A group of more than twenty people were closely observing a tree that stood out above the rest in one of the countless forests of Myrrial.

  The individuals were not at all ordinary, as they were all high-level magi in the service of the empire. At least eight sages (level 8) and the rest archmagus (level 7) were present, each with their gaze fixed on the natural colossus that stood like a beacon of life in the middle of the forest.

  At the head of the group was one of the strongest men in the region and one of the eminences (level 9) of the empire: Archbishop Emmanuel of the Church of Myrrial. The man wore the traditional green robes of the church and wore a white wooden crown on his head, shaped like a vine that seemed alive.

  “This… this is a true treasure of nature,” said Emmanuel, his gaze fascinated as he took in every detail of the tree’s slightly reddened trunk and its leaves, which were slowly beginning to turn golden.

  “The winged titans must have been protecting the birth of this miracle,” another church mage said emotionally, unable to contain the reverence in his voice.

  Everyone present could recognize the overwhelming amount of natural energy emanating from the tree. It was like an invisible spring, a current that penetrated to the depths of the souls of the mages gathered there.

  Most of the mages gathered belonged to the Church, though they were not the only ones. Prominent among them was the Duke of Bresmitz, who controls the territories where they are located. His gaze, though respectful, had a calculating undertone, like someone observing a resource that could be beneficial to him.

  Also standing next to them was a peculiar individual dressed in white. His mere presence was uncomfortable for most, but none dared to speak to him or question his participation. It was Connor, from the Oculus of the Frontier. His face was covered by a featureless white porcelain mask that hid all emotion.

  There was a brief silence among the group, which lasted until one of the Church magi extended his hand toward the tree, without touching it, and closed his eyes. A surge of energy flowed toward him, and his lips curved into a satisfied smile.

  "This tree fulfills all the characteristics of a heart of the forest," the man said.

  "It would be the eleventh in existence," the Duke of Bresmitz added enthusiastically.

  "It would appear to be one," Emmanuel commented, "but it doesn't make sense for one to exist so far from the rivers of manna... this section of the forest is too small."

  Suddenly, another mage appeared on the scene, slowly descending from the highest branches of the tree. He wore the same robes as Emmanuel, and was also a Church eminence: Julian, Archbishop of an adjacent and remote region.

  "Emmanuel, you have to see this... on one of the highest branches," Julian said solemnly, before rising back into the air.

  Emmanuel followed immediately, accompanied by the other level 8 mages. On the power scale, only those of that rank or higher were capable of learning the levitation technique, considered one of the pinnacles of magical control. The other mages could do nothing but jump between the branches of the surrounding trees, as no one dared to set foot on the sacred tree.

  When they reached almost 30 meters in height, Julian guided Emmanuel to one side of the main trunk of the tree, stopping on a huge branch. There, they all witnessed a scene as incredible as it was terrifying.

  Countless flowers had sprouted from the trunk, which together formed the silhouette of a seated person. But the most disturbing thing was not that they were blossoming from the wood, but that each one had a human eye in its center, open and pulsating.

  All the flowers were white lotuses, though stained with crimson, for the eyes wept blood at irregular intervals, staining the petals with a macabre trace.

  The eminences and sages gazed at the sight solemnly, while the archmages stationed in the nearby trees could not hide their shock; some even turned pale with horror.

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  "This doesn't look good at all," murmured a mage from a kingdom bordering the duchy.

  "There are no records of anything like this in the four worlds," added Connor, his voice thick with bewilderment.

  "Silence," thundered Emmanuel, displaying an aura so overwhelming that it immobilized everyone present. "No one here is worthy to question the work of the nature spirits. This... this is sublime. An act beyond our understanding. Something worthy of veneration."

  "One hundred and eight bleeding, watchful flowers..." whispered Julian fervently. "There is nothing more divine than this. Miles, what do you see?"

  The aforementioned sage cautiously moved forward, hovering a few feet from the flowers. He began to recite words in an archaic language, and soon his eyes turned completely white, radiating a silvery glow.

  "I see... a man... a man made of gold," he stammered in a trance. "He's sitting in a meditative position... In his eyes, one can see peace and contentment... Behind him are countless arms... All of them carry wisdom... open palms... He is... he's seeing my soul... the sin... he can see my sins... my fears... AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!"

  The piercing scream startled everyone present. Miles began to bleed from his eyes, nose, and ears. Emmanuel and Julian reacted immediately, dragging him away with magic and covering him under an energy shield.

  The rest could only shudder at the horror of what they had just witnessed.

  "Your Eminence, this tree is cursed!" exclaimed one of the mages in military uniform. "We must inform the Supreme Ones (level 10)."

