Chapter 93: Chapter 93: Investigation: Forensic Data

The tremors would not stop. The primary bough of Elarwyn’s Hanging Fields, once an unyielding fortress of ancient wood, now felt like a living creature shivering in a cold, existential terror. The sound of the tree’s distress—a heavy, deep creak-crack that resonated from the very heartwood—echoed through the city like a funeral knell. Leaves that had only recently regained their vibrant emerald luster were now shriveling, falling one by one like dry, ashen tears into the lightless abyss of the lower levels.

Dayat stood at the center of the mounting chaos, his breathing measured despite the adrenaline surging through his veins. Around him, the Verdia Paladins had tightened their circle, their wooden spears—tipped with sharpened, mana-infused flint—leveled directly at his chest. Governor Caelmir stood motionless, his weary face looking like a cracked stone monument, while the Senior Druid continued to chant frantic purification mantras that had long since proven useless. The brilliant white light of the Druid’s magic simply bounced off the black stain, unable to penetrate the oily, malevolent rot that continued to claim the sacred wood.

“Your mantras will not work,” Dayat’s voice cut through the heavy air, cold and clinical. “You are attempting to cleanse the ’soul’ of this tree, while what it needs right now is a physical surgery. This poison isn’t a curse of the ancestors; it’s a structural infiltration.”

The Senior Druid halted his chanting, his chest heaving. He turned his gaze toward Dayat, his eyes burning with a deep, ancestral hatred. “How dare you defile our tradition, Manusia! This World Tree has been sustained by the sacred rituals for ten thousand years before you brought your dead pipes and your blasphemous sulfur! Our forebears taught us that every sickness is a disharmony of the spirit, and you… you are the greatest discordance Elarwyn has ever known!”

Dayat took a slow, steadying breath, meeting the Druid’s gaze with a terrifyingly calm intensity. “If your ancestors were here right now, they’d strike you for letting this tree die just to protect your ego. If the lore teaches that this tree is the Root of the Universe, then the logic of that very lore demands that we seek the truth, not cower behind prayers while an enemy is actively pumping venom into its veins!”

Caelmir raised a hand, silencing the Druid Senior before the argument could escalate into a bloodbath. “Enough. The Druidic clocks indicate we have ten hours before this bough suffers total necrosis. Outlander, you claim you can prove this is sabotage. Show me. Now. Or step aside and face the judgment of the wood.”

Dayat nodded, his jaw set. He glanced at Dola, who was standing beside him in her high-alert tactical stance. He closed his eyes, centering his mind on the technical blueprints stored within his memory. He wasn’t reaching for a weapon this time. He needed the tools of truth—forensic truth.

I need Luminol. But not just standard chemical grade. I need a compound capable of reacting with the physical energy residues of this world.

A sapphire-purple radiance began to seep from Dayat’s palms, coiling around his fingers like liquid starlight. To the astonishment of the Elven observers, molecule by molecule, a device began to take shape. Dayat manifested a high-strength polymer spray bottle. Inside, he was instantaneously synthesizing a complex Earth chemical: 3-aminophthalhydrazide mixed with a solution of Sodium Hydroxide and Hydrogen Peroxide. This was the foundation of Luminol—a substance capable of revealing traces of hemoglobin or specific metallic catalysts through the phenomenon of chemiluminescence.

“What is that? Do you intend to wash the black rot with your ’holy water’?” one of the Root Guardian Elders asked, his voice dripping with condescension.

“This is the Liquid of Revealed Sins,” Dayat replied, choosing a term that would resonate with Elven sensibilities. “This substance seeks out the physical imprints left by the hand of man. If this were a natural decay, the liquid would remain dormant. But if this was a physical intrusion… the truth will shine with its own light.”

Dayat began to spray the solution over the area around the primary irrigation valve. The rhythmic shhh-shhh of the spray was the only sound in the clearing, punctuated by the mournful groans of the tree. The Druids held their breath. Initially, nothing happened. But as Dayat signaled Dola to dampen the light from the nearby Light-Bloom clusters, a haunting phenomenon occurred.

On the surface of the bark that appeared clean to the naked eye, a brilliant, neon-blue glow erupted. It wasn’t a uniform light; it formed a distinct pattern—the clear imprint of a humanoid hand gripping the bough, and a sharp, concentrated point of luminescence exactly beneath Dayat’s irrigation line. The trail was unmistakable, as if the perpetrator had left glowing fingerprints for the world to see.

“Look at that, Caelmir,” Dayat said, pointing to the glowing azure marks. “Something with a physical form stood right here last night. They used an injector to introduce this toxin directly beneath my installation point. This wasn’t a floating magical energy; this was a calculated, physical act of malice.”

Kancil, who had been watching from the edge of the perimeter, stepped forward. His eyes widened as he saw the glowing handprints. “Big Bro! That’s it! That’s exactly where I saw the shadow standing! It’s the same spot!” he yelled, a surge of vindication finally washing away some of his guilt.

Dola moved closer, her blue pupils spinning as she performed a frequency scan on the blue glow. “Master, detecting Dimensional Impurity—residual particles that do not originate from the Verdia ecosystem. This substance possesses a mass density far greater than organic Mana. Sabotage probability: 95.2%.”

But Dayat wasn’t finished. Knowing someone was there wasn’t enough to save the tree. He needed to see the enemy at the microscopic level.

Once again, Dayat concentrated. This manifestation was far heavier, demanding a deeper drain on his Mana reserves. He required a Portable Digital Electron Microscope. He visualized the intricate internal architecture: the electron gun, the electromagnetic lenses, and the X-ray detector, all integrated into a rugged, handheld chassis. Beads of sweat began to roll down his forehead as the complexity of the device taxed his cognitive pathways.

A sleek, metallic box with a crystalline optical lens at its base appeared in his hands. Dayat pressed the device against the small surgical incision he had made earlier in the blackened wood. A small, high-resolution holographic screen on the side of the device flickered to life, displaying the cellular structure of the World Tree’s vascular tissue.

“This is the Eye that Sees the Core,” Dayat explained to Caelmir, who had knelt down beside him, mesmerized by the images on the screen. “Look at this, Governor. This is the sap of your tree—what you call the Nura-flow. It should be as clear as crystal. But look at these.”

On the holographic display, the wooden cells that should have been transparent were filled with sharp, crystalline black particles. These particles weren’t just poisoning the tree; they were physically shredding the cellular membranes from the inside out. They functioned like microscopic saws, moving with the flow of the sap and clogging every arterial channel of the tree’s pulse.

“What are those things? They look… dead, yet they are so hungry,” Caelmir whispered, his voice trembling as he watched the destruction.

“This is a manufactured toxin, Caelmir. Someone synthesized this material outside of Verdia. It’s designed to lock the Mana-circulation of this tree. And here is the final proof…”

Dayat used the tip of his polymer scalpel to pick at the darkest section of the wound. With extreme care, he pulled out an object so small it was nearly invisible to the naked eye. He placed it directly under the lens of the electron microscope.

The screen displayed a magnified image of a tiny, cylindrical fragment made of a cold, dark metal. On the surface of the metal were etched lines of incredible precision—circuitry patterns that had no place in a world of roots and leaves. This was the needle of the injector, designed to release the toxin slowly over several hours.

“A mechanical fragment,” Dayat muttered, his voice cold. “This doesn’t belong to Verdia. It doesn’t belong to my irrigation system. This is the smoking gun—physical evidence that a hand planted the seed of death in the heart of your fields.”

The Senior Druids, who had been screaming for Dayat’s blood only an hour ago, were now struck dumb. They stared at the metallic fragment on the screen—a cold, dead object that radiated an alien, artificial aura. Their conviction that this was a “judgment of the ancestors” crumbled in the face of such undeniable, physical proof.

Dayat stood up, handing the Luminol spray to Kancil. He turned to the crowd of skeptical Elves, his expression one of grim determination. “I have proven it was not my system. This is a targeted attack. Someone in this city—or someone who has successfully infiltrated it—is trying to kill Elarwyn and use me as the scapegoat.”

He looked directly at Caelmir. “Now, the choice is yours, Governor. Do you want to keep listening to fairy tales about angry spirits, or do you want to help me track down the owner of this metal fragment before your sacred tree stops breathing entirely?”

Caelmir stared at the holographic image for a long time. Then, he stood up straight and turned toward his Paladins. “Lower your spears! This human… he speaks the truth. There is an enemy within our walls.”

Dayat let out a long, silent sigh of relief, though he knew the real battle was only beginning. He glanced at Dola, who was still processing the data from the fragment. The origin of the metal was still a mystery, but the forensic battle had been won. Now, the hunt was on.

Kancil leaned in, whispering urgently, “Big Bro… those blue tracks… they lead toward the Kenanga grove to the West. The shadow ran that way last night. I can still see the faint glow on the leaves.”

Dayat clenched his fist. “Don’t lose that trail, Cil. We follow it now, before this poison spreads any further.”

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