Chapter 122
Nille took another sip of his coffee before looking between Nhulla and Erma.
"Can I ask both of you something?"
The two half-elves nodded.
"Of course."
Nille leaned back slightly.
"Have either of you ever heard a credible story about the Twelve Sectors?"
That question immediately caught their attention.
"The Twelve Sectors?" Erma repeated.
Nille nodded.
"I've spent a considerable amount of time searching the academy library."
He stared into his cup.
"I've read every historical text, expedition report, archived thesis, and speculative manuscript I could find regarding the sectors."
"And?"
Nille sighed.
"Every author tells a different story."
A faint smile appeared on his face.
"One claims the sectors formed after a dimensional collapse."
"Another insists they were created by Divine Beasts."
"A third says ancient shamans divided the land to prevent a spiritual plague."
"Others describe celestial wars, fallen stars, divine punishment, or natural disasters."
He shook his head.
"The details always change."
"The names change."
"The dates change."
"Even the causes change."
"Most of them read more like folklore than history."
Nhulla slowly nodded.
"That's because nobody actually knows."
Nille wasn't surprised by the answer.
"I figured as much."
He glanced toward the distant darkness beyond the chamber.
"What interests me is something else."
Erma tilted her head.
"What?"
Nille hesitated briefly before voicing a thought he had been carrying for some time.
"There are four academies."
"One in each cardinal direction."
"East."
"West."
"North."
"South."
The two women nodded.
"Each governs its own territories."
"Each maintains isolated sectors."
"Each possesses restricted historical archives."
Nille's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Which makes me wonder."
He looked directly at them.
"What if the sectors weren't originally separated at all?"
The chamber grew quiet.
Even the faint sounds of distant excavation seemed to fade.
Nille continued.
"Every explanation assumes the sectors were divided because of some anomaly."
"A catastrophe."
"A war."
"A natural event."
"But the more I study the evidence..."
He paused.
"The less I believe that."
Nhulla's expression became thoughtful.
"What do you believe?"
Nille looked around the ancient chamber.
At the buried civilization.
At the forgotten writings.
At the sealed history beneath their feet.
Then he answered.
"I think somebody deliberately separated them."
Erma blinked.
"Deliberately?"
Nille nodded.
"Not because they had to."
"Because they wanted to."
His voice remained calm.
"As if something existed that needed to be hidden."
Neither woman immediately responded.
Instead, Erma slowly turned toward Nhulla.
Nhulla looked back at her.
A silent exchange passed between them.
The kind shared by people who suddenly remembered an old story.
Nille noticed immediately.
"You've heard something."
Erma looked uncertain.
"It's only a tale."
"Most students hear it eventually."
Nhulla sighed.
"A very old one."
Nille remained silent.
After a moment, Nhulla spoke.
"It begins with a fairy clan."
Nille listened.
"According to the story, there was once a powerful fairy settlement that existed before the sectors were divided."
"Their elders eventually banished a younger branch of the clan."
"Nobody remembers why."
"Some say political disagreements."
"Others claim forbidden research."
"Some versions describe a prophecy."
Erma nodded.
"The details change depending on who's telling it."
"But the ending remains mostly the same."
"The exiled clan wandered for years before discovering an ancient ruin."
Nille immediately felt his interest grow.
"What kind of ruin?"
Nhulla shook her head.
"Nobody knows."
"The story never says."
"It simply describes a place older than recorded history."
"A place filled with artifacts and writings."
Erma lowered her voice slightly.
"According to the tale, they found records."
"Detailed records."
"Not legends."
"Not myths."
"Actual accounts."
Nille frowned.
"Accounts of what?"
The two half-elves exchanged another glance.
Then Nhulla answered.
"The Great Calamity War."
For the first time, Nille's attention sharpened completely.
Erma continued.
"The records supposedly described events leading to the war."
"Names."
"Locations."
"Causes."
"Things no surviving civilization should have remembered."
"Some were written on parchment."
"Others..."
She hesitated.
"Were supposedly written on barkcloth."
Nille froze.
A strange feeling settled into his chest.
The barkcloth book.
The one resting inside Nyx's storage.
Nhulla laughed softly.
"Of course, most historians consider it nonsense."
"A fairy tale."
"A story students tell around campfires."
Erma nodded.
"The barkcloth was said to come from the remains of a dead Divine Tree."
"Which sounds ridiculous."
"Even by shamanic standards."
Nille didn't respond.
