93. Racial Trait

The true mastermind, who must have lurked in the shadows for at least thousands of years, had revealed himself. The reason was simple: he figured it didn't matter if his identity was exposed.

So why? Why did that bastard think it was fine to show his true colors right at this moment?

If I had to guess, it was one of two things. Either he was confident he could shut us up for good, or his goal was so close that getting found out didn't matter anymore.

We knew what he was, but we had no clue about his real objective. If every High Elf king in history had been this one guy, then why had he tried to make a peace treaty with the dark elves? Why let the marriage alliance for peace fall apart, then declare war out of nowhere decades later?

If his only goal was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠survival, there was no need to seize control of the World Tree. Elves were an immortal race to begin with.

Rumble! I activated Mana Reinforcement using the pendant.

Whatever. If he was the black curtain behind it all, I just had to kill him here. That was my thought as I gripped my sword and charged forward—only for the World Tree to spew mana once more, freezing me in place.

It wasn't some magical interference. Nor was it fear or terror rooting my feet.

My brain just... stopped.

The tsunami-like mana I'd felt until ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠now wasn't even the full extent of it. The sheer overwhelming gap left me dumbfounded.

I couldn't think of any way to beat that thing. My body stalled for a split second.

Fuck, what the hell is that?

The status window hovering over the High Elf King's head was so pitch-black it looked like a tiny black hole. Like a hole punched straight through the air. My eyes were playing tricks from the sheer darkness.

The sword in my hand felt like a wooden stick. My armor and shield might as well have been paper.

"My, your shoulders are too tense."

A whisper in my ear, a hand on my shoulder—I whipped my sword around in an instant.

Whoosh! But my strike cleaved only empty air. The bastard, who'd slipped behind me in a blink, was back on his throne.

What the fuck? Teleportation? A movement with zero tells that outpaced my Mana Reinforcement-boosted reflexes? Did that even make sense?

"Why so tense, nameless human swordsman? My goal isn't to devour you."

The High Elf King, backed by the World Tree's mana, smirked, curling the corner of his mouth.

"Come now, beautiful shadow. Hand over your crown."

"Crown...?"

"Yes. With that final piece... I won't even need to harm you."

He blinked again, materializing in front of Elenoir. I swung once more, but missed.

"The apparatus to seize the World Tree requires three parts. The crown is the last. Just give it up."

So that was why he'd revealed himself. Elenoir, crown in hand, had shown up right in front of him.

Makes sense. If that was his goal, marriage for a peace treaty would've been the easiest path. When that fell through, he started a war to take it by force—but wait, the timing's off. If he wanted war, why not declare it sooner?

With power like this, why bother with war at all—

Aha.

—No, I get it now. He didn't have this power from the start.

He built it up over a hundred years.

This isn't his power. He ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠just spent a century learning to wield the World Tree's.

And dragging us into this room? Obviously had a reason.

"Did you think we'd just hand over the crown after hearing that?"

Crack-boom! Elenoir swept her hand, and shadow thorns erupted, engulfing the High Elf King.

"I figured you wouldn't. But your will means nothing—why haven't you realized?"

He dodged the thorns with spatial movement and gathered the World Tree's mana. A flashy magic circle unfurled.

"Must I demonstrate my power?"

He'd been a brick wall just standing there. Now he was actually trying—but now I had his measure.

I knew exactly how to beat this sloppy bastard.

Mercedes activated Mana Reinforcement as well, while Elenoir summoned her shadows in preparation.

Vmmm! The magic circle in the High Elf King's hand birthed glowing orbs that scattered in all directions. Reminded me of the underground dungeon with the emerald wyverns.

Each orb packed mana equal to my total reserves, but their precision and density weren't that high.

Boom! Crack-boom!

I layered the All-In skill on top of Mana Reinforcement, barely dodging. Elenoir used shadow movement; Mercedes just brute-forced it with speed.

But the orbs kept coming relentlessly. Dodging forever would drain our stamina.

No choice, then.

"Hup!"

I tensed my core, boosted my durability with All-In, and topped it with Iron Wall.

Boom! I tanked an incoming orb head-on. The explosion jolted my whole body. It pierced my multi-resistances, and the mana storm at ground zero churned my guts like a centrifuge.

Fuck, felt like my organs were getting spun dry. Blood surged up my throat.

But taking the hit let me close the distance through the magic barrage.

"The World Tree's mana is drawn from the star's ley lines."

Clang! He casually raised a barrier to block my sword, then started blabbing.

"Like all trees, it steals the earth's power to grow. Thus, that power is far from infinite."

His eyes gleamed, and a bizarre heat ray lanced toward me. I snapped up my shield.

Sizzle!

But it punched through like nothing, searing through my arm and chest, cauterizing the holes with heat.

"Even star ley lines will one day run dry. This star's already showing its bones."

A massive shadow axe from Elenoir cleaved down at the rambling High Elf King. He teleported away effortlessly.

"Don't mistake this for me saying my power has limits."

Mercedes swung at his flank this time—missed again.

"Ah, I see."

I chugged a potion and hurled my sword. Time for my specialty.

The sword missed, of course. But now I had a spear in hand. Spear missed, axe swing blocked, shield toss wide.

Clatter-rattle!

I ignored it all, dumping inventory items and charging like a madman.

Blocked attacks? Fine. Misses? Fine. Injuries? Fine.

No matter how flashy he got, nothing landed. Wounds opened, blood flowed—didn't matter.

The more desperately I flung myself at him, the more he'd underestimate me, that dumb fuck.

Boom! My tossed weapons shattered and scattered.

The High Elf King irritably raised his hand.

"You're courting death."

As his mana-charged fist loomed, I yelled,

"Smash the door! Get out of here!"

Mercedes and Elenoir reacted instantly. With me drawing eyes, they had room to move.

The High Elf King whipped his head around too late.

He'd only sealed the door after we entered, then gloated about his identity like victory was his. His power depended on the World Tree—he couldn't wield others' freely, or he'd have swept the battlefield himself and snatched Elenoir's crown.

So the constraint had to be—he could only use that power inside this room, linked to the World Tree throne.

"Think you can escape?"

He teleported, blocking Elenoir's path. My guess was spot-on. Outside this room, no free access to the World Tree's power. That's why the panic.

Too bad—escape wasn't my real play.

Me turning into mincemeat to draw attention, yelling to flee? Of course he'd buy it as the plan.

Getting cocky with power, underestimating foes, eating shit for it—that your racial trait, huh?

I popped every buff skill I had and snatched one of the countless weapons I'd thrown, hurling it again.

Charging like an ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠idiot, yelling about escape—all to hide this.

The flung spear targeted the High Elf throne, linked to the World Tree.

Bang!

As the spear obliterated it at full power, I thought,

Father and king of all High Elves, huh? Yeah, checks out.

Immense power, but when it came to actual skill—

no different from that prince.