  "The entire Duchy should be quarantined," another added in a firm voice.

  "Archbishop Emmanuel, I must take this to the Imperial authorities," Connor declared, his tone grave and heavy with concern.

  But Emmanuel didn't respond. He ignored every word and leaned toward Miles, still trembling from the ordeal, who whispered something in his ear. Hearing this, the Archbishop slowly sat up and spoke with an authority that chilled everyone present:

  "You are all ignorant." His eyes flashed with dangerous fervor as he slowly walked toward the flowers. "This is not a curse... it is a gift. Reserved for those who are not afraid to atone for their sins through pain. A path only a few can walk. And you, in your blindness, do not notice it... but here, all around us, are the footprints of the guardian spirits of Myrrial. This tree... this miracle... is a treasure approved by them."

  After speaking those words, Emmanuel reverently extended his hand and gently touched the petal of one of the bloody flowers.

  Silence fell. Suddenly, the great eminence's body began to shake with violent tremors, while blood began to flow from his eyes, ears, nose, and mouth. A dark, suffocating aura emerged from him, so dense that it tore at the nerves of those who felt it. The suffering he transmitted was so brutal that it forced those present to instinctively retreat, unable to bear its weight.

  Julian, with effort, deployed a shield of magic to contain the radius of influence of that power, although even he could not completely extinguish it. Even so, everyone witnessed the terrifying spectacle: Emmanuel, covered in his own blood, stood upright before the flowers. The eyes that sprouted from the lotuses began to spin, focusing on him, until finally all the flowers—all one hundred and eight—looked at him at once, evaluating him in silent, terrifying judgment.

  Emmanuel remained in that position for a full hour. No one dared to do anything but watch as he endured an unimaginable punishment.

  Suddenly, everything stopped. The archbishop collapsed like a corpse, though Julian managed to catch him before he hit a branch and immediately pulled him to the ground beneath the tree. The others descended behind them, some trying to help him, but Julian raised his hand, indicating that it wasn't necessary.

  And he was right, for Emmanuel opened his eyes a few minutes later… and began to cry. These weren't simple tears: he sobbed with the desperation of a small child, and the sight terrified the magi present, especially the members of the Church, even more.

  "Julian, my friend…" Emmanuel whispered, his voice breaking. "You don't know what I saw… I lived countless lives, trapped in an eternal cycle of death and rebirth, all to atone for my sins. It was heaven and hell at the same time… I learned so much, but the pain was unbearable. You can't imagine what it's like to die of hunger a thousand times over… Don't touch those flowers unless you're prepared to face your deepest fears.”

  The Eminence slowly rose, ignoring the astonished gazes of those present. Solemnly, he bowed his head to the tree, then unfurled from his back a pair of white wings, made of pure magic. With a single flap, he shot into the sky, disappearing in a matter of seconds.

  Silence fell. Some magi gaped. The sight was impossible: only the supreme ones could create wings capable of flying at such speeds.

  "Archbishop Emmanuel... ascended?" one of the military magi muttered.

  "It doesn't make sense," another added, pale. "Everyone knows he reached the peak of his potential centuries ago."

  "This tree is truly a natural treasure," the duke murmured, greed burning in his eyes.

  But Miles, still weak, interrupted him: "Before anyone dares to touch one of those flowers... you must understand that it's a double-edged sword. The tree doesn't elevate power, but rather purifies the soul through earthly suffering. Ask yourselves: Are your hearts pure enough to withstand the equivalent of thousands or millions of years of constant pain? I couldn't even begin... and you saw how I ended.”

  "Nor would I," Julian added in a gravelly voice. "Of all the men I know, Emmanuel is the only one obsessed with spiritual purity who could endure something like that... and yet, the tree reduced him to weeping like a child."

  "This undoubtedly jeopardizes the balance of power between the four worlds," Connor commented in a gravelly voice.

  "The fact that Myrrial now has another supreme might alarm the other worlds," one of the magi added, nodding seriously.

  But Julian shook his head. "This tree is a treasure, yes... but too dangerous. It needs to be thoroughly studied by our Church. We don't even know what state of mind Emmanuel has truly fallen into now. Before considering it a possible sacred source of advancement, we need an evaluation from our Supremes."

  "One thing is clear," one of the Church's wise men chimed in. "This place must become sacred ground. A Grand Cathedral and a base of operations for our order must be built here."

  Most of the magi assumed solemn expressions at those words, although some couldn't suppress a smile. Especially the Duke of Bresmitz, whose domain was located precisely in that forest.