Because unlike them...
He had recently touched a barkcloth book hidden behind the thickest sealed door in an ancient civilization buried beneath a swamp.
A book that contained no words.
A book that somehow showed him the past.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Nhulla smiled.
"See?"
"It's probably just a myth."
Nille slowly looked down into his coffee.
The surface reflected his face.
Calm.
Thoughtful.
Silent.
But inside his mind, a very different thought formed.
What if it wasn't a myth at all?
And for the first time since hearing the tale, Nille wondered if the blank barkcloth book in his possession might not be a book.
But a surviving fragment of a history that someone had tried very hard to erase.
Nhulla and Erma exchanged amused looks before continuing the conversation.
"To be honest," Nhulla admitted, "I don't think anyone from my generation ever asked the questions you're asking."
Erma nodded immediately.
"Neither did ours."
She took a sip of coffee before continuing.
"We never investigated the origins of the sectors."
"We never questioned why the academies were positioned where they were."
"We never wondered if the stories were true."
The half-elf laughed softly.
"Most students simply accepted the world as it was."
Nille listened quietly.
Nhulla leaned back against her chair.
"When we first awakened, our priorities were very different."
"Learning our abilities."
"Passing examinations."
"Finding a profession."
"Building a future."
She gestured toward the sleeping Rune Forge personnel scattered throughout the chamber.
"Most awakened individuals aren't adventurers uncovering ancient civilizations."
"They're ordinary people trying to survive."
That answer surprised Nille slightly.
Erma noticed.
"It sounds disappointing when put that way."
"But it's true."
The bronze-ranked staff member looked thoughtful.
"When people first awaken, they imagine grand futures."
"Heroes."
"Legendary shamans."
"Protectors of humanity."
"Champions of justice."
Nhulla smiled faintly.
"And some actually become those things."
Her smile slowly faded.
"But many don't."
"look as us, and those who are Part of Rune Forge we are all once were students
The chamber grew quieter.
"Reality catches up eventually," Nhulla continued.
"Food costs money."
"Housing costs money."
"Medical care costs money."
"Raising a family costs money."
"Even long-lived races aren't exempt from that."
" and at times its eve harder, becaue half race tend to live longer , we need to earn more"
Nille nodded slowly.
That made sense.
Erma folded her arms.
"I've seen plenty of talented students graduate."
"Some possessed extraordinary gifts."
"Powerful bloodlines."
"Rare abilities."
"Remarkable potential."
She shook her head.
"Yet many struggled financially within a few years."
"Not because they lacked talent."
"But because talent doesn't automatically create stability."
Nhulla pointed toward herself.
"Half-elves can live much longer than humans."
"But we still need to eat."
"We still need homes."
"We still need jobs."
"We still pay for anything that we need to live and just have a comfortable life."
That earned a laugh from everyone.
Even Nille smiled.
Yet the underlying truth remained.
Nhulla smiled faintly and cradled her warm cup of coffee. "Long life does not eliminate ordinary needs," she said. "Immortality doesn't erase habit." Erma laughed and nodded. "Have you ever heard a story where immortals don't eat or drink? If there is one,
it's probably a lie." Both half-elves agreed that even if an immortal body no longer required food, centuries of memories, routines, and comforts would remain.
After all, someone who had shared meals, enjoyed tea, or gathered with friends for hundreds of years would not simply abandon those habits. In their view, the truly frightening immortals were not those who stopped eating,
but those who stopped caring. Nille quietly agreed. Perhaps that was why so many ancient legends described immortals living among ordinary people, not because they needed to, but because it reminded them what it meant to remain human.
Erma continued.
"Many awakened powers are impressive."
"But not always useful in daily life."
"There was a graduate who could summon spiritual flames."
"Amazing ability."
"Unfortunately, nobody pays much for decorative fire."
Nhulla laughed.
"I remember him."
"He eventually became a blacksmith."
"And ended up making more money from his craftsmanship than from his awakening."
Erma nodded.
"Another student could communicate with minor spirits."
"Very rare ability."
"Very difficult to monetize."
"He became a teacher."
"Now he earns a stable living explaining Math to children."
Nille considered that.
The stories felt oddly grounded.
Far removed from the grand legends often associated with awakened individuals.
Nhulla noticed his expression.
"The mortal world doesn't care nearly as much about powers as students think."
"Most people care about reliability."
"Competence."
"Results."
She looked toward the excavation teams.
