Chapter 265: Moira's Past, World Eater

Liaheim, the City of Elves.

Focusing her mind, Moira carefully gripped the fine crystal with her tweezers, roasting it over the flame ignited in her right hand. Her slightly clouded eyes remained fixed on the surface of the crystal, watching the colors shift slowly, waiting for that precise, fleeting moment.

As the surface hue transformed into a state of "iridescent black"—a shade where brilliant darkness mingled with a spectrum of other colors—Moira swiftly dropped the crystal into a reagent bottle prepared nearby.

"Sizzle-crack, ping!"

A sharp, ear-piercing sound of shattering echoed as the crystal fractured within the bottle, its grey-white debris slowly settling to the bottom.

"Hmph... the seventh failure. I suppose I am truly old now. I fall short in every regard compared to my younger self. Without that fellow Wang Yu, handling these materials has become a monumental chore."

Moira sighed, tossing the reagent bottle and its failed contents into the small incinerator in the center of the room. Though the transmutation of flame crystals was a notoriously difficult process, she would never have failed so many times in her prime.

She had previously felt dissatisfied with Avia’s lack of practice in material processing, for in Moira’s view, it was a skill second only to innate talent for any alchemist.

But after truly "utilizing" Wang Yu, Moira finally understood the girl's perspective; having Wang Yu process materials was addictive.

You simply threw the raw materials and the methodology at him, and in a short time, the refined components were delivered to your side. There was no need to worry about anything; the tedious, error-prone process became a thing of the past. Without his help, she found it hard to adapt.

At this thought, Moira could only shake her head. When had she become so lazy? If she were back in her youth, she would have...

Well, if she really encountered a student or disciple as useful as Wang Yu, she would likely still find a way to slack off.

"..."

As she pondered her younger self, Moira’s thoughts drifted uncontrollably. That companion who had studied alongside her—it had been decades since they parted ways.

"Sigh, why does one become so sentimental with age? These wandering thoughts are impossible to stem. Is it the influence of my two new disciples? After all, attempting the 'Bottled Miracle'—a task nearly impossible to complete—was inspired by them."

When she thought of that classmate and dear friend she had met after coming to Liaheim to study, Moira’s heart grew heavy with complexity.

For an old woman whose life as a human was nearing its end, only at such moments would her settled heart stir with anything resembling a wave.

Arriving in Liaheim as a genius, Moira had quickly carved out a place for herself among the elven academies through sheer talent.

And geniuses are always drawn to one another. Kate was the name of her first elven friend—a quiet girl with a gift for pharmacology. A chance exchange of questions had been the catalyst for their acquaintance.

In truth, there was nothing more to it than two beings of different races meeting and becoming friends.

Back then, Moira’s personality was far more flamboyant than it was now, so their dynamic was much like that of bickering roommates on Earth.

Upon learning that Kate, who looked much younger than her, was actually several centuries old, Moira often called her "old hag."

As for Kate, though relatively quiet, she held nothing back with a close friend. "Call me Mother," was Kate’s usual retort.

It was a simple, pure friendship—the kind that, in this world, truly only exists within the confines of an academy.

"Hmm... if you were still here, what would you say to see me like this?"

Moira pinched the wrinkled, slightly sagging skin on the back of her hand. She was old now, and if Kate were still alive, those decades would have barely altered her appearance. Her tone carried a sense of inexplicable lament.

She was not a knight; the fragile constitution of a mage could not support the use of those potions that extended life or preserved eternal youth. Until one crossed a certain threshold, the issues of lifespan and physical frailty remained the eternal pain of all mages.

It is worth noting that Gwen, an old acquaintance of Sieg, was Kate’s brother. Because of Kate, the three of them had been quite close, and Gwen, as an elven elder, had helped Moira significantly.

However, since Moira no longer had any contact with Gwen, something must have occurred to change everything.

During a campaign to eradicate a band of orc marauders, the elves and dwarves had dispatched a joint force, with Moira and Kate serving as field medics.

No one had anticipated that the orc marauders were hiding a commander—a Great Knight from a former orc kingdom army—wielding the legendary weapon "Frostfire."

