God’s Tree

The stars above Elyrion pulsed gently, casting soft light over golden hills and windless grass.

Argolaith stood at the center of the basin, where the frogs he'd brought now rested beneath rune-warmed stones.

One by one, they blinked slowly—breathing in ambient mana, content in the quiet.

He knelt beside them, watching their peace ripple outward.

The realm had changed.

Not just in shape… but in spirit.

He rose and took a final look around.

The sun he'd added hovered high above—golden, but not burning.

Two stars drifted around it like distant guardians.

The realm's time-warped garden glowed softly to the east, rich with growing magic plants.

Elyrion was breathing now.

Not as a tool.

Not as a weapon.

But as a place to return to.

Argolaith lifted his hand and summoned a cube—one of his own making.

Its surface shimmered with shifting runes, neither magical nor purely material.

A construct of his magic, it could store mana or make spells.

And today, it would hold something precious.

He pressed it gently to the core's access glyph.

The runes synced instantly.

A soft pulse passed between the realm and the cube.

Then… the entrance folded inward, locking safely inside the cube's structure.

The realm remained whole.

Untouched.

Simply hidden.

Back in the academy's quiet hallways, the weight of Elyrion was now a cube resting in his palm.

He tucked it into his storage ring with care.

Not far from his dormitory, one of the instructors stepped into his path.

It was Elder Faeryn, her expression unreadable.

"You were gone for some time," she said. "How did it go?"

Argolaith gave a small shrug.

"I think it's better if I show you."

They walked together to a secluded spell chamber—one meant for private projection magic.

Faeryn watched as Argolaith pulled the cube from his ring and held it between both hands.

When he whispered the activation phrase, the air shimmered.

Then the portal opened.

A doorway into a world only he had touched.

He gestured for her to enter.

"Please. Have a look."

She stepped through without hesitation.

The moment her feet touched the grass, her eyes widened.

The realm unfolded before her in golden light.

Two stars drifted lazily in the blue-violet sky.

A radiant sun bathed the hills in warmth that wasn't heat.

Faeryn turned slowly, silent at first.

"This… this is far larger than I expected," she murmured.

Her gaze rose to the drifting stars.

Then back to the fields, and the distant garden marked by glowing glyphs.

At first, her eyes flickered with something like fear.

No student should be able to make something this complete.

This… alive. Sample from My Virtual Library Empire—read more on M&VLEMPY&R.

But before her concern could bloom, she heard a soft chirp.

Then another.

She looked down.

And saw three tiny mana frogs hopping through the grass.

One stopped to rest on a stone, letting out a tiny glow as it exhaled.

Faeryn crouched.

Watched.

And slowly, her fear faded.

She smiled.

"They're harmless."

"They breathe mana," Argolaith said. "They help the land grow."

Faeryn stood again, her voice softer now.

"This realm… it's peaceful."

"That's what I made it for."

She nodded slowly, brushing her hand over the grass.

"You should keep it safe."

"I intend to."

They exited together through the same portal glyph.

The chamber dimmed as the doorway closed.

Argolaith held the cube again, now faintly pulsing with stored connection.

He sealed it with a thought and returned it to his ring.

Then he turned to Faeryn.

She said nothing more.

Just gave him a long, thoughtful look.

Then walked away.

Argolaith returned to his room not long after.

The door clicked shut behind him.

He placed the cube gently on the desk, then sat at the edge of his bed.

The room was quiet.

But within that small cube—a world waited.

And he smiled.

Because it was his.

Argolaith sat at the edge of his bed, the cube resting quietly on the desk.

It pulsed once every few seconds, like a slow heartbeat.

He stared at it for a while, then let out a quiet breath.

He'd almost forgotten.

He still had classes to attend.

He stood and stretched, the weight of the day settling across his shoulders.

After everything that had happened inside Elyrion, it was strange to think about ordinary lessons.

But he knew better than to let himself drift too far from the academy's rhythm.

There was still more to learn.

More to prepare for.

He rose early the next morning, long before the sun reached the upper domes of the academy's sky.

The kitchen in his room was still warm from the last time he'd used it.

He gathered ingredients from his storage ring: thin slices of frostleaf, glowing bits of sunroot, strips of sweetnight moss, and one crisp snapvine blossom.

With practiced ease, he prepared a light, mana-rich salad.

Simple. Fresh.

Enough to energize him for the day.

After breakfast, he dressed, clipped his student token to his robe, and headed out.

His feet carried him to the familiar entrance beneath the stone tower—the hidden classroom where the twelve prodigies trained.

He stepped into the corridor, passing the old runes and polished archway.

But when he reached the classroom's door… it was silent.

No light.

No voices.

No energy.

Empty.

He waited for a few moments, but no one came.

Strange.

There had been no notice, no message. But the room was completely still.

He tapped his token, but it didn't flash with any updates.

Argolaith stood in the quiet hallway, then slowly turned away.

If no one was here, he wouldn't waste the morning.

He wandered through the academy, passing open courtyards and lecture halls humming with spelllight.

Students hurried from one wing to another, carrying books and crystal scrolls, their conversations blending into a background hum.

He let his mind drift, not looking for anything in particular…

Until he saw it.

A modest doorway tucked beneath a long stone arch.

The class title was etched in soft, glowing script above it:

"Introduction to Harmonious Magical Creatures."

Below it, in smaller writing:

For scholars interested in non-combative lifeforms and peaceful-based ecosystems.

He paused.

His fingers brushed the edge of the door.

Not saint beasts. Not guardians. Not war-creatures designed for conquest or defense.

But peaceful creatures.

Living magic, not for battle… but for balance.

He stepped inside.

The room was circular, with high domed ceilings painted like a forest canopy.

There were shallow pools of light scattered across the floor where small creatures floated, slept, or simply existed.

A student sat near a nest of glowing moths.

Another read a floating scroll beside a softly humming grassbeast.

None of them paid Argolaith much attention.

He liked that.

He took a seat near the back and watched quietly.

This class wasn't about control.

It was about connection.

Understanding magical creatures that chose peace—and the subtle ways they shaped the realms they lived in.

For the first time in a while, Argolaith felt something new.

Curiosity.

Not about strength.

But about what made a realm feel alive.