"That's why organizations like Rune Forge exist."
"We give awakened individuals a place to apply their abilities in practical ways."
Erma nodded.
"A person capable of sensing hidden minerals can help discover mines."
"A person with spatial talents can improve logistics."
"A healer can support entire communities."
"A scholar can preserve knowledge."
"Those contributions matter."
Nille stared into his coffee.
He suddenly realized something.
Most of the people around him were awakened.
Yet very few had become famous.
Very few had become heroes.
Very few had become legends.
And yet...
They were still important.
Still valuable.
Still helping build something larger than themselves.
Nhulla smiled.
"The academy teaches skills."
"But life teaches priorities."
She looked toward Nille.
"And eventually everyone must answer the same question."
"What do I want to do with the gifts I've been given?"
For a moment, Nille thought about the countless mysteries surrounding him.
The Celestial Cloth.
The Seed Bearer.
The forgotten civilization.
The World Tree.
The barkcloth book.
The visions.
The bloodline that stretched across centuries.
Most people would probably use such discoveries to gain power.
Influence.
Wealth.
Recognition.
Yet none of those things had ever truly motivated him.
He wanted answers.
Understanding.
Truth.
Erma suddenly laughed.
"Though I should point out, Master Nille, you've already accidentally become more financially successful than most students."
Nhulla nearly choked on her coffee.
"That's true."
Nille blinked.
"What?"
The two women looked at him as if he had forgotten something obvious.
"The castle."
"The trade routes."
"The transportation network."
"The mining rights."
"The settlement."
"The discoveries."
Nhulla pointed around the chamber.
"You keep uncovering things people are willing to take risk for."
Erma grinned.
"Most students struggle to find opportunities."
"You seem to trip over them."
That earned another round of laughter.
Even Nille couldn't deny it anymore.
For someone who rarely thought about money, he somehow kept stumbling into things worth fortunes.
And judging by the ancient chamber surrounding them...
That trend didn't seem likely to stop anytime soon.
Nille took another sip of coffee before looking toward Nhulla and Erma.
There was a question that had lingered in his mind for years, something every awakened student eventually wondered.
"Back when you were students," Nille began, "what exactly determines how powerful a spellcaster becomes?"
Nhulla and Erma exchanged glances.
The question sounded simple.
The answer was not.
After a moment, Nhulla set her cup down.
"Most students believe power comes from learning stronger spells."
She shook her head.
"That's only partially true."
Nille listened carefully.
"The true foundation is the Spiritual Core."
Erma nodded in agreement.
"Everything begins there."
Seeing Nille's interest, Nhulla continued.
"A Spiritual Core isn't a physical organ."
"It is the center of an awakened person's spiritual existence."
"The place where spiritual energy is gathered, refined, stored, and circulated."
She pointed toward her chest.
"Most traditions visualize it differently."
"Some see it as a flame."
"Others as a star."
"A seed."
"A lake."
"A sun."
"The form doesn't matter."
"The function does."
Nille thought about that for a moment.
"So stronger cores mean stronger spells?"
"Not necessarily," Erma replied.
"That's one of the most common mistakes among students."
She smiled knowingly.
"A larger reservoir doesn't automatically make someone a better spellcaster."
Nille raised an eyebrow.
"Explain."
"A farmer can own a lake," Erma said.
"But if he doesn't know how to irrigate a field, he'll still starve."
Nhulla laughed softly.
"That's actually a good analogy."
She continued.
"The Spiritual Core determines capacity."
"Control determines efficiency."
"Knowledge determines application."
"Wisdom determines survival."
Nille absorbed the explanation.
It sounded surprisingly practical.
Nhulla continued.
"A person with a small Spiritual Core but excellent control can outperform someone with ten times their energy."
"I've seen it happen."
"So have I," Erma added.
"Many times."
Nille glanced at the sleeping personnel scattered throughout the chamber.
"What about people who can cast dozens of different spells?"
That question made both women smile.
"Now that's more interesting."
Nhulla leaned forward slightly.
"There are generally three paths."
"Specialization."
"Expansion."
"And Integration."
Nille nodded for her to continue.
"A specialist focuses on one affinity."
"Fire."
"Wind."
"Water."
"Earth."
"Lightning."
"They become extremely efficient."
"Their spells consume less energy."
"They develop deeper understanding."
"But their versatility is limited."
Erma took over.
"Expansion is the opposite."
"A person deliberately learns many disciplines."
