Caws of Paradise and the Birth of Six Wings
"Caaaw~"
'Ah, this is paradise.'
I rolled around on my back atop the plush leaves of the World Tree, flipping belly-up. Every time I rubbed my back against them, a warm energy seeped through the gaps in my feathers, leaving my whole body blissfully limp. I'd been luxuriating in my private villa resort all by myself for quite a while when...
Rustle, rustle.
"Caw?"
Was some little rodent scurrying around? I cocked my head and turned toward the edge of the nest where the sound came from. My sharp vision zeroed in on tiny lifeforms huddled behind a massive leaf, trembling like aspen leaves.
'Huh? Pointy ears? Elves?'
Up close, they were straight out of every fantasy story I'd binged in my past life. Of course, thanks to my gigantic size, they looked like oversized ants or squirrels to me.
They wore silvery armor, but their faces were pale as ghosts, clutching each other and panting like they were about to keel over.
'Why are they so scared? Oh, maybe they're starving forest wanderers without a home?'
Come to think of it, they'd been sniffing around near the nest, probably drawn by the blood scent. My heart went out to them. I'd been there myself back in my old life, surviving on instant ramen during job hunts. And right next to me was a mountain of snake meat—the massive body of that beast the elves called Turaka—enough to last me a month solo.
What's the big deal about sharing a little?
I pecked off a chunk from the snake's flank. It was fingernail-sized to me, but to those tiny elves, it was wild boar territory.
Thwack!
Thud!
"Caw."
(Here ya go, you poor neighbors. Eat up and stay strong.)
I tossed the meat carelessly in front of them, lost interest, and flopped back onto my leafy bed. They seemed to be chattering with open mouths, but unlike that baby snake the other day, they had no telepathic mana trick—their voices just came out as squeaky chirps to me.
'Can't understand 'em anyway. Once they're full, they'll head home.'
I turned my back on the elves completely and closed my eyes. The warm sunlight lured me back into sweet drowsiness.
Meanwhile, elf scout captain Sylvaster and his team stared at the enormous hunk of meat that had just dropped in front of them, barely daring to breathe.
"C-Captain... th-this is Turaka's..."
"Quiet."
Sylvaster clenched his trembling hands, sweat beading on his brow. They'd been spotted. Eye contact with that horrific devourer of calamities. He braced for the massive beak to swoop down and swallow them whole.
But the thing just tore off a slab from Turaka's corpse in the corner of the nest, flung it their way, and turned away like they were a nuisance.
'No hostility...?'
Puzzled, Sylvaster cautiously lowered his guard and activated his elven mana-sensing sight to observe the black bird.
The next instant, a chill beyond shock prickled his skin.
'What is that being?'
It wasn't mana-less. But it wasn't the processed, clumped energy of magic beasts or divine beasts either. It was like a passing breeze, the warm sunlight, the very breath of this colossal World Tree—pure, unadulterated mana flow.
The perfect harmony with nature that elven mages chased their whole lives. This black bird was born standing at that pinnacle.
Of course, he couldn't imagine it was a physical brute that had only recently sensed the energy flowing through its body, let alone knew how to wield it.
'A transcendent being, nature incarnate—beyond all our common sense.'
Sylvaster swallowed dryly. Even the full elven army couldn't scratch a single feather against that monster.
And this transcendent had shown no enmity—in fact, it'd casually tossed them spoils from a Four Kings.
"C-Captain. What do we do...?"
"We... retreat for now."
Sylvaster signaled his subordinates and carefully gathered the Turaka meat.
"We report this to His Majesty exactly as it happened. A being beyond divine or magic beast, an unfathomable transcendent has taken root in the World Tree. It shows no hostility, so we avoid provoking it and observe quietly for the time being."
His voice mixed helplessness and awe.
"Even if we threw our entire kingdom's might at it... we couldn't harm a single feather."
Lower World Tree, elven capital Ermengard.
The elder council chamber in the deepest part of the palace was heavy with silence, breaths barely audible.
"...I have my report."
Breaking the quiet was scout captain Sylvaster, fresh from the World Tree's depths. His silver armor was soaked in cold sweat, his proud high elf shoulders quivering with fear and reverence.
He carefully withdrew something from his bosom and placed it on the marble table. As the layered sealing magic unraveled and the bloodied cloth opened—
Flash—!!
Crackle!
"Th-this is...!"
"Heavens, such immense thunder mana...! Is it truly flesh from Four Kings Turaka?!"
The vast chamber filled with crackling thunder mana. Tower elders and high ministers around the table gasped and staggered back. Even King Kaelion Aetheris, seated at the head, widened his deep green eyes in shock.
Sylvaster knelt on one knee, face ashen, facing the king.
"Your Majesty. The calamity nesting in the depths... was a transcendent far beyond our shallow elven understanding."
He steadied his voice and described the shocking scene: the overwhelming black bird rolling on sacred World Tree leaves like a bed, casually flicking Four Kings meat at them like swatting bugs.
"The most terrifying was its aura. No murky magic beast mana, no blind divine power. Just the passing breeze, warm sunlight, the World Tree's breath itself—pure nature's flow, intensely so."
"Nature incarnate...? Already attained the ultimate harmony elven mages chase lifelong?"
King Kaelion stroked his chin with a heavy sigh. Despair and religious awe washed over the elves' faces.
Treating a Four Kings as emergency rations. Trampling sacred leaves with impunity. Yet sharing spoils with insects. And perfectly attuned pure energy.
After long silence, Kaelion spoke with resolute eyes.
"Such a being appearing without warning in our forest must carry profound intent. I suspect deep ties to the recent dimensional rift that shook the world."
"The dimensional rift, Your Majesty...!"
"Indeed. When divine and mortal realms trembled, something wielding otherworldly laws may have slipped through. Or perhaps a divine incarnation sent to purify our corrupting world and test us."
The elves swallowed at his solemn speculation. "Divine incarnation"—its weight dwarfed even "Four Kings."
Of course, in their grave discussion, they couldn't dream it was a bungled skydiving soul crash-landed via dimensional mishap. Nor that said incarnation was currently snoring atop its leafy pillow, belly-rubbing contentedly.
Kaelion rose majestically and declared firmly.
"It's clear our power can't harm a feather. We should thank its mercy in gifting spoils without enmity. Thus, one path forward."
His stern voice echoed through the chamber.
"Until the divine realm's gods seal the rift and grant clear oracle on this incarnation... the elven kingdom must avoid disturbing its mood!"
His gaze pierced Sylvaster and the ministers.
"Effective immediately, seal all access to the World Tree depths. Send the gifted Turaka flesh to the mage tower's lowest level for utmost secrecy research! Our kingdom's fate hangs on this!"
"As you command, Your Majesty!!"
Thus, the elven kingdom pledged absolute obedience and silence to the black bird atop the World Tree.
Deep in the World Tree, my illegally built premium penthouse on that massive branch stayed peaceful as ever.
The do-nothing life I'd craved in my past life—pure lounging—was right here.
Daily routine: simple. Wake up, rip into the Turaka jerky piled at my feet till my belly bursts. Post-meal, dunk my head in the nest-center pond and guzzle clear water. Feeling bloated? Flap wings for a casual lap around the World Tree to aid digestion.
Each takeoff sent magic beasts below screeching in flight, but I dismissed it as "birds chirping" and ignored.
Back to the fluffy leaf bed, groom under warm sun till eyelids droop, then sweet nap.
Bird life's ultimate slow life.
Days blurred in eat-sleep-fly bliss when...
"Caaaw..." ('Already almost gone.')
I eyed the Turaka jerky stockpile at the nest edge with deep regret.
The house-sized snake body was down to bony tail scraps, scattered scales, and that lone head.
Super nutritious—small bites filled me—but too delicious to ration.
'Should've savored it. Where else to find prime jerky like this?'
Smacking my beak, I approached the biggest remnant: the head.
Munch, chomp.
Those six creepy eyes? Long pecked into snacks.
I meticulously stripped remaining flesh, staring at the grotesquely twisted horn jutting out.
Days ago, it'd spewed paralyzing blue lightning. Tempted to snap and toss it, but like a housewife pondering bone disposal, I inspected.
'Too hard to eat? Feels different from bone.'
I nipped the tip.
Crunch—!
'Huh?'
Not as tough as expected. Hard, but layered strangely.
'...Kinda edible?'
Curiosity piqued. Post-meat, crunching bones/cartilage was dessert.
Eyes squeezed shut, I clamped the twisted horn.
Crunch—! Snap! Munch munch!
"Caw?!" ('Whoa, this is different!')
Mouth exploded with new sensation. Not bland snake—nutty, salty, intensely condensed energy.
Texture perfection: crisp shatter, melting smooth like premium cookies from my human days.
Munch, crunch, gulp. ('Mmm, sweet-salty perfection!')
I devoured the whole horn. Licking the last crumb, hot warmth surged from my gut.
Whoosh—!!
"C-Caw!" ('What the—!')
Heading back to bed, blood-reversal shock hit. Way beyond snake meat.
Turaka's pure thunder mana, condensed in the horn—core essence—thrashed to shatter my body-vessel.
'Guts burning up!'
Staggering, wings flapping. Mana whirlwinded, shredding/reassembling veins and muscles endlessly.
Painful, yet euphoric—like upgrading junk machine to luxury parts.
The raging flow converged: my back.
Crackle—zzzt!
"Caaaaw...!" ('This feeling...!')
Like my first wind creation—clear, cool—now gathered at back, surging as tingling current through spine and wing-bases.
'Like electric acupuncture at the spa.'
Ripping pain faded; only boundless vitality and lightness remained.
'Ahh, refreshing. This place gives great massages.'
Savoring the looping current, I flopped contentedly onto leaves.
My body fully absorbed/digested Turaka's thunder mana core.
Surge of languid energy. Belly stuffed, body zingy—sleep called.
"Caaaaw~" ('What a full day. Tomorrow, clean the pond...')
I burrowed into soft leaves, drifting off amid pleasant thunder echoes.
Grind, crack—!
How long after protagonist's sweet sleep? In the nest's quiet wind barrier, eerie fracturing echoed.
The sleeping colossal black body quivered faintly.
Beneath wing-bases over plump belly, spine and shoulder blades disassembled/reassembled in horrific, holy symphony.
Shhh—
The "static" blue lightning he'd dismissed wrapped his form menacingly, concentrating on back—pushing something through black feathers.
Pop, plop—!
Finally, piercing ebony feathers: tiny wing-bones, pitch-black with blue thunder sheen.
One, two. Then below: three, four.
Beneath original massive pair, two new pairs from absorbed Turaka thunder evolved slowly, surely.
Three pairs total under moonlight—six wings flashing blue.
The ignorant crow dismissing mana as static evolved beyond world norms: "Six Wings" calamity.
The sleeping protagonist snored dreamily, oblivious.
Caaaaaw— (Zzz...)