The Sword and the Eggplant

A fun thought crossed my mind just then.

How exactly would one go about drawing a sword imbued with the will of the World Tree?

The most conventional method, of course, was to ask the World Tree for permission. If the World Tree granted its blessing, the sword would slip free of its own accord—no force required at all.

The other path was to understand how the World Tree's will actually functioned. A law forged from the World Tree's will was, in the end, merely a fragment of its divine authority. Grasp the structure of that authority, learn to manipulate a piece of it, and the sword could be drawn without ever begging for permission.

Grind… grind…!

But honestly, both of those routes were the hard way.

There was one far simpler method.

'Just pull it out with brute force. Done.'

He wouldn't like it, but overwhelming power has never needed technique.

The sacred sword shuddered violently, the World Tree's will refusing obstinately to let it rise. But even that had its limits. Just as the transcendent ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠divinity buckled and a third of the holy blade peeled up from the ground—

"S-stop! That's enough!"

Thock.

At someone's desperate cry, the strength drained from my hand.

Shhhk! The instant the pulling force vanished, the holy sword plunged back into the earth as if it had only been waiting for its chance.

I glanced awkwardly at my own hand, then turned toward the source of the shout.

"Um…"

The cool, impassive High Elf from moments ago was nowhere to be found. Her pupils trembled visibly as she swallowed hard.

"Has it been three minutes yet?"

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"…Not. Yet."

"Then… do you truly believe I couldn't have drawn it?"

"……"

The High Elf fell silent.

She knew as well as anyone. Unlike every challenger before me, I could have drawn it. I could have pulled the sword free within seconds, and barely twenty of the allotted time had even passed.

And besides—

The sentiment surrounding me was firmly on my side. I wouldn't claim my reputation was universally beloved, but what had just happened was, to any observer's eye, a hair's breadth from success.

The chat window, meanwhile, had flooded with question marks and condemnation of the elf. The manager was scrubbing the worst of the language, but there was no denying that public opinion was blazing out of control.

Even the residents of this place merely pitied her—not one of them defended the act of stopping me itself.

The High Elf hesitated, stammering—then crack! her hand clenched hard around her bow.

"Th-that… is not it. She could have drawn it."

"Then why did you halt the challenge?"

"……"

The elf went quiet again.

'At least she doesn't dress a lie up as the truth.'

Her power might have waned over the ages, but it seemed her pride had not.

"…This sword may only be drawn by the Child of the World Tree. And you… are not the Child of the World Tree."

"That's true. But I can still draw it."

"…Ugh."

Crash! The bow in the High Elf's grip shattered, splintering apart—she must have squeezed with tremendous force, because the fragments simply cascaded through her fingers.

She stared at the broken pieces, drew a long, deep breath, and looked back at me.

"B-but…"

"Enough, Elisa."

Flap!

Someone descended to a landing before the High Elf. A brown robe wrapped around him, but it couldn't hide the platinum hair, the long tapered ears—or a face caught between middle and old age.

At his appearance, the elves in the crowd all sank to one knee.

-Who… is that?

"A pleasure. I am Oboni Ersosa, one of the elders of the elves."

"…Oboni?"

"Indeed. I head the house of Ersosa, one of the Second Wave of the High Elves."

Oboni bowed his head politely toward me.

Oboni… Oboni?

'Noona! Noona! Where are you going!'

'He bullied me again today… sob! When I grow up, I'll get revenge for you!'

'I'm scared… why do the demons…'

"……"

"I offer my apologies for the mistake Elisa has made. She advanced far too quickly for her years, and has little experience of the world. If you wish, even now she will allow you to—"

"You remind me of someone."

"…?"

"Never mind."

Of course, the reunion could wait. Too many eyes were watching at the moment.

I stepped up to the holy sword once more.

And then—

-Lily drew the sword!

I drew the sword.

■

The elves had lived under the World Tree's protection in the distant past as well. Not blessings as extravagant as those of the present day, but gifts all the same—sharper reflexes, greater vitality, that sort of thing.

For the long-lived elves in particular, that vitality was a godsend, and they lived anywhere from several hundred to, at the extreme end, several thousand years.

'With the caveat that this applies to High Elves.'

An ordinary elf was doing well to reach three hundred.

To preserve the noble bloodline of the High Elves, elves of the same blood had married among themselves, generation after generation. And there was no need to fret over hereditary disease or strange side effects—not in a world where a madman had once split a dimension in two.

What was a little inbreeding between holders of the same blood, compared to that? If anything, the union of those extraordinary genes sometimes produced offspring who surpassed the originals entirely.