"More spells."
"More techniques."
"More options."
She shrugged.
"The downside is that mastery becomes much harder."
Nille nodded.
That sounded logical.
"And Integration?"
This time both women became thoughtful.
Nhulla answered slowly.
"Integration is rare."
"A person stops viewing spells as separate abilities."
"They begin understanding the underlying principles connecting them."
Nille frowned slightly.
"Meaning?"
Erma pointed toward a nearby rune lamp.
"A student sees a fire spell."
"A master sees energy conversion."
"A grandmaster sees a law."
The chamber became quiet.
Nille found himself paying even closer attention.
Nhulla continued.
"The higher a person's understanding becomes, the less they rely on predefined spells."
"They stop memorizing techniques."
"They start manipulating principles."
"At that point, what people call a spell is simply an expression of understanding."
Nille remained silent.
That explanation felt strangely familiar.
Perhaps because many of the abilities he had encountered recently didn't seem to follow traditional spell structures.
The Celestial Cloth.
Nyx.
The gateways.
The visions.
his own core manifestation
If Nille were to visualize a Spiritual Core in the way many shamans describe their inner world, his might appear as something far more unusual than the ordinary spheres, stars, flames, or lakes commonly seen among awakened individuals.
Imagine standing within a vast, silent void.
At the center grows a colossal silver-white tree, its roots extending endlessly into darkness while its branches stretch upward beyond sight. The tree does not appear entirely physical. Parts of it seem woven from light, memory, and spiritual energy itself. Every leaf glows faintly, as though carrying countless fragments of forgotten experiences.
Embedded within the trunk is a radiant heart-like core.
Not a human heart, but a crystalline nucleus pulsing with steady life. Each beat sends waves of energy throughout the tree's roots and branches, illuminating the entire space like blood flowing through veins.
Surrounding this core are three enormous halos.
They do not remain still.
Each halo rotates independently in a different direction, creating a complex gyroscopic motion around the heart-core. Ancient symbols occasionally appear across their surfaces before vanishing again. The rings move with perfect balance, neither mechanical nor magical, but something older and more fundamental.
The first halo could represent Memory, containing experiences, knowledge, inherited lineage, and echoes of the past.
The second halo could represent Adaptation, the ability to evolve, learn, survive, and change according to circumstance.
The third halo could represent Connection, the invisible threads linking Nille to other people, places, bloodlines, and destinies.
As the halos rotate, streams of luminous energy travel between them and the heart-core, creating a continuous cycle.
The tree feeds the core.
The core feeds the halos.
The halos nourish the tree.
Together they form a complete spiritual ecosystem.
What makes the vision unsettling is that the tree appears far older than Nille himself.
As if it existed long before his birth.
As if every generation carrying the Seed contributed another root, another branch, another ring of growth.
The longer one stares at it, the less it resembles a Spiritual Core and the more it resembles a living structure, something that is still growing toward a purpose not yet fulfilled.
A senior shaman might describe such a manifestation as impossible.
A scholar might call it a metaphysical construct.
An ancient spirit might recognize it for what it truly is:
not a reservoir of power, but a convergence point.
A place where lineage, destiny, memory, and spiritual evolution intersect.
And at the center of it all, the heart continues to beat.
Slow.
Steady.
Patient.
As though waiting for the day the final branch grows and the entire tree finally awakens.
None of them resembled ordinary magic.
Erma noticed his expression.
"Most awakened people never reach that level."
"Not because they lack talent."
"But because it takes decades."
"Sometimes centuries."
Nhulla nodded.
"Power isn't accumulated only through energy."
"It's accumulated through understanding."
Nille stared thoughtfully into his coffee.
"Then why do some people pursue power so obsessively?"
The answer came immediately.
"Fear," Nhulla said.
Erma nodded.
"Usually fear."
The two women exchanged a look.
Then Nhulla continued.
"People fear death."
"They fear weakness."
"They fear losing those they care about."
"They fear becoming irrelevant."
"So they seek power."
She paused.
"Some succeed."
"Some don't."
Nille quietly considered that answer.
It felt uncomfortably accurate.
After a moment, Erma smiled.
"Funny thing is, the strongest awakened individuals I've ever met rarely talked about power."
"What did they talk about?"
"Responsibility."
Nhulla answered before Erma could.
"Responsibility."
The word lingered.
"The ability to cast powerful spells is impressive," Nhulla said.
