Chapter 32
Chapter 32
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 32
Chapter Title: The Race with the Best Physiognomy (2)
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A murmuring sound reached his ears.
It was more like boisterous chatter than whispers.
Listening to the content...
"Chris did something big, that's for sure."
"You're right. A person like that shouldn't be lying there..."
It was a woman's voice.
The deeply regretful tone felt oddly familiar.
"This isn't the time for this. I should offer one more drink."
It was Old Man Closel's voice.
He sounded a bit drunk, his voice thick with emotion.
"Instead of just sitting there, he needs to get up quick..."
The atmosphere was growing weirder by the second.
He could sense Old Man Closel's movements in detail.
What he held in his hand now was alcohol.
Glug glug—
And this was the cup.
But the next action was strange.
"...?"
Why was he circling the cup?
Old Man Closel began to bow his body.
The motion was so reverent it felt sacred.
"...?"
Has this old coot lost his mind...?
His body bowed even lower.
Still lying down, Chris cracked his eyes open just a slit.
"..."
He flinched.
"You...?"
Creak—
Sitting up, he looked around at the spectacle.
The place where he'd been lying was surrounded by flowers, and right in front of him was even a funeral table.
Elves gathered in small groups, chatting away.
"...It's like a proper funeral home."
A profound silence fell instantly.
"..."
"..."
Then an enormous cheer erupted.
"Waaaaah!"
"The ritual succeeded!!"
"The branch-bloomer has awakened!!"
The ritual succeeded...?
It wasn't just the elves who were thrilled.
The elf spirits clustered around the funeral table were excited too.
He had no idea what they'd done, but the spirits' conditions looked great.
They appeared full-bellied, their expressions brimming with satisfaction.
Old Man Parmon approached him with a pleased face.
"This time, your eyes opened right away."
"...Yeah?"
Surprisingly, unlike last time, his eyes didn't hurt.
He'd thought he'd have to keep them closed for a while.
"I tried imitating what you were doing. Looks like it worked."
"...Pardon?"
It was a pretty decent funeral table, to be fair.
The food was neatly arranged, the candles perfectly placed.
From what Old Man Closel had just done, the procedure wasn't bad either.
Thanks to that, the elf spirits seemed very at ease.
But performing a funeral rite to dispel curse backlash?
He'd never heard of such a thing.
As he puzzled over it, rubbing his eyes, one elf spirit slid over.
Swoosh—
The spirit touched near his eyes, as if trying to convey something.
"...Yes?"
The spirit's finger pointed at the elves.
"Whoa... So this had an effect?"
While performing the rite, they'd desperately prayed for something.
Probably his recovery.
"Was it the elders?"
The spirits nodded.
So, to sum it up:
The elves had held a funeral rite, and amazingly, it was in the correct form.
The spirits, who received the table unexpectedly, seemed to have heard the elves' heartfelt plea.
They must have resolved the curse's backlash for him.
"...Like ancestral spirits answering sincere devotion?"
Summoning ancestors by accident like this?
The spirit raised a hand, pointing at the World Tree.
"Whoa..."
Up on the tree, numerous spirits sat resting.
As a great sacred site, there was no place more comfortable.
"All sorts of things happen."
Very rarely.
These days it was even harder to see, but there was that saying.
'Wish toward a village guardian tree, and it comes true.'
Sometimes spirits appreciate the sincerity and lend a hand.
Maybe as repayment for helping the World Tree?
"Come one, come all! Fortunes told here!!"
Murmur murmur—
"Want to make money? Right here! Need love? Still right here!"
The mat was barely laid out before it became a smash hit.
Having become a benefactor to the elves, Chris drew crowds wherever he went.
Sightseeing the city? Elves flocked. Eating a meal? Extra dishes always appeared.
He'd become a popular shaman.
Thanks to that, an impressive number of elves gathered around his mat.
"Ahem. So, what troubles you?"
A beautiful elf sat before him.
Green eyes, perky nose.
Neat brows, red lips.
Physiognomically, a very pretty face.
And she really was stunning.
"Hmm..."
Elves' worries differed greatly from humans'.
This race basically had perfect physiognomy.
Every one achieved beautiful symmetry, no rough edges from forehead to chin.
