Elf-Life Reversal

While Aaron poured every scrap of his focus into the F-Rank Elf's reading, the live thread on the Shrine Reviews Gallery was burning up like a powder keg. By now, a user standing at the actual Covenant Ceremony had joined the fray.

A brief, surprisingly passionate debate broke out over the elf race's base stats. Then WorldTreeLumberjack's frantic live updates resumed.

As the consensus hardened around the idea that the F-Rank Elf had been duped by a predatory priest, Aaron stayed buried in the ceremony.

No — he had to stay buried in it. Every current of energy around the World Tree reached him as vividly as if he were standing there himself.

And at the very edge of his vision, beyond the base of the colossal World Tree, glimmered a tiny, radiant spirit that no one else could see. Aaron was reading even the emotions the little thing carried.

It's frightened.

The spirit's will came through, faint and trembling. The Covenant Ceremonies of recent years had changed — warped, degraded. Because the elves had begun placing their faith in foreign gods, hundreds of outside spirits and miscellaneous deities now swarmed the grounds. To that small child who had waited centuries for a pure elf, the polluted spectacle of the ceremony was strange and terrifying. And so, even though the F-Rank Elf had warmed her heart, the little spirit hadn't dared approach her, and could only hide behind the World Tree.

Aaron, who had pieced together the whole story in an instant, tapped out his reply on the tablet.

The World Tree was the very symbol of elven faith. Approaching it carelessly was taboo, an offense ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that could earn formal discipline from the forest. But at that single, firm promise — I'll take responsibility — the F-Rank Elf squeezed her eyes shut.

C... can I really trust this person?

Yet she shook her head. Without his words last night, she wouldn't even have had the courage to appear at her tenth ceremony. Once again, she chose to believe in him.

As she stiffly set one foot toward the World Tree, the elder below the platform scrambled to block her path.

"Elena! Stop this at once. That is sacred ground, permitted only to those who serve the World Tree."

"So-someone is calling me."

The F-Rank Elf tried to step forward boldly, but the old elder's voice was ice. "I understand the shock of failing ten times must be great, but causing harm to the World Tree is something we cannot tolerate."

"Ha-harm it? No, that's not what I'm trying to—"

"Then why on earth are you trying to approach it?"

Hounded like a criminal under interrogation, the F-Rank Elf's shoulders shrank in on themselves again. A girl who had spent the past year sealed inside her room was never going to out-muscle the bluster of these grumpy old elves. The elder clicked his tongue, his face sour.

"I-I'm sorry."

Feigning surrender, she turned to walk away — and then, with a sharp "Hyaaaah!", she spun on her heel and vaulted clean over the thick wooden railing that cordoned off the altar.

"Wh-what?!"/p>

"That F-Rank trash, what is she DOING!"

The venue dissolved into chaos in an instant, but the F-Rank Elf ran at full sprint toward the base of the World Tree and nothing else. And this unbelievable stunt was being relayed to the world, live and unfiltered, through the typing fingers of WorldTreeLumberjack.

Ridicule came down on her like rain. But to the F-Rank Elf, sprinting with everything she had, only one thing existed — the text of the Nameless Priest, her sole guidepost.

Gulping for air, she stopped and cautiously stretched both hands beneath the undergrowth. But doubt still gnawed at her. This is just...

The withering World Tree. Nothing met her eyes but its rough, cracked bark. Behind her, the footsteps of the guard elves who had chased her down grew closer and closer. It had been a scam all along, then.

But.

The world looked different through Aaron's eyes. Directly in front of the F-Rank Elf's outstretched hands, a tiny radiant spirit — one that had waited hundreds of years — was beaming.

The spirit darted quick glances around, confirming that this spot lay beyond the reach of the murky auras of the foreign gods. And above all, it seemed to like the blonde elf before it: a soul with not a single stain of divine corruption upon her.