"But eventually every awakened person learns the same lesson."
She looked directly at Nille.
"The question is never whether you can use power."
"It's whether you should."
For a few moments, nobody spoke.
Nhulla asked Nille a question
"What are your reason for becoming strong master Nille ?"
Nille held his cup halfway to his lips, but paused.
Nhulla's question still hung in the air like a weight no one was rushing to lift.
What are you becoming strong for?
For the first time, he didn't have an answer.
Not because he lacked direction—but because everything he thought was direction was slowly unraveling into something larger, something he hadn't fully named yet.
He exhaled softly.
"I don't know," Nille admitted at last.
His voice wasn't uncertain in a fearful way.
It was honest.
"I used to think it was simple."
He leaned back slightly.
"Becoming stronger to protect people."
"To eliminate threats."
"To act as a shaman… or a babaylan… something like that."
Erma listened quietly.
Nhulla didn't interrupt.
Nille's gaze drifted toward the dim edges of the chamber.
"But it doesn't feel like that's enough anymore."
A faint, almost awkward smile formed on his face.
"Not because it's wrong."
"Just… because it feels incomplete."
He paused, as if trying to organize thoughts that refused to stay still.
"Like I'm holding a piece of something much bigger, but I don't know what the full shape looks like yet."
Silence followed.
Then Nille suddenly let out a short laugh.
It wasn't loud.
It wasn't confident.
It was the kind of laugh someone makes when a thought finally clicks into place but feels ridiculous at the same time.
Nhulla raised an eyebrow.
"What?"
Nille shook his head slightly, still smiling.
"It just crossed my mind."
He leaned forward, setting the cup down carefully.
"The World Tree manifestation inside my enclave."
Erma blinked.
Nhulla straightened a little.
Nille continued, the realization unfolding as he spoke.
"I kept thinking it was just… an anomaly."
"A structural resonance."
"A leftover imprint from whatever built the system."
His smile widened a little, almost embarrassed now.
"But it's not, is it?"
He looked up at them.
"It's connected."
Nhulla didn't respond immediately.
Nille continued, more pieces falling into place.
"The Seed Neda mentioned."
"The one that survived generations."
"The one that was meant to find a host."
He tapped his fingers lightly against the table.
"And Temria… the sister."
The moment he said the name, something inside the memory clicked more clearly than before.
Nille leaned back, letting out another small laugh—this time more amused than uncertain.
"So that's what it was."
Erma tilted her head. "What is what?"
Nille shook his head again, almost incredulous at himself.
"I've been treating it like separate mysteries."
"The Tree."
"The Seed."
"The lineage."
"The spirit boy."
"The artifact."
"The visions."
He gestured slightly as if arranging invisible threads in the air.
"But they're not separate."
A pause.
Then he added, quieter:
"They're all part of the same system."
Nhulla's eyes narrowed slightly. "System?"
Nille nodded slowly, still half-laughing at the absurdity of how obvious it suddenly felt.
"Yeah."
He leaned forward again, more certain now, but still oddly amused.
"It's like… I've been trying to solve different puzzles separately, when they're actually pieces of the same structure."
His eyes flicked upward for a moment.
"And I only just realized it because I heard a spirit boy casually mention his sister in a tomb underground like it was normal conversation."
Erma let out a soft chuckle.
"That does sound like your life, honestly."
Nille gave a small helpless smile.
"Right?"
Then his expression softened again, more thoughtful.
"The Seed Bearer… Temria… the World Tree imprint… even my perception shifting since I awakened…"
He exhaled.
"It's all connected to something that was set in motion long before I was even born."
Nhulla studied him carefully.
"And you're only realizing this now?"
Nille shrugged lightly.
"I think I was supposed to."
Another pause.
Then, almost quietly to himself, he added:
"It's kind of funny."
Erma blinked. "What is?"
Nille looked down at his cup again.
"I've been worrying about whether I'm becoming something strange… something different from other awakened people."
He smiled faintly.
"But it turns out I'm not becoming something."
He tapped his chest once.
"I'm just… remembering what I already am part of."
The chamber fell quiet again.
But this time, the silence wasn't heavy.
It was understanding.
Nhulla leaned back slightly, a faint smile returning.
"That's either a very comforting realization…"
"Or the beginning of something far more complicated."
Nille gave a small laugh again.
"Probably both."
And for the first time that night, the mystery didn't feel like it was pulling him apart.
It felt like it was finally starting to come together.