Elves (1)
Upon returning to her lair, Vanir immediately set about preparing for her deep slumber.
Her precious child, Tyrano, was safe, which eased the heavy weight on her mind. Curled tightly into a coil, just before her heavy eyelids drifted shut, a stray thought crossed her consciousness—a lingering impression of that human, an entity profoundly alien even within the enigmatic confines of the Forest of the Four Seasons.
'Come to think of it, he is exceedingly strange. It feels almost as if he hails from an entirely different world.'
The way he spoke, the concepts he referenced, his peculiar demeanor—in more ways than one, he simply did not seem to belong to this realm. Vanir had hatched near the twilight of the Mythic Age. Unlike the ancient dragons who had come before her, she did not possess an exhaustive understanding of all cosmic mysteries; she only knew that this human was deeply extraordinary.
'When I awake, I must investigate him more thoroughly.'
If desire alone could dictate her path, she would have preferred to venture toward the territory where the other dragons resided. Yet the Forest of the Four Seasons was a labyrinth from which not even dragons could escape. One misstep, and distorted space could swallow a creature whole, ensuring they would never find their way back. More often than not, even rules painstakingly deciphered over days became utterly useless within a week.
'Escape, is it...?'
Vanir's eyes slowly slid shut. A mere human, clinging to a probability that converged on absolute zero, constantly searching for a path to break free. She had pondered this in the ancient past as well, but humans truly were a fascinating species. They were creatures who would agonize endlessly over a ninety percent certainty, yet boldly declare a ten percent chance as "worth a shot."
Was that human operating on similar logic? Or was it purely an instinctual will forged from sheer survival? Whatever the case, he did not strike her as the type to die young—provided he did not indulge in reckless bravado.
'I find myself quite curious to see how he will look when I awake.'
The exhaustion settled deep into her bones, bringing a pleasant, heavy drowsiness. She had taken thorough precautions against any potential intruders. All that remained was sleep.
"..."
Vanir's consciousness gradually drifted into the quiet depths of hibernation, looking forward to the little one who would run out to greet her when she finally opened her eyes.
I wondered if this was what people meant when they said their blood ran cold.
Reading the post written by Let's Grow Trees—a manifesto practically dripping with unhinged zealotry—sent goosebumps prickling across my flesh. Her thought process was removed from that of an ordinary person by about a million light-years. What made it even more alarming was that, historically speaking, her arguments held water to a certain degree.
Since ancient times, dragons had been regarded as destructive, wicked calamities. In truth, they had committed all manner of atrocities across the continent during the Mythic Age. Even Vanir herself had readily admitted as much. While the true origin of the gods remained a murky question, that was an inquiry best saved for another day.
'Did I make a mistake handing over that Guardian Core?'
Anyone capable of casually trading away a World Tree sapling was guaranteed to be, if not the supreme monarch, then at least an exceedingly high-ranking official. History had proven time and again that when zealots gained power, the catastrophic fallout exceeded all human imagination—Hitler being the prime textbook example. The tragic irony, of course, was that despite civilization enduring such horrors, radical extremism continued to thrive unabated. In fact, the longer an era of peace endured, the more potent and brazen such radicalism tended to grow.
'Still, the leader of the elves should be... Wait, didn't someone say their queen was a complete lunatic too?'
An uneasy premonition began to gnaw at the back of my mind. A fair amount of time had passed since I traded away that core. With all the pandemonium erupting in El Dorado, it had completely slipped my mind, but rumors had persistently circulated that Alfheim was teetering on edge as well. People often said no news was good news, but apparently, that old adage did not apply to Alfheim. Word had it that their national power and military buildup were expanding at an exponential rate by the day.
'Whatever else happens, I just hope Alfheim doesn't pick a fight with El Dorado.'
The Hero, Asella, had personally made me a promise: that she would mobilize every resource at the nation's disposal—not merely as an individual, but at the state level—to organize an expedition to rescue me. Truth be told, it was more about retrieving Ludwig than saving me; I was essentially along for the ride as part of a package deal.
'For now, all I can do is wait and watch. And if a good trade comes up, I'll take it.'
The World Tree sapling wasn't the only item Let's Grow Trees had provided. There were the work gloves woven from the silk of silkworms fed exclusively on World Tree leaves, as well as several rolled World Tree cigars. The gloves were absurdly practical, possessing an innate self-repairing property. Because she had sent three pairs, Ludwig was able to wear a set as well. It was a slight shame that the sizing was far too small for Ggobongi's massive paws, but they were a godsend nonetheless.
'They make physical labor so much easier.'
Thanks to those gloves, I hadn't developed a single blister on my palms. And, just as advertised, their high regenerative factor gave them monstrous durability. Then there was the tobacco.
I withdrew a World Tree cigar from storage. I still had plenty left. Because life in the shelter had been relatively peaceful lately without overwhelming stress, I hadn't felt much urge to smoke. Besides, we had the kids around. While people on the forum claimed that, unlike ordinary tobacco, these leaves were actually beneficial to one's health, I couldn't say for sure. I figured whenever my body and spirit were truly battered, Ludwig and I could split one to take the edge off.