The little spirit charged toward the F-Rank Elf at full speed, then came to a dead stop right before her outstretched palms.

Why is it stopping? Why won't it just leap into her arms?

The moment Aaron wondered, the little spirit suddenly dipped its head — toward the empty air over the F-Rank Elf's shoulder, precisely where Aaron's gaze was fixed.

Wait. Was that... a bow to me?

Before Aaron could even process his surprise, the little spirit giggled and lightly hopped onto the F-Rank Elf's open palms.

Flash—!

In that instant, a green radiance so intense it was blinding erupted across the F-Rank Elf's entire body, from her fingertips to the soles of her feet. The elder and the guards, mid-charge, screamed in unison and threw their arms over their eyes. From the heart of that storm of light, a sacred and exalted shape rose above the F-Rank Elf's head.

Two horns, grown of living wood. They sprouted for a moment, then turned translucent and slowly faded from sight.

Silence swallowed the ceremony whole.

"Th... that's—!"

The one to break it was the old elder, collapsed on the ground, his scream cracking the stillness. "The... the World Tree..." His voice shook like a leaf in the wind. "It's the spirit of the World Tree..."

Shock washed over the venue. Hundreds of elves stood frozen, mouths agape — and at the center of it all, the F-Rank Elf alone stared down at her own two hands in a daze, utterly unable to grasp reality.

And this overwhelming scene was being transmitted, word for word, through WorldTreeLumberjack's tireless typing.

The gallery raged like an active volcano. But Aaron, whose entire attention was on the F-Rank Elf, had no way of knowing about the frenzied traffic.

Dozens of thank-yous flooded the chat in a row, but Aaron's expression remained calm. With a dry, businesslike tap of his finger, he left his final message on the tablet.

A cold, clean ending. The moment the reply posted, Aaron shut off the terminal and closed his vision, as he always did by habit — to brace for the aftereffects of using the ability.

And yet.

"...Huh?"

Time passed, and no skull-splitting pain came, no nosebleed like yesterday's. He felt a slight drain on his stamina, but it was more than bearable.

"Huh. So I've adapted?"

Aaron swiped a hand under his nose. Not a single fleck of blood. At this level of cost, he could probably manage two or three readings a day without any trouble.

"Not that inquiries would come pouring in like that."

He snorted. He wouldn't have believed a prophecy babbled by some anonymous bottom-tier user either. Unless someone was cornered at the edge of a cliff like the Sword Saint of the Pitch Black or the F-Rank Elf, who would ever seek out a shrine like this dying hole?

"Still, you never know. Maybe someone'll leave another post..."

Aaron was musing lazily, reaching for a crust of dried bread — when his hand stopped midair.

"Ah."

He'd forgotten. Last night, to block the troll spam, he'd used his admin privileges to set a "posting restriction on all other users."

"Which means actual customers can't post either, dumbass."

Shoving the bread between his teeth, Aaron hastily powered on the tablet. And the instant he entered the admin settings and pressed down hard on the button labeled [Lift Posting Restriction]—

— DING! DINGDINGDINGDINGDING!

"Wha—?!"

The terminal began spewing notification chimes like it was about to explode. Hundreds of system messages popped up at once, blanketing the screen, flooding his vision.

The moment the restriction lifted, the board began refreshing by the second, new posts cascading down like a waterfall.

"Wh-what's going on? What is all this?!"

Aaron dropped the bread from his mouth and stared, dumbfounded — but before he could even finish panicking, a system notification blazed to life before his eyes, cutting straight through the chaos.

"On- one thousand Merit? Is this for real?!"

His jaw nearly hit the floor at the windfall that had landed overnight. But the surprises didn't stop there. One after another, accompanied by the thunder of magnificent fireworks, impossible messages came pouring down.

"..."

Staring blankly up at the system windows glittering gold, Aaron felt his lips ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠begin to tremble.

"What even is this."

It seemed, by every indication, that he was on the rise.