The Treant Golem emerged, towering, monstrous, and alive in a way no dungeon construct should be. Twice the size of the standard Treants they’d fought, its body was a grotesque fusion of petrified wood, jagged stone, and veins of pulsing emerald light that glowed beneath the bark like a corrupted heartbeat. Moss clung to its limbs like rotted flesh. Thorned vines writhed between armor-like plates of bark.
Its eyes weren’t empty sockets like the corrupted stag. No… these were not tainted. They burned. Deep. Intelligent. Aware.
Jace’s grip tightened on his weapon as he cast his Rank 2 Analyze.
Creature: Veilwood Treant Golem (Elite Variant)
Level: 35
Strengths:
Extremely high durability (hardened bark + stone plating)
Regenerates slowly via ambient mana
Area-of-effect root attacks
Roar disrupts casting and staggers foes
Temporary damage nullification (Barkskin Overload)
Weaknesses:
Vulnerable joints (knees, underarms, spine plates)
Susceptible to blunt weapons and infused strikes
Fire and acid effects slow regeneration
Final phase overexerts energy reserves—brief opening window
“This is going to suck.”
Sylas groaned as the thing let out a grinding exhale that shook pine needles from the canopy. “Don’t worry, you ain’t solo no mo’. You got my daggers.”
Nyra’s feline ears were pinned flat against her head, tail lashing behind her as she dropped into a fighting stance. “You’ve got my shield.”
Torak’s mandibles clicked, voice calm as ever. “My blades.”
Patch's glowing runes swirled across his stone-carved arms, shifting patterns in preparation. “And my runes.”
Jace tried so hard not to laugh, rotating his axe in his hand. “We can make it to Mordor no problem.” He pointed the weapon forward. “I’m about to strategically introduce this bastard to lumberjack trauma.”
The Treant Golem moved.
One massive arm, thick as a tree trunk and plated in layered bark and stone, swung through the air with terrifying speed. Wind screamed in its wake.
“Quit screwing around!” Garrik roared from somewhere behind.
Jace barely registered the warning before instinct kicked in. He threw himself into a shoulder roll, the monstrous limb missing his head by inches and slamming into the earth with a concussive boom that sent shockwaves rippling outward.
Chunks of soil, shattered roots, and rock splinters exploded skyward like a bomb had gone off.
Nyra blurred forward, a flash of steel and fur, slipping beneath its guard. Her blade sang as it carved into the golem’s leg, sparks erupting as it bit deep into bark. A dark sap oozed from the wound.
Torak followed, all four arms whirling with practiced grace. His twin pairs of swords cut a crosshatch of shallow wounds into its side, wood chips flying.
The Golem didn’t even flinch.
Bark sealed. Vines recoiled. It was regenerating fast.
Sylas vanished into the mist like a ghost, then reappeared mid-air above its massive shoulder. Her daggers gleamed as she plunged them between the bark plates—into a soft joint.
The Treant snarled.
It shook.
Sylas went flying, limbs flailing, wind howling around her. But she twisted midair, landed in a controlled crouch, and slid back into the shadows.
She popped up near Jace, breathing hard. “Okay. This is doing absolutely nothing.”
Jace didn’t answer. His axe had already begun to shift, warping in his hands, bone melting like wax until a brutal double-bladed axe took its place. He exhaled, feeling the weight settle into his palms. Heavy. Hungering.
No finesse. Just pain.
The Golem roared—a guttural, earthen bellow that shook the branches and rattled Jace’s ribs. Its hands slammed down, roots splitting from its fingers like living spears, writhing toward the party like snakes smelling blood.
Patch stepped forward, planting his runes into the ground. A golden barrier flared into life just in time—the roots crashed against it with a wet snap, repelled inches from Nyra and Torak.
“Fire!” Patch rumbled a bark. “We need fire!”
Jace swore he didn’t have any fire skills, and he didn’t think any of the others did either.
“Fine.” He didn’t need fire. He would just use force.
Jace lunged as he cast Soul Infusion. His mana surged. The hammer drank it greedily, growing denser, darker—anvil-weighted and soulbound. As he closed the distance, he felt the Golem’s presence loom, felt its gaze see him, and still, he didn’t stop.
With a wordless roar, he swung, slicing cleanly into the Treant’s knee like a divine punishment.
The sound split the air like lightning, the hit exploding like thunder. Bark ruptured. The Golem’s leg buckled, black and green sap erupting like arterial spray. It howled—a sound of pain and rage and shock.
It staggered forward, off-balance.
Nyra was already there. Blocking any retaliation and her blade flashed upward, piercing the shattered joint Jace had broken wide open. She twisted the weapon with a snarl, burying it deeper until it hit something vital.
The Golem reeled, limbs flailing. Its motion slowed. Weakened. It wasn’t down, but it was hurt—and now, it knew they could hurt it.
Jace took the time to slam the axe into its arm as it stumbled to the ground.
“Now that,” he growled, eyes glowing faintly, “is how you say hello.”
Sylas ran to attack the other arm from behind when it smacked her out of the air. She flew into Nyra, who stopped her momentum with her shield.
“Argh, why the hell does it hit like a siege engine?” Sylas snapped.
The Golem roared again—louder this time.
Its bark glowed, stone plates sliding apart. A green sigil lit up across its chest.
“That is not what I was expecting,” Torak chittered.
The Treant stood anew, arm regenerating from the wood of its body, and slammed its fists together. Shockwaves blasted outward. Roots exploded from the ground in a spiraling cage. The mist turned green, laced with spores.
“Sporeburst attack,” Patch warned. “A toxic cloud is coming!”
Jace activated Soul Step, blinking through the spores and roots with a sharp snap of sound. He reappeared above the golem’s shoulder, Soulrend already blazing.
He drove the blade down. Sparks flew. The soul-shredding energy dug deep, tearing at the core beneath the bark.
But the Golem retaliated again.
It lashed upward with its regrown, branchlike arm, slamming Jace midair and hurling him across the clearing. He crashed through a fallen tree, bones ringing.
“Damn it. This thing's learning.” He coughed blood, rolled to his feet. Rage boiled in his chest. Something in him shifted.
The Beast of the Hollow stirred.
Jace growled low in his throat. Power coiled in his limbs. “Alright, Stag. Let’s see what you left behind.”
He summoned a bone fragment from his inventory—a piece of the Veilwood Stag’s antler.
“Soul Infuse.”
Soul Infusion Available...
Compatible Bone Detected: Veilwood Antler (Alpha-Tier Beast)
Manifestation Authorized. Channel? Y/N
‘This is new… It’s not glitchy…’ Reluctantly, he selected Yes.
The antlers melted into his hand, not dissolving, but bonding—threads of bone lacing into the shaft of his weapon, weaving like tendrils, growing outward with his will.
He poured in a fragment of soul energy, then another.
Skill Activated: [Soul Infusion]
Target: Weapon
Modifier: [Beast of the Hollow] Instinct Active
Material: Corrupted Alpha Bone
Result: Veilwood Antler-Glaive (Temporary Legendary Tier – Bound)
His axe transformed. The haft lengthened. The blade widened. Twisting horns spiraled around the core, forming a dual-edged battleaxe with jagged, antler-like crescents crackling with residual primal magic. It pulsed in time with his heartbeat, hungry for blood.
Jace felt his heart sync with its pulse.
“Let’s dance.”
All the while, the Treant Golem charged.
Nyra was slammed into a tree. Sylas caught a root spike to the ribs. Patch’s barriers cracked. Torak went down in a whirl of limbs. Each attack found a member of the party and stomped them into the dirt.
The Golem raised its arms.
Garrik stepped forward, his sword glowing.
“Wait,” Jace rasped. He rose, eyes burning, breath fogging. He stood from the dirt. “It’s my turn.”
He surged forward, the world blurring.
“Soul Step.” He blurred.
“Soulrend.” He glowed.
With a quick spin, lifting his horned axe high above him. He let loose. The blade hit the Treant’s glowing chest sigil.
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Antler-bone split bark.
Soul energy exploded.
The Golem convulsed, letting out a war cry that turned into a death rattle.
Another swing.
With a thunderous crash…
Another swing.
Silence.
