New Paradise (10)
“A new world? Are you in your right mind?”
“I mean it. Whether you seek revenge or whatever, you can’t do it here.”
To prove his words, Ren pulled items from his bosom. Salt that had recently flooded the elf markets, captivating the unfamiliar elves with its intense salty tang; sandals borrowed from Lea; and steel arrows from the compound bow Serenian had lent him.
“What’s all this?”
“Compared to this great forest, it’s still small and lacking. The World Tree is weak too. But ‘He’ is there.”
Rondel’s eyes widened, and Ren smiled faintly before describing the world inside the flowerpot. Now fully convinced of the divine spirit’s existence, Rondel showed even more fervent support than Serenian.
“For the likes of us, it’s an opportunity like no other.”
“W-well, if what you say is true, I’ve got no reason to refuse. But it’s dangerous. If the traitors—no, if even the village chief hears of this, he’ll sound the alarm.”
Rondel shuddered at the mention of the chief. After the corrupt ones seized power through force, the elves had divided into three broad groups: those leading everything, those unable to resist and suffering under oppression, and those in between, acting as lackeys. The chief of Rondel’s village was one such lackey—pretending it was unavoidable, sacrificing the few for the many, collaborating with the traitors and inciting his own kin. Rondel could never forget how, when his daughter was taken by them, the chief had offered no help for the village’s “peace” and instead scolded him for resisting.
“Just run. At dawn, pretend you’re going hunting, leave your home, and head to the forest. If there are others like you in the village, convince them to come too.”
Clicking his tongue, Ren explained the plan for leaving together and heading to the new world. Rondel nodded as if resolved and began packing in advance.
Ren slipped out first and hid in the forest near the village, waiting for dawn. As the sun approached noon, a group of elves approached the meeting spot, pretending to go hunting.
“I’ve told you before. We’re afraid and trembling about what might happen next. These young children could suffer the same fate as my daughter at any moment. So we’ve all decided to leave for a new place.”
“That’s right.”
Rondel glanced at the neighboring elf family he’d brought— a young couple and their children, all prepared for the journey.
“Let’s go, before the others notice.”
Ren led them on a full day’s march to the rift and returned straight to Eden. Along the way, he encountered fellow elves bringing others from different places.
More will come. And we’ll carry on the true pride of the elves.
Grinding his teeth at the sight of over ten new elves joining, Ren felt it still wasn’t enough.
A new region can be activated.
I glanced at the living room table. The herb pot, growing nicely even now—that was the first outpost connected to the bonsai pot. It meant I could connect new pots like that one to the bonsai pot where the elves’ village lay.
This notification was especially welcome because the population in the pot world kept growing. I’d heard leaving their homeland was no easy feat for the elves—that’s why Serenian struggled to convince them at first. But overcoming that, the elves now saw this place as livable enough to leave home for, even actively bringing their kin. With families coming in droves, we’d already surpassed forty. The pot world, once just a lush forest nurtured by the World Tree’s power, was gradually filling with houses of various sizes and shapes.
Elves' Prayer - Prayer for Rain
But even with the miracle of the World Tree, I knew how imbalanced and lacking the pot world was. It wasn’t made for elves to live in from the start.
Aside from elves and plants, there’s hardly any other life.
Seeing them gathered to pray for rain, I grabbed the spray bottle. This wasn’t like when Ren first came, proving my existence as the divine spirit to new arrivals. They genuinely needed water—a real rainfall.
All the water they had was what the World Tree drew out in meager rock-pool amounts. The pot had no river, lake, or pond. The moment rain fell, the elves rushed to catch it in bowls they’d made or prepared.
“The ant nest subjugation is done, but honestly, as our numbers grow, so do my worries. Food, drinking water, shelter—many things will run short. Fighting enemies and gaining chances to grow is a clear blessing, a place to live... but it’s still lacking...”
Serenian’s expression darkened, and she didn’t deny it. Being a single warrior, charging ahead into battle—that she could do anytime. But ruling over a growing number of kin? That was impossible with mere effort or will alone.
“To sum up, we need more land for incoming elves and abundant water sources.”
“Y-yes. But what can you do about it?”
“I don’t know either, but we have to try. Perhaps the divine spirit will handle that too.”
Chuckling, I sent Serenian, who’d come to the herb pot, back. Then I opened a browser window and sat down.
“Whew...”
Some hours later, I sighed and looked away from the screen. There were plenty of fun, pretty concept pots. But reconsidering, what the elves needed wasn’t cute or aesthetic.
My first idea: an empty pot with plastic structures to make a large lake. But I wasn’t sure if that’d suffice. Water purification was another concern.
A pond pot?
Then I spotted a partitioned pond pot. Divided into thirds—one small section for water, the larger for soil, perfect for hydroponics. Size looked right too. This could create the environment they wanted.
But delivery takes over three days.
I hated the wait; I wanted to hurry. Luckily, someone nearby knew his stuff.
“You want a new pot?”
“Yeah. If you tell me where you get yours, I’ll buy from there. Shipping costs extra, and it takes too long.”
Coughing to compose himself, I smiled lightly at my landlord as I brought it up casually. I remembered he’d said he didn’t buy pots online but from a shop he knew.
“I told you hobbies are addictive. What’re you looking to buy?”
Thrilled that a newbie was hooked, the veteran Jang Mansu laughed heartily and asked what pot I had in mind. No reason to hide, so I mentioned the pond-style ones looked good.
“Oh, I’ve got one like that. No need to go to the shop—take mine. Bought it and never used it. Meant for my old house, but got nagged about the water smell.”
“Then should I buy that one?”
Knowing exactly what I meant, he fetched a dusty pot from his shed. Heavy like the bonsai pot, made of similar material, partitioned perfectly for water and soil.
“Fill it, transplant some plants. Want help?”
“N-no, I’ll do it myself. Thanks.”
Scoring the pot absurdly cheap, I politely declined his offer and headed home. Time to add aquatic plants for purification, plus separate water and soil.
Houses... they said no need.
Flipping through sites for orders, I considered pre-installing the miniature houses from the pot, but scrapped the idea. Elves couldn’t craft those with their materials and skills; it was Serenian’s home, tied to her authority. Above all, they preferred houses they built themselves.