God's Tree-Chapter 215: Starborn

Argolaith stood beside the suspended cube, arms folded, his eyes thoughtful and steady.

Instructor Veylan, still recovering from the lingering chill of the cube's previous drain, glanced from Argolaith to the strange hovering object once more.

"You said you wanted to try something?"

Argolaith nodded. "Yes. I need your help for an experiment."

Veylan arched a brow. "What kind of experiment?"

Argolaith gestured to the cube.

"When I touch it… nothing happens. It reacts, but it doesn't affect me unless I let it. But when you touched it earlier, it drained your mana."

The instructor frowned slightly—then realization flickered across his face.

"You want me to use my magic on it."

"Exactly," Argolaith said. "Let's see what it does when it's fed mana deliberately—not by accident."

Veylan hesitated for a beat. Then he stepped forward and extended a hand.

A small orb of fire magic bloomed in his palm, glowing bright amber with practiced precision.

"Here goes."

He released the spell slowly, a steady stream of focused fire flowing into the hovering cube.

The cube absorbed the magic instantly—no glow, no resistance. The flames vanished into it like water disappearing into dry sand.

Then—

A sudden pulse.

Mana surged backward—but not toward the cube.

Into Argolaith.

His body stiffened. His eyes widened. The energy roared through him, not burning, not wild—but refined, concentrated, like pure, liquid power being poured directly into his veins.

He staggered back, catching himself on the edge of the table.

"It… it turned the fire magic into pure mana," he whispered.

Veylan stared. "You absorbed it."

Argolaith nodded slowly, then turned his eyes to the cube.

"You didn't just absorb it. You translated it."

The instructor stepped back, shaking his head.

"You made this with your magic?"

Argolaith gave a calm nod. "But it's not made of magic. It's… something else. Something that exists beside it. I don't even think it obeys magical law."

Veylan narrowed his eyes. "Why is it floating like that? It's not using a suspension rune, right?"

Argolaith gestured toward the stasis ring. "Because it passes through non-living matter. Wood, stone, even air. Unless it's supported by mana or a living force, it just falls."

The instructor let out a breath. "That's absurd."

"That's the point."

Argolaith stepped forward, thoughtful.

"But what if we didn't absorb the magic it translates?" he said aloud. "What if we let it store it instead?"

He took a moment to attune his inner current, adjusting the mental flow that connected him to the cube.

This time, when Veylan cast the next fire spell—

Argolaith resisted the pull.

The magic poured in.

The cube began to glow faintly. This time, the energy didn't rush toward Argolaith.

It stayed.

Trapped.

Contained.

"It's holding it," Veylan said, eyes wide. "Like a mana battery."

Argolaith nodded.

"Now let's find out how much it can hold."

Hours passed.

The instructor cast spell after spell.

Not giant fireballs—small, refined streams of energy. Controlled magic. One after another. Carefully measured.

The cube absorbed every drop.

Its glow intensified, color shifting from amber to deep violet, then to a dense, starless black. Then—

A spark.

Then two.

And then—

A star.

Not a metaphor.

A miniature, shimmering star formed inside the cube. Spiraling slowly.

Then it broke away, floating silently from the cube toward Argolaith.

It entered his chest like breath returning to lungs.

And he understood.

Not with study.

But with instinct.

A new spell now lived inside him.

He turned to the instructor.

"We need to test it."

Veylan blinked. "Outside the city."

Argolaith nodded grimly.

Moments later, they stood on a rooftop, staring out across the open plains.

Argolaith focused.

The new magic rose within him—foreign and starbound. He shaped it, gently, with care and reverence.

A mote of light drifted from his chest.

It looked small.

Unassuming.

Then—

It launched.

Faster than sound.

It ripped through the sky like a comet, trailing cosmic threads behind it.

Then it hit.

Far beyond the horizon—over a hundred miles away.

A blinding flash.

A soundless second— freeweɓnøvel.com

And then the shockwave.

Air quivered. The ground murmured.

The explosion was cataclysmic.

Even from that distance, the city shook. Every window shattered. The sky rippled like it was exhaling.

Below them, people screamed. Guards scrambled. Alarms rang out across the towers.

Veylan stared in stunned silence.

Then slowly turned to Argolaith.

"…You're not waiting a year."

Argolaith blinked. "What?"

The instructor grabbed his cloak, already preparing a teleport token.

"You're going to the Grand Magic Academy now. Before you accidentally wipe an empire off the map."

Argolaith didn't argue.

Because for the first time, even he wasn't sure what his magic would become next.

The silence after the explosion was deafening.

Even miles away, the last whispers of the distant detonation echoed in the bones of the city's towers. Birds scattered. Magic-sensitive wards buzzed like insects in retreat. And the people below still stared at the fractured sky, dazed and panicked.

On the rooftop, Instructor Veylan stood frozen beside Argolaith, his cloak flapping in the wind, token clutched in one hand.

Then, at last, he turned.

"How much mana did that spell use?"

Argolaith blinked, still feeling the aftershock ripple faintly through the magic in his blood.

"About… a quarter."

Veylan didn't speak at first.

Then:

"A quarter?"

Argolaith nodded. "Maybe a little less. It didn't feel like a full drain."

Veylan's expression tightened. "That was enough power to flatten a capital city."

"That's why I tested it far away."

The instructor exhaled through his nose and pinched the bridge of his brow.

"You don't get it. That wasn't just a spell, Argolaith. That was a stellar-level phenomenon. We've had Archmages spend decades trying to build spells of that scale—and you made one accidentally with a cube you made from nothing."

Argolaith raised an eyebrow. "It's why I'm training."

"No." Veylan looked him dead in the eyes. "It's why you're done training alone. Pack your things. You're going to the Grand Magic Academy—today."

Back in the elite guild room, Argolaith moved efficiently.

He stored his notebooks, collapsed his reinforced spell circle, and carefully floated the cube back into a stasis capsule within his storage ring. He paused briefly at the pedestal, looking around one last time at the chamber that had witnessed his growth.

So much had changed in so little time.

And yet, it had only just begun.

He slung his coat over his shoulder and walked down the stairs to the guild's first floor.

The receptionist—now clearly rattled from the explosion—looked up with wide eyes as he approached.

Before she could speak, Argolaith set a silver seal on the desk.

"I'm leaving. My instructor is taking me to the Grand Magic Academy immediately."

She stared at the token, then at him, jaw slightly slack.

"You're—? Oh. Oh gods. That was you?"

Argolaith gave her a faint smile. "Don't worry. I aimed very carefully."

He turned on his heel before she could respond, walking back out into the street where Veylan waited, a small teleportation token between his fingers—etched with high-tier runes that shimmered in sequence.

The instructor tossed Argolaith a second one.

"You're marked as my ward now. This will get us through the Academy's outer wards without raising alarms."

Argolaith inspected the token briefly before tucking it into the breast pocket of his coat.

Veylan muttered a short incantation.

The air twisted around them—threads of light and space folding together in an elegant spiral.

"Are you ready?"

Argolaith nodded once.

"I've always been ready."

The teleportation activated with a low hum—and with a burst of white-gold light, they vanished from the city's edge.

Far behind them, the shattered windows still glittered in the sun.

And ahead?

The gates of the Grand Magic Academy began to open.