The Bishop's Flight and Fall
The aged elves' reactions to the truth split into two camps. Those who couldn't believe the bishop's betrayal and denied reality. And those who, upon the Great Archspirit's appearance, finally admitted they'd been deceived and began venting their rage.
"Bishop, what the hell is going on?!"
"Private loans? Gambling debts?!"
"You're a priest! The one person who should live the most righteously—how can you do this?!"
The old women collapsing to the floor in heaving sobs were the relatively tame ones. A good number of the elders had already surrounded the bishop with fierce expressions, menacing him.
"Th-this is slander. This is Turea and her minions' wicked scheme to undermine my spiritual authority—"
Backing away, the bishop summoned a fire spirit to protect himself.
-pffft
But the fire spirit merely flapped its tiny wings and let out a feeble puff of breath, showing no real response. With his repeated lies weakening the connection, and his followers now turning their backs on him and refusing to lend their energy, the spirit couldn't muster its power.
"By the authority of the World Tree Board Chairman, I propose a vote. The agenda: the expulsion of Zailini Bambino."
Not even attaching the title of bishop to his name, the elders' eyes held no respect or reverence.
"I am the Bishop of the Sacred Tree! By what right do you dare expel me, when the spirits of the stars have acknowledged me?!"
The bishop raised his voice, but the crowd fell silent. They simply closed their mouths and took one step at a time toward Zailini.
"How dare you... Do you even know who I am?! Stay back! I said stay back!!!"
His face flushed red as he bellowed, then without warning, he turned and bolted at full speed.
"Huff... huff!!"
Zailini whipped his aged body onward as he ran. Without looking back, forward, forward.
"Damn bankers... How, how did those bastards bring out the Great Archspirit...!!"
Panting raggedly the whole way, he felt a throbbing pulse at the back of his head. As if his heart were there. That's why, even though no one was chasing him, the bishop kept running ahead.
Terror that the furious mob might catch him and who-knows-what would happen kept pushing him onward.
Having lived most of his long life in privilege, his pride and bloated ego couldn't endure the reality before him. The thought of admitting fault, kneeling, or begging forgiveness from his followers never even crossed his mind.
Sure, he wouldn't be able to sleep inside the World Tree and his lifespan would shorten, but that was better than enduring the humiliation. Zailini veered off the road into the rainy forest, plunging deeper, ever deeper.
Into the dense forests of Santancho Nero Josabella, where no one would witness his pathetic state.
-drip
-drip drip
Before he knew it, the drizzle had turned into a downpour. His vision blurred, his clothes soaked through. No time to wipe his glasses. Rain poured into his mouth and nose.
And then.
"...Hah, hah."
Only after running a long way did the bishop finally stop. His legs gave out. He couldn't move anymore. The fact that he'd dragged his frail old body this far was a miracle in itself.
"Money-grubbing phantoms, those damn banker scum... how..."
He couldn't even comprehend what had happened. Unless it was a World Tree elf who'd long served the spirits, how could an ordinary human unrelated to them gain the Great Archspirit's aid?
It was impossible. It shouldn't be possible.
A being that hadn't appeared even once since the era of war had shown itself and exposed the truth. There was no turning back the hearts of the elders who'd followed him.
"No choice, then."
The bishop pulled a USB from his pocket. It held account details from an offshore bank issued by a bank in another dimension. Some of the embezzled funds remained in it.
If he could escape Dimension 33 safely, he could enjoy a decent retirement. His lifespan would shorten, but spending his remaining days indulging in all the pleasures he'd never dared try due to appearances and the constraints of the World Tree didn't sound bad.
"Gotta enjoy the end, what else can I do."
Zailini wiped his glasses on his clothes and put them back on. His vision cleared a bit. And at the edge of it, a bizarre sight appeared.
A man was approaching from afar. Dressed in a sharp three-piece suit of fine fabric, he swung his jacket casually while grinning. Anyone with an eye for clothes would think it a shame to wear such a suit in a downpour without an umbrella.
But not a single raindrop touched the man's hair or clothes.
-shiiiing
-drip drip
The droplets parted around him before they could touch, arcing left and right in a curve to the ground, blocked by some invisible force. Mid-fall, they froze solid in the air, chilled. It looked as if a tunnel of thin ice formed ahead of him with every step.
"Out for a rush without an umbrella, Bishop Zailini?"
