God's Tree-Chapter 217: A Star Is a Weapon?

The room remained still, each of the thirteen Elders of the Grand Magic Academy watching Argolaith with eyes sharpened by centuries of judgment. Magic glimmered softly around their robes, their crests pulsing like embers.

The Elder of Astral Theory broke the silence first, her voice curious but steady.

"You said your tree's name is… the Galaxy Maker?"

Argolaith nodded once. "Yes."

The elder frowned, exchanging a glance with the Elder of Dreamlogic. "That's not one of the Sacred Trees. Or even a Noted Lesser."

"Because it doesn't exist in this world," Argolaith said. "The Galaxy Maker exists in the void realm—outside Morgoth entirely. A tree that holds stars in place. That grows in space. It gave me its lifeblood. That's the only one I carry."

Murmurs rippled through the chamber again—this time less confused, and more intrigued… and uneasy.

The Elder of Rune Weaving leaned forward.

"Let's begin the evaluations, then."

And so it began.

Potion making?

Argolaith summoned herbs and reagents from his ring, lined them up without fanfare, and began brewing a pain-elimination tincture, a healing vapor serum, and a void-attuned stamina enhancer—all while holding casual conversation.

The Elders didn't interrupt, though a few narrowed their eyes.

The Elder of Alchemy leaned toward another and whispered:

"That's fifth-year curriculum."

"And he's not even a day enrolled."

Rune mastery?

Argolaith etched a triple-linked spatial reinforcement rune into floating air, using no tools, no ink—only mana. The glyph hung there, stable, balanced, glowing with perfect symmetry.

The Elder of Rune Weaving rubbed her temples slowly.

"That shouldn't be possible without conduit gloves…"

"And certainly not in freeform air."

Physical strength?

They summoned a reinforced dummy with sacredsteel bones and impact crystal beneath enchanted hide. It was enchanted to absorb a Saint-ranked beast's full-force strike.

Argolaith punched once.

The dummy exploded.

Fragments embedded themselves in the wall behind it, some melting from residual force.

The Elder of Combat Arts blinked.

"What tier reinforcement was on that model?"

"Tier seven," one assistant muttered.

The elder sighed. "We use tier seven for royal battlemages…"

Then came the final question.

The one they were all dreading.

"Show us your magic."

Veylan immediately stepped forward, sharp. "Not inside the Academy."

The Elder of Voidbinding narrowed her eyes.

"You believe it would damage the school?"

"He shattered a city's windows from over a hundred miles away."

The chamber went silent.

The Elders gave each other a brief, wordless exchange of raised brows and small nods.

Then the Elder of Astral Theory stood.

"Fine. We'll test it on one of the Academy's airborne Saint beasts. Outside the gate."

They returned to the gate between realms.

The void beyond stretched vast and silent. The students watched from balconies, floating towers, and mirrored scrying orbs projected into the sky.

A single Saint beast—a winged, six-limbed leviathan with a body of windsteel and crystal armor—hovered at the edge of the void.

One of the elders murmured a command, and the beast flapped once, soaring out into the open space.

"You may begin," the Elder of Summoning said dryly.

Argolaith nodded and raised one hand.

His magic pulsed.

A tiny star-shaped mote of light drifted out from his finger, spinning slowly like a snowflake.

The Elders shifted.

One or two snickered.

"That's it?"

"Looks like a decorative spell."

"Perhaps a misfire…"

Then the star moved.

Faster than sound.

It streaked through the sky like a comet, leaving a thin silver trail that warped space behind it.

The Saint beast had no time to flee.

The moment of impact was not light—

It was detonation.

A burst of white-gold light, silent and endless, bloomed in the void.

It didn't just explode.

It collapsed, then expanded, mimicking the death of a star.

The Saint beast never even had time to scream.

It was simply gone.

But the shockwave wasn't.

It hit the Academy a few seconds later.

The elders moved to raise the school's barriers—spells layered over centuries, crafted by the original gods of the Academy.

But they were too late.

The wave hit.

Every window—shattered.

Every scrying pool—ruptured.

The entire Academy trembled.

Students screamed. Faculty shouted. Spell wards flashed in every direction.

And then—

Silence.

Not peace.

Not calm.

Just… soundless void.

Every living being went deaf.

For almost a full minute.

When the world's hearing returned—

The students rushed to the gates.

Staff came running.

What they saw was a group of stunned elders, Veylan crouched on one knee, and a single boy standing quietly at the center of it all.

Argolaith.

No longer just a student.

But a force.

The Elder of Dimensions coughed sharply—blood spraying into his palm.

He stood shakily, shoulders trembling.

Then, finally:

"Argolaith…"

He inhaled slowly.

"…You are hereby accepted into the Grand Magic Academy."

The silence that followed was thicker than ever.

Because no one doubted it now.

A star had been born.

The echo of the explosion still hummed through the bones of the academy.

Though the shattered windows had been magically repaired and hearing restored by restorative chants, the memory of what had happened—the scale of it—lingered in every corridor like a shadow cast by light too bright to comprehend.

And at the center of it all…

Argolaith.

He walked behind Instructor Veylan, silent, calm, unaffected.

But all around him, the world watched.

As they passed through the gleaming corridors and floating bridges of the academy's upper district, students leaned from walkways. Some pretended to read tomes, though their eyes flicked toward him. Others whispered furiously in hushed tones behind enchanted silencing veils that didn't veil quite enough.

"That's him."

"The one who broke the sound barrier with a spell."

"He vaporized a flying Saint beast."

"Is he even a student?"

"I heard the Elder of Dimensions coughed up blood…"

"I heard the Voidbinding Elder fainted!"

They reached a spiraling staircase that hovered with soft gravity pulses, carrying them upward without effort. At the top, a circular hallway of pale gold stretched in three directions—lined with rooms warded by private runes, glowing gently.

Veylan stopped at a door marked with no crest.

Only a singular symbol—one that shimmered as if drawn from starlight.

A spark.

Newly carved.

Just for him.

He pressed his hand to the rune. The door opened without resistance.

Inside was a spacious chamber with floating bookcases, reinforced training pillars, and a bed set within a starlit alcove that mimicked the void sky outside.

The walls gently shifted with illusion magic, reflecting the mood of its occupant. Currently: calm, cool silver.

Veylan crossed his arms.

"You'll stay here. This room is above Fifth-Year standard. Normally reserved for instructors or sponsored prodigies."

Argolaith raised an eyebrow. "Sponsored?"

"Patroned by royals. High guilds. Astral Houses." He paused. "You have no sponsor."

Argolaith nodded. "Not yet."

Veylan smirked faintly.

"Just try not to blow this room up. It's the only one shielded by Worldforged stone."

Then he turned and left without another word.

Argolaith stood in silence for a moment. Then walked to the window.

The entire academy unfolded before him—floating towers, crystal bridges, and hundreds of students walking below like rivers of mana-bound potential.

It was… beautiful.

But also small.

He had walked galaxies.

But here… was where it would all begin.

A soft knock at his door.

He turned.

Then it opened slowly.

Three figures stepped in—students, but not just any.

The elites.

He recognized their crests from Veylan's briefings. Each one bore the fifth-year mark—and one even had an astral flare meaning they were already undergoing specialized instruction.

A tall boy with platinum hair stepped forward first.

He didn't bow.

Didn't smile.

"You're Argolaith."

It wasn't a question.

Argolaith nodded.

A girl with pale violet eyes behind him narrowed her gaze.

"The one who made the sky scream."

The third student, more reserved, added with awe:

"That wasn't a spell. That was… cosmic force."

Argolaith didn't speak right away.

He studied them, reading the tension beneath their practiced faces.

Not hatred.

Not fear.

But… curiosity.

"And you are?"

The platinum-haired boy stepped forward again.

"Vel Raelis. Fifth-year Combat and Astral special-track. Ranked top three in all sparring duels."

The girl beside him crossed her arms.

"Anira Vale. Rune Logic and Spellcraft. Invented a double-layered fire logic circle last year."

The third one gave a small bow.

"My name is Keson. Alchemy and Dreamlogic Division."

Argolaith raised a brow.

"And what do you want?"

Vel smirked faintly.

"To see if the rumors were true."

Anira's eyes flicked toward the glowing cube floating silently in the corner behind Argolaith's bed.

"And maybe…" she said slowly, "…to learn what kind of magic you really have."