The World Tree
The World Tree
I had agonized over it a lot, but since I couldn't exactly bullshit in front of a race's actual divinity, the result of telling the truth was far friendlier than I'd expected.
The general attitude was that the mortals were the problem, so what fault lay with the gods who watched over them? It might have been different if war had been declared in the Demon God's name, but since it was the Demon King who had started it, apparently they didn't much care.
That sounded perfectly plausible at first listen, but it felt deeply jarring, so I hurriedly questioned the priest who'd said it.
"Isn't the Demon King chosen by the Demon God, just as the Hero is chosen by the Ete of Light?"
"Of course. The beings directly chosen by the gods are always Heroes or Great Warriors. The same applies to the Demonfolk. The Demon King is the Demon King, the Hero is the Hero—just as a king and a Hero are separate things."
It was an exceedingly simple, perfectly obvious logic, and that's why it felt like I'd been smacked upside the head.
I'd lived my whole life here, blending my past life's memories with my current situation, so naturally assuming it was a classic Hero vs. Demon King narrative from the stories, but this was no different from hearing that wasn't true at all.
And it wasn't just this one World Tree priest's personal opinion—the other elves listening reacted to his words as if he'd stated the obvious.
"So you're saying the Demon King is merely a powerful Demonfolk?"
"Correct. He is, literally, the king of the Demonfolk. Due to the nature of the Demonfolk, there are individuals whose personal might rivals dragons, but that doesn't mean they've received the Demon God's selection or blessing. Ah, of course, that doesn't mean it has *never* happened, just that it isn't *always* the case."
"If so... why does a Hero appear, and why does the Demon King declare war on the Human Race?"
At my question, the priest's eyes widened, and he slowly replied as if he'd just heard a truly unexpected question.
"Well... the Hero appears because the Ete of Light takes pity on the Human Race and chooses one to save them from crisis, and war... is war, isn't it? It's not specifically targeted at members of the Human Race alone, either. It's simply that Human Race nations happen to be in the path of the Demon King's Army's advance."
The priest looked at me like I'd just asked why 1+1 equals 2, and I felt my head spin. Even more surprising was that he wasn't wrong.
He was right. That's what war was, originally. I had only stubbornly believed there had to be some other reason because the scale was simply too vast.
But... then was that long war truly just a simple war of conquest? All of the countless wars repeated throughout the history of the Human Race and Demonfolk coexisting? And was that why the oracle was simply: 'He shall drive out the Demon King and bring stability to the Human Race's?
Just as I was about to frown, hit by the idea that the great war I'd thought was a matter of the world's survival might be nothing more than a simple world war, the priest added an explanation.
"Of course, we don't know exactly why the Demon King starts wars. The Demonfolk may have records, but we don't interact with them often. What we do know is that not every Demon King waged war. The previous Demon King, for example, strongly encouraged exchanges with every race, and there were real results. It wasn't as though all the old emotional rifts had been completely resolved, of course."
Just as it was in the flowing river of history, so it was in the present. That was the priest's story, summarized.
In one era, the Hero of Rubisca; in another, the Great Warrior of Bazkal, god of fire and the anvil worshiped by the dwarves; and in yet another, a child of the World Tree stood against a threat to the continent and restored peace.
One Hero founded a kingdom, another vanished without a trace, one achieved peace alongside the Demon King, and another, after defeating the Demon King, oppressed the Demonfolk only to be cut down by a Demonfolk Hero.
"I am not telling you to simply accept everything with detachment, but in the grand scheme of things... I believe it's just a mortal life, nothing special."
It might just be the perspective of a long-lived race, but it wasn't a story I could dismiss either, so I simply nodded quietly.
At that, the priest smiled gently and continued.
"I too am merely a single priest, not a sage who knows everything. What I just said is nothing more than ramblings based on what I have observed and experienced. And since this can be considered an opportunity, how about asking the World Tree the questions you hold through this prayer? Even if it's not an answer, it might at least grant you a clue."
So the prayer I'd intended as a simple greeting suddenly gained a purpose... but it wasn't a bad idea.
"...Please, if you would."
I didn't bother asking the obvious question of whether a prayer so full of selfish desire was okay. A heart seeking answers was naturally part of prayer, after all. The priest nodded as if satisfied with my reply and gestured inward.
All the elves around responding to my answer—which was basically me agreeing to formally prepare for prayer—and cheering me on was a bit awkward, but for now, I followed the priest to the altar inside the shrine.
◈
It was a somewhat expected result, but elven prayer didn't demand some high-difficulty posture or tremendous ascetic practices.
It merely required a level of concentration and mental attitude comparable to when those in holy orders received blessings or revelations. Which, of course, is the hard part.
To put it simply, it was like meditation from my past life. Or perhaps Zen contemplation in Buddhism.
