The climb up was easier than he expected.

  Cade grunted as he pulled himself upward along a thick, gnarled aerial root that spiraled like a twisted rope. His slightly too big leather boots found purchase on a knotted ridge of bark as he continued to ascend.

  A small, exhausted smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

  Just a few hours ago, climbing this same tree had been a struggle. Back when he’d hidden in the lower branches to ambush the boar, every pull to get up to the perch felt like his muscles would snap. Now he felt a newfound strength in his arms. A control in his core that didn’t exist previously. Every point in Strength and Dexterity he gained was showing its worth to him now.

  Higher he went, past the massive trunk where N’zhal had descended from, into the upper reaches of the canopy. The banyan rose like a tower among the swamp’s murky green waves. As he climbed, he noticed something strange: long, dark thorns were sprouting from the wood.

  They gleamed in the light like onyx, the same black as N’zhal’s scales. The narrow and jagged spikes were at least half a foot long. They jutted from the branches and trunks in irregular clusters creating a natural defense.

  This made Cade’s pace slow as he carefully navigated around them. They weren’t everywhere, but they were frequent enough that he had to be deliberate with his movements. He wasn’t in a rush, and getting skewered was not on the agenda.

  The further up he went, the more surreal it felt. The branches didn’t thin in the way he expected. Even the high limbs near the crown were thick and strong—unnaturally so. It was like the tree had grown specifically to support the weight of something massive.

  Like a snake that would keep growing larger and larger, he thought grimly.

  Eventually, the canopy began to thin. Cade hauled himself onto a wide branch and pushed his way through dangling vines until his head breached the top leaves of the tree.

  The view stole his breath.

  Endless green stretched in almost every direction. Trees knotted together into a tangled web of life, cut only by scattered clearings and glinting patches of brown and black water. It was the second time Cade had seen the swamp from above but it was no less impressive than the first.

  He turned slowly, scanning the horizon.

  The artificial sun hung a bit above the horizon, its location telling him he had a few hours until nightfall. That meant he still had some time to find shelter before dark.

  But not here.

  He didn’t trust this tree. Climbing it was one thing. Sleeping in it? That was different.

  His eyes flicked to the black thorns that had grown from its bark. What if they grow while I sleep? What if they grow into me? The thought made him shudder. No, he needed somewhere else.

  He kept scanning, turning his gaze west and just a few degrees north of the setting sun—and that’s when he saw it.

  Another clearing. But unlike the ones he’d passed before, this one wasn’t dull brown or swampy green. It was vibrant.

  Patches of vivid blue, purple, red, yellow, and stark white dotted the clearing, as though someone had spilled paint across the landscape. The colors stood out in the swamp, utterly unnatural in the otherwise muted landscape.

  Cade narrowed his eyes.

  What the hell is that?

  He saw no movement—no signs of a creature or structure—but it was far enough that anything smaller than a house would be hard to see. Still, it pulled at him. Curiosity had gotten him this far, and it wasn’t about to stop now.

  He marked the clearing’s location mentally. That’s where I’m going next.

  To the far north, well past the clearing, Cade saw a shimmer of vast water in the distance.

  The lake, he realized. Where my old group is heading.

  He stiffened. He didn’t want to risk running into them. Not yet. His stats might have caught up for now thanks to his newly gained Titles, but they had classes and professions. Without the same, he’d easily fall behind again.

  He turned east: dense swamp. South: more of the same, except—

  A blue shimmer in the distance. The wall he’d seen during his fall into the Tutorial. That was the edge of the zone, supposedly impassable for another 27 days. Maybe he’d test it later, but for now that technicolor clearing called to him.

  He climbed back below the canopy, toward the tree’s upper branches—eyes sharp for anything strange. The view was worth the climb but he wouldn’t put it past the System to hide something in this tree.

  The descent was slower.

  Cade took his time moving branch to branch, weaving carefully around the long, gleaming thorns. They were even sharper up close—jagged like splintered glass, some of them easily the length of his forearm. He’d seen enough strange biology in the swamp to know better than to brush up against one of them by accident.

  He paused near a fork in the tree where several limbs twisted together. He hadn’t noticed it before, but one of the thick upper limbs branched directly into a strange round and unnaturally smooth cavity in the trunk.

  It was a hole, maybe a meter wide, set directly into the upper crown of the banyan.

  Cade’s instincts buzzed as he felt the subtle pressure leaking out of that hole. A familiar tension, like the moment before a spell went off. Not quite magical and not quite physical but something deeper.

  He crept closer, crouching low on the branch and peering into the hollow.

  It was dark but not pitch black. The tunnel dropped straight down into a dimly lit green but was deep enough he couldn’t see the bottom.

  A tight prickle crawled up Cade’s spine.

  The subtle pressure emanating from the hole reminded him of his evolution—when the pressure had built inside that dense white space. Not quite the same, but similar and much less intense.

  He bit the inside of his cheek.

