Chapter 243: Aestrea Against The World (XX)

“It seems,” the Elven Emperor began, his voice calm, thoughtful, almost amused, “that your reputation isn’t just smoke and whispers after all. But what I find truly curious…”

…Why the fuck is he speaking like that?

“…Even in an age where a new Hero has been born, blessed by the gods, chosen by fate, it is your name that echoes most loudly. Your name that the seers mention… again and again.”

He tilted his head, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Prophecies. Visions. Dreams. And yet, none of them points to the Hero. All of them… point to the Vessel of the Moon. You.”

He leaned slightly forward, resting his fingers against his chin as though speaking to himself just as much as to me.

“It’s quite the fascinating predicament, don’t you think?”

His tone remained gentle, but there was a strange sharpness, as if my existence alone was a riddle he couldn’t quite solve.

Honestly?

I wanted to punch that smile right off his face.

But I forced the thought down and let out a casual breath, rolling my shoulders as I replied to him.

“Not really. If anything, I wish those prophecies were about the Hero instead of me. Would’ve made my life a lot simpler.”

There was no reverence in my voice.

Just the blunt honesty of someone who never asked for attention, and didn’t enjoy having it forced on them by something as vague as fate.

And without giving him a chance to keep hanging around that annoying subject, I met his gaze head-on and asked plainly.

“So? Why did you want to meet me?”

The silence that followed was sharp enough to cut through the cold air.

FWIP!

A sudden flicker of movement.

I didn’t even need to fully turn my head.

I simply shifted slightly to the side, just in time to see a long silver spear whistle past my face, missing me by less than an inch.

The metal gleamed in the hall’s light as it pierced the marble behind me with a deep crack, the shaft still trembling from the force.

Every soldier tensed.

“How dare you speak to the Emperor with such insolence?” a harsh voice snapped from the side, filled with restrained fury.

Velthar stepped forward.

His expression was filled with rage, and right now, mana began to rise from his skin in thick, pulsating waves, enveloping his body like a second layer of armor.

‘Interesting…’

Mana warriors were rare.

But among elves, who typically focused on spirit summoning, elemental synergy, or enchantments, they were nearly unheard of.

“…A mana warrior?” I murmured under my breath.

It was a murmur, but of course, I wanted everyone to hear my comment.

“Didn’t expect that from a high elf. Looks like someone got bored of talking to trees and started punching them instead.”

…There was complete silence as soon as I uttered those words.

And then…

BAAAM!

Velthar’s aura flared violently.

FSSSSSSSSH!

His eyes twitched as the insult sank in, and without another word, he lunged forward like a beast unchained, the marble floor cracking beneath his feet as he pushed off, crossing the space between us in a blur of movement.

His arm reared back, blazing with mana, fully intending to send me flying with one strike.

The entire hall gasped, armor clinked, and weapons were drawn in the background.

But I didn’t even shift my stance.

I simply raised my arm and enveloped it with, slowly increasing my mana output to the maximum.

And then…

PAK!

The sound echoed through the hall like a thunderclap.

With a single open palm, I slapped him sideways mid-charge.

“HAGH!”

Velthar’s body twisted in midair from the sheer force, his head snapping to the side as his feet left the ground entirely.

He spiraled like a ragdoll, hurtling through the air toward the far side of the throne room, and the wall was fast approaching.

But just before impact, a single finger rose.

The Elven Emperor.

Fwwoom!

With a gentle flick of his wrist, the air shimmered, and Velthar’s momentum was caught by an invisible force, halting him midair as if the world itself refused to let him crash.

His body floated for a moment, limp and stunned, before being slowly lowered to the ground like a scolded child.

My eyes narrowed slighly.

Anyone who saw that would think that it was maybe Telekinesis Magic, but actually… it was Wind Magic.

He had manipulated the pressure in the surrounding air, adjusting its density and flow in real time to gently absorb Velthar’s momentum and then bring him down without harm.

Quite interesting… huh.

“…Your mana output increased quite a lot in that slap,” the Elven Emperor remarked suddenly, his tone still calm, still relaxed, but his eyes now sharpened slightly, cutting into me like a polished blade.

His words made me flinch slighly, after all, only Eleonora knew about my physique, and I didn’t want anyone else to know about it.

But he noticed.

Everything about him spoke of someone used to observing people down to their core.

