As the ritual pressed on, exhaustion crept deeper into Kenneth’s body, each breath feeling heavier than the last. But he couldn’t let himself waver—not now.

  The weight of Anterthon’s future pressed down on him. They had come too far to falter.

  Summoning every ounce of determination, Kenneth channeled more of his magic into the tree. The combined energy of their pnevma coursed through its withered roots like a lifeline, their elemental magic harmonizing into a single glowing force.

  “We’re almost there,” Kenneth murmured, his voice hoarse but steady. His grip tightened on the connection they shared, pushing past the burning ache in his body. He glanced at the others, thier faces pale and drawn, their strength ebbing, yet they all gave faint nods, silently vowing to see it through.

  The strain was crushing, the ritual draining them to the brink. Kenneth’s pnevma felt stretched to its limits, yet he refused to let it falter. His thoughts drifted for the fleeting moments, marveling at the immense strength of the First King. The First King has sustained this tree throughout his life, pouring his magic into its roots to maintain the balance of Anterthon.

  How had he borne such a burden so long without breaking?

  Suddenly, a vision seized Kenneth, wrenching him away from the present. The air around him blurred, and he found himself transported—not physically, but as a silent observer—into another time.

  The Tree of Life stood before him, but not as it was now. It was a fragile seedling, its tiny roots barely touching the earth. A soft, golden light encircled it, humming with potential and vulnerability.

  Kenneth realized, with an odd sense of detachment, that it wasn’t his hands feeding it magic. He was watching a memory—not his own, but one deeply tied to the tree.

  The scene shifted, and Kenneth felt as though he floated just outside the memory, an invisible witness to the past. A young man in his mid-twenties knelt beside the seedling, his elegant royal attire gleaming in the soft sunlight. He channeled magic into the seedling with a calm focus that radiated strength and gentleness.

  Standing nearby was someone Kenneth immediately recognized, though he looked different—Headmaster Nero, unmistakably younger, his posture more relaxed, his expression less guarded.

  “Hadrian!” Nero’s sharp voice cut through the serenity, tinged with exasperation. “You just transferred the Ultimate Water to Kael, and now you’re draining yourself again?”

  Kenneth’s breath caught in his throat. The man tending to the seedling wasn’t just anyone—it was King Hadrian, the First King of Anterthon.

  Though Nero’s tone was chastising, Kenneth could sense the bond between them, a connection built on trust, respect and camaraderie.

  Hadrian glanced up at Nero, his face unbothered, even amused. “I’ve recovered enough pnevma, Nero. I couldn’t just let this little one wither away,” he replied, his vice gentle, his smile soft.

  Nero sighted heavily, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “You can’t keep giving pieces of yourself to everyone in need. Your Aether Magic isn’t just some ordinary thing tool to toss around,” he muttered, though his concern was evident.

  Hadrian chuckled, the sound light and unhurried, as though he carried no burdens. “They’re not just anyone. The Guardians I’ve chosen will become the kingdom’s foundation. Sharing my magic with them ensures Anterthon’s future.”

  Kenneth watched, captivated, as Hadrian turned his gaze back to the seedling, his touch gentle but deliberate.

  Nero rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. “You always justify it somehow,” he said dryly, though the corner of his mouth twitched into a reluctant smile. “One of these days, you'll drain yourself completely for the sake of someone else.”

  The banter between them faded, giving way to a weighty silence. The air seemed to grow heavier with unspoken gravity as Hadrian’s expression shifted.

  The warmth that usually graced his features was replaced by a solemn thoughtfulness.

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

  Nero’s brow furrowed, his usual composure giving way to a flicker of concern. “You speak as if your end is near,” he replied, his tone measured but uneasy. “Why this sudden concern.”

  Hadrian’s gaze drifted, as though seeing far beyond the seedling before them. His eyes were distant, filled with a mix of foresight and regret. “Now that I’ve discovered my magic, everything will change,” he said. “We once lived as Commoners, Nero. Anterthon’s rise will not be welcomed by all. Forces will come—forces that will challenge this peace we’ve worked so hard to build.”

  He turned to Nero, his expression steady and filled with an unwavering resolve. “The Guardians will carry part of this burden, but they cannot do it alone. Aside from them, there is no one I trust more than you.”

  The scene shifted to a quiet morning. The tree, now taller and sturdier. Hadrian, dressed in simple yet dignified attire, stood beside the Fire Guardian, who bowed deeply before him.

  “Your Majesty,” the Fire Guardian began, his voice laced with pride, “my son has successfully inherited the Ultimate Fire. He will serve you with unwavering loyalty, even until his last breath.”

  Hadrian inclined his head, gratitude evident in his tone. “Thank you. Your family’s devotion strengthens Antherthon’s foundation. ”

  The vision shifted again, time flowing forward like a river. The young sapling Kenneth had seen earlier was now a towering tree, its branches thick and sprawling, its roots deeply intertwined with the land.

  Hadrian appeared once more, now in his early-eighties. Though age has softened his features, his presence remained commanding. The once-youthful energy in his eyes had been replaced with the quiet wisdom of a ruler who had given his life to his kingdom.

  Sunlight filtered through the dense canopy, casting shifting patterns of light that danced like living memories on the ground. Each flicker seemed to echo the lives intertwined with the tree—the Guardians, the people, and the land itself.

  Nero, still youthful and untouched by time, approached silently. His presence was steady, but his expression was shadowed with unspoken emotion. He stopped a few steps behind Hadrian, as though waiting for the king to speak.

  Hadrian broke the silence, his voice soft but resonant with the weight of decades. “Nero,” he began, “do you know why I’ve nurtured this tree all these years?”

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  Nero remained silent, his gaze fixed on the emperor’s weathered hands resting gently against the bark.

  “This tree is my heart,” Hadrian continues, his eyes never leaving the swaying branches above. “For decades, I’ve poured myself into it, just as I’ve poured my love into Anterthon. Through storms, droughts, and endless challenges, I’ve kept it alive—not because it needed me, but because I needed it. I hoped that my will to protect this land would be to the life of this tree. And that long after I’m gone, it will continue to grow, carrying my hopes forward.”

  As he spoke, Hadrian’s hands began to glow faintly, a soft, golden light radiating from his fingertips. The light grew brighter and he channeled his magic into the tree, his shoulders sagging slightly from the effort.

  The tree responded immediately, as though awakening from a deep slumber. Its bark shimmered faintly, and vibrant blossoms began to unfurl along its branches.

  Each flower seemed to pulse with life, their petals delicate yet radiant, glowing with a soft, ethereal light.

  A gentle breeze stirred, catching the blossoms and carrying them into the air. They floated across the land, scattering like seeds of hope. Wherever they landed, the ground seemed to awaken.

  New saplings sprouted almost instantly, their vibrant green unfolding like a promise of renewal. The life-giving power of the tree radiated outward, touching the land with quiet resilience.

  Then, unexpectedly, Hadrian turned his gaze directly toward Kenneth. The king’s eye locked onto his, a mix of warmth and intensity of his expression. Kenneth’s breath hitched, his heart racing under the weight of the moment.

  “So,” Hadrian said, breaking the silence with a voice that was both regal and warm, “we finally met.”

  Kenneth's heart pounded. He opened his mouth to respond but found no words. What could he say to someone who had built the very foundation of this kingdom?

  Hadrian smiled faintly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “You're wondering why I'm speaking to you, aren't you? Or perhaps you're questioning if you're even worthy of this moment.”

  Kenneth swallowed hard. “I…I don't know what to say, Your Majesty. I'm just—”

  “A boy caught into a destiny that feels far too big?” Hadrian interrupted gently, his tone carrying no judgment. “I know the feeling.”

  Kenneth blinked, surprised. “You…do?”

  Hadrian chuckled softly, his gaze drifting toward the tree. “When I discovered my Aether Magic, I wasn't the king. I wasn't even a noble. Just a boy who stumbled into power he didn't understand, unprepared for what it would demand for me. I was terrified.”

  Kenneth hesitated, his hand clenching at his side. “How… how did you deal with it?”

  Hadrian's smile turned wistful. “Poorly at first. I made mistakes. I doubted myself. But I learned that strength doesn't come from knowing exactly what to do. It comes from taking the first step, even when you're not sure where it will lead.”

  Kenneth's shoulder sagged. “I'm trying,” he admitted, his voice trembling. “But sometimes it feels like I'm just… stumbling in the dark.”

  Hadrian stepped closer, his presence steadying, his gaze intent. “Everyone stumbles in the dark at first, Kenneth. That’s how you learn to trust your steps. The path only becomes clear once you start walking it.”

  Kenneth exhaled shakily, the weight on his chest easing slightly. For the first time, Hadrian’s words felt like a tangible light in the fog of his doubts.

  Hadrian’s expression shifted, his tone deepening with quiet intensity. “The path before you is clouded now, but one day, the shadows will part, and the answers you seek will reveal themselves. Until that day, grow strong.” He paused, his gaze softening. “Protect those who hold you close. They will be your strength, as you will be theirs.”

  The First King's gaze lingered on Kenneth for a moment longer, then shifted to the blossoming tree. Its vibrant flowers glowed softly, as though responding to his presence.

  “Take care of this tree for me,” Hadrian said, his voice gentler now, almost wistful.

  And then, with a smile, Hadrian began to fade. His form thinned, like mist caught in the morning sun, until only the echo of his presence remained.

  Kenneth stood rooted in place, his gaze fixed on the now-blossoming tree. The soft rustle of leaves and the faint hum of life emanating from its core filled in silence.

  The First King's words resonated in his mind, settling deep within him.

  ＊＊＊

  Kenneth woke with a start, his body heavy and his mind clouded as though he had been submerged in a dream far too vivid to dismiss. Blinking, he took in the room around him—a large, quiet space with the soft glow of morning light. The familiar faces of his fellow club members hovered nearby, their expressions a mix of relief and concern.

  “Kenneth,” Rika was the first to speak, stepping closer to his bedside. “You're awake. Thank goodness.”

  “Are you guys okay?” Kenneth's voice was hoarse, groggy from the deep sleep. “How's the Tree of Life?”

  Rika smiled, the tension in her shoulders easing. “We're okay. The tree has fully recovered—it healed itself before we completely drained our pnevma. Whatever dark magic was left, it dissolved entirely. We can't sense any trace of it anymore.”

  Ash crossed his arms, giving Kenneth a faint grin. “Honestly, I don't think we could've made it without your insane pnevma reserves. You carried all of us when we were running on empty”

  Kenneth exhaled in relief, the weight on his chest easing slightly. “That's good,” he murmured. His thoughts turned inward, recalling the vision he had seen. The memory of the First King and his cryptic words tugged at him. “Did any of you… have a dream about the Tree of Life?”

  The group exchanged puzzled glances before Aine shook her head. “No,” she said, tilting her head curiously. “After the tree recovered, you suddenly collapsed. You've been out for two days.”

  “Two days?” Kenneth repeated, his brows furrowing. His gaze drifted to the ceiling, his mind replaying the First King's words:

  Protect this tree for me.

  The words settled heavily in his chest, feeling less like a fleeting memory and more like a solemn promise.

  ＊＊＊

  After his recovery, Kenneth found himself drawn back to the Tree of Life. The one withering branches were now vibrant and full of life, the tree standing tall and strong as it radiated an energy that felt both comforting and familiar.

  The blossoms that adorned its branches were the same ones he had seen in his vision, their soft glow captivating him.

  Placing his hand gently against the bark, Kenneth felt a pulse of magic, steady and welcoming. Almost instinctively, he channeled his magic into the tree.

  To his surprise, it accepted the energy effortlessly, as if recognizing him.

  “You've just recovered. Don't push yourself too hard,” came a voice from behind.

  Startled, Kenneth turned to see Headmaster Nero approaching. The sight of Nero stirred something in Kenneth—a vivid memory of his vision, where Nero had stood alongside the First King.

  “Headmaster,” Kenneth greeted, dipping his head respectfully.

  Nero's gaze shifted to the tree, his expression thoughtful. “You've done well,” he said softly, his voice carrying a rare warmth. “The Tree of Life is thriving again, thanks to you and the others.”

  Kenneth hesitated before speaking, his hand still resting on the bark. “I think… I met the First King,” he admitted quietly. “Through the tree. He spoke to me and told me he had entrusted me with its protection.”

  Nero's eyes widened slightly, though his expression quickly softened into a knowing smile. “If that's true, then it seems Hadrian's wisdom continues to guide us, even now.” He stepped closer, his tone turning resolute. “I'll grant you the authority to care for this tree, Kenneth. Its fate is tied to the kingdom's, and now it's tied to yours as well.”

  Kenneth felt the weight of the Headmaster's words settle over him, but rather than feeling overwhelmed, he was filled with a quiet sense of purpose. “I won't let him down,” he said. “I'll protect this tree—and everything it stands for.”

  As Kenneth turned his gaze back to the towering branches, he silently renewed his vow to protect Atherton with all he had.

  The tree's gentle energy seemed to echo his resolve, its blossoms swaying in agreement.

  Nero, standing a few steps away, observed him with a mixture of curiosity and nostalgia. Since Kenneth's recovery, there was something different about him—a presence that felt oddly familiar, like the echo of someone Nero had known ago.

  It stirred a deep memory within him, something long buried yet unmistakable.

  As Kenneth continued to feed the tree with his magic, Nero's lips curved into a faint, almost wistful smile.

  Hadrian, your legacy lives on in ways even you might not have foreseen.