The loan shark approached with a beaming smile, but Zailini couldn't move from the spot. He was scared, true, but that wasn't the direct cause.
"What the—"
Looking down, he saw frost creeping up from the ground, binding his ankles through his shoes. No matter how hard he strained, the solid ice wouldn't release him.
"Looks like the bank gets the collateral."
While the bishop panicked, the loan shark had closed in, his salesman smile devoid of any real emotion.
"It's not my fault...! The spirits just did something insane. The Great Archspirit showing up wasn't part of the plan!!"
Unexpectedly, the loan shark didn't deny it and simply nodded.
"Aigoo, how could the bishop be at fault? You've done plenty, haven't you? Fighting at your age isn't easy."
"Right. You get it. So fix this frozen foot thing."
"Sorry, impossible."
"...What?"
-crack
Before the bishop could continue, the ice spread rapidly up his legs, engulfing his body.
"The Great Archspirit appearing isn't your fault, sure. I didn't expect it either—who could have?"
"Ahh... no...!"
Over half his body was trapped, but he couldn't resist. It hardened gradually until he was fully sealed in ice.
"But I'm not one to eat a loss."
-thud
-boom!
The man flicked the frozen bishop with a finger, and his body shattered into powder. All moisture frozen, freeze-dried flesh crumbled. No blood spilled—a clean kill. Gazing at the faint, murky smoke drifting before him, the man extended his hand.
-crunch
-crackle
Cold emanated from his hand, encasing it with the rainwater into a small, gem-like transparent ice orb.
"No helping it. With the collateral gone, I'll take this instead."
He picked up the orb containing the bishop's soul and held it aloft. Sunlight poured from the clearing sky, piercing the dense canopy to illuminate the man and the orb. An ironic scene, the last fragment of the corrupt priest sparkling.
"This'll do as collateral."
An ancient elf's soul. Including interest, it was worth far more than the principal loaned—a fine 'item.'
"My old workplace juniors aren't pushovers. As a senior, I'm pleased."
The man cast a sidelong glance at the distant World Tree and chuckled softly.
After Bishop Zailini's expulsion, the generational conflict among the elves resolved swiftly. They were family who'd lived together for ages. True, they'd clashed over religion and politics. But with the bishop—who'd fueled the divide between parents and children—gone, nothing stood in the way of reunification.
"Dad's too pure for his own good. How frustrating it was watching him get duped by that con man."
"As a father, I'm ashamed. Forgive me."
Only a few made excuses. Most elves had witnessed Zailini fleeing with their own eyes, breaking their stubbornness and accepting reality. Ironically, the Great Archspirit had forced this reconciliation.
As the elves cleaned up the first floor, wrecked by the spirits' power, their faces showed varied expressions. Some anticipated the birth of two new World Trees. Others sighed, unable to suppress regret over their mistakes. And all mourned the tree that had nurtured and protected them, soon to vanish.
The hard decision to sacrifice the tree for a new future had been everyone’s burden now, shared by all World Tree elves—not just Turea and his followers.
"It's time for change. For us, and for this tree."
An elderly elf murmured, stroking the inner wall of the ancient World Tree. He felt ashamed of his former obstinacy. Now was the time to accept reality and do right by the young elves.
A thought struck him: Didn't the World Tree want to give its saplings—a sort of children—a future too? For them to grow happily in richer, wider soil, blessed by all?
"Maybe this is what the tree wished for. Or perhaps... the beginning."
As if in agreement, a faint vibration traveled through his palm.
"Thank you all these years."
The elves expressed their gratitude from their places. None took the tree lightly.
The 130 billion gulden loan approval processed at unprecedented speed. No one knew exactly why such a massive loan cleared so quickly. Was it Slick Elama's masterful maneuvering with the higher-ups? Or perhaps many Dimensional Credit Vault board members owned Cappelino di Driade furniture and were eager for new pieces? Or maybe they couldn't bear to let the ancient World Tree elves—a species with deep traditions and the ancestors of all elves—fade into history's shadows.
Whatever the case, with the loan approved, the elves bought the two remaining ley lines on their planet. Sites far east and west of Santancho Nero Josabella: ancient, untouched forests and an abandoned lakeside village, selected as World Tree planting grounds.
Turea and his kin planted the trees with reverence. A history that couldn't secure the future held no value. The World Tree, embodiment of all things elven, was finally birthing new worth.