30 Years Have Passed Since the Prologue
chapter-185

EP.185

Ivan looked down at Elpheira without saying a word. She avoided his gaze, rolling her eyes around, before finally letting out a grunt and punching him in the chest.

“What, what are you looking at?!”

“I was pondering whether I bear any responsibility here.”

“Are, are you really insane?! W-What, are you trying to avoid taking responsibility?!”

“It seems that usually the perpetrator is told to take responsibility towards the victim.”

“Th-That was my first kiss! You took it all away!”

“I’m not any different, you know.”

“…!!”

Elpheira’s ears twitched madly. She twitched her toes and bit her lip once.

“Th-Then… um… uh, h-how about we do it again? Just to confirm?”

“This isn’t really the time for that conversation.”

Ivan turned his gaze away from Elpheira. It was a complex issue that had to be resolved. Yet, honestly, wasn’t it an utterly trivial matter at this moment?

Ivan pointed towards the horizon with his chin.

“Hmm… there are no corpses…?”

“And look at that.”

“That…? What? A mountain?”

“Look a little higher.”

All there was around were splattered bodily fluids proving three days of battle, but there were no actual corpses to be seen.

The magical beasts in elven shape, made up of maggots and leeches, had all disappeared from view.

As Ivan lifted his gaze to the direction he pointed, only a faint outline of snow-covered mountains stood tall on the horizon.

“Look…?! Ex—.”

“Yes. That.”

As he followed the ridge of the mountain with his gaze, a faint silhouette revealed itself under the dark night sky.

It looked exactly like…

“A tree…?”

“It kept growing as it killed your ancestors. It seems to have stopped growing, so it must be fully grown now.”

“Then, th-then that…?”

“Right.”

Ivan nodded at the stammering Elpheira.

“It’s the Seven Dragon Lords of that era.”

Elpheira gazed blankly at the sky. The enormous tree that tore through the clouds drooped its empty branches.

The maggots that Ivan killed had all gathered and stuck to it. A massive tree made of magical beasts… but why a tree?

She could instinctively realize it.

That was a being created by twisting the Milestone. No, it was the Milestone itself that had gained self-awareness and begun to act.

The god created by the Elves had taken shape after encountering its worshippers, the magical beasts.

Therefore, its orientation mimicked the cultures of the ancient Elves.

The name of that which has grown by devouring the souls of the elves who have turned into a forest, if one must be assigned, is

“World Tree….”

Elpheira lamented.

The winter that Kalion has postponed for millennia, the years that have accumulated upon Kalion for millennia. In this moment, it gazes down upon Kalion with malevolence.

Elpheira, having regained her mana, lifted her gaze to the massive branches.

The sky is visible through the branches that have torn apart the dense clouds.

It is a sky where red stars sparkle. As the daughter of the head of the Astronomy Faction, she also possessed the knowledge to read the stars.

Muttering while gazing at the galaxy, full of malevolence, spread across the sky.

“The millennium winter (Senas-gaimrú)….”

All the sky within her sight is ominous. The spirits looking down upon her, backed by that sky like a halo, are also ominous.

Under that overwhelming celestial spectacle, Elpheira felt suffocated.

As long as that thing lives, there is no future for the elves.

As a member of the elves, she realizes it in the realm of survival instinct.

It whispers that it will devour your kin and prosper forever. A god created by elves, growing while gnawing on the souls of elves was murmuring thus.

“Ugh… Ah….”

Blood trickled from Elpheira’s eyes. She coughed and lowered her head. At that moment, a hand was placed upon her hair.

It’s warm. When Elpheira flinched and looked up, Ivan was standing before her, blocking her view. As always, he stood tall, firm and unwavering.

“Do not bow your head, Elpheira. At the very least, you are in a position where you should not despair even when facing a god.”

“Yes, Sir Yeremov.”

“So look straight ahead. In those times, your seniors lived facing such things.”

Ivan gently pushed Elpheira. As a senior of the Hero Party of that era, and as a scout of the present, he always had the obligation to illuminate the way forward.

It is tiring. That is only natural. They fought for three days straight. Furthermore, thoroughly excluding evasive maneuvers and focusing solely on defense.

However, the strange thing is that there was no life response like hunger or thirst. No matter how much they fought, even if they were exhausted, their stamina never drained.

Is it the power of this world? Or the bizarre power of the Seven Dragon Lords, which continues to grow without consciousness?

If one is a capable agent, they do not get mired in questions that cannot be solved. Ivan was a realistic person, so he decided to find a solution instead.

“Sometimes if despair covers the sky…”

One foot stretched back to maintain balance. The other foot grounded firmly on the earth.

Creak, a prickling sensation numbing the nerves. The sense of hearing, taste, smell, and touch are eliminated. What is enhanced is entirely the sense of time.

The space is depicted. Time is segmented. Between seconds, the snowflakes falling from the sky seem to freeze mid-air, as if preserved in the atmosphere.

Not even the wind blows. It is undetectable. Even the flow of magic seems to have swallowed its breath. The malice of that being, even now, the malice pouring over the entire world is the same.

Only silence. That alone remains truly.

The distorted winter, a winter that has been liberated from confinement after an eternity, has stilled in the quiet.

And in that moment, an axe dances.

– Kiiing….

