Chapter 341: Graxar (5)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 341: Graxar (5)
It happened in a flash.
Seeing the flames erupt from Roman Dmitry and wrap around the World Tree, Tersha gasped in shock and rushed forward to stop him.
But then,
he froze.
He stopped dead in his tracks.
Something was wrong.
"...What is this?"
Fwoosh.
Crackle.
It was an indescribable sight.
Tersha felt a heat so intense that his flesh felt as if it would melt just from standing nearby. Yet, despite being entirely engulfed in the blaze, both Roman Dmitry and the World Tree remained perfectly fine. He blinked, rubbing his eyes. Though they stood at the very epicenter of the inferno, neither seemed to feel the heat. There wasn't a single singed spot on either of them.
It was surreal.
Faced with a phenomenon that defied the laws of nature, Tersha could only watch, utterly spellbound.
Then—
Drip. Drip.
Water droplets fell from the World Tree.
At first, he couldn't comprehend what was happening.
Only when he finally craned his neck to look up did he realize the truth: the frozen, white portions of the bark were beginning to melt, shedding heavy drops of water. It was a sight that defied all elven common sense. Although the World Tree was a physical entity rooted in the element of wood, the ordinary laws of nature did not apply to it. It hadn't frozen simply because of the cold. The chill emanating from the dimensional rift had gnawed away at its very life force, forcing it into a frozen stasis.
Therefore,
this was supposed to be impossible.
He couldn't understand how the wood wasn't burning to ash, nor how this fire was capable of melting away that unnatural ice.
Fwoosh.
Crackle.
The flames roared, growing even more intense.
As the World Tree gradually regained its original, vibrant color, its surroundings began to transform in harmony with it.
Softly,
a warm light began to spread.
Lush green leaves sprouted along the once-barren branches. As the snow-covered ground melted away, the vibrant grass hidden beneath poked its head out to greet the world. The howling wind died down. Even the heavy snowfall seemed to subside, at least within the borders of the elven territory. Tersha had never experienced this level of influence from the World Tree before. It had only regained a fraction of its life force, yet the sheer power emanating from it was already reshaping the environment.
He couldn't stop it.
No, there was no reason to stop it.
Though he couldn't comprehend the mechanics of it, Roman Dmitry was achieving the regeneration of the World Tree—the very miracle the elves had desperately prayed for. No oracle, no prophecy had ever foretold such an event. In the face of the miracle manifesting right before his eyes, all Tersha could do was watch in awe.
At that moment,
Fwoosh.
Crackle.
Roman Dmitry's consciousness was sucked into the depths of the flames.
* * *
It was a strange sensation.
Roman Dmitry watched events unfold in an unknown space, existing only as a disembodied consciousness.
"Report the situation."
Within a pitch-black room, the entity sitting in the seat of honor spoke.
Before him, two figures knelt, their faces obscured by the shadows.
One of them spoke first.
"Triggered by the incident with Roman Dmitry, the former ruling class, including Duke Vieto, has begun to rise up. What they desire is the romance of Valhalla. Seeing Valhalla—an empire that once prioritized the values of a warrior above all else—openly engage in cowardly acts, Duke Vieto has stepped forward to rally the people. The public is on their side. If we stoke the flames just a bit more, it will erupt into a full-blown civil war in no time."
Just as he said,
the dark clouds of war hung heavy over Valhalla.
People flocking from all corners of the empire were voicing their grievances against the Emperor of Valhalla.
Then,
the second figure spoke.
"The Emperor of Valhalla is responding to this situation with an iron fist. Rather than listening to the public, he is gathering his troops and suppressing the dissent with force. Most of Valhalla's military power remains under the Emperor's control. If he issues the order to crush the rebellion, Valhalla will face an irreversible disaster."
"Pfft."
The entity in the seat of honor burst into laughter.
It was highly amusing.
The way things were unfolding delighted him to no end.
He leaned forward.
The shadows shifted to partially reveal his face. It bore the exact likeness of 'Alexander,' just as Roman Dmitry remembered him.
