Chapter 197

“Your Majesty. Carriel is still said to be staying within the sanctuary.”

The queen, lounging on her pristine white throne with her chin resting in her hand, opened and closed her eyes several times before asking.

“How many days has it been now?”

“Today makes the 42nd day.”

The audience chamber was small enough that even if fully packed, only thirty could fit. Once, there had been a grand hall meant for hundreds—used by the so-called rulers of the Sacred Tree from the time before the Tribe of the Forest, when the Light Clan dominated—but contrasting ideologies eventually led both clans down similar paths. Perhaps destiny always leads to the same conclusion.

To some elders who remembered those days, adopting the advanced equipment and forgotten culture left behind by the Light Clan felt like betraying the original spirit and will of the Tribe of the Forest. This led to irrational and inefficient traditions being enforced… but such things were unavoidable.

“He must have found his path there.”

“I don’t know, Your Majesty. Unlike us, humans cannot survive without sustenance, right?”

“That’s not your concern.”

The queen firmly drew the line. Only she, along with a few council members and elders, knew about Carriel’s situation. The parliamentary system, borrowed from humans to prevent tyranny, ensured decisions required unanimity—a strict discipline they believed reflected their race’s rationality and wisdom.

One human once said: Without rules and tolerance, we’re no different from beasts. If that’s true, then we, who claim superiority, must strive for something better.

Thus, tradition was chosen—though their traditions differed fundamentally from humanity’s.

In reality, this was accurate. Yet, despite their ancient ways, they couldn’t match the rapid spread of human civilization.

There was once a nation where a minority ruled over the majority.

Firstly, the ruling elite were few but powerful and united.

Secondly, the enslaved masses were weak and divided.

But even they fell eventually—unable to withstand the weight of time, their fragile structure collapsing under pressure.

Had someone managed to unite the oppressed, even the weakest could rise up fiercely.

Some elves studied this history and passed it down to future generations, ensuring these lessons weren’t wasted.

“The world isn’t changed by the majority but by a select few extraordinary individuals.”

“…”

Why bring this up suddenly? As Remira hesitated, the queen continued.

“Humans initially couldn’t even conceive of building structures or properly craft tools—they were barbaric.”

Yet now everything had changed. Centuries of progress, sparked by rare flashes of inspiration, brought them here. And those capable of turning ideas into reality?

They weren’t ordinary.

Humans hailed such figures as divine gifts, receiving blessings and favor from gods, gradually reinterpreting their origins over time.

“Our ancestors weren’t lacking either… but their short lives made them fierce, and that intensity became sincerity, manifesting in reality.”

“…”

The queen reflected. Carriel had evaded certain death three times before reaching their territory—an overcoming of fate itself.

Perhaps miracles happen, but even miracles have limits.

“If you’d permit me, I’ll go check…”

“It’s fine. He’ll handle it himself.”

The interior of the Sacred Tree wasn’t accessible to just anyone—even the queen and council needed proper procedures. Elders were no exception.

Did an elder hint at something? Or…

At least while inside, he would remain safe. Though it might become Remira’s greatest worry and trial.

However, the Sacred Tree transcended mere holiness—it was unique, inherent, and honorable. Even if its voice commanded death, if Carriel reached the sanctuary and overcame his fate again…

Maybe then, amidst a world destined to burn, another anomaly would arise.

====

Twenty more days passed, yet Carriel showed no signs of leaving the sanctuary. Everyone worried until, exactly seventy days later, he finally emerged.

He collapsed almost immediately, looking terribly frail. Five days after closing his eyes, he opened them again.

“…”

“Are you awake?”

Geoffrey stared down at Carriel, who was blankly gazing at the ceiling.

“How long has it been?”

“The time you spent locked away in the World Tree? Quite a while.”

“My throat’s parched, and I’m starving.”

“You’re still talking despite all that.”

Though emaciated, his smug attitude remained unchanged. His throat rasped, his mouth dry, but words still came out.

“Here’s a vitality potion. Drink it.”

“Do potions really need fancy containers to look impressive?”

A wooden bowl held thick, murky blue liquid. Usually diluted, this potent concentrate promised stronger effects—if not toxic.

Without complaint, Carriel gulped it down. The viscous substance took forever to finish.

“Delicious…”

“Sounds like you want more.”

“I’ll pass.”

Surprisingly, his thirst and hunger vanished instantly. Maybe consuming something so tasteless suppressed survival instincts altogether.

“So, what were you doing cooped up in there? I thought they’d executed you as some blood sacrifice.”

“Would our clan copy the Light Clan’s rituals?”

“They did right after reclaiming the World Tree. Back then, elves were the strongest race on the continent.”

“…so why are we now living on the fringes?”

“To avoid resisting the times.”

That carried weight.

