The Fruit of the World Tree

"Hah."

I opened my eyes.

Had I passed out? The World Tree — Elvenheim — Livia — the others. Questions whirled through my head as I sat up, and there, inside the World Tree where green light shimmered and swayed, the Spirit of the World Tree was watching me.

"You woke sooner than I expected. That peculiar body of yours seems quite resistant to spirits after all. In the worst case, you might never have woken at all — and there would have been nothing I could do about it."

That was a terrifying thing to say.

"Has it... been activated?"

"You were speaking so casually just a moment ago. Why the sudden formality?"

"I was a bit overexcited earlier... I apologize for the discourtesy."

Ancient spirits were noble beings, so revered that some people worshipped them. By human standards they were like royalty ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠— no, more like the legendary heroes of old. Thinking of it that way, I had no idea where I'd found the nerve to talk to it ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠like that. I really must have been worked up.

"So, Elvenheim right now..."

"The battle is still ongoing. However, thanks to the blessing, those who have not suffered immediately fatal wounds will not die at once, and they can be saved with treatment. Completely preventing deaths may prove difficult, but the number will be greatly reduced."

"I see. I know this is a shameless request, but could you give me the World Tree Sap right now?"

"..."

The fact that the battle wasn't over meant Livia still hadn't finished her fight. In other words, her opponent was far stronger than expected, or the curse had triggered a seizure and she couldn't fight properly. If I could save Livia, the lives she in turn could save would be beyond counting.

In this battle, saving Livia was what mattered most. Even if ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Elvenheim ultimately won, the damage could not be allowed to grow too great. A blood-soaked victory might already be decided — but wasn't it better to bury as little blood as possible? Blood was best not spilled at all. And if it had to be spilled, then as little as possible.

"Hmm. Hero Olivia Reinhardt is indeed in rather grave danger at the moment. The seizures are severe... wait. How is she even still alive?"

Apparently Livia inspired the same question in spirits as she did in humans, half-elves, and elves: How is that woman still alive?

"Take this."

"What is this?"

A green orb like a gemstone. It seemed to give off a strangely sweet fragrance.

"It is the fruit of the World Tree. Using the sap would take time to lift the curse, but with this, it can be resolved then and there without issue."

"I've never seen this before."

"I've never given it to anyone."

"Then why now...?"

"It is a gesture of respect toward one who was, however briefly, my contractor. I am a spirit, after all."

"...I see."

As I'd said before, spirits were temperamental. They would never listen to anyone they deemed beneath them — they would simply ignore them until the end of time. But once they acknowledged someone, they seemed to have an instinct to devote themselves and open their hearts. However briefly, I had become a contractor the Spirit of the World Tree had recognized, and it seemed the spirit had taken a liking to me.

"However, the distance from here to Hero Olivia Reinhardt is considerable. Something may happen before you arrive."

"Then I'll run with everything I have."

"I shall send you."

"Pardon? That's possible?"

"All of Elvenheim is the World Tree's domain. Your position may be slightly off, but I will send you as close as I can."

"Understood. Thank you."

"It is nothing. And the World Tree has not yet fully revived. It will require your visit again. Be sure to come once this is over."

"Of course."

So once wasn't enough after all.

Wait.

"Hold on — do I have to fight for my life like this every time I come...?"

"You must come."

"...!!"

I reached out. Ignoring my words entirely, the Spirit of the World Tree sent me on my way.

Boom!!

Ah. That stung a little.

Hmm. That stung a lot.

"Hah... hah... hah..."

"..."

I coughed up blood and forced myself to my feet. I had no idea how many times I'd been hit. I'd done my best to keep the spear off my vitals, but there was no helping the fact that his base abilities had risen. In my current condition, even the previous Garfield had been a close call. Now that he'd suddenly become as strong as a Demon King, responding was difficult.

At least I'd already analyzed his fighting style, so I was dodging and somehow holding on — but even that was reaching its limit. I dodged however I could, and when I couldn't, I took the hits away from anything that would kill me outright. My arms and legs trembled. I could feel my body dying from the Curse of the God of Death.

How many minutes do I have left?

I felt like I'd be dead in a few minutes. That was how bad it was. The bleeding, the wounds, and the curse had joined hands and were sprinting at full speed to kill me.

"Y-y-you bastard."

"..."

Garfield was panting, his face twisted in a scowl. Hold on. I'm the one who got hit more. Why is he the one getting tired? This is ridiculous.

"Why are you still alive?! Just die already!!"

"..."

I kept my silence and stood up again. I die only when my body is judged dead. I will not let go of my sword until the moment I die. Doing so might save even one more life. It might be a meaningless struggle. Then I should struggle. If there's a chance of saving even one more person, how could I let go of my sword? The value of life couldn't be measured in numbers — but wanting to save even one more life could never be wrong.

"Wooooaaah!!"

I barely deflected the blow, and my body tore open again. Keeping it off my vitals, I kicked Garfield in the jaw. His jaw went flying with a crack — and regenerated in an instant. I was getting sick of watching it. Berserk Wyverns did have excellent regeneration, but this was too much no matter how you looked at it.

He slammed a fist into ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠my abdomen and tried to follow with the spear. I barely dodged again, keeping it off anything fatal. Fists and kicks I could handle. I could endure those. If I timed it right and reinforced only the point of impact with mana, I could keep the damage to a minimum. But the spear, formed of mana, punched straight through my reinforcement. I had to block it with my sword or dodge. And if I couldn't do either, I had to keep it off my vitals.

"That's enough!! I didn't want to use something like this here, of all places — but a Hero is a Hero after all!"

"..."

I staggered to my feet once more. Mana was gathering in his spear.

Hmm. That's dangerous. I don't have the strength to block that right now. I'd bought as much time as I could. I didn't know if my death would mean anything, but I hoped it would.

I don't want to die.

That was the thought that came at the final moment. Dying to protect someone as a Hero was surely a glorious thing — but the one standing here wasn't Hero Olivia Reinhardt. It was Olivia Reinhardt, an ordinary woman. And so the first feeling that rose was that she didn't want to die. And Lois's face came to mind.

"Die!!"

"Livia!!"

The voices overlapped.

"Lois?"

Was this a dying hallucination? The moment I thought that, Lois threw something. A green orb? No — a gemstone?

"Eat it!"

It didn't matter what it was. Lois was covered in blood. He'd suffered wounds like that to come running to me. Whatever it was, I trusted it. I ran with everything I had. Through pain that felt like my legs would burst, I opened my mouth and caught the flying orb. I swallowed — and something began to spread through my insides.

"Guh!!"

Garfield must have sensed something — he immediately hurled his spear at me. The massive spear was packed with absurd amounts of mana. Calling it a Demon King's attack wouldn't have been an exaggeration. Even if I dodged, it would likely punch deep into whatever was behind me and injure someone in Elvenheim.

But mana was flowing. The Mana Nerves that had been contaminated and unusable — everything felt as if it were coming alive.

I struck the attack skyward with the Holy Sword. With a sweeping blow, the spear flew into the sky, punching through the clouds. I stared down at my own body, eyes wide.

"It's moving... it's moving. It's actually moving..."

A body that had felt paralyzed in every way was moving without issue. The other wounds were still there. The serious injuries remained. Even with the curse lifted, the damage the curse had already done wouldn't vanish. There was still damage to my Mana Nerves, and I was weaker than I'd been at my peak, when I'd slain the Demon King — but this was enough.

"M-my spear...!!"

Ignoring Garfield's panic, I looked at Lois. Leaning against a tree, exhaling softly as he sank down, he looked thoroughly exhausted. He'd clearly been through hell. I was glad he was alive.

In that case.

"Guh! Even if the curse is lifted, look at the state of you! You're still far weaker than when you fought His Majesty the Demon King!!"

"He's right."

That much was true. The time I'd fought the Demon King had been my peak — my strongest period. Not because I'd fought the Demon King, but because the experience and talent I'd accumulated had exploded into brilliance at that time. The reason I'd grown this weak in the first place was the curse, nothing else.

