As the ritual pressed on, Kenneth felt exhaustion seeping into his bones, but he refused to let it show. The weight of Anterthon’s future bore down on him, urging him forward. They had come too far to falter now. Summoning a final surge of determination, he pushed more magic into the tree, feeling the combined energy of their united pnevma flow like a lifeline through its withered roots.

“We're almost there” Kenneth murmured, his voice barely audible as he tightened his grip on their hands. He glanced at the others, their faces pale and drawn, yet they gave faint nods, wordlessly promising to see this through.

The strain of the ritual was overwhelming, their pnevma nearly drained, each of them teetering on the edge of collapse. Kenneth’s mind wandered, marveling at the strength of the first emperor—how he could have sustained the Tree of Life for so long, channeling such vast pnevma without breaking.

Suddenly, a vision seized Kenneth, pulling him away from the present. He saw the Tree of Life—not as it stood now, but as a delicate seedling. And he realized, with an odd sense of detachment, that it wasn’t his hands feeding it magic.

The vision shifted, and he found himself watching from a third-person perspective, like a bystander to a memory not his own. A young man in his mid-twenties, dressed in elegant royal attire, knelt beside the seedling, channeling magic into it. Standing nearby was someone Kenneth immediately recognized—the unmistakable figure of Headmaster Nero, looking both younger and more carefree.

“Hadrian!” Nero scolded, exasperation evident in his tone. “You just transferred the Ultimate Water to the Meridian, and now you’re draining yourself again.”

Kenneth’s breath caught. The man tending to the seedling was Emperor Hadrian, the founder of Anterthon. And though Nero’s tone was sharp, Kenneth could sense the deep bond between them—built on trust, respect, and years of companionship.

Hadrian glanced up, his expression unbothered, even amused. “I recovered my pnevma, Nero. I couldn’t just let this little one wither away,” he replied, a gentle smile softening his face.

Nero sighed, bringing a hand to his forehead. “You can’t keep giving pieces of yourself to anyone in need. Your Aether Magic isn’t just some ordinary gift to toss around.”

Hadrian chuckled, undeterred. “They’re not just ‘anyone.’ The Guardians I’ve chosen will become the kingdom’s pillars. This magic will benefit them, and by extension, all of Anterthon.”

Hadrian’s eyes twinkled with mischief as he continued, “Besides, I shared the magic of time with you, didn’t I? You’re not just anyone either.”

Nero rolled his eyes. “Yes, and now I’m blessed with eternal youth,” he replied dryly, though a faint smile betrayed his fondness. “Not exactly what I signed up for.”

The banter subsided as Hadrian’s expression grew distant, touched with a seriousness that seemed to linger between them.

“Nero,” he said quietly, his voice almost wistful, “when I’m gone, this kingdom will need someone they can truly trust. Someone who can watch over it, long after my time.”

Nero’s expression turned wary. “You talk as if you’re leaving tomorrow. Why the sudden concern?”

Hadrian’s gaze drifted beyond the seedling, as if seeing something far away. “Now that I’ve discovered my magic, things will change. We once lived as Commoners, and not everyone will welcome Anterthon’s rise. Forces will come, challenging this peace we’ve built.” He glanced at Nero, his expression solemn. “Aside from the Elemental Guardians, there’s no one else I trust more than you.”

The vision shifted again. It was morning, and the emperor, now dressed as a simple noble, stood beside a Fire Guardian. The tree had grown taller, reaching the height of a person.

“Your Majesty, my son has successfully inherited the Ultimate Fire. He will serve you with loyalty until his last breath,” the Fire Guardian said.

“Thank you,” Hadrian replied, bowing his head slightly.

The vision shifted, and Kenneth found himself witnessing the passage of time. The small sapling he had seen earlier was now a towering tree, its branches thick and mighty. The first emperor, Hadrian, now in his mid-sixties, stood beneath it, his hands weathered and his once-youthful face etched with the lines of years spent ruling. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dappled shadows on the ground, flickers of light dancing as though alive, mirroring the intertwined lives connected to this tree.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

Nero, still looking as youthful as ever, approached quietly. His mid-twenties appearance seemed in stark contrast to the aged emperor. He stood close, but silent, as though waiting for something unsaid.

“Nero,” Hadrian spoke, his voice softer, filled with the wisdom of decades. “Do you know why I’ve cared for this tree all these years?”

Nero said nothing, simply standing behind the emperor with a solemn expression.