“Elders say it wasn’t forced upon you. So, it was your decision?”

“Not much to hide… I simply held discussions with the World Tree. Learning about my past, present, and future—not the one I currently live but alternate versions—was the biggest takeaway.”

“Alternate… pasts, presents, futures?”

“All agreed upon by consensus between the World Tree and the master of the world.”

“The master of the world…?”

Geoffrey crossed his arms, then cupped his cheek.

“Elhermina was originally supposed to be sent abroad instead of me, right?”

“So I’ve heard.”

“But then she died tragically, and I began my conquest of the continent under the guise of vengeance, executing everyone connected to her demise. This alternate timeline showed me achieving significant results.”

“You mean it wasn’t just a dream or fantasy?”

“In a different situation, I would’ve undoubtedly done the same.”

And…

“I became the nemesis of heroes, destroying and dividing the world, eventually becoming another tyrant. Then, I handed over my seat to the next ruler of the world… my younger brother.”

“Your… younger brother?”

“Yes. Likely the one who resembles Father the most.”

Carriel admitted.

“Considering I take after Mother.”

“What kind of… messed-up future is that?”

“…”

As Geoffrey grew confused, Carriel sensed the world blurring momentarily.

When he opened his eyes again, the same ceiling greeted him.

“Are you awake?”

“…”

It was Geoffrey—the same person who’d been chatting casually just moments ago.

“Do you have any more of that god-awful vitality potion?”

“Could you smell it?”

She handed over the wooden bowl with a wry smile.

“…”

Carriel smirked. Was this a warning?

‘Fair enough.’

If Geoffrey learned what I know, the consequences could ripple wildly.

“So, what happened? Last time, Sixth Elder mentioned something and let it slide, but I genuinely thought you’d been sacrificed inside the World Tree.”

“…”

The questions after waking up were eerily similar, though phrased differently.

“I experienced something quite interesting.”

“Really?”

“I might get busier soon.”

Cornered.

The entity that pushed me here explained why I must die.

Will I accept my fate quietly?

Or resist and seek another way out?

Time to recuperate and make my choice.

Grateful for the opportunity to plan and reflect.

The world hasn’t abandoned me yet.

More accurately, I haven’t abandoned myself.

====

From that day forward, Carriel secluded himself in his home for several days without moving. Except for shortly after waking, four days passed before Remira visited again.

His house was a simple wooden structure above ground with a low ceiling that felt cramped for more than two people.

Inside, however, papers and ink scents filled the air, scattered everywhere—a far cry from Carriel’s usually tidy nature.

“Did we have an earthquake or something?”

“You’re cracking more jokes lately?”

Though his complexion and health improved somewhat, traces of gauntness remained. Dark circles under his eyes suggested poor sleep, yet his golden gaze burned with renewed vigor.

“Can you at least pick up stray pebbles if you’re bored?”

“Is that how you treat guests?”

Remira huffed but bowed naturally.

“Didn’t know you’d take after Lady Geoffrey too.”

“Seems scholars and deep thinkers share this trait.”

Indeed, anyone familiar with Carriel knew he often got lost in thought for days, meticulously organized otherwise.

Copying humans wasn’t easy, but mimicking the best made it possible—not just actions but mindsets too.

For someone who could divide thoughts, objectify themselves, and split personalities, pretending was effortless.

Throw bait to snakes if necessary; monsters if snakes fail.

I am not singular.

Sad me, angry me, joyful me, loving me—all distinct yet one.

“So, resolved your worries?”

“Did I say I had any?”

“If someone like you contemplates this hard, it’s called worrying.”

“What? Are you trying to seduce me? Want to marry and build a perfect family together, popping out kids while celebrating eternal love?”

“Why does that follow?”

Remira’s bafflement prompted Carriel’s chuckle.

“Don’t try to understand me too much. Few truly comprehend and respect others. And when they do… desires creep in unnoticed.”

“For what?”

“Eating or devouring, perhaps?”

Unnecessary talk.

Given the built-up tension, that anticlimactic response deflated it quickly. Remira blew a dismissive raspberry.

“Isn’t that what you meant?”

“Completely different. Very different.”

With that, Carriel slammed his pen onto the desk, standing up. The metal tip pierced through paper like an arrow.

Ink bled into the yellowed page.

“Been stuck here too long. I’m hungry. Let’s grab something to eat… maybe practice archery. Care to join?”

“Now? Suddenly?”

“Since you’re already here. Might as well.”

With that, Carriel headed toward the door, leaving Remira sighing as she followed.

This kid… unpredictable as ever. Despite keeping a low profile within permitted boundaries, his essence ran deeper.

Most wouldn’t guess. After all, humans and elves alike tend to shy away from ominous unknowns instinctively.

Maybe it’s instinct.

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