“Are you still hiding your strength?” he mused aloud, his voice thoughtful. “That’s even more interesting…” His lips curled upward.

I didn’t answer. I just waited.

And finally, he shifted gears.

“But that aside,” he continued, his fingers lazily lifting, “let’s finally get to the reason I called you here.”

With a flick of his wrist, the air shimmered in front of me, and from that invisible ripple, a massive projection formed in silence.

A hologram.

A massive, towering tree appeared in the air, its roots endless, its leaves gleaming like stars, and its branches splitting like veins across a cosmic sky.

Just looking at it filled the heart with awe… and dread.

My breath escaped before I realized it.

“…Yggdrasill…”

The name left my lips almost unconsciously.

“The World Tree,” the Elven Emperor confirmed softly.

“Said to connect all planes. Said to hold the universe together by the roots of its will. And once, it may have.”

His eyes drifted up toward the image, his expression suddenly turning distant, which was weird for me.

“But right now,” he said, slowly turning his gaze back to me, “Yggdrasill… is just a symbol.”

“…What?”

My head snapped toward him as soon as he uttered those words.

Tap, tap, tap!

He began rhythmically tapping the side of the throne’s armrest with his finger.

“It is weakening,” he said.

“Rotting from within.”

“And why?” I asked.

“Because the Dark Order stole one of its vital roots. Specifically, the root tied to Helheim, the source that binds the realm of the dead.”

I didn’t interrupt him… after all, I had expected that it was them who did it.

“Helheim was always meant to remain under Yggdrasill’s control,” he continued.

“The tree anchors the balance between life and death… but now that the Dark Order has seized that source, they’ve begun to twist it. Manipulate it. With Helheim’s root under their control…”

He paused.

Then looked me straight in the eyes.

“…they can now command the dead. Raise them. Warp them. Reconstruct what should never return.”

The hologram shifted slightly.

From the tree… to its corrupted roots, dark, gnawed at by writhing shadow, pulsing with unnatural red light.

Fuck…

That looked really bad.

But still…

“And what does that have to do with me?”

My words cut clean through the silence, and I stared him down, fully prepared for whatever ridiculous divine drama he’d try to pull me into next.

The Elven Emperor didn’t hesitate. Not even a breath passed before his answer fell like a stone into water.

“…A prophecy.”

Of course.

God fucking damn it.

Those gods must fucking love me or something.

“The Prophecy of the Moon’s Eclipse,” he said, standing slowly from his throne as the lights dimmed around us, except for the vision of Yggdrasill, still pulsing in slow decay.

“It is an old one… one that only the forest’s oldest spirits remembered. Lost to most—until the rot reached our roots and the trees began to whisper again.”

His hands extended toward the image of the tree, and as if responding to his presence, new symbols began to swirl around it; what I thought was elven runes glowed faintly in silver and blue.

“The prophecy speaks of a child not born under stars… but under silence.”

“A vessel of moonlight wrapped in frost… with a heart split between love and vengeance.”

“He will be born where blood has never stained snow… and one day, he will be the only one capable of either saving the tree…”

“…or ending it.”

The runes began to shift.

And among them, I saw something that froze me.

A figure, drawn in simple lines, standing alone before a blackened tree, his silhouette bathed in moonlight… scythe in hand, and behind him, dozens of faceless shadows.

Not elves or humans.

Just things… lifeless puppets marching like ghosts.

“…So,” I said slowly, lips twitching into a crooked grin.

“That’s what this is. I’m your moonlight puppet boy.”

The Emperor shook his head.

“You are not a puppet,” he replied. “You are a sword. One that has yet to decide whether to cut through fate—or surrender to it.”

I didn’t like that.

I didn’t like any of this.

But still…

My eyes turned back toward the tree roots, the red glow, the corrupted pulse.

There was something there, something deeper… a faint throb I could feel behind my ribs.

I didn’t know why, but…

My chest tightened.

Almost like the tree was breathing in time with me.

Almost like…

“…It’s connected to you,” the Emperor said quietly, noticing the same thing.

“Isn’t it?”

I said nothing to his words.

Because somewhere, deep in that twisted image, I felt it too.

Not just the rot, but the pull.

The familiarity.

As if a part of me had been sleeping under those roots all along.

And that really makes me wonder…

Am I even human?

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