Chapter 644

Chapter 644: .

Everything had already fallen silent. The howling and roaring from when the two worlds collided had vanished. The colors and sunlight of the mortal world had dissolved into the final Great Annihilation. In the chaotic darkness after the Universal Extinction, the dead World Tree was still growing quietly.

New remains grew from old remains. New ruins bred within the ruins.

She had forgotten the Elves, forgotten herself, forgotten every beginning and every end. Breeding, spreading, continuing to grow—these had become Atlantis’s only obsession after the End.

But the Vanished came before this ever-growing corpse, and the eerie green glow of the green flame spreading through the darkness became a barrier that stopped Atlantis from spreading further.

The dead World Tree finally reacted.

Duncan saw unusual light and shadow suddenly ripple within her remains. It was a hazy mist. Vague limbs and shapes seemed to hide inside the gray-white fog. The edge of the mist kept spreading out from the canopy, like tentacles, or like twisted roots.

It reminded him of the mist that had floated above the Pilgrimage Ark of the Four Gods Church.

But before he could think more, a greater change occurred. The “river” that had been orbiting Atlantis, woven from countless tiny points of light, suddenly broke apart. Innumerable sparks of radiance merged into the mist floating above the World Tree. In the next second, the mist that had seemed so unreal and weak suddenly solidified and then surged outward in a wild expansion.

The edge of the mist turned into a sharp spearhead, hurling itself with all its strength against the sea of spirit form fire that spread around the Vanished.

A deep, unreal rumble seemed to echo in the darkness. Atlantis’s impact sent ripples through the spirit flame, but only more fire surfaced from the void, slowly staining the chaotic pale mist with ghostly green. Yet Atlantis kept ramming into it. Even though every collision burned her in a deadly way, the impacts never stopped for a single moment.

Duncan even felt a flash of shock.

For the first time, something dared to charge straight into that spirit form fire.

In the next second, as Atlantis kept striking, he saw a hazy figure slowly taking shape within the mist above the World Tree.

It was a faint glow with no clear outline at all, like a soul still brewing, not yet formed.

But Duncan realized at once that this was Atlantis.

He could not help speaking to that faint light: “This is meaningless. You cannot break through this barrier. Very soon, you yourself will become part of it.”

Yet the faint light did not answer. There was only the constant impact. The border of the mist melted a little with each collision, and the low rumble turned into clear, repeated boom-boom sounds.

Duncan watched with a tense face. After a long time, he slowly raised his hand.

Flames rose out of the unreal and slowly flowed through the darkness toward Atlantis’s true body.

He said in a low voice: “Release those Elves, and everything else you swallowed. Let Lightwind Harbor return to the Mortal Realm. While it is still not too late, there is still a chance to save things.”

The hazy faint light finally reacted. It suddenly flickered, and a sharp, childlike voice rang out in the darkness: “They are not Elves!”

The points of light that had been drifting and gathering around the remains of the World Tree suddenly became wildly restless. More radiance flowed together like water and surged toward the mist above Atlantis.

Yet just as the mist was gathering itself for the next strike, the restless points of light shuddered violently again. Then many of the lights that had already merged into the mist abruptly flowed backward, breaking free from Atlantis’s pull. Like scattered petals, the tiny lights fell from above the World Tree and drifted around the giant trunk like stars.

In the next second, one of those falling points swelled and slowly took the shape of a vague shadow—

It was an Elf, not very tall, with hair already graying, wearing a dark blue academy robe. A tired look seemed fixed forever on his face, yet now his eyes were calm as he stood among the countless drifting lights, quietly facing the World Tree that loomed in the darkness, huge as a mountain.

Ted Riel, Truth Keeper of Lightwind Harbor.

Duncan looked at the sudden figure in some surprise and said: “I thought you were dead.”

Ted Riel only shrugged: “It was just a nightmare—still not as bad as grading all the homework and papers students rush out on the last day of vacation.”

Perhaps because so many Elves had suddenly slipped from her control, Atlantis’s mind-entity seemed stunned and confused for a brief time. But soon, her voice sounded again in the darkness: “Come back… hurry back, it is dangerous out there! Come back… let us wait together for Saslokar to come home, all right…”

At the edge of the spirit flame, a huge black billy goat suddenly stepped out of the fire. It lifted its head and calmly turned its gaze on the pale, twisted World Tree and said: “I am right here, little sapling.”

Atlantis suddenly froze. Her mind-entity wavered inside the mist, as if unable to tell whether the Black Goat in the flames was really the Creator from her memory. For a moment, she seemed to waver. The mist spreading from the crown quietly drew back, yet in the next second, a sharp howl and harsh noise swept across all the darkness:

“No! Wrong! You are not! None of you are! You all…”

She broke off suddenly, and in her confusion lowered her voice, muttering to herself: “You are not… you are… dead? You died… you are not Elves… I…”

A voice appeared out of nowhere and said: “We are indeed not the Elves you remember, Atlantis.”

That voice was not loud, yet it seemed to echo through the whole space. It sounded old, but it carried a calming strength.

On the deck of the Vanished, an old man with a hazy, unreal body slowly walked forward.

