Chapter 255: Whence It Came

“How can these roots be… fake?”

Sif stared at the thick root-like tendril that thrashed and writhed after Moira had injected it with her concoction. For a long moment, she struggled to comprehend how such a thing could exist beneath the Forest of Origin—an ancient woodland even older than the elven capital of Liaheim.

“We’re lucky to have you, Moira. Without your help, I might’ve remained deceived for far longer,” said Gewen, stepping solemnly into the pit Wang Yu had excavated. “These roots respond to the words of nature just as any true plant would. I’ve sent elves before to investigate the root network beneath the forest, but they found nothing. Now I see why.”

He pressed his hand against the root, which was now weakening, its violent spasms gradually subsiding, the life within it withering minute by minute.

Even as it died, the aura it gave off was indistinguishable from a normal plant’s.

“I’ve never seen anything quite like this,” Moira admitted, her eyes grave as she watched the withering thing begin to deflate, leaking a foul-smelling green ichor as it did so. “All I can do is reveal its presence. What it has done to the forest, and what it might be doing to the Tree of Life—that, you’ll have to determine yourselves. It’s beyond me.”

“There’s a reason your detection efforts failed,” she continued. “It likely grew atop natural matter. Just like that fleshy mass we found in Sif’s throat, it begins with infiltration—then grows, wrapping around the host until it mimics its properties perfectly.”

She drew a small blade and sliced off a piece of the aberrant root, placing it into a vial from her satchel. Then she waved Wang Yu over.

“Help me separate this.”

Wang Yu truly was convenient. What would normally require painstaking precision, he could handle with almost casual ease.

A soft, wet crackling followed as Wang Yu dissected the sample, his power, the Chariot, letting him manipulate the biological matter delicately to tease apart its components.

Eventually, a familiar structure emerged—a clump of fine root-like threads eerily similar to those once lodged in Sif’s throat.

“See that? The outer root is nearly identical to the real thing. The only difference is… this.” Moira held up the separated clump. “I’ve no idea what it is.”

Moira exposed the reason this parasite had gone unnoticed—its mimicry was too perfect, its internal corruption too subtle.

“So the rampaging flora, the Tree of Life—they were all affected by these roots?” Gewen asked, his voice heavy with dread.

“I told you—I don’t know. But if you tell me what’s going on with the Tree of Life, I might be able to offer a hypothesis.”

She gave Gewen a pointed look, hands spread in a helpless gesture. Without more information, she could offer no insight.

“…Its vitality has plummeted,” Gewen said after a pause. “Even as it draws more energy from its surroundings, it cannot replenish what’s lost. It’s begun acting… irrationally. I’m deeply concerned for it.”

He chose not to mention the phenomenon he suspected—life siphoning. But he was honest about the Tree’s condition.

“I see. Depleted vitality makes sense,” Moira said, nodding. “These root-clusters—you’ve already seen how they affect the mind. They whisper to their hosts, over and over: ‘So hungry, so hungry…’ until all they crave is life force.

“Now think—this entire forest is tied to the Tree of Life. If these things are leeching energy from the plants, and those plants are connected to the Tree… it’s no wonder she’s being drained dry.”

Moira’s words, blunt as ever, struck true. Gewen felt a slight easing of the dread in his chest.

“If that’s the case… it’s not as bad as I feared. I was terrified the Tree itself was failing. But if it’s a result of what’s beneath the forest… then perhaps she can still be saved.”

He exhaled, some of the tension lifting from his shoulders. The twisted woodling from before had filled him with dread—it had made him fear for their shared “mother.”

“You feared she’d turn on you, like those crazed plants in the forest?” Moira scoffed. “Not a chance. These parasites only affect lesser creatures. The Tree of Life is beyond their reach.

“Besides—she would never harm her children. You elves are spoiled by that mother of yours,” she added dryly. “She’s still pouring life into this forest even after all these centuries. If she had let the plants fend for themselves, none of this would’ve happened.”

Gewen didn’t deny it. She was right. Their mother had been too indulgent.

“That twisted woodling never harmed a single elf,” he murmured. “Only the few foreigners in Liaheim. You really have spoiled us too much, Mother…”

A strange blend of guilt and affection stirred in his heart. The woodling had killed outsiders, yes—but for the Tree, it was no different than a mother hunting to feed her children.

“This can’t be allowed to go on,” Gewen said, clenching his fist. “These hidden roots beneath the forest—they must be purged.”

“I’m sure you’d like to know where these things came from,” Moira said suddenly. “I’ve got a lead. I can’t say if it’s a coincidence or something more—but I’ll tell you. Just don’t come bother me again. Elven problems are for elves to fix. Got it?”

She clapped her hands and turned toward Wang Yu’s earlier sample. With tweezers, she extracted a tiny shard of faintly glowing crystalline matter.

Gewen’s expression darkened at once. “Mana crystal ore?”

