The pool shimred beneath the morning light, its surface so clear it mirrored the clouds. The enormous crystal fish drifted lazily through it, four ters long from snout to tail, its translucent fins glowing with a faint internal light — like shards of living glass moving through liquid silver.
Mirean Moon stood at the water’s edge, her expression sowhere between awe and disbelief. "A crystal fish that size would take at least sixty years to raise," she said quietly. "Maybe more."
Her words carried the weight of mory. Once, as the Moon Master of the Moon Lake Tribe, she had fought and bartered for a single crystal fish — one barely a handspan long — taken from Bloodbeard’s collection. Even with the tribe’s combined resources, it would have taken her twenty years of nurturing before the creature could provide enough water for her people.
She glanced at Luciel and the imnse fish gliding before her. Sixty years, she thought. And yet, this man had done it in the span of minutes.
Her chest tightened with a strange mix of gratitude and guilt. If she had t Luciel then — if her tribe had possessed this magic — her people might never have suffered the long droughts that had scarred their lands.
But that life was gone now. She had chosen this one — the strange, lively, maddening ho on the back of a living fortress.
A faint smile curved her lips. And I wouldn’t trade it back for anything.
Ariel crouched beside the pool, her golden eyes gleaming with scholarly curiosity. "Such a perfect specin..." she murmured. "If I could just take a small sample of its blood, I might be able to craft a new kind of strengthening tonic."
Alina raised an eyebrow. "You’re already planning to experint on it?"
"Not on it," Ariel said defensively. "Just a few drops."
Mirean tilted her head. "You’d best ask its permission first."
Ariel opened her mouth — and then hesitated. "Wait... do you an that literally?"
Luciel chuckled under his breath, but didn’t intervene. He knew better than to get between Ariel and her ’research curiosity.’
Alina spoke up then, her tone thoughtful. "I once heard that crystal fish live in underground rivers — hidden far beneath the sacred lands of the Holy Domain."
Mirean nodded. "And I’ve heard other stories — that when the rain falls heavy enough, crystal fish descend from the sky."
Elara laughed softly. "Fish falling from the heavens? That’s absurd."
Luciel’s gaze lingered on the fish. "Let’s ask it directly."
He crouched by the pool, extending his mind through the faint thread of spirit connection that bound him to his tad creatures. Where did you co from? he asked silently.
The answer ca after a pause, like a ripple of confusion.
> I don’t know, said the voice in his mind. I don’t rember.
Luciel opened his eyes again. "It has no mory of its origin."
"That’s... unsettling," Alina murmured. "Sothing that powerful, yet it doesn’t know where it ca from?"
"Maybe it’s better that way," Luciel said. "Creatures born from mystery tend to stay safer if no one knows the source."
Agni leaned forward, her crimson eyes bright with curiosity. "Then what about eggs? Does it lay them?"
Mirean hesitated, recalling half-forgotten lore. "It should. But I’ve never seen one do it. No one has."
Agni’s expression turned wistful. "If it could, we’d never have to worry about water again. Just imagine — a whole school of them swimming through the city’s channels."
Her excitent was abruptly rewarded — or punished — as the crystal fish leapt from the pool with a joyous splash, drenching them all in a fine mist.
Agni blinked, dripping. "What was that for?"
"Perhaps it can understand us," Alina said, dabbing her face with a cloth.
Elara adjusted her mask, her tone flat but amused. "Or perhaps soone said sothing embarrassing."
Luciel cleared his throat. "Ahem... it’s just being playful."
But the faint flush on his cheeks betrayed him. He’d been thinking the sa question — about spawning — when the fish had reacted.
Mirean caught the look, her lips curving into a knowing smile. She said nothing, but her eyes glittered with quiet amusent as Luciel turned away rather quickly.
He walked toward the towering tea tree in the garden — the centerpiece of the highlands. Its trunk glead with faint silver patterns, and its leaves shimred under the sun, each veined with fine starlike motes.
Ti to finish the last step.
"System," Luciel said quietly. "Evolve the Star Tea Tree to Level Seven."
> Ding! Evolving from Level 6 to Level 7. One million evolution points deducted.
Ding! Evolution successful. Star Tea Tree upgraded.
Inherit talent: Star Realm?
Luciel smiled faintly. "Inherit."
Light surged through the trunk. The tree pulsed, its roots thrumming deep beneath the soil. A shock of luminous energy passed through Luciel’s body — sharp at first, then flooding him with warmth and clarity.
He’d felt the pain of ascension before — the tearing sensation when power forces the body to adapt — but now it ca smoother, almost harmonious.
The tree’s leaves trembled, their light intensifying until the entire garden glowed with a pale blue radiance.
Luciel opened his personal panel, scanning the results.
> Trainer: Luciel
Strength: 207.3
Speed: 202.4
Spirit: 230
Lifespan: 4,010 years
Evolution Points Remaining: 225,800
Abilities:
– Earth and Rock Manipulation (Lv.7)
– Star Realm (Lv.7)
– Water Elental Manipulation (Lv.6)
Tad Beasts:
– Rock Tortoise (Lv.7)
– Crystal Fish (Lv.6)
– Star Tea Tree (Lv.7)
He closed the panel with a thoughtful frown. "Only enough points left for two sixth-level upgrades..."
Still, it was worth it.
The Star Tea Tree began to grow — and not slowly, as plants normally did, but with the speed of rising stone. The roots dug deep, spreading out like a network of glowing veins.
Luciel’s connection with it sharpened; he could feel the roots moving. He quickly guided their path with his will. "Not toward the cold chamber," he warned it silently. "That’s the ice serpent’s nest."
The roots obeyed, redirecting themselves outward.
"You can extend around the entire highland," Luciel instructed.
But even that wasn’t enough. He could sense the roots stretching, searching for more — pushing along the turtle’s shell, spiraling out over the rocky terrain until they nearly circled the city.
At last, the growth slowed.
The new Star Tea Tree stood thirty-two ters tall, its trunk as broad as a cottage. Its leaves, once delicate, now spread wide as a human hand, each one marked by luminous green starbursts that glimred faintly even in daylight.
Luciel could feel the new power radiating from it — a calming, nurturing force that pulsed through the air like the steady heartbeat of the land itself.
Then ca the whisper of feedback — the tree’s way of speaking to him.
> Star Fruit will grow upon my branches, it said. Eat, and your body will strengthen. My realm expands. Plants within my reach shall thrive.
Luciel’s eyes widened slightly. "Star Fruit..."
Ariel, overhearing, perked up instantly. "It can produce fruit now?"
"Yes," Luciel said. "And not just any fruit. It enhances vitality — strengthens the body. The Star Realm has grown as well. It can now cover nearly the entire shell of the Black Tortoise."
He felt the connection deepen, the invisible field of energy stretching outward, nurturing the city’s farmland and forests. He could even adjust the rate of growth — accelerate crops, direct where the energy flowed.
And perhaps most remarkably, the tree’s aura occasionally strengthened other plants.
He focused it carefully, channeling the Star Realm over the vital areas — the fruit orchards, vegetable fields, and dicinal gardens.
Elara gazed up at the enormous tree, awe softening her normally cool voice. "It’s the largest tree I’ve ever seen."
Alina nodded, shading her eyes. "Bigger even than the life-tree of Astris City."
The ntion of that city made her expression tighten. "Sothing like this will draw attention. Too much attention."
Elara’s tone turned quiet but confident. "Let them co. We have the Black Tortoise guarding us. No one will dare trespass."
"Perhaps not humans," Alina murmured. "But there are other things — strange things — that wander at night. You know that."
Elara’s gaze flicked toward her — a silent warning. "Not here." She cast a aningful glance toward Mirean, who was watching them curiously.
Mirean, catching the look, said nothing. But her mind was turning. Strange ghosts? she thought. And Astris...
Even she could tell the tea tree would attract envy. The thing radiated power — not the raw, destructive sort, but a serene, life-giving majesty that would tempt any scholar or mage worth their salt.
"It’s a marvelous thing," she said aloud. "But it will make harvesting the leaves difficult."
Mino, standing beneath the giant canopy, sighed in agreent. "We’ll need ladders taller than the house!"
Luciel chuckled, folding his arms. "From now on, only pick the small leaves. The large ones are too mature for good tea anyway."
The others turned toward him curiously.
He plucked one of the smaller leaves — no larger than a thumb — and held it up. Tiny star-shaped motes shimred across its surface. "The smaller leaves hold the purest starlight. Perfect for brewing."
"And the big ones?" Mino asked.
Luciel smiled faintly. "I have another use in mind for them."
He didn’t elaborate, though the thought sparked in his mind — an idea for sothing new, sothing that could link the energy of the Star Realm with his next experint.
The tree rustled above them, as if pleased. Its branches swayed, scattering light like rain. The garden shimred with tiny reflections — each leaf catching the glow of the heavens, each breath of wind carrying the scent of starlight and earth.
Mirean exhaled softly. "It’s beautiful," she said.
Luciel looked up, his expression calm but content. "It’s alive," he corrected gently. "That’s what matters."
And in that mont, surrounded by his companions, with the massive tree towering over them and the waterway singing behind, Luciel felt the city settle into harmony
— the quiet rhythm of creation balancing itself again.
Black Tortoise City had grown another step closer to completion — and the pulse of life upon its shell beat stronger than ever.
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