"Ah, right. Ludwig-ssi."
"?"
"Do you smoke? Care for one of these?"
Just in case, I casually showed him the World Tree cigar. It wasn't a standard paper cigarette, but rather a thick, hand-rolled leaf cigar. Considering he was a holy knight, I wondered if he might shun such vices entirely.
"!"
The instant Ludwig laid eyes on the dark, emerald-tinted wrapper, his eyes snapped wide. He glanced back and forth between me and the cigar, his expression practically screaming: Where on earth did you get that? It seemed he recognized its origin immediately.
"Hmm? Is that not tobacco rolled from the sacred leaves of the World Tree? Where did you obtain such a treasure?"
Cain, who had been lazily playing alongside Wonmo and Tyrano, waddled over stiffly on his miniature stone legs, peering upward with intense curiosity. Since I had acquired it via the Gallery anyway, I answered with casual nonchalance.
"I traded for it on the Gallery. A while back, I sent someone a Guardian Core, and they sent over these, some gloves, and even a World Tree sapling."
"To hand over such items without hesitation... and to someone who is not even sovereign royalty? Preposterous. It makes no sense."
Cain shook his miniature head in utter disbelief. To someone from his era, the rarity and sacred status of those goods must have seemed astronomical. But the era Cain had walked was the distant mythological past; times had shifted dramatically since then.
"Things are probably different now. The world has changed quite a bit."
"Is that so? The folk of Alfheim have always been an insufferably rigid and stubborn lot. I find it difficult to believe."
"Do you look unfavorably upon elves as well, Lord Cain?"
"There are fine individuals among them, to be sure, but the race as a whole is hopelessly obstinate. In my day, had anyone dared bestow such holy relics upon an outsider, they would have been brandished a traitor and executed by their own kin. Even I had the privilege of smoking a World Tree cigar but once in my entire mortal life."
They really were an insufferable bunch of hardasses, weren't they?
Seeing that even someone as legendary and revered as Cain had only tasted a World Tree cigar a single time across his legendary lifetime made it glaringly obvious how stingy and gatekeeping that culture had been. Out of curiosity, I wondered if he was aware of the historic rift between their factions.
"Are you aware that the elves and dark elves split apart? The dark elves currently reside in the southern deserts."
"Surely you do not mean those kin whose flesh bears the darkness of night?"
"That's them. I heard they fractured completely following a massive civil war."
"Tsk, tsk. Old habits die hard, it seems. So they finally brought ruin upon their own house."
Cain clicked his tongue in disdain. Judging by his immediate reaction, the ideological seeds of that fanaticism had evidently been festering even back in his era. Over the centuries, unbridled extremism had festered, ultimately driving the two races to an irreconcilable divide.
'Hearing all this, does the elven species just naturally lean toward being insufferable?'
This was Cain speaking—the paragon of virtue celebrated throughout continental myth. While his personal quirks around the cave resembled those of a meddling neighborhood uncle, his standing as a legendary heroic figure remained undeniable. If even a man of his stature openly criticized the elves for being narrow-minded, one could easily picture the general reality.
'And yet, from what I've seen, the current Elf Queen seems far more progressive and open than rigid, doesn't she?'
The sovereign of Alfheim was a monarch whose name surfaced constantly across the Gallery boards. She was hailed as a brilliant visionary who had dragged Alfheim out of its isolationism through sweeping enlightenment policies. Furthermore, her spellbinding charisma and rhetorical mastery had captivated the hearts of her populace with absolute devotion.
'The only glaring flaw is that she seems a few cards short of a full deck.'
Territorial boundaries had always been an intensely volatile trigger for human civilizations. Yet Alfheim was currently trampling over foreign borders under the guise of ecological expansion, so favorable diplomacy was out of the question. The real problem was that the elves were simply too powerful. Historically, they were a powerhouse capable of standing toe-to-toe with the demon realm. If a unified nation of that caliber decided to go rogue, foreign kingdoms could gnash their teeth in frustration, but none could easily muster the resolve to wage open war.
"Would you like to have a smoke?" I asked, holding the cigar out toward Ludwig.
"Thank you."
Ludwig accepted the offer without hesitation. Before he had been a holy knight, he had lived as a seasoned soldier; perhaps the habit was something carved into his very instincts. When I struck a match and held the flame out for him, Ludwig drew in a deep, satisfying draught.
"Phew..."
A thick plume of aromatic white smoke billowed from his lips, spiraling toward the cavern ceiling before dissolving into the air. True enough, a vice looked infinitely cooler when indulged by someone with rugged presence; Ludwig practically radiated the aura of a battle-worn commander. Though the Golden Apple had restored his youth, his thick, trimmed beard remained intact, making him look precisely like a hardened veteran reflecting upon a long campaign.