And then—
“Argh, damn,” Sylas groaned. “You do have a flair for timing.” She brushed the dirt and leaves from her leather.
You have killed a level 35 Veilwood Treant Golem.
Massive XP Earned!
ERROR…
Class unable to gain XP…
Massive XP forfeited…
+50(-30) to Endurance, +50(-30) to Strength, +50(-30) to Dexterity
Reaper's Touch
+20 Soul Fragments
Core Progression 30/100
“That was fun.” Jace let out a slow breath, lowering his new weapon, now crusted with sap and splinters. His arms ached. His ribs throbbed. And he was grinning like a lunatic.
Nyra snorted as she rose from behind her shield, dragging the back of her gauntlet across her brow. “I’d call that a nightmare wrapped in bark, but sure. Fun works.”
Sylas flopped dramatically onto a moss-covered stone, chest heaving. “You’re insane. All of you. Especially him.” She pointed at Jace without looking. “You charged a building-sized boss.”
Torak calmly wiped his swords down with near-military precision, his segmented arms moving in perfect tandem. “Sufficient teamwork. Adaptive strategy. Acceptable casualties: zero.”
Patch rumbled low, his rune-carved shoulders still flickering with the echo of warding light. “Victory: confirmed. Hostile terminated.”
Jace smirked and rolled his shoulders, listening to every joint pop. “One more corrupted dungeon cleared, right? Piece of cake.”
Off to the side, Garrik stood at the treeline, silently observing, charcoal scratching across his notebook with frantic speed. His eyes flicked from the fallen Treant to Jace, then back again, his brow furrowed in deep thought.
That’s when Sylas let out a sudden, high-pitched squeal that made everyone flinch.
“LOOOOOOOT!” she screamed, pointing with both hands like she’d summoned a divine miracle.
Jace blinked, turning to follow her gaze—and then stopped.
Where the Treant Golem had collapsed, the ground had split open like a blossoming scar, revealing a chest unlike anything they’d seen in prior delves.
It wasn’t just placed there. It had grown into the battlefield.
Massive twisted roots coiled protectively around its frame, etched with glowing druidic glyphs that shimmered faintly as they pulsed with the last embers of life-force. The chest itself was made of dark, ancient wood—Veilwood, Jace realized, recognizing the grain from the Stag—and reinforced with blackened bronze. Emerald veins ran like lightning through its bindings, pulsing in rhythm with the forest around it.
The air above it shimmered faintly with residual magic. Whatever was inside had weight in the System. In the world.
Sylas didn’t hesitate.
She bolted forward, practically shoving anyone in her way parkouring over the debris, her entire body vibrating with loot-fueled joy. “Mine first! I claimed it spiritually!”
The moment her fingers touched the lid, a burst of light flared from the glyphs—testing her, Jace realized. The seal shimmered, then dissolved like mist in the sunlight. The lid swung open on its own, with a low, resonant creak that sounded like a sigh from the trees themselves.
Inside, velvet-lined compartments cradled a selection of relics, each resting in magical stasis fields. Runes glowed faintly beneath them, illuminating their features like a showcase display.
Sylas gasped like she’d just found the best treasure hoard and a free bottle of wine.
She reached reverently toward a pair of obsidian daggers, their edges etched with shifting green runes that pulsed like tiny, hungry eyes. The moment she lifted one, it pulsed in her palm, bonding. Responding like it wanted to be used.
“Ohhhhhh, yes. Mama likes.” She spun the dagger experimentally, the air around the blade shimmering as it cut. “This thing hums. Like… actually hums.” She flipped the second with a flourish, twirling both like a rogue at the peak of her performance stat. “Dibs. Double dibs. If anyone argues, I will stab you with your new weapon.”
Torak stepped up silently, scanning the chest with practiced efficiency. His hands moved without hesitation, plucking free a pair of curved twin short blades crafted from what looked like metallic Veilwood—organic, flexible, but sharp as steel. The handles adjusted slightly in his grip, reacting to his touch.
He gave a single, clean slash with each, then nodded.
“Lightweight. Serrated interior edge. Ideal for tendon severance.” His mandibles clicked. “I approve.”
Patch approached next, with all the reverence of a scholar approaching an ancient altar.