Rune turned back and gave Duncan a slight nod. Then he turned calmly, his expression steady, and directed his gaze toward the giant tree in the darkness.

That was the World Tree of Elven legend—their homeland, their Mother, their myth, their heritage, the starting point of all their tales and the source of a glorious civilization.

Now she had been dead for a long time, yet her remains had slowly fallen into a runaway state, swelling and growing even in death.

Rune had never seen a tree so huge. As an Elf, he had not even seen a forest, nor did he know how to live in one. He had never seen a winding river pass through a valley and turn into a babbling stream beneath the trees, never seen birds and beasts dwell in the woods, flowers blooming in clearings, and he had never heard the sound of wind and the sea of trees under the veil of night.

It was said that back then, Elves lived even longer than now—their lives were almost eternal, and under the protection of the World Tree they could be reborn from death. They were light and strong, able to run among the crowns of towering trees…

But Rune had never seen any of it.

He was born after all of that had been destroyed.

He walked to the end of the deck. Age had made his back a little bent, and years of desk work and poor habits had left him slightly overweight. When he lifted his head, wrinkles piled across his forehead like deep lines.

He said to the World Tree: “We must look very different from how you remember us.”

Atlantis did not speak. The faint light only trembled slightly in the mist, and from deep within the pale, twisted remains of the World Tree came a faint rustling, like leaves stirring.

After a long time, the young voice finally sounded again, hesitant: “Those lines on your face… what are they?”

Rune said slowly: “They are wrinkles. When a mortal grows old, the skin loosens and shrivels, and it becomes like this. And when it is cloudy or raining, my back and waist ache, because I am already old and have always lived at sea… My stomach is not very good now, and my teeth have been patched. Maybe in a few more years, I will die like other old people. I will turn into ashes in a furnace, become fertilizer in a plantation… We will not return to the World Tree, and we will not be reborn in giant seed pods…”

He stopped and kept his head raised, turning his gaze toward that distant faint light.

He said again: “We are very different from what you remember, aren’t we?”

From deep within the remains of the World Tree, the faint rustling sounded again.

“…So none of it can come back… can it…”

Rune said slowly: “Yes. It cannot come back. None of it can. And even if it did, it might not be what you knew. But… there are some things I would like to show you.”

As he spoke, he reached into his coat and fumbled around. A moment later, he took out a book.

The book was very old and looked well-thumbed. Elegant letters were printed on the cover, in a script different from the common language used in most city-states.

He opened the worn book, found a passage, and read it slowly: “…The first sunlight fell upon the great rock. The traveler readied his pack. He would cross the hill of flowers and reach the hill of Roland Nam before dusk…”

The young voice in the distance murmured: “This is from the ‘Horo-Dazzo Epic Poem’…”

Rune answered in a low voice: “Yes, that poem. Long ago, explorers found stone tablets carved with it on dark islands, along with many other records. We spent a thousand years reclaiming the meaning of these words, and then several thousand more searching for the hill of flowers and that slope described in the poem… But we never found them. Even those dark islands themselves vanished one day into the mist at the border…”

Rune spoke in a low voice. He set the book down and looked again at the distant faint light.

“We have recovered many things. Half of them we still cannot understand, but compared to humans and Senkin, the Elves have the most complete history. At least we still remember that the Creator woke in the darkness and planted the First Tree in the dream of origin… Four hundred years ago, we restored the craft of the ‘Ring-Tailed Lyre’. Its sound was clear and bright, just like the ancient scrolls described. Seventy-six years ago, we repaired the last chapter of the ‘Heidran Psalms’. It holds many interesting stories and is said to have been offered to the God…

“But there is much more that we still do not know, and never will. Those things vanished in the Great Annihilation and left no trace in the age of the Deep Sea, just like those dark islands that disappeared into the mist.

“Atlantis, I am sorry. We are not the Elves you remember. We only picked up a few fragments from the long river that rushed past and tried our best to leave these traces in the world after Doomsday… I do not know if that gives you any comfort, but…

“This is truly all that is left.”

In the darkness, the faint light floated quietly. The hazy pale mist slowly drew back. Without anyone noticing, the dead, twisted branches at Atlantis’s edge had silently faded away, and the ghostly green flame now quietly encircled the giant tree, like… a forest that had vanished long ago.

Duncan lifted his head and looked at the huge black billy goat.

After a moment of silent exchange, he gave a small nod.

The Black Goat stepped forward, crossed the empty air, and slowly came to the foot of the giant tree.

He lifted his head and said softly: “…You have grown so much.”

The faint light in the darkness trembled slightly: “I… I did not finish what you told me to do.”

The Black Goat slowly lowered his head. He gently tapped his horn against the dry, torn trunk. At the tip of the horn, a point of ghostly green flame quietly burned. He said: “No, you have done very well. Now the good child needs to sleep, little sapling.”

Within the pale mist, that faint light slowly dimmed. The sound of wind and rustling leaves finally fell silent. The scattered points of light flowed together into a river that quietly circled the base of Atlantis. From the deepest part of the World Tree, a wailing sob finally rose.

The ghostly green fire of the spirit form leaped up and, in an instant, wrapped the entire giant tree, lighting up all the darkness that had followed the Universal Extinction.