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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Mod7
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Late at night, deep in the quiet hours when almost everyone was asleep, two elves walked through the corridors of the Royal Palace.
The click-clack of their heels echoed through the stillness.
–Click, clack.
–Click, clack.
The rhythmic sound stopped, replaced by a gentle rapping.
–Knock, knock. Knock, knock.
The wooden door reverberated softly.
After a moment, the door opened.
“You’re quick.”
“…I thought you weren’t coming.”
“My apologies for the delay. I had some business to attend to.”
“…Come in.”
Moonlight streamed through the closing door.
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“So, what did you want to talk about?”
“Aren’t you being a bit too formal? Shouldn’t you offer your guest some tea, at least?”
“I wouldn’t call someone who barges into my room in the middle of the night a ‘guest’.”
I turned on the lights, illuminating the room, and the two elves came into clearer view.
Sylvia, her jade-green hair shimmering in the light, her face still impassive, and the female elf who had been her escort yesterday.
“So… what is it this time?”
“You’re not even trying to hide your annoyance.”
“…”
“Well, it doesn’t matter. I have another task for you.”
“A task?”
“It will benefit you as well, so perhaps it’s more of a trade.”
I wasn’t enthusiastic. Her last “favor” had been rather unusual.
But I’d hear her out. I didn’t dismiss them.
As if anticipating my acquiescence, Sylvia pulled a green orb from within her robes. It glowed with a vibrant, almost luminous green light, far richer than her own jade-green hair.
Her movements were so natural that I’d momentarily let my guard down.
And then, my consciousness faded, pulled into the darkness once more.
“Wh-What is…?”
“The trial you so desired. If you return successfully… I’ll give you as many Spirit Stones as you want.”
“You… bitch…”
“…May the blessings of the Great Forest be with you.”
And in that moment, Sylvia’s expression, usually so cold and distant, softened, a flicker of something human in her eyes.
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I opened my eyes to a canopy of leaves, a clear blue sky visible through the gaps. The leaves belonged to a massive tree beside me, its branches stretching towards the heavens, and in the distance, something shimmered, like grains of white sand.
I sat up, rubbing my head, replaying the events in my mind, and a curse slipped out.
Sylvia had sent me somewhere without any explanation.
“…Fuck, where am I—”
“Hello.”
A melodic voice interrupted my cursing.
I turned and saw a woman standing beside the tree, gently stroking its bark. Her long, braided hair was held in place by a simple brown hairpin. Her hair, a shade between jade and green, shimmered in the dappled sunlight. Her golden eyes, like the morning sun, radiated a gentle warmth.
And around her, dozens, perhaps hundreds, of small spirits flitted and giggled, their numbers so great that they resembled a swarm of locusts.
She gestured, and the spirits vanished. Then, in the blink of an eye, she was sitting beside me.
“We haven’t met before, have we?”
“…Who are you?”
“Someone who has placed all her hopes on you.”
“…?”
“Hee hee, your expression is priceless.”
Her words were strange, confusing. Who would place their hopes on a complete stranger?
I frowned, my face frozen in a mask of disbelief, and she chuckled softly, covering her mouth with her hand.
“So… who are you, really?”
“Oh my, you’re not very perceptive, are you…? I thought you’d recognize me immediately.”
She stood up and walked towards the massive tree, placing her hand on its trunk.
A golden light spread outwards from the point of contact, like paint, until the entire tree, once green, now shimmered with a brilliant, otherworldly gold.
A warm, golden light emanated from the tree, washing over me, so comforting, so inviting, that I almost lost myself in the sensation.
Then, she spoke, her voice gentle, melodic.
“My name is Merina Restonil.”
“…”
“Queen of the Elves, and Priestess of the World Tree, the Sacred Tree.”
“…Priestess…?”
She nodded, confirming my question, and the golden tree pulsed with light.
I closed my eyes against the sudden brightness, and when I opened them, another golden figure stood before me.
I blinked, rubbed my eyes, but she remained.
The sudden flash of golden light must have played tricks on my eyes. The woman before me wasn’t radiating a golden light, but a natural, earthy aura, as if she were nature itself, pure and untainted.