"Our plan is progressing steadily without a single hitch. The variable known as Dmitry will be nothing more than a trivial matter—unworthy of even being called a variable—once we achieve what we desire. In fact, because of him, we have gained the perfect opportunity to accelerate a plan we have harbored for a long time. Incite the people. Provoke them. The moment Valhalla is engulfed in war, we will be able to bring forward the moment we have all been waiting for."
Creak.
He leaned back.
Just as Alexander was about to say more, the space began to distort.
Zzzzt.
The scene changed.
This time, it was a completely different space.
A woman in a wretched state collapsed to the floor, her face contorted in agony.
"...Ugh."
Her flank was drenched in blood.
As she placed her hand over the gruesome injury and channeled her divine power, the wound—which looked as if it had been torn open by a wild beast—healed rapidly.
It was Isabelle.
Someone rushed over to her.
"Your Majesty. You must return to Luna immediately. The fiends of Kronos have already seen through our plans. Now that we have lost all our soldiers, fighting any further will only put Your Majesty in grave danger. Please, I beg of you. Just this once, listen to me."
Thud.
He dropped to his knees.
It was the Royal Knight Commander of Luna,
Leo, pleading in a desperate, broken voice.
"I cannot do that."
She shook her head.
Since they were alone,
Isabelle allowed herself to show a slightly more vulnerable demeanor.
"Leo. My life's purpose was decided the moment I was born. As one who received the oracle, I have always lived to carry out God's will. How could I betray His will now? I cannot flee this place to secure my own safety after sending everyone who believed in me, who followed me, to their deaths."
Her voice trembled.
The fiends of Kronos.
Her soldiers had been mercilessly slaughtered by them.
Although Isabelle had stood at the vanguard and bestowed her blessings, the army had inevitably crumbled under the endless waves of enemies. The memory of that massacre was still painfully vivid. Even as their limbs were torn apart, the soldiers had cried out God's name and thrust their weapons forward. But Isabelle knew it had all been in vain.
The enemies were infinite.
Humans had limits, but the enemy had none.
Isabelle forced herself to stand.
Though her exterior might have been healed by divine power, her body screamed in exhaustion from their grueling journey.
Her expression hardened.
When she spoke again, her tone was stiff and uncharacteristically cold.
"As the Queen of Luna and one who upholds God's will, I must accept my birthright. Knight Commander. You must return to Luna. It is enough for me alone to bear this cruel fate."
She walked away,
the tip of her sword dragging against the ground.
Watching her back slowly disappear into the darkness, Leo clenched his fists.
"...Damn it."
He was consumed by despair.
Isabelle and Leo.
Neither of them was blind to the grim future that awaited them.
The soldiers had also known that fighting the fiends of Kronos meant certain death, yet not a single one had tried to flee or complain about their grim reality. Queen Isabelle and those who followed her—those who had vowed to sacrifice themselves for God—wished to carry out His will, even if it meant dying in the process.
But
Leo was different.
He did not follow God; he followed Isabelle.
He resented God.
The more they carried out God's duties,
the closer they came to the truth,
the more obvious it became that this burden was not something humans were meant to endure.
It might have been wiser to simply be grateful that a human's lifespan was only a hundred years, and pray that such despair would not find them during their lifetime. Leo was merely a weak human. Though he had succumbed to the crushing weight of reality multiple times while fighting the fiends of Kronos, he raised his sword once more as Isabelle's figure vanished into the shadows.
O God. Please, save us.
He took a step forward.
Following Isabelle,
he, too, vanished into the darkness.
Perhaps
this choice would directly lead to his death.
* * *
Roman opened his eyes.
His connection with the World Tree had been severed.
It was a strange feeling.
Memories that could have been from the past or the present tangled together in his mind.
Alexander and Isabelle.
First.
From Alexander's conversation, he had learned that the former emperor was actively instigating discord within Valhalla.
Valhalla had colluded with the Kronos Empire.
However, since Valhalla was also an empire of immense military might, the most ideal scenario for Kronos was for Valhalla to destroy itself through a civil war. That was exactly why they had pushed Duke Vieto's rebellion to the forefront. Kronos—which had already gnawed away at various nations from within through schemes like Cairo's Central Government, Hector's famine, and Count Rondon of Redford—had now set its sights on the Valhalla Empire.
