When the World Tree Bore Fruit

Rizmel fell silent for a long while after hearing my answer. She must have been pretty shocked.

"I... I don't know. I don't know what to do with you."

After a heavy silence, that's all she said before tears welled up in her eyes, clear and transparent. It hit me again just how much ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠dark elves like humans. To think she'd cry over something like this.

Rizmel quietly wiped away her tears and continued in a voice trembling with unease.

"You've mastered all our swordsmanship, and your eyes have fully opened. There's nothing more I can teach you."

"I'll tell Aunt Erwen too—you've finished your sword training. So don't come looking for me anymore."

All the optional objectives in the quest window had been marked complete. Even though I hadn't done the sparring or the selection test yet. I'd never heard of a quest wrapping up like this before. As long as the rewards came through properly, though.

But despite the system messages stoking my expectations, I didn't feel great. I wanted to grab Rizmel ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠as she trudged away from the training grounds. At the same time, I knew I had to let her go. I could guess what she felt toward me, why she'd taught me the sword, and how much my words had hurt her just now. But still.

"What can you do? She's an NPC."

I slumped alone in the training grounds, consoling myself with excuses like that.

I killed time practicing sword forms alone in the grounds until evening. As the sun began to set in earnest, I left for blacksmith Erwen's forge.

The diminutive blacksmith, smaller than most dark elves, waved eagerly the moment she saw me.

"What took you so long? I thought you'd come earlier. Making your elders wait like this—you're incorrigible."

"I never asked you to wait."

"Goodness, you still have zero charm in how you talk. And that face—what's with the drowned rat look?"

Orens must be some animal native to this 7th floor, from context. Was my expression really that bad?

"Rizmel looked pretty down too. Did you two fight or something?"

I didn't answer. I knew Rizmel was hurt, but we hadn't fought or anything. To me, it was just a moment of self-reflection. She'd taken my words however she wanted.

Erwen didn't pry. She just said stuff like that happens and ushered me into the forge.

Weapons still lined the walls inside, same as always. Even after I'd cleaned her out last time, it was full again. I knew how fast this blacksmith worked, so no surprise there.

"It was a pain working with those ingots you brought, but thanks to them, I made a damn fine sword."

Erwen said that as she pulled a sword from an antique case and handed it to me.

"Take a look. You'll like it."

The sword looked like a plain ebony steel one-hander with some decorative flourishes.

But the system info was no joke. The base attack power was scorching. It easily surpassed my highest one-hander, Wolf Hunter's Sword. And with ebony steel's properties, it had 15 enhancement slots. Maybe as a reward for fighting enemies way above 7th-floor level—this was beyond what this floor offered.

"You said you liked a balanced, sturdy sword, right? So I skipped fancy magic effects on purpose—"

Erwen added that since she'd used magic materials, it'd be a shame to leave it blank.

"But I added one feature perfect for you."

The item info didn't end at base stats. As a Unique-grade sword, it had a unique passive.

Repair durability automatically on every kill, plus refill MP? An insane money-saver. I had gold and mats to spare for repairs, but real-time recovery was special for me. As a solo player, I often got dragged into prolonged multi-mob fights. HP recovered via skills and items, but MP and weapon durability always dwindled. With this, as long as my focus held, I could maintain peak combat power indefinitely.

"It's awesome."

"Like it?"

"Hell yeah."

I swung it around right there, genuinely thrilled.

Erwen smiled at my joy and naturally led me deeper into the forge.

"Seeing you this happy makes all the backbreaking work worth it. Your face looks way better too. Keep that expression from now on."

I nodded and stowed the sword in my inventory. Base stats were so good, enhancements could wait. Erwen pulled out simple snacks and tea cups—prepared just for me, it seemed. Why did dark elves keep trying to feed me? I knew they saw me as a stray kitten, but Erwen hadn't been like that before. I'd heard she was especially old—maybe like a country grandma starting to feed the occasional stray cat.

"I don't know human tastes, so I grabbed whatever... Anything you can't eat?"

"Nah, nothing like that."

"Then sit. You're not planning to grab the sword and leave your hardworking elder in the dust, are you?"

I sat obediently. The snacks looked sweet, so I popped one in and chewed.

*Crunch, crunch.*

Erwen gave me a slightly bitter smile.

"Goodness, that's not a face for sweet treats. You're the first human like you I've seen."

She said it like she'd seen plenty of other humans. Unlike the other dark elves.

Curiosity piqued, I asked if she'd seen a lot of humans.

"More than you young ones, sure. We're the World Tree generation, after all—those who won't last much longer."

"World Tree generation?"

"Old folks who've lived since the World Tree could still bear fruit—now it's all withered and rotting."

Come to think of it, I'd heard this before. Both forest elves and night elves cycled souls through the World Tree. Dead elves' souls returned to it, and it bore fruit as new vessels for reincarnation. A sort of respawn system—but that ended when the tree withered. An ancient tale from before they split into high elves and dark elves.

"Elves back then lived near-immortal spans. We still do, very long, but..."

Erwen's eyes grew unusually distant.

"You know, immortality or eternity doesn't really mean 'not dying.' It's a bit different."

"Immortality means everything but you dies."

"The ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠whole world crumbles against time, bidding farewell, while only you remain. That's the feel."

Out of context, but I couldn't brush it off. Her voice carried raw pain.

"Makes our view of time and life a bit odd. Decades can feel like a blink in hindsight."

I got it. That's why they could see humans as cute. Like—

"Humans might look like bugs to you."

To dark elves, maybe even lower than stray cats. Erwen chuckled softly at my words.

"No, incredibly grand."

Her soft hand enveloped mine. Unbelievable this woman had lived millennia—yet it brimmed with firm strength.

"They live fleeting lives but leave massive presences. Memories of humans stick with us forever."

"That's why Rizmel worries about you so much, dear."

Erwen fell silent after that, gently patting my hand. That simple touch conveyed so much, wordlessly. Damn, NPCs. I was still just making excuses. I had to go apologize to Rizmel.