  Is this what N’zhal was guarding?

  He could imagine it now—the snake coiled in the branches above, silently watching the hollow like a dragon over its hoard. Whatever was down there was likely important. But Cade wasn’t about to leap in blind.

  The walls of the tunnel were unnaturally smooth, with no ridges or footholds. Even if he did slide down, there was no guarantee he’d be able to climb back up. That was a level of risk he wasn’t willing to take.

  His eyes flicked to a nearby cluster of thinner aerial roots draping from the higher branches.

  A plan started to form.

  Cade edged away from the hollow, making his way to the root cluster. These were different from the thick ones on the main branches. These were thinner, lighter, and more flexible. Almost vine-like, but still strong enough to hold his weight. He tugged experimentally on a bundle. They didn’t break and that was good enough for him.

  He began hoisting the roots up, bundling them like a makeshift rope.

  After gathering them up, he returned to the hollow and dropped them down into the darkness. The roots uncoiled and vanished from sight, swallowed by the tree’s interior.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  Cade tested the tension. Their natural anchor points on the branches above held firm. He took a deep breath, wrapping both hands around the root rope.

  “Alright,” he muttered. “Let’s see what you were hiding, you scaly bastard.”

  Then he swung over the edge and began his descent into the heart of the Blackflake Bastion Banyan.

  Hand over hand, feet braced against the smooth sides, Cade worked his way down. The pressure intensified with every meter. It was crawling across his skin, seeping into his eyes and ears and even his bones. It wasn’t as overwhelming as his evolution—but it was getting close.

  Whatever was down there felt powerful.

  The light from above faded quickly. Cade estimated he’d descended nearly thirty meters, the faint green glow from the tunnel his only light source.

  He reached the bottom, feet settling on smooth wood.

  The air was dense here.

  Cade looked around. He could barely see—the only light was the faint greenish hue coming from the tunnel above but not from down in the chamber itself. There was something in front of him. He could feel it. Pressure radiated off it like heat from a forge.

  He reached out and pain sliced across his palm.

  “Shit—!” He yanked his hand back, blood already welling. Something had cut him.

  Cade squinted forward and tried to activate [Identify].

  Nothing happened.

  He focused further, beyond the immediate cut zone, pushing his new skill toward the source of that pressure.

  This time, the skill triggered.

  Flake of the Obsidian Keystone — ??

  Cade stared at the screen. No description or level or anything. Just the name and two question marks.

  “Great,” he muttered. “Thanks for nothing, lesser Identify.”

  He dismissed the screen and stared into the dark again. Flake of the Obsidian Keystone. The name sounded important and dangerous. This had to be the N’zhal’s treasure.

  He flexed his hand, feeling the blood smear between his fingers. It made sense now how he’d cut himself—he must have brushed the edge of the flake. He’d heard that obsidian could form blades sharper than steel, even sharp enough to cut at the cellular level. Ancient civilizations of Earth had used it for knives and ritual weapons. Some modern surgeons still used obsidian scalpels for their superior cutting ability.

  But obsidian was also fragile. Deadly sharp, but brittle.

  Cade crouched low, squinting toward the unseen shape in front of him. The pressure rolling off it wasn’t just a trick of his imagination. It was the same feeling he’d gotten during his evolution, when every cell in his body had been humming under the System’s power. Whatever this “keystone” was, it was radiating that same sort of pressure.

  He wasn’t leaving without it.

  The problem was getting it out without losing a finger.

  There was almost no light down here, just the faint green light filtering down the hollow shaft from above. He could barely make out the edges of his hand, much less the object that had cut him.

  “Alright,” he muttered as he reached for the root rope, climbing a few meters back up until the faint glow from above strengthened. It was a faintly luminescent sap that oozed from cracks in the inner walls, glowing green with some sort of bioluminescence.

  Cade grabbed his axe and scraped the head against the glowing sap, smearing a thick layer across the broken metal edge. The smell was strange—sweet but acrid, like rotting fruit mixed with ozone.

  When he climbed back down, the broken axe head now glowed faintly, throwing eerie green light across the inner chamber.

  The hollow was massive. Larger than he’d guessed. The smooth, black walls stretched up around him, almost as if they were polished. There was no bark here—just slick, dark wood that drank the light instead of reflecting it. The glow of his sap-smeared axe turned the walls into a sea of deep shadow.

  And then he saw it.

  Embedded halfway up the wall in front of him was a shard of something darker than black. Its surface was fractured but glassy.

  A thin line of his blood streaked its surface.

  Cade took a steadying breath and stepped closer, careful not to brush against it again.

  This was the thing that had cut him. The Flake of the Obsidian Keystone.

  Gripping it by the shaft he spun the axe around. The blade was useless but the spike on the back end was still usable. He pressed it to the wall just beneath the shard and began to dig.

  At first, he worked slowly, carving careful wedges of the wood away. He wasn’t sure if this tree was actually conscious or just had levels due to the System. The last thing he wanted was for it to suddenly decide to crush him for harming it. But as he carved, nothing happened.