“Exactly,” said Moira. “This kind of crystal can imbue inert matter with near-living qualities. As for living things, long exposure can cause unpredictable mutations.”

The energy within the ore would continuously dissipate from it, forming a field that affected everything in the vicinity.

“Radiation…” Wang Yu muttered. Moira’s description reminded him uncannily of uranium and other radioactive materials.

Sure, those elements wouldn’t make dead matter behave like it were alive—but they would warp living things over time.

“This kind of ore is only found in certain dwarven mines, isn’t it?” Gewen murmured. “If the dwarves kept mining near where the Tree’s roots stretch, and those roots absorbed the ore…”

The implications were clear. The truth that emerged echoed his earlier suspicions: the Forest of Origin’s corruption was tied to the dwarves’ excavation—perhaps part of that so-called Deep Delve.

“You’ve nearly worked it all out yourself,” Moira said. “That’s all the help you’ll get from me. I want no reward—just don’t come disturbing me again. I’ve work to finish… and two very promising students to train.”

She tapped Wang Yu and Avia on the back, gesturing for them to follow behind her. Her words were firm—not from irritation, but from necessity. She needed focus for the refinement of stardew, and the shaping of her disciples.

“Moira… thank you,” Gewen called after her. “I’ll handle things with the dwarves. And rest assured, your aid won’t go unrewarded!”

“Suit yourself.”

She waved a hand dismissively, not bothering to look back.

Wang Yu and Avia followed her to the other giant eagle—Angola’s twin. The matters of the elves were no longer theirs to meddle in.

Wang Yu glanced back toward the professor. Sieg caught his gaze and mouthed, “I’ll stay and assist Gewen. You two rest easy in Liaheim. The elves can handle this.”

Wang Yu gave him a thumbs-up, then turned to follow the others. Sif, seeing that she was no longer needed, took her leave as well.

The giant eagle beat its wings and soared into the sky, bearing them back toward Liaheim.

“Send the rangers and druids to cleanse the forest,” Gewen commanded his kin who had gathered during the investigation. “Purge every root we can find. That should temporarily stem the forest’s gluttony for life.”

Then he turned to Sieg.

“Mr. Sieg, I ask for your help. The other elders will watch over Liaheim. I intend to travel to the dwarven kingdom myself. No matter what, they owe us an explanation—and I would be grateful for your support.”

“Of course,” Sieg replied, without hesitation.

Meanwhile, the giant eagle landed in Liaheim, lowering its wings to let the group dismount.

“Farewell, everyone!” Sif called, waving. “Mr. Wang Yu, Miss Avia—if ever you need anything, come find me!”

“Got it.”

Wang Yu and Avia smiled warmly at her.

“She’s a good child, isn’t she? Only someone like her, so kind and pure, could make this elven land feel a little less foreign to me. Even after all this time, my sense of being a stranger in a strange land has never quite faded.”

Moira’s voice drifted back to Wang Yu and Avia as she walked ahead toward her home. Her unexpected words were tinged with melancholy and a trace of nostalgia.

“…”

Wang Yu and Avia remained silent. They knew little of Moira’s past—anything they said might only make things worse. And besides, Wang Yu’s situation was rather unique.

If anything, Wang Yu was a true stranger in a strange land. Yet it wasn’t so bad. He still had his reasons to keep trundling along—chiefly, searching for a way back to Earth.

“Never mind. Just chalk it up to the sentimentality of an old woman.”

Moira waved a hand dismissively, brushing aside her own emotions.

“I had planned to teach you to use the magical herbs you gathered yourselves, but after everything that happened, we’ll skip that for now. We’ll use prepared ingredients instead. Catch.”

With a flick of her wrist, Moira tossed a small vial to Wang Yu, who caught it neatly in his hand.

“What I intend to teach you is how a true herbalist fights. Your thinking has likely been shaped by your previous combat experiences. You’ve only used potions to enhance your body. But think—what else can you achieve, using your own power and the tools of your craft?”

Wang Yu glanced at the vial. He recognized the substance inside: a mild poison, powdery and nondescript—nearly indistinguishable from dust, with no visible traits to give it away.

“Narrow-minded, huh… You’re right. This could work. Back when I didn’t have the Chariot’s power, I could’ve done something like this too… but I got stuck in a rut.”

Wang Yu might not be a genius, but he had uncanny insight into combat. Moira’s insight bloomed in his mind.

He uncorked the vial and casually scattered the powder above his head. It drifted into the air and vanished.

To an observer, it looked like a foolish move. But in truth, the poison had already come under the control of Wang Yu’s Chariot. The dust now hovered invisibly in the space around him, moving as he moved, enshrouding the area in a silent miasma. The toxin spread outward from his body like a phantom wind, undetectable yet deadly.

Under Wang Yu’s precise command, the poison would harm any foe who came too close—yet his allies would remain untouched.

Herbalist: Pestilent Passage.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep