected it. Even fought for it."

Jin stared down the slope at the massive tree in the distance—once a sapling, now towering over the base like a cathedral of bark and green flame.

It was pulsing.

A slow, rhythmic glow spread through its branches, every throb in sync with the rumble beneath their feet. Green light flickered through the network of roots that spread like veins across the dirt—alive, glowing faintly beneath their boots.

Jin’s voice was tense. "Is the boss coming back?"

Aesteros didn’t answer at first.

Then: "No. It can’t. Gugwe-mok is dead. You killed it. Its spirit shattered."

"Then what is this?" Jin asked, already breaking into a jog down the hill, Aesteros beside him.

The forest parted ahead like it was guiding them. Trees leaned away. Branches trembled. The wind no longer blew—it waited.

And the light grew brighter.

More erratic.

More aware.

They reached the edge of the school’s courtyard just as the center tree burst with a pulse of vibrant green. The entire base froze. Jin didn’t even have to call out—everyone turned to look. Echo dropped what he was holding mid-sprint. Seul rose from her seat, mouth slightly open. Yujin, across the far edge of the training field, tilted her head like a predator catching a scent it hadn’t smelled in years.

Then Jin stepped toward the base of the tree.

Another notification pinged in his vision.

[Territory Core Reaction: Gugwe Seed at 97% Integration]

[New Entity: ??????????]

[Control Source: Jin Yeong]

His blood went cold.

"What does it mean, ’control source’?"

Aesteros stepped up beside him, voice almost reverent. "You planted it. Fed it your intent. Shaped its growth. That tree was never just a tree. It was waiting. Adapting."

"Adapting to what?"

"To you."

The roots around them trembled. The forest let out a deep, organic groan—not like wood creaking, but something much older. Like the breath of a creature waking up from the bottom of the world.

Jin’s mouth went dry. "So what’s being born?"

Aesteros exhaled slowly.

And for the first time since they’d met, Jin thought he saw something in his expression—uncertainty.

"I don’t know."

Jin turned back toward the tree.

The green pulse brightened.

And the entire forest began to shake.