'It suits him perfectly.'
I refrained from lighting one myself. I wasn't an active smoker to begin with, and I didn't feel sufficiently burnt out to need the vice today.
"Might I partake in a single puff as well?" Cain chimed in hopefully.
"How on earth is a stone statue supposed to smoke a cigar?"
Once our brief reprieve concluded and we finished off a quick midday meal, we transitioned immediately into our operational reconnaissance plan. The primary objective was to thoroughly explore the sectors I had previously scouted. While those paths were familiar to me, Ludwig had never seen them firsthand.
'Should we move out as an entire group, or leave a rear guard?'
The foremost dilemma was deciding the roster. Stationing Bbarmbo was a tricky equation. If I were strong enough to operate without relying on his overwhelming muscle, it wouldn't matter, but my current capabilities were still lacking.
'Besides, if we all march out together, rationing food becomes a nightmare...'
What if the entire entourage wandered into an unforeseen dimensional anomaly and exhausted our supplies? We were already burning through enormous amounts of calories every single day; getting stranded would be a worst-case scenario. In the end, dividing our personnel was mandatory. For now, we would stick to charted territory and adapt as we went.
"Uncle, pack your gear."
"Understood."
"You two, stop rolling around and get over here. We're moving."
"Kyuu!"
"Ppii!"
Our initial destination was the Mandrake Colony. We might need to harvest them as nutritional tonics for the younger beasts later, and they were also an indispensable ingredient for brewing supreme restorative draughts. The time was approaching to commission Starlight Princess for another batch of Elixirs, so securing several prime specimens was a top priority.
"Are you not taking me along?" Cain protested.
"Just sit tight and pretend to be a handsome decorative statue."
"How utterly cold-hearted."
"And what exactly are you planning to contribute out there, Cain-ssi?"
"Moral support, perhaps?"
"Are you an oversized hood ornament?"
It sounded about as useful as a Magikarp repeatedly using Splash. Perhaps he would unlock greater utility if he underwent some sort of spiritual evolution, but for now, Cain was little more than a fragile, undersized stone figure. Still, he looked remarkably pitiful sitting alone in the corner, so I ended up scooping him up anyway. He could function as a lucky charm if nothing else.
Shortly thereafter, our scouting unit marched out through the winding thickets until we arrived at the perimeter of the Mandrake Colony.
And there, before our eyes...
"Kkkiyeeeeeek!"
"Ggggyaaaaaack!"
A pair of fully matured Adult Mandrakes were locked in a violent, shrieking turf war. This wasn't some gentle rustling of leaves; the two crimson roots were legitimately brawling, throwing heavy haymakers and thrashing violently against the dirt.
"Are... are those truly mandrakes?" Cain stammered, his stony jaw practically dropping.
"...Yes."
"Yet that one just delivered a flying roundhouse kick. In all my years, I have never witnessed vegetation execute martial arts."
"Honestly, it's my first time seeing it too."
I stared at the shrieking, brawling tubers, a sudden wave of apprehension washing over me. Is it actually safe to brew medicine out of something this aggressive?
Right around the time Grylls was scanning the perimeter to initiate his deep survey of the wild, the broader geopolitical landscape beyond the barrier was undergoing its own quiet transformation. Following the dramatic resolution of the holy treason within El Dorado, continental affairs appeared to enter a phase of surface-level tranquility, yet an undercurrent of profound tension remained.
Among all the great powers, the most volatile wildcard was unequivocally Alfheim—the ancestral homeland of the elves and the cradle of the World Tree. Unlike El Dorado, Alfheim had suffered no civil war or internal strife. The unease stemmed entirely from their external maneuvers. What unnerved foreign courts was not domestic unrest, but the deeply ominous, unpredictable nature of their foreign ambitions.
Neighboring empires maintained vigilant surveillance over the borders, yet Alfheim's inner sanctum remained unnervingly silent, yielding almost no actionable intelligence. Whenever foreign skirmishers tested their borders with minor provocations, the elven sentries simply repelled them with detached, effortless precision, offering zero diplomatic response.
"Tell me, have all technical calibrations concluded?"
"Yes, Your Majesty! The energy matrix reverse-engineered from the Guardian Core has achieved absolute stability, and the operational mobility of the prototype construct matches our exact theoretical models!"
"Splendid. Positively splendid."
As an ancient proverb once declared: a crouch was merely the posture required to gather momentum for a tremendous leap. Hearing the chief researcher's ecstatic report, the sovereign ruler of Alfheim—the Elf Queen herself—burst into a radiant smile.
"Make immediate arrangements for a national broadcast address tomorrow morning."
"Tomorrow, Your Majesty?"
"Indeed. All preparations are complete. It is high time we announced our dawn to the world."
Elijah, the reigning Queen of Alfheim, raised her arms toward the canopy with unbridled theatrical fervor.
"Make Alfheim Great Again!"
The sleeping giant of the ancient world had finally opened its eyes.