But I still instinctively took a step back, my body recoiling from her presence, my hand twitching towards the dagger at my hip.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you…”
“…”
Her voice wasn’t of this world.
I stumbled back, my body resonating with the otherworldly sound.
“Child of the Moon, who defies fate, seeking to break free from the path the gods have laid before you.”
“…!”
I froze, not with awe or reverence, but with shock and… a sudden surge of animosity. My body tensed, my hand gripping the dagger at my hip.
“Calm yourself, child. I am not your enemy.”
“…How can I trust you?”
“I can’t force you to…”
If I’d learned anything from my past lives, it was to trust no one.
I’d been betrayed by a trusted subordinate, tortured and killed, my knowledge exploited by a trusted superior, used for inhumane experiments against my will.
Merina, sensing my distrust, held out her hands, as if to placate me.
“Calm yourself, child. Her words are true.”
“…Her?”
Her?
Who?
The Elven Queen? Who would command such reverence from a queen?
The pieces clicked into place.
The flash of golden light. The tree transforming into gold at her touch. The Elven Queen calling herself a priestess.
I looked at her again, my suspicion replaced by a dawning realization.
“…The World Tree…?”
“You recognize me now, Child of the Moon, Defier of Fate.”
The legendary tree, said to have roots in three different worlds.
The Sacred Tree, Yggdrasil, the World Tree.
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Time continued its relentless march, even as Jenison’s consciousness drifted elsewhere.
Morning arrived.
Knights polished their weapons. Servants attended to their duties.
A normal day began.
And Sylvia, too, was bound by the routines of this normal day.
She woke early, meticulously preparing herself. As the Elven Princess, she had to maintain a certain image.
She entered the main hall, where the human representatives were eating breakfast.
Knights in gleaming armor, their servants attending to their needs. And among them, Robert, his behavior as irritating as ever.
Normally, she’d ignore him, but…
Something felt different today.
A strange, unsettling aura emanated from Robert, the other knights, and even a few of the elves.
Even the spirits seemed to sense it, avoiding them, as if repulsed.
As she observed them, a hand grasped her arm. It was Robert.
“…What are you doing?”
“Last night…”
His voice was strained, his grip tightening.
“I was wondering… what you and… him… were talking about… haha…”
“A conversation?”
“Yes… the one you were having with… that man… whispering…”
“…Why are you so interested?”
“Well, as the representative, I should be aware of any… potential issues… shouldn’t I…?”
He forced a smile, but she saw through it. It was a facade, a mask hiding his true emotions.
“…It’s none of your concern.”
“I… I see…”
She didn’t want to talk to him, his insincerity palpable. But her dismissive tone seemed to have backfired.
“So… it’s true… you and him…”
“…?”
“You bastards… playing games with me…”
“Sir, are you alright…?”
“…If only I was… a little more handsome… damn it… I wouldn’t be…”
He muttered under his breath, his words barely audible, and she took a step back, a sudden unease settling over her.
Then, she froze.
“Damn it! You think you’re so much better than me?!”
“Old man clinging to his position—!”
“You all have it so easy… I’m stuck with this…”
It was like a bomb had gone off. Arguments erupted around her, students yelling and shoving each other. And it only escalated.
More and more students joined in, their anger flaring, their targets seemingly random – elves, humans, nobles, commoners, even complete strangers.
“W-What is going on…?”
“Hey, you! Stop right there, you son of a—”
“Oh yeah? Let go of me!”
“Aaargh! You bastard!”
And then, blood.
A splash of crimson on the floor.
The verbal sparring had escalated into physical violence, then into a bloody brawl.
Sylvia stared at the scene, horrified, a high-pitched, otherworldly voice echoing in her mind.
“She doesn’t desire the sacrifices you offer. She won’t grant your wishes, so turn your resentment elsewhere. Aim your arrows of hatred at those who possess what you so desperately crave, those who obtained it without effort. Do not mourn for their peace, for their well-being. Instead, savor the sweetness of their downfall, the decay of their bones.”
A demonic whisper, its words insidious, poisonous.
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