Instead of a weapon, nestled against the chest’s deepest recess, was a glowing scroll sealed in an amber casing, etched with runes in both System script and a language Jace didn’t recognize. The runes flared as Patch touched them, cascading light reflecting across his smooth, stone-like skin.
“A memory-scroll,” Patch murmured, almost reverently. “Encoded knowledge. Ancient. Possibly druidic. I will study it immediately.”
Nyra was next.
She stepped up to the chest, and the moment her boot touched the edge of the glowing rune circle, her ears twitched—once, twice—and her tail went completely still. Her body froze like a predator catching scent on the wind.
Jace tilted his head. “Nyra?”
She didn’t answer. She was staring at something inside the chest. Something no one else had noticed.
Slowly, reverently, she bent down and reached between two larger items nestled at the back, past the obvious weapons and shiny gear, and pulled free a bracer made of what looked like woven obsidian cords and living bark, wrapped around a spine-like strip of hardened antler. It pulsed once in her hands, as if acknowledging her.
The runes flared.
Jace cast Analyze just as he pulled it out.
Item Identified: [Wildwarden’s Vow] – Soulbound Relic
Type: Defensive Armament (Bracer)
Tier: Legendary (Beastkin-Bound)
Effect – Guardian’s Pulse: When the wearer blocks an incoming fatal blow, the bracer generates an ethereal shield made of wild soul-energy, absorbing damage and releasing a concussive pulse.
Effect – Alpha’s Resolve: Increases defense proportionally to allies protected within a five-meter radius.
Effect – Beastkin-Bloodline Sync: Enhances reflexes and senses based on bloodline purity. May unlock additional traits upon bonding.
Nyra’s lips parted slightly as she turned the bracer in her hands, the inner carvings flickering in ancient Vashari script. Jace caught only a glimpse, but the symbols shimmered like a promise—a vow not yet fulfilled.
She slid it onto her arm, and it sealed to her with a hiss of wind and light. Her tail flicked once behind her, and for a moment, Jace swore the ground beneath her feet bloomed with ghostly vines before fading.
Nyra looked up, brow furrowed. “This wasn’t made by the dungeon. This is... older.”
“Eh, it doesn’t matter. It looks good on you,” Sylas said casually. “Very ‘don’t mess with me or I’ll headbutt a wyvern’ chic.”
Patch tilted his head. “Signature indicates ancestral resonance. The artifact may predate current dungeon formation. Curiosity: piqued.”
Nyra said nothing. But her hand rested over the bracer like it was something far more than armor.
Like it was home.
Jace stepped forward last, expecting the final item to be a leftover potion, maybe, or a ring that slightly improved stamina.
Instead, something shifted inside the chest the moment he drew near.
The stasis field flickered, reacting to him—and only him.
At the center, lying atop a glowing circle of soul-infused runes, rested an antler crown of bone, shaped from the Treant Golem’s remains. The material pulsed with lingering soul energy, humming in rhythm with his core.
Jace reached out slowly, heart pounding. The moment his fingers brushed it—
As the others admired their new gear, Jace found his eyes drifting back toward the base of the chest, where the glow was faintest, almost hidden beneath a scattering of emerald dust and fractured root fragments. Something shimmered there, pulsing so subtly it was barely visible.
Curious, he stepped closer and reached in.
Nestled in the velvet lining like a forgotten heart was a soulstone, but unlike any he’d ever seen. It wasn’t smooth or polished like a mana gem. It looked alive. The orb pulsed with a deep forest green light, tendrils of soul energy swirling inside it like leaves in a storm. Cracks laced across its surface, but it wasn’t broken. It was containing something. Barely.
A notification blinked to life before he could even lift it.
[Soul Core Acquired: Veilwood Alpha]
Type: Primal Soul Core
Status: Unstable
Warning: Unknown Effects – Analysis Incomplete
Soul Origin: [Veilwood Stag – Corrupted]
Essence Traits: [Instinct], [Resilience], [Naturebound]
Error…
Do not integrate without containment protocols.
Jace frowned. “Well, that’s not ominous at all.”
He turned it over in his hand, and the moment his skin made full contact with the swirling core, it shuddered.
