Chapter 70 70: The World Tree

— — — — — — {Former leader of the Black Dogs Mercenary Gang—Mercenary King Volt. Combat Officer Hicks. Strategist Keane. Insect Handler Shamuhaza.} {Former Minister of the First Fortress, Thomas Beardsley. The Mortadella Brothers—Ponty and Conty—formerly royal merchants of the Second Fortress......} After confirming his next move would be against the cultists of the Evil God, Veyron quickly received a list of known cultist leaders from the Seven Shields Alliance. One glance at it and he could only shake his head—Evil God or not, the guy sure had an eye for talent. Every single name on that list was a "plot-relevant character" he recognized. First on his hit list: Grave Levantine A gray-haired general once renowned across the continent as an undefeated war hero. As his body inevitably declined with age, Grave became completely obsessed with preserving the Levantine bloodline. He had a son, sure, but that son had chosen the path of a civil servant, which to Grave meant he was unworthy of the Levantine name. He forced the boy to take his mother's surname instead. Becoming a cultist of the Evil God didn't weaken Grave's obsession. If anything, it made it worse. And while he may have gone a little mad, his combat prowess from years of war? Still fully intact. Now, Grave Levantine stood as one of the Evil God cult's top generals—commanding the dark armies arrayed directly against the Seven Shields Alliance. --- "Veyron, better hurry it up," Merlin's voice gently warned. High above Grave's camp, in addition to the usual enchantments, Merlin cast a stealth illusion to mask his presence and a protective spell to ward off the corruption from the evil god's rules. "The effects of Lust in this area are way more intense than normal." "Just hold on a little longer, I'm almost done here." Veyron was completely focused, guiding the spiritual energy and Haki inside several lotus seeds identical to the Black Lotus he'd handed over to the seven fortresses. These particular seeds contained the deadly property of "Destined Death," and Veyron was synchronizing them using Magic Cannon methods he'd learned from Kazami Yuuka. Right now, even without Merlin's warning, he could already feel the intensifying corruption just by being near this place. Charge straight into a military camp swarming with over a hundred thousand fanatical cultists, just to fight the Evil God's chosen? Just for one person? Yeah—Veyron had one response to that: Hell no. Why risk close combat when he could blow everything up from a distance? He had all the sunlight he needed for energy—photosynthesis was still going strong—so resource management wasn't even an issue. ... About ten minutes later, the lotus seeds were complete. Each shot carried the weight of his full power. BOOM! Black-and-white beams of pure energy plummeted from the sky like meteors, slamming directly into Grave's camp. The thunderous impact echoed like a mountain collapsing. The shockwave alone swept across the surrounding area for miles. Within that radius, every cultist met their destined death—literally. Sure, the shockwave itself might not have been fatal to the stronger cultists... But the black-and-white flames following behind? Different story. Because everyone knows: true damage is the realest damage. Percent-based scaling is the most busted mechanic in existence. In any game, a true damage item or skill is a must for a reason. And when you stack buffs on top of percent-based true damage—where the longer the enemy takes damage, the higher his chance of outright dying? That's the manifestation of Destined Death. "Our target is way past dead," Merlin commented, scanning the area's corrupted rule field for any changes. "So? Do we head for the next one, or are you gonna take a breather first?" "No need. I've still got plenty left in the tank," Veyron replied. "Now's the perfect time to keep going, before the rest of them realize what's happening." "Next closest cultist?" he asked. "Southeast. 759 kilometers. According to intel from the Seven Shields Alliance, he's Michelle Pantielle, a spoiled rich kid from the Fourth Fortress—which used to be a mercenary paradise." Merlin rattled off the cultist's name, direction, and distance, then helpfully conjured an arrow using light magic to point the way. — — — Meanwhile, in the Temple of the Black City... The moment Grave died, Larentia immediately sensed it. She looked briefly in that direction, then turned back to the black-and-white elves before her. "They've started. We might not be able to help him much in combat," she said, "but in our role, at the very least, we're not going to be dead weight... You two ready?" "No problem," both Olga and Celestine replied in unison. "Then follow me." Larentia raised her hand, and the large stone basin held by the temple's towering statue began to rotate. In front of the statue, the waters of the holy spring parted. From beneath the pool, a staircase revealed itself, descending deep underground. Larentia led the way. Olga and Celestine followed close behind. They went down hundreds of meters, through a passage that wasn't just physically deep—it twisted through something far more metaphysical. Finally, the space opened up. There, you can find a tree so massive that even a single leaf was larger than a fortress—or even the Black City above. "The World Tree..." Larentia pressed a hand to the tree's bark, feeling the fading will within—still alive, but barely. This world had been born from that tree. Once, the World Tree was bursting with life, and the world had thrived beneath its shade. Larentia, as one of the first beings born of the Tree, still remembered those early days clearly. Back then, elves, humans, beastkin, halflings—all intelligent life—could find a place to belong, live full lives, and die in peace. But like any tree that eventually withers even without human interference, the World Tree began to rot from the roots. And in that rotten soil, demons were born—chaos and corruption incarnate. The worse the rot grew, the stronger the demons became... until eventually, a queen was born from that filth: Olga Discordia, a dark elf made to mirror the elven goddess, Larentia herself. The World Tree didn't think like a normal living being. But just as regular trees seek water and sunlight, the World Tree, too, had a survival instinct. Driven by that instinct, its will reached beyond this world, into the void—searching for help. Larentia knew of three such attempts. The first had happened decades ago. She didn't know the details, but it had clearly affected Olga, born from the rot. One day, after decades in the Black City, Olga had suddenly gone to the human lands and saved a half-human, half-dark elf girl—Chloe—who had been destined to be sold as a slave. That girl was now one of Olga's closest knights. And to this day, Larentia still doesn't know what exactly changed in Olga. The second attempt had been seven years ago. That one had backfired—badly. The World Tree, deceived by an Evil God pretending to be a "friendly higher being," had accelerated its own death spiral. The Tree, already rotting, now had only a fraction of the time left. The third attempt? Just a few days ago. Back then, Larentia had been in a deep slumber inside her reincarnated form, Celestine, worn out from sealing the cracks left by the previous disaster. But the Tree had forcefully awakened her—and told her that two true allies were coming. And this time... they really were allies. Larentia exhaled deeply, then turned to Celestine and Olga. "Let's begin. Normally we'd need a priestess to fully link with the Tree's will, but with me here, that won't be necessary. I can guide us straight to the Seed—the one that can birth a new beginning." . . .