The hand gripping the axe handle is devoid of sensation. The right arm, nearly necrotic, is supported by the left hand behind, as a precaution against lacking strength.

There is only one posture remembered. The strongest strike he can recall.

The trajectory of that moment, which reached out for hope amidst despair.

The hero party cannot despair. They must not despair. Their duty is to be humanity’s hope. They had no right to give up.

So, in an era when despair overshadowed the sky and engulfed humanity, the hero party instead—

– “Sliced through the clouds.”

Maximilian’s sky-splitting.

– Kwazik.

With the severing, time flows.

The sky glowed red. The clouds tore apart. In Elpheira’s eyes, there was still only a dreadful celestial omen, yet she stood up, refusing to kneel, taking one step further.

– Kwazijijijik!!!

Once again, a strike weaves through the gaps of consciousness, tearing the clouds and clawing at the sky—

– Kwaaaaaaaaaang—!!!

A branch, piercing through the clouds, fell.

“Did… did you just slice that…?” Elpheira muttered in disbelief. Even when receiving her gaze, Ivan maintained his stance in silence, holding his composure.

Unshaken even by that mighty strike, he stood there with the demeanor of someone who had completed an ordinary task.

Yes, indeed.

In this era, excluding our fathers. In other words, excluding the heroes and their party.

The man standing before her now was the only one who had killed a Warlord and returned alive.

“Can you use magic?”

“Yes, yes, Sir Yeremov. I can use it.”

“Can you escape from this space?”

“Escape…? Ah, yes, theoretically it’s possible, but….”

What threw them into this space was the power of ‘that,’ but now that some of that power can be manipulated, it seems an escape can be attempted in theory.

That’s a relief. Ivan nodded.

“I will issue the operation orders.”

“Operations… yes, yes.”

“The ultimate goal is the establishment of ‘that.’ The immediate task is survival and escape. The subsequent task is to gather the Elf forces and supply them with ‘your method.’ After that, we will empower the Elf forces.”

Ivan continued without looking at Elpheira.

“The grand strategy is to rescue the Elves. The minimum condition is to establish the next regime in Kalion.”

“Wh-why are you saying that…?”

Why is he saying this at this very moment? With a puzzled look, Elpheira looked at Ivan. Everything he was saying now was something he could accomplish if they worked together.

However, Ivan still did not look at Elpheira.

“Someone needs to buy time. It would be problematic if that escapes this space before the preparations are complete.”

“…What?”

Hoping that she had misunderstood, she asked, but Ivan remained silently standing.

“Go.”

“Sir Yeremov, but!!”

“I’ve done it before. Go.”

Ivan did not wait for her to finish. Instead, he loosely tied his limp right arm to his body and walked forward with a limping leg.

Elpheira extended her arm to his retreating figure but soon lowered it again.

Someone had to do it, and it was something she could not do. Each of them had to handle what they could do.

So, if she respected his judgment, she had to act according to his judgment.

– Spark!!

Magic wrapped around her hand.

*

The pawn crushed by the knight burst like a maggot, surrounding the queen.

The queen is looking at the knight. The knight will die with the next move. The board collapses.

In the distance, the white pawns are gathering, but they will not be able to keep up with the timing.

Nothing could be seen in the darkness beyond the game board, but it felt as if the darkness was laughing.

Veolgrin fiddled with a game piece for a moment before shaking off the dust and standing up.

– Are you giving up?

It was not a sound he heard. It was merely an empty darkness where nothing existed. But in response to some ‘will’ question, Veolgrin shook his head.

“I need to make the next move.”

– Is there a next move left?

“Of course.”

Veolgrin set down the game piece he had been touching. It was a completely different direction, a totally mismatched move.

The bishop stood. Facing the king.

– This violates the rules.

“From now on, this will be our rule.”

– How dare you enforce the rules?

“If you wish to play in the mortal world, you must follow the rules of mortals.”

Veolgrin reached out into the darkness.

The gods do not typically speak to their followers. Depending on their whims, they occasionally only extend a hand.

Then, can’t one grasp that outstretched hand and pull it down?

If a vessel is complete, can it not be filled?

Thus, Veolgrin firmly gripped the captured hand and pulled with all his might—.

“The world of gods belongs to the gods. The world of man belongs to man.”

Ash returns to ash, dust returns to dust, and particles return to particles.

“Therefore, if a god stands in the world of man, they can no longer be called a god.”

As the age of myths passed, the age of civilization began, and the gods that once walked the earth disappeared.

Long ago, it is said that a religion sought to hunt down the gods. Though the methods and history remain unknown, the ancient ruins from a distant past still lurk beneath the ground.

A god that falls to the earth follows the rules of mortals. And the only rule granted to mortals is ‘mortality.’ Nothing in this world can live forever.

Ash returns to ash, dust returns to dust, and particles return to particles.

The world of gods belongs to the gods. The world of man belongs to man.

“The whims of the gods can no longer sway the fate of the earth.”

Pulling on the captured hand.

“Finally, the world will truly be free.”

This is the only way to kill the gods above.

*

“Aurora…?”

The sailing elves muttered as they stared blankly at the blue curtain stretched over the rough storm.

In the distance, a massive aurora was unfurling over the faintly glowing skies of Ydranhill.

Under the northern lights, on the frozen sea, the silhouette of a colossal tree swayed, encompassing all of Ydranhill.