A crackle of raw soul energy raced up his arm. The Core pulsed violently once, twice, then shattered in his palm like glass under pressure.
“Shit—!”
But instead of cutting him, the fragments didn’t fall. They dissolved mid-air, streams of emerald light pouring into his Soul Core with a low, resonant hum like the forest itself was whispering to him.
His axe reacted instantly.
The bone-bladed weapon thrummed in his grasp. The Veilwood antlers spiraled wider, twisting with new life. Ghostly vines coiled along the haft. The twin blades glowed faintly, and the edges, once jagged, refined themselves with a razor elegance, like the weapon was evolving.
The whole thing felt heavier now. Denser. Hungrier.
He staggered back a step, breath catching in his throat as the weapon pulsed again—in sync with his heartbeat.
[Veilwood Antler-Glaive – Updated]
Tier: Legendary (Soulforged – Bound)
Passive Unlocked: Verdant Surge
When striking, 5% chance to release a burst of primal energy, damaging nearby enemies and weakening corruption. Grows stronger in forested or natural environments.
Soul Resonance: +12% effectiveness to all Beast of the Hollow effects.
Status: Evolving…
Error Action Not Allowed…
Error Action Forced To Resolve…
“...Okay. That’s a new glitch.” Jace stared down at the glaive, the last wisps of soul energy vanishing into the weapon like it had never been separate.
Nyra glanced over. “You good?”
Jace looked up slowly. “I think... My weapon just ate a soul core.”
Sylas blinked. “Well. That’s not terrifying at all.”
Patch’s runes flared. “Integration detected. Weapon classification altered. Functionality unknown.”
Torak eyed the glaive. “It is... beautiful. And deeply unsettling.”
Jace turned the weapon over, its edge gleaming like sunlight through leaf and bone. Whatever it was becoming—whatever that core gave him—it wasn’t finished yet.
And neither was he.
Even Garrik looked up from his notes. “That… may need documentation.”
Jace tested the heft of it, the soul-forged glaive humming in his hands. The forest air trembled. He cast one final glance over his shoulder at the Treant Golem’s shattered remains.
The battlefield was still now—scorched roots, gouged earth, and the faint scent of sap and ozone lingering in the air like the memory of a scream.
The weight in his limbs hadn’t faded. His muscles still burned. But the pressure in his chest—the crushing, claustrophobic weight of the dungeon itself—had finally lifted.
The Veilwood was quiet. No whispers. No lurking corruption. Just the soft rustle of wind through ancient branches and the faint, lingering hum of wild magic.
Up ahead, Sylas whooped, practically skipping over gnarled roots. “I call dibs on looting any other spooky tree monsters we find! That chest? Absolutely beautiful. I’m still vibrating!”
Nyra rolled her eyes, but she didn’t hide the satisfied curve to her lips. The new bracer shimmered with soft bioluminescence. “Just try not to get so excited next time that you forget we almost became fertilizer.”
Torak sheathed his blades with mechanical precision, his insectoid eyes scanning their surroundings. “Combat efficiency has improved. Tactical adaptations noted. Threat survivability increased by eleven percent.”
Jace chuckled, falling in step behind them. The more time he spent with this group, the more their rhythm began to feel familiar. Comfortable, even. Nyra: grounded, dependable. Sylas: chaos incarnate with a dagger. Torak: all business, no fluff. And Patch… Well, Patch was like a golem-shaped fortune cookie with trauma.
Behind them, Garrik trailed quietly, scribbling in his weather-worn notebook with the intensity of someone chronicling a legend in real time. Jace could feel the occasional glance. Calculating. Curious. The werewolf wasn’t just watching—he was weighing him.
They were already gathered at the dungeon’s exit, waiting in the quiet aftermath of chaos.
It hadn’t been there before. The archway had grown into place, emerging from the earth itself shortly after the Treant Golem fell and the boss chest was looted, as if the dungeon had exhaled its final breath and opened the way.
Twisted vines and gnarled branches wove together into a towering arch, their bark etched with faint, glowing runes. Moss clung to the edges like ancient lace, and at its center shimmered a thin veil of light—soft, translucent, and humming with dormant magic.
