I Became an Elf Goddess Ruling Civilization
I Became an Elf Goddess Ruling Civilization
Have you ever seen a sky filled with smog?
Have you ever seen a sky filled not with the darkness of the night, but with thick, blackish-gray smoke?
19th-century London, shrouded in fog, would be like that, and industrial cities famous for their steel industries would be the same.
Or perhaps the sky of Seoul on a day filled with fine dust or yellow sand, where just breathing makes you cough, would be like that.
Vrooooom-
But now, it's different.
That black smoke covering the sky was a single painting created by thousands of biplanes.
This place is like that.
Graffiti spraying blackish-gray paint onto the canvas of the blue sky.
The reason I can feel the acrid air just by looking up at the sky is probably because the scent of the poisonous smoke filling the surroundings is stinging my nose.
Some call that poisonous smoke the manifestation of a devil.
But I know.
That energy is just a type of Mana.
To begin with, that smoke isn't smog, but Mana-combustion, meaning it's what's emitted when a mana engine burns.
A gas that... at the very least, cannot be called harmful to the human body.
Thump, thump, thump.
The sound of drums echoes.
The sound that, until just a few hundred years ago, was made by beating the hides of Magic Beasts now spreads through speakers.
Where to?
Not just here, but everywhere connected to the magic-conduit lines that flow through microphones placed all over the place—toward the entire world.
[Can you hear me, everyone!]
I can hear it well.
[Our great Mother Elf, <Eidolf>-nim, has revealed herself!!]
Thump, thump, thump!
The stomping shakes the ground.
In time with the beat flowing from the speakers, the black wave stomps their feet, aligns their rows and columns, and stops, facing one direction.
Tens of thousands, no, hundreds of thousands of humans.
Their hair colors are different, their facial features are different, and even their skin colors are incredibly diverse, from white to black.
Those with white skin and long ears are fluttering their white robes.
Those with black skin and long ears are wearing berets and overalls.
Among those with green skin and bald heads, someone is wearing a monocle and a suit, and is tucking a book with the words [History of the Revision of the Great Forest Constitution. Expanded Edition] under their arm.
But no one looking at them would be able to see such diversity.
Because everyone has a single emblem shining like silver engraved on their chests.
A single tree.
A design created by numerous artists putting their heads together with political engineers, a symbol based on the one tree of the place called the 'Great Forest'—the World Tree.
Someone says.
That the leafy oak tree is the pride of this country, the pillar of this country, and our roots.
Someone says.
That that tree, that very tree everyone is looking at, is the existence that can be called the center of this world—the World Tree.
The symbol of the Empire—the Great Empire.
'No, you crazy bastards.'
World Tree, my ass.
It's just a single oak tree I planted when I was born in this land 4,000 years ago.
A mere 15cm.
If I hadn't discovered it, if I hadn't watered it, it would have withered and been buried in the wasteland just like that.
It's just a big tree that, by chance, has lived with me for over 4,000 years, growing and growing while enduring harsh storms.
Just a strange tree that happens to be about 300m tall.
Yeah.
What they call the 'World Tree' is nothing more than a big tree.
On Earth, it might be considered strange enough, but in that fantasy world over there, with people with purple skin wearing jeans, it's just a big tree that might exist.
Toward that one tree, everyone is looking up in reverence.
At the tree they call the World Tree.
And at me, standing on the balcony of the white temple, or perhaps royal castle, built around that tree.
"Wooooaaah-!"
"She has appeared!"
"Our great Mother Elf-nim!!"
As soon as I stepped forward toward the balcony, cheers pierced the sky.
Biplanes scattered left and right, cutting through the smoke, and the sky path extending from the split center was empty, as if it were leading from the ground to me.
"For the great Mother Elf of the Great Forest, for our goddess!!"
"For the Grand Chancellor!"
Calling me Mother, what is that nonsense.
I don't know who they are shouting "Grand Chancellor" at while clapping in such perfect formation, but the hundreds of thousands of citizens gathered below the Great Forest square were looking exactly at me and clapping.
Seriously.
'How did it end up like this.'
Where did it start to get twisted like this?
From the moment I wiped out those damn bastards from across the sea who kept landing on our land to plunder?
Or from when I chased down those guys who kept moving north to plunder people, all the way to the end of the continent, subjugated them, and then incorporated them all as members of the Great Forest?
Or from the time those guys who were eating the corn from my cornfield and settling near my land started treating me like some kind of god?
'Maybe the problem started from the moment I reincarnated as a female elf in this world.'
I turn my gaze to the smooth metal plate of the balcony.
I am reflected in the steel railing that the bearded ones, who are shorter than others and already look flushed as if they are drunk, made in the steel city.
What I see there is an elf who, even though 4,000 years have passed, still feels awkward to look at from time to time.
An elf with a chest size that makes it impossible for me to refute even when some bastards spout, "The abundance of the Great Forest originates from that motherhood."
It's me.
In ancient times, I was called the Executor of the Heavenly Palace.
In the Middle Ages, I was called the Leader of the Great Forest.
To the enemies of civilization who fought over the entire continent, I was eventually called the Father of the Great Land.
To the enemies of the Great Forest, I am called the big-eared devil, the incarnation of evil, the immortal monster, the ruthless tyrant who steals diamonds with corn.
And.
The King of the Demon-kind.
"For our leader, Great Mother-nim-!!"
"Glory of victory to my great leader, Mother Elf [Eidolf]!!"
"For the goddess!!"
...The one worshipped as a goddess by this group of crazy fanatics.
"......Ha, life."
How did it end up like this?
The time was about 4,000 years ago—before I even fell into this world.