Harmony incarnate.
Physiognomy focuses on 'living as one looks.'
And so far, elves truly lived in harmony with their looks.
The problem was that their very fates were harmonious too.
This was tricky.
"I want to become a leaf that protects the branch."
"Hmm..."
Jingle—
Shaking the rattle produced a divination.
But unusually vague.
"If you continue like this, it looks like you'll achieve it steadily..."
"...Really?"
Her eyes sparkled.
Of course she'd be happy to pursue her dream...
But the issue was...
Was this even an issue?
"Thank you!"
The beautiful elf stepped aside, replaced by another beautiful elf.
Perfectly harmonious physiognomy and energy.
And extremely pretty.
A slightly young-looking elf asked with shining eyes.
"I want to beautify the elf forest."
He knew exactly what divination would come.
Jingle—
The feeling hit spot on.
This elf would steadily achieve her wish too.
That was the problem.
With long lifespans and harmonious fates, everything went smoothly.
Rarely would a standout genius emerge...
Anyway, no matter who came, the divinations were similar.
"As a race close to nature, you'll achieve it steadily."
"Thank you!!"
This made fortune-telling pointless.
The essence of divination was avoiding misfortune and guiding to greater happiness...
What meaning was there in telling already happy people they'd stay happy?
Elves lacked greed, asking little.
Humans wanted more money, fame, beautiful women—but elves didn't.
"Argh... What am I even doing..."
No grudges, no greed.
Their wishes were all pure, no dark corners.
Just live kindly, and blessings follow.
That was this race.
"Unbelievable..."
Then a man sat before him.
"Ahem... Mr. Chris...?"
His face scrunched up.
It was Hans.
"Why are you sitting here?"
"You won't read my fortune either...?"
"No readings for fellow tradesmen."
Hans started to rise with a sullen face, then sat back down.
"You said last time that physiognomy differs from fortunes... How about that...?"
"You don't need physiognomy."
"Pardon?"
"You're not living as you look—you're becoming what you live."
"What does that mean?"
Exactly as it sounds: the state of one's face is physiognomy.
This physiognomy doesn't change, but other things do for some people.
A key trait of true priests like Hans, advancing rightly.
"You live by your heart, not your face."
"...My heart?"
"Yeah. Don't worry about your face—polish your heart instead."
"But last time you said I live as I look...?"
He had said that, casually brushing it off...
"Not your looks—the expressions from your heart are your true impression. A priest needs a good impression, not good looks. Worship only as you look?"
"Ah..."
Hans bowed his head in thought, then stood.
Yes, when divinations guide to the right path like that, it's rewarding.
Even if he hadn't actually divined for Hans.
Hans clutched 5 coppers, approaching the money box.
"No offering fee needed. No reading."
"No... I mean... I have to put this in."
"I said no need."
Hans hesitated, then dropped the coins in.
"I don't want to end up like Master... Don't want that misfortune."
"Whoa..."
After prying off the guilt pillar, he'd still stirred trouble.
Seeing Hans shudder, Old Man Klein must have suffered.
"Told you peeling off offering fees brings bad luck... Next!"
This elf was unexpected.
"Lady Romanel...?"
Extremely pretty.
After Hans's face, seeing Romanel's cleansed his mind.
Romanel opened her mouth with a warm smile.
"Who resides in the World Tree's body right now?"
Empty eyes stared into the void.
Their hands and feet bound, their faces bore no expressions.
Some drooled like madmen.
"Almost everyone connected to the World Tree has ended up like this."
"..."
It was quiet silence.
Many were gathered, yet not a sound.
A chilling voice emanated from the man at the center.
"Useless."
"...!"
"But this will make them useful."
A hand swept through the air.
Vast mana swirled in its wake.
Shudder—
All watching necromancers trembled.
They knew better than anyone what was happening.
It was the magic defining their identity.
"Gahk...!"
Pained groans escaped the bound ones.
Bodies shrank, flesh sloughing off.
Skin peeled away to the floor, muscles following.
Drip—
Plop—
What stood there now was no longer human.
Skeletons remaining weren't called human, just undead.
"Use them as you will."
"...Yes, understood."
"Something's wrong with the World Tree. I need to check."