"This is the royal palace of Elphosis."

So said the little runt walking ahead of me—or rather, Oboni.

'To think that little brat got this big.'

This world really was a strange place.

"Still as beautiful as ever."

"Isn't it? Millennia of history, all made… hmm? 'Still as ever'?"

"Ah, just an exclamation."

"…? If you say so. In any case, this is—"

Oboni had been a genius.

Child of the leader of the contemporary High Elves and the most exceptional High Elf of the age. His potential was strong enough to shatter the limits of his species entirely—yet for some reason, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠his growth was strangely slow compared to his peers.

Of course, born of the strongest bloodline of his era, he was brilliant in raw ability; the problem was that he simply could never beat his older brother.

Which meant he took his lumps, over and over, from a brother ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠exactly one head taller than him.

He came crying to me about it all the time, in fact.

That said, the Oboni of the present did not remember me.

And he wasn't pretending, either. I had overseen his training for a time, however brief, so I can tell a lie from the truth well enough.

The reason he couldn't remember was almost certainly… that incident.

The shock must have been tremendous.

"We'll see…"

I toyed idly with the hilt of the sheathed holy sword.

Potential, it seemed, was still only potential.

The Oboni of today was not the little brat I remembered. In terms of pure strength, he was powerful enough to neutralize both the Sword God and Leo.

The only flaw was that his domain was confined to the World Tree…

'But that's part of his strength too, in the end.'

"Be seated."

"Oh… so this is the garden of the elven royal palace!"

"Sit down quietly."

Me, along with Mul and Yul, took the seats Oboni indicated.

A pristine white garden blooming with flowers, saturated to the brim with the mana of life. A lovely table stretched out in the shape of a long cylinder, and delectable dishes were being laid out one after another.

Once the maid elves had withdrawn from the garden, Oboni gave a light wave of his hand toward a woman who had been standing stiffly at attention.

"Elisa. Come and sit."

"But surely—"

"Is everyone not waiting for you? Would you make the guests you wronged feel even more awkward?"

"……"

"Sit."

"…Yes."

Elisa sat down with a creak of protest from her posture, stole a quick glance at me, and promptly buried her head.

"Eat. It is a humble offering, but I would be glad if you would accept it as an apology for the wrong done to you."

He said this while wearing a gentle, kindly smile.

"……"

And watching that 'so very uncharacteristic' display of warmth—

'I hate this! Why do I have to eat eggplant dishes!'

"…Khh."

"…? Is something the matter?"

"No—thing. Ahem! I gratefully accept."

After that brief little incident, the meal began, and the soft clink of silverware spread quietly through the garden.

People say elves are vegetarians, but that's really just a matter of personal taste.

Elves eat meat.

"Hmm…"

Especially where Oboni was concerned—whereas his brother would eat anything, he had always been a terribly picky eater.

And, of course, he had loved meat.

I checked the dishes laid out before Oboni. There were more vegetables than in the old days, sure—but still no eggplant in sight.

The table stretched out in one long cylinder, and the plates holding the eggplant dishes sat roughly midway between us, Oboni, and Elisa.

"I take it you don't care for eggplant?"

"…It is not that I refuse to eat it. It is merely placed at some distance, and so I do not partake."

Oboni answered flatly, without a flicker of hesitation.

Anyone else would have concluded, 'Ah, it's simply too far away for him to reach.' He was an ancient elder of the High Elves, a venerable figure of immense power, after all.

But to my eyes, it looked rather different.

'So time didn't solve it after all.'

Was this simply what it meant for nature to be beyond mending? Thousands of years, and still his palate hadn't changed a whit.

Then again, maybe he'd never intended to change it in the first place.

A fun thought crossed my mind just then.

"Then… allow me to help."

"No, there is really no need—"

Ziiing.

Before he could finish the sentence, a plate of eggplant dish settled neatly in front of him.

The eggplant, relocated across the entire table with a single flick of magic.

Oboni's brow creased slightly.

"You can eat it now, can't you?"

"…That is hardly the— it's quite all right. I will manage on my own."

The atmosphere cooled a touch, as if to teach me that excessive kindness could be its own poison.

At a glance, he looked angry—but I knew better.

'He's shaking like a leaf.'

He hid it well beneath the surface, but the Oboni of today was not so very different from the Oboni of the past.

One difference, though: unlike back then, he now had the power to say no.

Savoring that reaction, I dropped the bomb—

pitches pitched so that only he could hear it. In exactly the old way.

'If you don't eat it, it's back to hell training today too, you know?'

"…!"

Jolt!

…Ah. Maybe I laid it on a bit thick.