"I'm weaker now than I was when I fought the Demon King."

I raised my sword.

"But that doesn't mean you can beat me, does it?"

I lunged.

"Wh—"

And in the same instant, I cut through him and passed by.

"Shall I tell you the decisive difference between the Demon King I killed and you?"

"Wh-where are you?!"

"That Demon King's abilities were similar to yours. He had a slight edge, maybe, but there wasn't much difference."

Even so, it had taken time. I'd struggled quite a bit. The reason was obvious.

"He knew technique. You could even call him seasoned. For a monster, he'd learned quite a few skills. He didn't just crush things with raw power."

I had no reason to speak well of monsters, but that much was worth acknowledging. I'd encountered many monsters over the years, and quite a few of them used weapons. But most of them either crushed things with brute force, or, even if they learned techniques, stubbornly clung to their own. A kind of pride and arrogance unique to monsters, perhaps. They wouldn't bow their heads unless they were facing someone stronger, and they saw humanity as prey to be eaten. And so they never, ever changed their ways.

But the Demon King had discarded that pride. He'd used every technique available to him — everything, to a degree that could be called underhanded. My comrades at the time had cursed him for being a coward, but I hadn't thought so. What's cowardice in a fight? There was even a story of a fallen civilian throwing dirt in a trained soldier's eyes and winning. If you die, that's the end. Only the victor gets to continue the story. Whether that story is one of honorable achievement or a tale of stained sin — either way, you had to survive.

"You're far weaker than the Demon King."

"Y-you bastard!!"

I cut him. And cut him again.

"It's useless!! Cut me all you want — I won't die! Looking at you, you're in no condition to put out any real firepower!!"

He was right. Given my current condition, using a major technique would be difficult. And if I used a major technique here, Elvenheim might take damage too. I wanted to finish this with smaller techniques if I could. My condition aside, now that my physical abilities had returned to some degree, there was a tactic I could use.

I didn't stop. Slash after slash after slash.

"Guh — I told you it was impossible!"

I still didn't stop. Arms. Legs. Head. Chest. Belly. Thighs. Groin. I slashed and stabbed indiscriminately as I passed, leaving nothing untouched. His regeneration was fast, but Garfield's face twisted more and more with pain.

"You bastard!!"

He luckily read my movement and tried to block with his spear — I simply ignored it, shattered the spear, and cut through him along with it.

"M-my spear..."

"A Berserk Wyvern's regeneration is excellent, but it's neither invincible nor infinite."

"...!!"

The regeneration was clearly slowing. Regeneration consumed mana, and the more severe the wounds, the more it cost. He'd been regenerating at a speed that could be called super-regeneration, and the mana expenditure was enormous. He seemed to be covering it with the Power of the Evil God or something similar, but that was temporary — power borrowed from someone else. It didn't have the staying power of strength you'd built yourself.

"S-stop...! I am...! To a half-cripple like you!!"

I cut him several times in an instant. Arms, legs, head, upper body, lower body — I sliced through every part that could be cut, and he became nothing more than chopped-up corpses. They twitched, but they no longer regenerated.

"Hmph."

I diced Garfield's already-chopped body until not even scraps of flesh remained. I flicked the blood from the Holy Sword and spoke.

"You monsters all have the same kind of last words."

"Livia, you did well."

"Lois."

"Yes?"

"I'm passing out."

"Pardon?"

With that, I collapsed backward, and Lois darted forward to catch me and lift me into his arms. Damn it. Lois was holding me for once, and I couldn't even feel it properly. My body's senses were faintly blurred.

The wounds...

More than that, the curse on my Mana Nerves had been lifted, but the damage hadn't — and I'd overdone the mana reinforcement.

I can't... lose consciousness...

"Livia! Are you all right?!"

"Take me... to Elvenheim like this. ...I'll be able to move a little before then."

"..."

Lois looked at me with an expression of utter exhaustion.

"All right. I'll get you there safely."

"...Not bad."