A doorway grown, not built. Wild. Alive.
Once the two of them arrived, they began to leave the dungeon.
Jace stood as everyone filed out of the dungeon and was about to follow when he saw it again. Through the mist and the trees, Jace caught another large golden doorway. It looked exactly like the one he saw in the first dungeon.
He barely took a step when a familiar voice snapped at him. “Do not…”
“Hey, Harmony. How’s it going? Haven't heard from you in a while. You don't call, you don't write.” His words dripped with mocking sarcasm and the still simmering anger. “Thanks for breaking the system and making me lose all my stats.”
Yet, the voice did not return.
“Yeah, good talk…”
As soon as Jace stepped through it, a System notification flared to life across his vision:
[Assessment Complete: Veilwood Hollow]
Assessments 3/3 completed
Please return to the guild
Before he could even register the rest, Nyra let out a triumphant cheer and clapped him on the back so hard it nearly knocked the breath out of him.
“Hell yes!” she grinned. “We’re all done!”
Sylas bumped her hip into Jace’s with a grin. “Careful. We keep dragging you through these and might rank up super fast!”
Jace rubbed his shoulder. “You mean the fight that almost went sideways? Yeah, sure. With constant death, we’ll rank real fast.”
“Survival probability without additional reinforcement,” Patch chimed in, his voice like thunder in a well, “was approximately 34%.”
Torak added without missing a beat, “Adjusted for Jace’s presence, survivability rose to 86%.”
Jace blinked. “You guys actually calculate that stuff?”
Torak tilted his head. “Always.”
Sylas mock-shuddered. “Never gambling with you. Ever.”
Behind them, Garrik chuckled and closed his notebook with a decisive snap. “I’ll admit it—I had my doubts. But you all managed to complete not just an Iron Rank Dungeon, but a corrupted one.”
Jace exhaled slowly. That familiar knot in his gut had eased. “S, does that mean we passed and we are all now iron rank?”
Garrik stood at the edge of the clearing, arms crossed and that ever-present grin tugging at his sharp features—his fangs catching the last light of dusk like polished bone.
“We’ll handle the official induction and promotion once we’re back at the Guild,” he said, voice rough with amusement. “Can’t you Iron wannabes celebrate too early?”
Jace raised a brow. “So… that’s not a yes?”
Garrik chuckled. “Not a yes. Not a no. Call it… suspense.”
He turned, already walking toward the forest path. “I still have to debrief the Headmaster about the corruption in the Veilwood. Until then, consider yourselves conditionally impressive.”
Sylas groaned. “I hate cliffhangers.”
Nyra smirked. “You live for them.”
[Sylas]: Okay but seriously, tell me those daggers weren’t made for me. I mean, they literally hummed when I picked them up. That’s fate, Nyra. Fate and fashion.
[Nyra]: They hummed because they're soulbound. And you nearly cut your own finger off flipping them like an idiot.
[Sylas]: Details. I call it flair. You’re just jealous your bracer doesn’t sing.
[Nyra]: My bracer blocked a boss-level cleave without cracking and then pulsed like a heartbeat. Pretty sure that counts as a win.
[Sylas]: Fine, fine. We both scored. Now that we’re Iron Rank—
[Nyra]: Soon-to-be Iron Rank. Garrik still has to send the report in.
[Sylas]: Ugh, technicalities. Anyway, if that loot chest was Iron tier, just imagine what a Gold one looks like! I want something that glows when I wink at it.
[Nyra]: You want everything to glow when you wink at it.
[Sylas]: Can you blame me? I’m radiant.
[Nyra]: Speaking of radiant... Jace nearly had a full system-breakdown moment back there.
[Sylas]: Right? One second he’s fine, the next he’s snarling at the trees like they owe him money.
[Nyra]: You think it’s the Soul Core?
[Sylas]: Either that or he really hates forestry.
[Nyra]: We’ll keep an eye on him.
[Sylas]: Or two. I like my party members mentally stable—and mildly mysterious.
[Both]: Tune in next time on Harmony of the Fallen—for more loot, more drama, and probably more Jace being weird. You won’t wanna miss it.
How’s Harmony of the Fallen hitting you so far? Be brutally honest.