The orc Great Knight, wielding the legendary weapon, caught the joint dwarven-elven force off guard with a sudden, devastating assault.

The mace, wreathed in intertwined frost and flame, turned scores of dwarves and elves into internally burning ice sculptures amidst the roiling elements.

Fortunately, the conflict took place on the outskirts of the Origin Forest. The overwhelming tide of treants and ancient war trees swarmed the area, using their infinite numbers to drown the powerful orc in a sea of life.

Tragically, Kate, as a field medic, was caught in the aftermath of the battle and struck by the power of "Frostfire."

"Internal Burning Ice"—an invisible fire burning within the body while eternal ice grew upon the exterior. This was the terror of the legendary weapon. Those struck directly needed no explanation, but even those grazed by the shockwave would find that power killing them within a short time.

This power was nearly impossible to dispel unless one possessed a force of higher priority. A miracle from a god might count, or a wonder-item, but it was difficult to find anything else that could influence the power of a legendary weapon.

Because Kate had only been grazed, the situation was not initially dire. Moira, an expert in pharmacology, knew that her unconscious friend only needed one thing—something the elves of Liaheim happened to possess—to survive.

That was the liquid from the Source Pool of the World Tree. For a non-elf, immersion within it was like being reborn in a mother’s womb; their life essence would leap forward, their lifespan would align with the long-lived races, and their various talents would surge.

For the elves, it was a true recreation—washing away all hidden wounds and old ailments, purifying all pain. That power was sufficient to purge the remnants of "Frostfire" from Kate’s body.

Moira had assumed that because Kate’s brother was an elven elder, her friend’s life would surely be preserved. But when Gwen, with a grim face, refused to let Kate be immersed in the pool water, citing "elven rules," Moira’s heart turned to ice.

"So, if I truly finish brewing the Wish Potion, should I make a wish for some entity to uproot this heartless World Tree?"

Tapping the table, Moira looked at the World Tree outside her window, her expression unreadable.

"Heh, forget it. Not to mention whether this half-finished potion could grant such a wish, it would be more practical to pray for some liquid from the Source Pool to study or extend my own life. Most importantly, I’d love to see the look on that rigid fool Gwen’s face when the rules are broken."

A smile suddenly appeared on her otherwise stoic face—a smile that felt somewhat rakish, as old people are wont to become. That was simply who Moira was.

In truth, she had mostly made peace with the past. Had Gwen really been wrong? Perhaps. But in his position, one sometimes had to view things from a higher, colder perspective.

"I wonder how my two disciples are faring. If what they said about the corruption is true, the Sorenson Mountains will no longer be peaceful. I hope they don't try to be heroes."

Ceasing to dwell on the past, Moira stood up and walked to the alchemy bench, picking up a specially crafted container.

Inside the container was a deep purple liquid shimmering like starlight—the half-finished Wish Potion she had been working on for some time. It was perhaps the limit of what she, at her age, could achieve.

"Lucky Coin"—that was the name Moira had given the potion. What she had to do next was attempt to make the potion take the step from mere "luck" to "wish." It was a true, insurmountable chasm.

...

Sorenson Mountains

Wang Yu and Avia were currently following Sif’s guidance, tracking the trail of natural magic.

After Holo had used natural magic to contact them, Wang Yu and Avia, with Sif’s help, had begun their journey to the location of their old acquaintance.

"Your Excellency the Archbishop, I did not expect to see you here. Although it may be a bit late, being able to see you at this time is, regardless, quite fortunate. Might I be so bold as to ask you for one more favor?"

This was the message Holo had conveyed through the overgrown moss.

Passing through a forest, the three of them stood upon a cliff halfway up the Sorenson Mountains. The natural magic pointed to this as the final destination.

"Click, click, click..."

As they arrived, the cliff face began to crack. Thick, resilient vines burst through the rock, prying open a passage leading into the mountain and revealing it to Wang Yu and his companions.

Confirming that the Phase Gate could be activated at any time, the three of them entered the passage exposed in the rock face, venturing deep into the Sorenson Mountains.

Vines crawled along the rock walls, supporting the structure and having excavated the passage itself.