  Encouraged, Cade began to work faster, chiseling around the shard, sweat forming on his brow despite the cool air inside the chamber. Chips of dark wood fell away. The faint pressure in the chamber seemed to thrum stronger the more he dug.

  And then—with a small plop—the shard dropped free.

  Cade froze, expecting something to happen. He waited for any signs of movement but just like before, nothing came.

  He exhaled. “Okay. That’s one problem solved.”

  He bent down to pick up the shard, pinching it between two fingers by its flattest edges. Even then, the weight surprised him—it was heavier than it looked, dense like tungsten but cool to the touch.

  He turned to tuck it into a side pocket of his armor—

  —and the flake sliced clean through the leather.

  It fell to the floor again with a quiet ting.

  Cade cursed and jumped back. The cut was perfectly clean. The thing had sheared through the hardened hide like it was nothing.

  He stared down at the fragment gleaming in the dim light, frustration and awe warring in his chest.

  “Right,” he said under his breath. “So it's sharp enough to slice right through my armor and cut me open by just grazing the edge.”

  He crouched again, rubbing his jaw in thought and absentmindedly smearing blood on his face. He wasn’t leaving this behind. Not after finding it and feeling the pressure it gave off. But if he couldn’t pocket it safely then he’d have to improvise.

  Cade paced the chamber. He couldn’t stuff the flake into his pockets. He couldn’t wrap it in cloth—whatever edge this thing had would shear straight through. He needed a handle, a sheath, something that would bind it so it couldn’t cut him or slide free.

  Then he looked at the sap on his axe and a lightbulb went off in his head.

  He hadn’t wanted to touch the stuff at first. The glowing green oozed and glowed like some cartoon toxic waste. But it was undoubtedly sticky and he might be able to use it as glue.

  Focusing on the sap he used [Identify].

  Sap of the Blackflake Bastion Banyan — A viscous sap with faint luminescent properties due to the brimming vitality carried within.

  That was surprisingly useful. Not a warning, about poison or how toxic the substance was. The sap was just so full of vitality that it glowed. Sticky, energetic vitality. It might hold the obsidian flake in place long enough for him to make something permanent.

  He smeared the sap on the axe head, working it into the broken metal with his fingers despite the slight, prickling tingle where it touched his skin. The sap was tacky and elastic but he could tell that it was beginning to harden already.

  He took a breath, set his jaw, and picked the flake up again by the bluntest edges he could find. Even held that way it felt like it would cut him at any moment. He positioned it into the broken chunk of battleaxe and pressed.

  At first the shard met a slight resistance where its edges met metal. As Cade pushed just a bit harder the metal seemed to complain, resisting the foreign, glassy intruder but the obsidian didn’t care as it cut into the metal.

  The flake sliced a fine groove into the steel. It slid deeper as Cade pressed, the sap gushing slightly where the obsidian displaced it.

  When Cade finally let go, the flake stayed. It didn’t shear through or fall to the floor. It sat as if it had always belonged there—an ugly, imperfect blade grafted into a broken axe head.

  He turned the axe over in his hands, feeling the balance change. The makeshift blade was terrifyingly sharp but seated firmly. The sap’s glow had dulled but a faint green seam ran where the obsidian met metal, like a scar on the once perfect weapon.

  Satisfied, Cade slid the axe back into its strap. The holster wasn’t a sheath so much as a thick leather loop that sat beneath the axe head, catching the weight of the weapon while leaving the blade exposed. It kept the head from swinging freely against his leg—and now, thankfully, kept the obsidian edge from slicing him open with every step.

  He looked around the chamber, half-expecting the tree to react to his theft of the flake. Nothing moved. The hollow stayed quiet, the pressure that had hummed at the start was still present but now it came from beside him where his axe rested in its strap.

  Cade smiled, he liked the way the axe felt at his side now. He liked feeling the pressure it gave off.

  Having accomplished his task down here, Cade grasped the aerial roots and began his climb back up the inner shaft of the banyan.

  He half expected something to change—roots to twist, thorns to shoot inward, the tree to sense its treasure was gone and lash out in anger. But nothing happened. No rumble. No creaking groan. Just the sound of his breathing and the faint creak of the aerial roots as he climbed.

  Climbing up wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t impossible either. The old Cade—the high school gym class dropout who’d never managed a single rope climb—would’ve been stuck at the bottom. But that Cade didn’t have the System.

  By the time he pulled himself free of the hollow and felt open air again his arms were burning. He paused, taking one last glance toward the opening behind him.

  Then he began the descent down the outer branches.

  It didn’t take long.

  When his boots finally hit solid ground again, Cade exhaled hard and looked up at the monstrous banyan behind him.

  “Thanks for the loot,” he muttered.

  He turned, reoriented himself toward the light of the artificial sun, and started northwest—toward the strange multicolored clearing that had caught his eye.