If I phrase it like that, you might think, 'What's so hard about that?', but emptying your mind, pushing away idle thoughts, and maintaining endless focus enough to hear a god's voice the instant they willed it is not as easy as it sounds.
For what elves called 'prayer,' the most basic step was reaching such extreme concentration that every external sense disappeared and only one's inner state remained perceptible. Personally, I thought slowing time at the brink of life and death was easier.
After undergoing a process similar to having your etiquette tested before an audience with the king, repeated several times over, once my posture finally reached a point where I myself thought it was decent enough, the priest, who'd introduced himself as Hias, nodded with a gentle smile.
"Now, let us offer up the prayer."
The simplest posture: kneeling with as light an attire as possible, my equipment set aside, hands clasped together. The elven prayer connected without the slightest added embellishment from its primordial origins.
As I sat before the altar Hias guided me to, took the posture, and closed my eyes, he began to chant a prayer in the elven tongue. The low baritone voice, singing the prayer like a song, was drowsy in and of itself... but I was the one who'd volunteered to pray, so I couldn't exactly sleep, and I focused my mind as best I could.
Truth be told, saying 'several times' made it sound easy, but I'd already spent more than four hours just practicing, and merely correcting my posture was exhausting. Using Magic Power to strengthen my body while praying would have looked ridiculous, so I'd endured on raw stamina alone.
I was in a state commonly described as 'so drained my soul's left my body', but apart from that, my concentration was far easier to maintain.
And before long, even with my eyes closed, I experienced my vision turning white.
Simultaneously, I felt an intense dazzling brightness and a floating sensation, as if falling from the sky. I might not know much else, but I was damn sure about this one, thanks to my frequent wyvern dives. Yet I managed to keep my posture without breaking it—not because I was so great, but simply because I couldn't move an inch.
Like having sleep paralysis.
Hmm, it's clearly a meeting with a god, so comparing it to a ghost might be a bit much, but that's the exact metaphor that came to mind, so I couldn't help i—
[...child of the rift.]
A powerful shock suddenly slammed into me, and my consciousness vanished.
"Hwuahhk?!"
My eyes, which had been closed without me realizing, flew open, and I flailed my limbs as I shot to my feet.
No, I thought I'd gotten up. I was still in the exact same prayer posture, just with my eyes glaring wide and my head raised.
Had my consciousness... really been blown away? Just moments ago I was perfectly lucid, and in an instant, I couldn't tell what was what anymore.
"A-are you alright?"
Hias hurriedly approached my side and checked my complexion. As I came to my senses, I saw it wasn't just him—other elves were also staring at me with surprised looks. Since I hadn't noticed their approach, it seemed I'd been maintaining the prayer fairly well up to a certain point.
"Ah, my apologies. I think my focus slipped for a moment."
Since there were many watching, it was a bit embarrassing, but I forced a smile as I replied. Hias and every other elf opened their already large eyes even wider in astonishment.
"A moment, you say? Two days have passed!"
"...Excuse me?"
"Look at your body!"
Wondering what sort of bad joke this was, I looked down...
"Roots...?"
Countless tiny tree roots had entangled my body, firmly fixing me in place. Judging by their color, they were clearly from the World Tree. Only then did I realize that I hadn't exerted superhuman patience and held my posture while only lifting my head.
I simply couldn't move because of the roots. Even now, I was putting strength into it, but they showed no sign of budging at all.
"How do I get these off?"
I stared blankly at the pure white roots that even firmly held my neatly clasped hands in place, then raised my head and asked. Hias stammered for quite a while, wearing an overwhelmed expression, then answered.
"Significantly more roots have receded than before you opened your eyes. They originally reached all the way up to your face. If we wait just a little longer, they will likely disappear on their own."
I was just as dumbfounded.
I'd thought only a few dozen seconds had passed, not even minutes, and it'd been two days? Even the legends about time flowing differently in fairyland have limits. The only relief was that, just as Hias said, the roots were rapidly sinking into the floor.
"...Do you happen to know what this is?"
Only after my hands were freed and I was able to move, I noticed something was clutched in my grasp. Wondering if two days really had passed, I moved my slightly stiff hands and checked my palm. There, I found something like a very faintly light-pink-tinged, pure white seed.
"That is... a seed that falls from the bud of the World Tree."
"...A seed of the World Tree?"
"Ah, it's slightly different. Planting this will not grow a World Tree. Usually, it doesn't even retain its form like this. By the time it falls to the ground, it vanishes like scattering pollen."
"Meaning..."
Even as a light dizziness washed over me, Hias nodded with a deeply solemn face and gave me confirmation.
"It means it is an object the World Tree personally placed in your hand. Though what intent lay behind it is impossible to know."
Goddamn it.
It seemed that intent was the most important part, but since it was impossible to know, we were fucked, weren't we. Fuck.