The familiar aura emanating from these plants allowed Wang Yu to truly confirm the presence within: Holo, the Dark Elf Druid who had fought alongside him in the Shadow of the Royal City.

"Cough, cough... Lord Wang Yu, I apologize for meeting you in this state. I cannot even offer a proper greeting."

As Wang Yu’s Chariot Power probed Holo’s form, the voice emerged from within the cave—weak, hoarse, and dry, a stark contrast to the gentle voice he once knew.

Wang Yu, having captured the state of his counterpart, understood all too well why Holo’s voice sounded so haggard.

Holo could hardly be called a dark elf any longer; a multitude of vines erupted from the rock face, layering over his body to pin him against the stone.

Wang Yu’s power of the chariot allowed him to perceive blind spots invisible to the naked eye, revealing that Holo’s lower half, seemingly merely surrounded by vines, had actually transformed into them entirely, spreading outward from his own flesh.

Countless additional roots protruded from the surroundings, connecting to Holo’s upper torso and burrowing deep into his body; their occasional pulses reminded Wang Yu of the intricate neural networks within a human being.

The only part of him that remained intact was his head, where a bitter smile appeared as he looked toward the three who had entered.

“You, why go to such lengths…?”

Wang Yu observed Holo’s condition and spoke with a touch of helplessness, realizing that Holo’s life force was much like that of the druid within the mushroom creature: he had merged his own body into this “nature.”

“Having listened to the Archbishop, you must surely understand the state of these mountains. Alas, having seen the efforts of the druids of my homeland, how could I abandon this land and leave, even if all I do is delay the inevitable?”

The smile on Holo’s face grew increasingly bitter; Wang Yu’s lack of persuasive intent only made him more aware of the limits of his actions, yet he had done what he could.

“Corruption and famine, and this new ecosystem created by the druids, is that it?”

Wang Yu skipped the trivialities, focusing only on the essentials.

“Correct. The forests and other living things of the Sorensen Mountains are, in truth, life recreated by the druids of my homeland upon the barren earth of the famine.”

Holo nodded, confirming the suspicions Avia and Wang Yu held regarding the events in the Sorensen Mountains.

“But if that is the case, the matter here should have been resolved; why, then, must you do this to yourself?”

Wang Yu posed his second question, unable to see why Holo had felt the need to become what he was now.

“If the Sorensen druids had truly resolved the corruption by their own power alone, that would have been wonderful. But regretfully, against that corruption, the strength of the druids was far too feeble, so the dark elf druids borrowed the greatest power they could.”

Powerlessness was the sensation Holo projected to Wang Yu in that moment.

“The World Tree?”

A brief inquiry.

“Yes. Though the elves do not acknowledge the dark elves, we are still children of the World Tree. When the druids offered their lives to pray to her, how could the World Tree, as a mother, refuse their plea?”

“Borrowing the power of the World Tree, the druids sacrificed their lives to forge this ecosystem that grows upon the famine left by the corruption. But that corruption has not truly faded; it still lurks beneath the Sorensen Mountains.”

“For so many years, its slumbering hunger for life force has intensified, constantly draining the vitality of the World Tree. And now, it is about to awaken. What I do is transmit a false message to it, deep beneath the mountains: ‘I am still hungry; it is not yet time to wake.’”

“There is little left that I can do. At most, I can delay it for one more week before it stirs. What it will do then, I cannot say, but its craving for life will surely bring no change that could be called good.”

Holo recounted his actions and the history of the Sorensen Mountains, and as he finished, he used natural magic to project an image to the three of them.

It was a dark, cavernous space beneath the mountains, where a colossal worm lay stretched out. Flesh-like tentacles extended from its body, connecting to countless plant roots that drew nutrients from the depths of the earth.

It was sleeping, for the eyes covering its massive form remained closed, yet even now, some of those eyes had cracked open, revealing grey-yellow, filth-streaked orbs—the harbingers of its awakening.

“World Eater…”

With a solemn expression, Wang Yu murmured, bestowing a name upon the nameless, gargantuan worm, borrowing a title from something back on Earth.