Chapter 1023 The World Tree's Whisper

Everything had returned to silence. The howling and roaring of the collision between two worlds had vanished, and the colors and sunlight of the mortal realm had dissolved into the final Great Annihilation. In the chaotic darkness after all things had ceased, the world-tree of death was still growing silently.

New corpses grew from old ones, and new ruins bred from old ruins.

She had forgotten the elves, forgotten herself, forgotten the beginning and the end—breeding, spreading, continuing to grow; these had become the only obsessions of Xilandis after the end.

But the Vanishing Sail had arrived before this ever-growing corpse, and the faint green flames spreading in the darkness had become a barrier to stop Xilandis from expanding further.

The world-tree of death finally reacted.

Duncan saw unusual light and shadows floating in her remains—a hazy mist, gray-white fog seeming to conceal amorphous limbs and shapes. The edge of the mist constantly spread from the canopy, like tentacles or winding roots.

He was reminded of the hazy mists floating above the pilgrimage arks of the Four Gods Church.

But before he could think further, an even greater change occurred—the "river" of countless tiny points of light that orbited Xilandis suddenly disintegrated. Countless starlight fragments merged into the mist floating above the world-tree. In the next second, the seemingly illusory and weak mist suddenly solidified and expanded outward frantically!

The edge of the mist transformed into sharp arrows, desperately crashing into the spiritual fire sea emanating around the Vanishing Sail.

A low, illusory roar seemed to echo in the darkness. Xilandis's impact stirred up layers of ripples in the spirit fire. However, more flames emerged from the void, gradually dyeing the chaotic, pale mist with a layer of faint green—but Xilandis was still crashing, unceasingly, even though each impact was causing fatal erosion.

Duncan even felt a sense of astonishment.

This was the first time something had dared to actively rush towards the spirit fire.

And in the next second, through Xilandis's repeated impacts, he saw a hazy entity gradually taking shape in the mist above the world-tree.

It was a glimmer, in which no outline was visible at all, as if it were a soul still being conceived, yet to take shape.

But Duncan immediately realized that it was Xilandis.

"There's no point in doing this," he couldn't help but say to the glimmer. "You can't break through this barrier, and you yourself will soon become part of it."

However, the glimmer did not respond. Only constant impacts, the mist's boundaries dissolving with each crash, the muffled roar turning into clear "thump" sounds, echoing again and again.

Duncan stared at this scene with a tense expression. After a long while, he slowly raised his hand.

Flames rose in the illusion, slowly flowing towards the main body of Xilandis in the darkness.

"Release those elves, and the things you have devoured, let Light Breeze Port return to the real world," he said in a deep voice, "While it's not too late, there's still a chance to salvage this."

The hazy glimmer finally reacted. It suddenly flickered, and a sharp, childish voice came from the darkness: "They are not elves!"

The light points wandering and gathering around the remains of the world-tree suddenly became violently agitated. More light gathered into streams, surging towards the mist above Xilandis!

However, just as the mist was about to brew its next impact, the agitated light points suddenly underwent another violent tremor. Then, many of the light points that had already merged into the mist abruptly "reversed," beginning to detach from Xilandis's "attraction." Starlight fragments fell from above the world-tree like scattered petals, as if stars were circling a giant tree.

In the next second, one of the falling light points expanded, gradually transforming into an illusory shadow—

It was an elf who was not too tall, his hair already gray. He wore a deep blue academy robe. His face seemed to carry a perpetual air of weariness, but at this moment, he stood calmly among countless scattered and floating light points, quietly confronting the "world-tree" standing in the darkness, vast as a mountain.

The Truth Keeper of Light Breeze Port, Ted Riel.

Duncan looked at the suddenly appearing figure with some surprise: "I thought you were gone."

Ted Riel simply shrugged: "Just a nightmare—not even comparable to grading those students' assignments and papers rushed out on the last day of vacation."

Perhaps due to the sudden departure of a large number of elves from her control, Xilandis's mental entity seemed to fall into a brief period of confusion and shock. But soon, her voice reappeared in the darkness: "Come back… come back quickly, it's dangerous outside! Come back… let's wait for Saslozka to come home together, okay…"

At the edge of the spirit fire, the huge black goat suddenly stepped out of the flames. He raised his head, quietly gazing at the pale and twisted world-tree: "I'm right here, little sapling."

Xilandis suddenly paused. Her mental entity swayed in the mist, seemingly unable to discern whether the black goat in the flames was the creator in her memory. For a moment, she seemed to waver. The mist spreading from the edge of the canopy quietly retracted. However, in the next second, a sharp whistling and ear-piercing noise suddenly swept across the entire darkness:

"No! It's not! It's not you! It's none of you! You…"

She stopped abruptly, lowering her voice as if talking to herself in confusion: "It's none of you… you died…? You died… you're not elves… I…"

"We are indeed not the elves in your memory, Xilandis."

A voice suddenly appeared, interrupting Xilandis's confused and troubled thoughts.

The voice was not loud, but it seemed to echo directly throughout the entire space, sounding old, yet seeming to carry a power to calm the heart.

On the deck of the Vanishing Sail, an old man with a hazy and illusory body slowly walked up.