“I look at this tree, and I see my heart reflected in it,” Hadrian said, his weathered eyes fixed on the branches swaying gently above. “For decades, I’ve nurtured it, just as I’ve nurtured my love for Anterthon. I’ve always hoped that my will to protect this land is bound to the life of this tree… and that long after I’m gone, it will continue to grow, carrying my hopes with it.”

As he spoke, the emperor laid his hands on the bark of the tree. With a gentle sigh, he released the last of his magic into it. Almost immediately, the tree began to bloom. Vibrant flowers sprouted from every branch, their petals delicate yet radiant. The wind picked up, carrying the blossoms through the air, scattering them across the land. Wherever they landed, new saplings sprouted, bringing life to distant parts of the kingdom.

Then, surprisingly, Hadrian turned his gaze toward Kenneth. Their eyes met, and Kenneth’s heart raced.

“So,” the emperor said, his voice calm but with a hint of warmth, “we finally meet.”

“Y-your Majesty,” Kenneth stammered, caught off guard by the interaction.

“Kenneth,” Hadrian said, his gaze both piercing and kind. “You might wonder why the Ultimate Fire chose you—why it was you who stirred it from its long slumber. But remember this: a flame doesn’t ignite in the hands of the worthy. It burns brightest in the heart that knows loss.”

Kenneth stood in stunned silence, struggling to absorb the weight of Hadrian’s words.

“The path before you is clouded now,” Hadrian continued, his voice steady, “but one day, the shadows will part, and the answers you seek will reveal themselves. Grow strong, Kenneth. Protect the ones who hold you close.”

The emperor took one last look at the tree, his eyes softening. “Take care of this tree for me.”

With those words, the emperor smiled, a gesture full of both grace and finality. Slowly, his form began to fade, his presence thinning like mist in the wind. His last words echoed in the air, lingering long after he vanished.

“A flame lives so long as it is shared, and a kingdom so long as its roots are strong.”

Kenneth stood in silence, staring at the now-blossoming tree. The emperor’s cryptic message settled deep within him, its meaning slowly taking root.

＊＊＊

Kenneth woke up, disoriented, after what felt like a long dream—or perhaps memories of the Tree of Life intertwined with the first emperor. He found himself lying in a large room, and Joash, along with the others, stood by his bed, their faces filled with worry.

“Are you guys okay? How’s the Tree of Life?” Kenneth asked, his voice groggy but laced with concern.

Rika was the first to respond, her relief evident. “We’re okay. The Tree of Life recovered itself before we completely drained our pnevma. It seems to have dissolved the Nether magic within it. We can’t feel any trace of it left.”

“I don’t think we could have made it without your seemingly infinite pnevma, Kenneth,” Ash added with a small smile.

Kenneth exhaled in relief. He was glad the tree had survived. “By the way, did any of you have a dream about the Tree of Life?” he asked, curious about the vivid visions he’d experienced.

Rika, Ash, and Aine exchanged confused glances. “No,” Aine replied. “After the tree recovered, you suddenly collapsed. You’ve been asleep for two days.”

Kenneth’s mind wandered back to the vision of the first emperor. The words echoed in his head: “Protect this tree for me.”

＊＊＊

After his recovery, Kenneth made his way to the Tree of Life. The once withering branches had fully healed, and now the tree stood tall and strong, radiating an energy that felt both comforting and familiar. Kenneth placed his hand against the bark, almost instinctively channeling his magic into the tree. To his surprise, the tree accepted the energy without resistance.

“You’ve just recovered, don’t push yourself too much,” a voice called from behind.

Kenneth turned to see Headmaster Nero approaching—the same figure he’d seen alongside the emperor in his vision. “Headmaster,” he greeted, dipping his head respectfully.

Glancing back at the tree, Kenneth’s expression grew thoughtful. “I think… I met the first emperor through this tree,” he said quietly. “He told me he’d entrusted me with its protection.”

Nero’s eyes widened slightly in surprise before softening into a smile. “If that’s true, then I’ll grant you the authority to care for this tree.”

Kenneth felt the weight of responsibility settle on him, but it wasn’t a burden. Instead, it felt like a clear sense of purpose. “I won’t let him down,” Kenneth promised, his voice firm.

As he stood beneath the towering branches, Kenneth silently vowed to protect the tree and Anterthon with everything he had.

Nero watched quietly as Kenneth fed the tree, sensing something different about him. Since Kenneth had woken up, there was an undeniable change—something that stirred a deep sense of nostalgia in Nero. It was as though an almost forgotten presence surrounded Kenneth, reminding him of the past, like a long-lost memory slowly resurfacing.