Upon landing at Wearbeard Fortress, Aslan quickly departed from the baron’s territory with his traveling party.
Their destination, the land of the elves, including the route through Wearbeard’s domain and the territories along the way, all belonged either directly to King Gerald or to his vassals. Thus, swift movement wasn’t a choice but a necessity.
Fortunately, there were no issues with their mobility.
Moreover, their detection abilities were impeccable, allowing them to easily evade any pursuers by simply hurrying a bit.
Perhaps there was no intention to pursue them in the first place, but the fact remained that no one followed.
They traversed through Wearbeard’s territory, crossing Henna’s isolated wastelands and the Black Marshes as they moved northward.
Their destination was Honingal Baron’s domain, where Aslan had parted ways with Phey earlier—a cold region bordering the land of the elves.
As they approached Honingal’s domain, they resupplied at villages and homesteads without encountering any pursuers.
Considering King Gerald’s tenacity, this was indeed peculiar.
Relieved by the unexpected safety of their journey, the group relaxed and engaged in casual conversation as they walked.
When the falling snow began to whiten their shoulders and hair, Ereta suddenly asked Aslan:
“Will it be alright?”
Her originally white hair shone brightly despite being covered in snow, while her pink eyes, filled with concern, appeared softer than usual.
With moist eyes, she clutched the edge of her cloak and asked him.
Aslan met her gaze and, feeling somewhat embarrassed, turned his head before answering:
“It’ll be fine.”
Though their questions and answers were brief, their meaning was clear.
It was about whether their current path would lead straight to death.
Given Ereta’s past as a high priestess, it was understandable for her to harbor such doubts.
And if Aslan hadn’t obtained information through the game, he might have shared similar suspicions.
The elven land they were heading towards was a special place.
Ordinarily, humans like Aslan, or even dragon-kind like Tiamat, couldn’t enter.
Only elves and those accompanied by elves could step into this land.
Not only was the entry condition strict, but the location itself was nearly impossible to find—a remote and untouched wilderness pushed aside during the creation of the world by ancient eternity and night.
A desolate expanse blanketed in endless snow and ice, where visibility was almost zero due to blizzards.
In this frozen wasteland at the northernmost edge of the continent, the elven land existed unexpectedly.
Hidden and protected by the power of nature and creation.
Finding it unless someone was heading there directly would be nearly impossible.
Thus, staying vigilant against pursuit was natural.
Especially since, in the game, they were discovered during a chase, leading to the appearance of a high priest of the Devourer.
Therefore, Ereta’s worry was justified, but Aslan wasn’t overly concerned.
For good reasons.
Firstly, the high priest of the Devourer, the Dragon King, had already been defeated by Aslan and now served as his left hand and armor.
In the game, this high priest marked the transition into the mid-game phase.
Secondly, the individual who should have occupied that position had already been killed by Aslan before becoming a high priest.
There was no way so many high priests could be produced in such a short time, so any pursuer would likely be a hastily trained or ordinary priest—easily handled by Angie alone.
For these reasons, Aslan wasn’t worried.
“There won’t be any major problems. If there were pursuers, Phey or Tiamat would have noticed. I would have noticed too.”
At this reassurance, Ereta gave him a skeptical look and glanced behind them.
There stood a pitiful-looking dragon-person, shaking violently due to the cold despite its massive 2.5-meter height and muscular build.
Even wrapped in thick winter clothing, the giant shivered and sniffled from the biting cold—an archer of great renown.
Ereta observed this scene before turning back to Aslan.
Her glance at Tiamat expressed doubt—whether she truly trusted Tiamat.
Aslan chuckled slightly at this expression.
Once an irreplaceable ally with unmatched firepower, Tiamat had now become more of a comedic figure, often underestimated.
Whether this change was positive or not was debatable.
Naturally, Aslan glanced at Tiamat, though the latter merely whimpered pitifully upon meeting his gaze.
“Could you give me some extra clothes?”
Ignoring this plea, Aslan turned back to Ereta, who smirked knowingly.
This seemed like a positive change to Aslan, who smiled faintly as he heard Richard generously offering his coat and Angie teasingly distributing additional clothing.
Only then did Tiamat quicken their pace.
Leaving faint footprints in the snow, the group pressed on.
Leading the way was Phey.
The non-binary elf carried two short swords at the back of their waist and a greatsword on their back.
Despite walking among the largest members of the group, who trembled from the cold, Phey showed no signs of fatigue.
Their light dress fluttered in the wind, and their bare feet touched the ground without hesitation, showing no pain or exhaustion.
This highlighted how the elven land truly belonged only to the elves.
If Aslan’s group didn’t have someone like Ereta who could handle heat, reaching this place would have been impossible.
Amidst the fierce blizzard obscuring even the nearest surroundings, the elven girl walked confidently.
Suddenly stopping, Phey turned around and announced:
“We’re here! Home!”
To all elves, “home” meant the elven land.
Though all they could see was a grayish-white storm in the icy wasteland, Phey declared proudly, placing their hands on their hips.
Watching this, Lumel voiced his disappointment.
“Is this really the elven land?”
All that met the eye was a barren landscape covered in snow and ice.
Expecting a beautiful, awe-inspiring land, Lumel openly expressed his disappointment, joined by Richard.
“If there are neither elves nor land here… is this really the right place, Master Phey?”
Indeed, all they could see were snow and ice—a sight resembling a white hell.
Only Angie, with the divine power of the ancient deity within her, could perceive the true form beyond the blizzard.
“What nonsense are you talking? There are elves, land, grass, and trees here. Isn’t this enough to qualify as the elven land?”
The group looked at Angie curiously, while Angie scolded them as if they were blind.
Her golden eyes then focused on the blizzard ahead.
“I’m going in first. Ugh, it’s cold.”
Before anyone could react, Angie adjusted her backpack and stepped forward into the blizzard.
Vanishing seamlessly into the swirling snowstorm.
“Huh?”
Confused, Lumel voiced his bewilderment.
Aslan observed the group’s startled expressions until he sensed they understood something, then spoke.
“Let’s go.”
Without further argument, the group followed Aslan into the harsh blizzard.
Upon entering, they experienced a shocking reversal of perception, stepping onto lush grasslands.
This was a unique place.
Despite being located in an extreme wasteland where no life should thrive, excluded from the rest of the world, the ground was teeming with vitality.
Unrestrained life energy spread in every direction, manifesting in various forms.
Flowers bloomed everywhere.
All kinds of flowers, large and small, filled the landscape, creating a vibrant tapestry.
Among them grew scattered trees, each bearing different fruits.
The ripe fruits hanging heavy on branches glowed with vivid colors just by looking at them.
As the wind gently swayed the branches, the group felt warmth brushing against their skin.
“Wow…”
Lumel exclaimed, running his calloused hands over a flower bud, releasing a rich floral scent.
“Hey, this is… wow… this is… incredible.”
Richard repeatedly stuck his head out and pulled it back in, marveling at the sight.
“From now on… this humble servant is an elf. Oh, great fire, forgive my unworthiness…”
Tiamat shed their winter gear, basking fully in the warm breeze.
“Hmm.”
Only Ereta seemed slightly uneasy.
Noticing this, Aslan deduced that the divine power permeating the space was uncomfortable for Ereta, who possessed the essence of an evil deity.
After briefly observing her discomfort, Aslan gently brushed her hair and stepped forward.
Taking the lead, Aslan prompted Lumel, who had been wandering around, to mutter:
“This is… the land of the elves…”
The land of the elves.
Where elves were born and raised.
Realizing this, the group refocused on Aslan, who was approaching something.
Approaching Aslan were a group of elves following Angie and Phey.
Elves with hair resembling flower petals and innocent eyes.
Their faces radiated pure kindness as they approached without hesitation.
Beyond them stood a colossal tree.
It was an enormous tree.
Its height reached toward the heavens, and its girth seemed to defy physics, comparable to the size of a mountain peak.
Its sheer size was astonishing, but something even more remarkable awaited.
The tree breathed.
With each inhalation and exhalation, a warm, gentle breeze swept through the surroundings.
This was divine power.
The potent authority that maintained this space after the creator deity’s demise.
The group realized what this tree represented and were astonished.
The god of nature and creation.
The creator of the elves and one of the three ancient deities who shaped the world.
The massive tree before them was the relic of the god of nature and creation and the birthplace of the elves.
Aslan could sense the vibrant divine power coursing through it, amplified by luck and mana.
Even in death, the god of nature and creation continued to fulfill its role.