Ruen turned his head and nodded slightly to Duncan, then he calmly turned around, his expression calm as he gazed at the giant tree in the darkness.

That was the world-tree in elven legends, their homeland, mother, myth, heritage, the starting point of all legends, the source of a glorious civilization.

Now, she had been dead for a long time, but her corpse was gradually losing control and proliferating in death.

Ruen had never seen such a large tree—as an elf, he had never even seen a forest, nor did he know how to survive in a forest. He had not seen winding rivers flowing through valleys, turning into gurgling streams in the forest, had not seen birds and beasts nesting in the forest, flowers blooming in forest clearings, nor had he heard the sounds of the wind and the sea of trees in the night.

It was said that the elves of that time were even longer-lived than they were now—their lifespans were almost eternal, and they could regenerate from death under the protection of the world-tree. They were light and strong, and could run among the canopies of towering trees…

But Ruen had never seen it.

He was born after all that was destroyed.

He came to the end of the deck. The increase in age had made his back slightly hunched, and years of desk work and a less than ideal lifestyle had made him a little overweight. He raised his head, and wrinkles piled up on his forehead, crisscrossing like ravines.

"We are very different from what you remember, aren't we?" he said to the world-tree.

Xilandis did not speak. The glimmer only trembled slightly in the mist. From the depths of the pale and twisted remains of the world-tree came a faint rustling sound, like the swaying of leaves.

After a long time, the childish voice hesitantly sounded: "The ravines on your face… what are they?"

"They are wrinkles. When mortals get old, their skin becomes loose and wrinkled, like this," Ruen said slowly. "And when it's cloudy and rainy, I also feel pain in my back, because I'm old and I've been living at sea… my stomach isn't very good now, and my teeth have been repaired. Perhaps in a few years, I will die like other old people. I will become ash in the furnace, fertilizer in the planting field… we will not return to the world-tree, nor will we regenerate in giant seed pods…"

He stopped, raising his head, gazing at the distant glimmer.

"Very different from what you remember, isn't it?" he said again.

From the depths of the remains of the world-tree, a slight rustling sound echoed again.

"…Is it, all unreturnable…"

"Yes, unreturnable. All unreturnable. Even if we return, it may not be what you recognize," Ruen said slowly. "But… I have something I want to show you."

As he spoke, he reached into his arms and groped. After a moment, he pulled out a book.

The book was old, and it seemed to have been read often. The cover was printed with elegant letters different from the common languages of most city-states.

He opened the old book and found a passage, slowly reading it aloud: "...The first ray of sunlight appeared on the giant stone. The traveler packed his bags. He was to cross the Hill of Flowers and reach the heights of Roland-Narm before evening..."

"This is the 'Horo-Dazo Epic'…"

"Yes, it is that poem. Long ago, explorers discovered stone slabs inscribed with this poem on dark islands, and many other records. We spent a thousand years recovering the meaning of these words, and thousands more searching for the Hill of Flowers and the heights described in the poem… But we didn't find them. Even those dark islands disappeared into the border mists one day…"

Ruen said in a low, gentle voice. He put down the book and looked at the distant glimmer again.

"We have recovered many things, half of which we still cannot understand. But compared to humans and Sen, the historical heritage of the elves is the most complete. We at least still remember that the Creator woke up in the darkness and planted the first tree in the dream of origin… Four hundred years ago, we restored the craftsmanship of the 'Ring-tail Harp.' Its sound is very crisp, just as recorded in the ancient scrolls. Seventy-six years ago, we repaired the last chapter of the 'Hydeland Poems.' It is many interesting stories, said to have been dedicated to the gods…

"But there is more that we still don't know, and never will. Those that disappeared in the Great Annihilation, never to be seen again in the Deep Sea Age, like those dark islands that disappeared in the mist.

"Xilandis, I'm sorry, we are not the elves you remember. We are just picking up some fragments of the past from the flowing river of time, trying to leave these traces in the world after the end… I don't know if this can give you any comfort, but…

"This is all that's left."

In the darkness, the glimmer floated quietly, and the hazy, pale mist was gradually shrinking. Unknowingly, the dead and twisted branches on the edge of Xilandis quietly dissipated, while the faint green flames quietly surrounded the giant tree, as if… the forest that had vanished long ago.

Duncan raised his head and looked at the giant black goat.

After a moment of silent communication, he nodded slightly.

The black goat stepped forward, crossed the void, and slowly came to the foot of the giant tree.

"…You've grown so big," He raised his head and sighed softly.

The glimmer in the darkness trembled slightly: "I… didn't complete the task you entrusted to me."

"No, you've done very well," The black goat slowly lowered his head and gently touched the dry, torn trunk with his horns. At the tip of the horns, a bit of faint green flame quietly burned. "Now the good child needs to sleep, little sapling."

In the pale mist, the glimmer gradually dimmed, and the rustling sound of wind and leaves finally ceased. Starlight fragments gathered into a river, quietly circling at the foot of Xilandis—in the deepest part of the world-tree, finally came a burst of loud crying.

The faint green spirit fire rose into the sky, instantly enveloping the entire giant tree, illuminating the entire darkness after all things had ceased.