The eastern district of Greynifra.  

There, where massive ancient trees stood, barely touching the domain of the World Tree, a lone hut was nestled.  

Inside.  

The hut, partially fused with the ancient trees as if assimilated, housed a pair of individuals facing each other.  

One was Philde, smiling leisurely.  

The other was Perion, who had accompanied her to the Marquisate of Palatio.  

“Hmm—”  

Perion glanced around the interior and, recalling the lavish office Philde had previously occupied, asked:  

“Do you always stay here during your vacations, Philde?”  

“Well—pretty much?”  

“You even used up your vacation days. Is there a particular reason you’re staying here?”  

“It might not look like it, but I find it quite comfortable.”  

Philde replied with a smile, resting her chin on her hand.  

“So, what brings you to me, interrupting my extended leave after a tiring business trip?”  

“……You weren’t actually that exhausted, were you?”  

On the way to the Marquisate.  

Perion recalled how she had spent the entire day drinking and reveling in a state of intoxication.  

But Philde shamelessly shook her head.  

“Of course not. Are you really saying that despite knowing how much blood I coughed up?”  

“Well, that’s true, but… anyway—”  

Clearing his throat, Perion continued.  

“The reason I came is simply because I was curious about something.”  

“Curious?”  

“Yes. You might not be aware since you’re on vacation here, but Marquis Palatio is currently in our land.”  

“Marquis Palatio?”  

At the mere mention of that name, Philde’s interest was piqued.  

“Let me explain the situation first.”  

As if he had been waiting for this moment, Perion began detailing everything that had happened since Marquis Palatio arrived in Greynifra.  

“That is the current situation.”  

“I see.”  

Philde slowly nodded.  

“I get the general idea. So, what exactly are you curious about?”  

Philde posed the question.  

Perion hesitated for a moment before speaking.  

“You told the Queen last time, didn’t you? That the reason the Marquis—or rather, the Primordial Elf—couldn’t come to the World Tree was because of the ‘black presence.’”  

“I did, yes?”  

“But the Marquis has come to the World Tree. And according to rumors—”  

“He eliminated the Ash Seeder beneath the ground and breathed new life into the decaying World Tree. Is that right?”  

“Yes. Just like the Primordial Elf himself.”  

Philde shrugged.  

“Well, then, isn’t that enough? If the Marquis being the Primordial Elf turned out to be true as expected?”  

“Looking at the conclusion alone, that’s correct. But there’s still something that doesn’t make sense to me.”  

“What is it?”  

Perion’s expression grew serious.  

“In the end, wasn’t your hypothesis incorrect?”  

“What hypothesis?”  

“The assumption that the Marquis couldn’t come to the World Tree because there was something behind him that must not be brought here.”  

“Hmm, well, that’s true.”  

“If that assumption was proven false—”  

His voice trailed off momentarily.  

“Then there’s no reason for him to have deliberately stayed away all this time, nor to continue denying that he is the Primordial Elf, is there?”  

The flood of questions poured out.  

“And the Queen’s attitude is also strange. If she truly didn’t want the Primordial Elf to reveal his identity, she would have made sure that only a minimal number of people knew the truth about the Marquis.”  

“But instead, the Queen subtly hinted to those around her that the Marquis is the Primordial Elf?”  

“Moreover, despite knowing your hypothesis, she didn’t express any doubt when the Primordial Elf finally arrived.”  

Perion scratched his head after saying all that.  

“I know my questions may not be that important. No matter why the Marquis denies being the Primordial Elf, he has already proven himself.”  

“Hmm—”  

“But I was just curious, so I came to ask.”  

Philde grasped Perion’s lingering doubt immediately.  

“So, to sum it up, you’re wondering why the Queen could believe so unwaveringly that the Marquis is the Primordial Elf, even though his actions contradicted what I had said?”  

“Yes.”  

Perion answered without hesitation.  

Philde smiled lightly and then—  

“I don’t know.”  

“……Excuse me?”  

“I said, I don’t know.”  

That was her response.  

“Wait, seriously?”  

Perion was taken aback.  

“Of course. Why would I know?”  

“Well, you’re the wisest person I know? I thought you might have an idea why the Queen is acting this way…?”  

“An idea, huh—”  

Philde let out a thoughtful hum before adding:  

“Well, I wouldn’t say I have no idea at all. After the Queen met with Marquis Palatio, I did come up with one possible explanation.”  

“……Then could you share it with me?”  

“Hmm—should I?”  

Philde shot Perion a playful smile before saying—  

“I like you, but telling you everything outright seems boring. So, I’ll give you a hint instead.”  

“A hint?”  

“The Ring. Take a good look at the ring the Queen always carries.”  

“……The ring?”  

“Yes, the ring. If you do, you might start to understand.”  

That was the hint Philde provided.  

“……Wait, isn’t that barely a hint at all?”  

“No, it’s a crucial hint.”  

With that, she handed Perion a bottle of liquor.  

“And this?”  

“A fee for the hint. I was getting bored drinking alone, so why not keep me company today?”  

Perion let out a small sigh, staring at the bottle.  