If
Valhalla suffered a devastating blow, the delicate balance of the continent would completely collapse.
Even if they claimed neutrality, their mere existence held a special significance in the geopolitical landscape.
Currently, the continent was dominated by three great powers.
Kronos, Valhalla, and the Kingdom Alliance that followed Roman Dmitry.
If two of these powers tore each other apart in a pointless war, the remaining power would inevitably reap all the benefits.
Second.
Isabelle's disappearance had been of her own volition.
Though he did not know exactly what truth she had uncovered, Isabelle was risking her life to stop whatever grand conspiracy Kronos was planning. It was highly likely related to what the Mother Elf had told him. Since the Mother Elf had mentioned a connection to the Demon Realm using Graxar as an example, this warranted a thorough investigation.
If I trace Isabelle's steps, I might uncover a piece of the truth.
There was much to do.
It was time to return to Dmitry.
However,
Roman Dmitry only belatedly realized that his surroundings had drastically changed.
Because his consciousness had been sucked into the flames, he had been completely unaware of the miraculous transformation he had wrought upon the environment.
And that was not all.
When he turned around,
"O Savior of Arcadia! Please, accept the loyalty of our elven race!"
"Please, accept our loyalty!"
Thousands of elves.
They had all knelt, bowing their heads in perfect unison.
* * *
The moment Roman Dmitry had connected with the World Tree,
the elves had been thrown into an absolute uproar.
Astounded by the massive changes occurring to their sacred tree, they had flocked to Tersha, desperately asking,
"What on earth is happening?!"
"...I do not know the reason either. The moment our benefactor placed his hand on the World Tree, a massive blaze erupted from his body, and the ice on the World Tree began to melt. What is certain is that this miraculous change is entirely because of him."
They were utterly astonished.
The regeneration of the World Tree.
It was the deepest, most desperate wish of the elven race.
The impossible task they had struggled to achieve by any means necessary had suddenly become reality through a completely unexpected human.
Soon,
the Mother Elf arrived.
She stared at the burning World Tree and Roman Dmitry, unable to hide her profound shock.
"...To control the Fire Demon's Flames."
It was unmistakable.
The flames originating from Roman Dmitry
were indeed the Flame Demon's essence.
Roman Dmitry had met the dwarves in the underground world, and their leader, Brown Rock, had suggested that the Flame Demon's essence might be the key to melting the ice on the World Tree. However, the elves had never dared to approach it due to its uncontrollable, incinerating heat. Thus, the Flame Demon's essence had been buried and forgotten in their memories. Yet now, that very same intense power was manifesting right before their eyes.
Suddenly,
the Mother Elf recalled the moment she had connected with the World Tree.
When she had first encountered Roman Dmitry's presence, she had felt an indescribably powerful, overwhelming sensation.
"Ah..."
A shiver ran down her spine.
It was certain.
The being who had slaughtered the Orcs.
He was the Savior.
A transcendent being who would do far more than simply defeat a horde of monsters.
The situation had completely changed.
The Mother Elf turned around and addressed her people.
"Hear me, all elves! Our benefactor, Lord Roman Dmitry, has saved us from the brutal Orcs and even revived the World Tree! He has proven himself to be the savior of this world! I, Gaiar, your Mother, believe that the future of the elven race lies with Lord Roman Dmitry!"
She raised her voice, her tone ringing with absolute conviction.
Stirred by the Mother Elf's words, the elves gathered closer.
"Follow Lord Roman Dmitry! Dedicate yourselves to him! His will shall be the future we desire!"
They looked upon him with reverence.
With one mind, every single elf turned their gaze toward Roman Dmitry.
Time passed.
Within the blazing pillar of fire,
Roman Dmitry did not move a single inch.
Though it felt like a mere instant to him, the sun set and rose again, illuminating the recovering world.
It was only on the following day
that Roman Dmitry finally opened his eyes.
At that very moment,
the Mother Elf knelt first. Bowing her head, she cried out,
"O Savior of Arcadia! Please, accept the loyalty of our elven race!"
"Please, accept our loyalty!"
Following her lead, thousands of elves bowed in turn.
The race of purity.
Beings who obeyed the will of none but God now cried out their absolute loyalty to a single human.