Suddenly, he remembered a critical fact—Philde had an absurdly high alcohol tolerance.  

In other words, by tomorrow, he would likely be so drunk he wouldn’t even be able to move.  

‘My stomach is already churning…’  

He was already dreading the morning.  

***

A Few Days Later  

Alon prepared to return to the Marquisate immediately.  

His business in Greynifra was now complete, so there was no reason to stay any longer.  

Honestly, he would have preferred to take some time to rest and reflect.  

“I will escort you.”  

“That… won’t be necessary.”  

“No, I insist! I really want to!”  

…………Resting was not an option.  

Ever since he had returned from the roots, word had spread across the entire land.  

No matter where he went, he was met with overwhelming reverence.  

Even now.  

Feeling the weight of such treatment, Alon turned to look at Rim.  

Her eyes sparkled so brightly that they could have been mistaken for pieces of the Milky Way embedded in her irises.  

“In that case, just escort me to the outskirts.”  

“I shall follow!”  

Rim bowed with a radiant smile.  

He still couldn’t get used to this.  

‘Wasn’t this the same cold elf from just a few days ago?’  

“Marquis.”  

As soon as Alon got into the carriage, Evan spoke up.  

“What is it?”  

“How does it feel to ride in a carriage with your humble human body?”  

“……Seems like you really liked that line, huh?”  

“It’s not that I liked it. I’ve just heard it so often from others that it’s practically engraved in my ears now.”  

Alon let out a deep sigh.  

‘Why does everyone look at me with such pity?’  

In truth, there was another reaction the elves had toward him.  

Pity.  

The mighty and revered elf, reborn as a mere human with barely a hundred years to live—suffering and unrecognized.  

As a result, whenever he moved through the kingdom, he was met with overwhelming respect and awe—burdensome reactions in themselves.  

At the same time, he was also the subject of sorrow and sympathy.  

That kind of racial bias(?) was precisely why…  

Alon had decided to make a quick escape.  

Thus.  

“Hearing people whisper about it constantly is… unsettling.”  

“Is that so?”  

“Yes. I’m starting to get confused myself.”  

“Confused about what?”  

“You are not the Primordial Elf, correct?”  

“Correct.”  

Alon nodded without hesitation.  

In the past, he might have hesitated, but now there was no need.  

After all—  

Nod!  

Even if he denied it, no one believed him.  

If anything, Rim, as if determined to play along, nodded even more vigorously.  

“Well, I also think you’re not.”  

“And?”  

“But since everyone keeps reacting like that, even I’m starting to doubt myself.”  

After a brief silence, Evan spoke again.  

“Marquis.”  

“What?”  

“You really aren’t… the Primordial Elf, right?”  

He asked again, carefully.  

“I’m not.”  

“……I see.”  

Even as he accepted the answer, there was a flicker of doubt in Evan’s eyes.  

Alon let out a small sigh.  

By the time the afternoon arrived, the carriage had reached the border.  

“Then, we’ll take our leave here.”  

“Alright.”  

“I look forward to seeing you again!”  

Leaving the deeply bowing Rim behind, Alon finally left the land of the elves.  

***

Alon headed straight for the Marquisate of Palatio.  

He needed to stop by Teria to report to Siyan.  

However, since he had departed for Greynifra immediately after his birthday, there were still some tasks he had left unfinished.  

‘On top of that, I want to study the divine authorities and ‘Arrow’ properly.’  

He couldn’t research the divine authority while traveling, as it required confronting Kylrus directly.  

But as for ‘Arrow,’ he had been able to use it a few times on his way back to the Marquisate.  

As a result.  

He had learned four things.  

First, the divine power of the Primordial Elf that he had wielded was…  

A force that—though not entirely clear—seemed to promote growth.  

Second, apart from the green energy he had initially used, he still couldn’t access any of the other ‘Arrows.’  

Third, using ‘Arrow’ consumed far more stamina than he had anticipated.  

And lastly.  

The energy of ‘Arrow’ could regenerate—or even grow stronger—depending on the level of faith and its concentration.  

‘At first, the green energy was significantly smaller than the others,’  

Now, in his familiar state of contemplation,  

Alon observed the green energy, which had grown large enough to rival the blue energy, before withdrawing from his trance.  

‘Maybe I should discuss ‘Arrow’ with Penia? Oh, right—I still have to go to the Magic Society with her.’ 

While Penia remained unaware, Alon mentally organized their schedule.  

Before he knew it, he had arrived at the Marquisate of Palatio.  

And soon after returning—  

Before he could even take a break, he received word that Duke Merkiliane was waiting for him.  

At their meeting—  

“Hahahaha! So, it was true!”  

“?”  

“I am Zukurak, the Scarred! I greet the dear friend of the Great One—!”  

He was suddenly greeted.  

With.  

Thud!

A loud impact as the man slammed his head to the ground in a dramatic bow.  

Even Duke Merkiliane, as startled as Alon, looked visibly confused.  

But Zukurak remained unfazed.  

“I pay my respects to the Great One’s dear friend!”  

He bellowed with unrestrained enthusiasm.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep