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Chapter 36: Founding Festival (2)
A rod, and the Elder who took interest in it.
Combining those two elements led to a realization.
That old monster is a survivor of the war between races a thousand years ago.
Naturally, he would have been one of those who met with my ancestor and the founding emperor, becoming a cornerstone of this alliance.
If so...
‘…He might know.’
Perhaps he knows something about this suspicious rod.
He may have even seen it being properly used.
That was the conclusion I reached.
Soon after, a nearly far-fetched suspicion surfaced within me.
‘…Was it the elves who targeted Pharos?’
In my previous life, the ones who completely burned Pharos without leaving a trace—could they have been the elves?
It’s not impossible.
Even I don’t know the full potential of this rod.
It’s worthy of being called a divine relic—how could anyone not covet it?
Let’s form a hypothesis.
The Elder knows the true utility of the rod.
That’s why he shows such deep interest.
That interest might be tinged with greed.
And perhaps that greed led to the attack on Pharos in my previous life.
This suspicion stirred my hostility to its peak.
At that moment, the Elder lifted his head.
Our eyes met.
I quietly stared into his eyes.
A pressure, as if time had stopped, washed over me.
The deep mana behind his gaze conveyed the weight of a thousand years all too clearly.
But I couldn’t look away.
We remained locked in a stare-down for quite some time.
During that time, the Crown Prince’s speech ended.
The tone of the event shifted, and people began to bustle about.
But we still stood there.
The Elder was the one to break eye contact first.
He whispered something to the young elf attending him, and then quietly left.
What had they talked about?
The question didn’t last long.
The elf he had spoken to approached me.
A young female elf in traditional dress bowed politely and whispered softly:
“The Elder wishes to speak with you in private. If it’s not too much trouble, may I ask for a moment of your time...?”
My eyebrow twitched.
‘There’s no hostility in her tone.’
I hesitated briefly, but the answer was obvious.
Even if it wasn’t about the rod or my family, a conversation with the Elder was something I needed.
“…Please lead the way. Sister, I’ll be back shortly.”
“Of course. Take your time.”
I got permission from my sister and followed the elf.
The tension didn’t fade.
* * *
We arrived at a private audience chamber.
The Elder was seated on a sofa and looked at me as I entered.
The wrinkles on his face revealed his stern nature.
His white hair and deep-set eyes exuded an air of solitude befitting his long years.
He was not someone I could afford to relax around.
If he wished, this old monster could bring disaster upon the heart of the imperial city.
My eyes, still activated, scanned for any anomalies.
With my gaze steady, I offered a respectful bow.
“I greet the First Pillar of the World Tree.”
“Welcome, heir of Pharos.”
His gaze remained fixed on my rod.
His brow furrowed.
“No need for alarm. I’ve no intent to take it from you.”
“…?”
“I’m talking about the sacred wood—the rod you carry.”
I lifted my head.
Sacred wood—so that was its name.
I learned it only now.
The Elder, seeing my surprise, continued as if it were nothing.
“We cannot claim ownership. That item was never meant for us.”
“…Meant for you?”
“The sacred wood chooses its master. It chose your ancestor. So we cannot claim any right to it.”
“You seem to know a great deal about it.”
I prodded gently.
And received a shocking reply.
“Of course I do. It’s a branch of the World Tree, our Mother.”
“…!”
“That’s why I speak as I do. If you allow greed to rule over the sacred wood, it would be an act against our Mother’s will.”
My eyes sharpened.
The revelation that this rod was a piece of the World Tree hit hard.
‘This is... a branch?’
Its texture was more like metal than wood—how could that be?
And more confusing was the word “branch.”
‘The World Tree doesn’t have any branches.’
The World Tree was known to be a massive trunk, nothing more.
All records and historical accounts said the same.
No roots, no branches, no leaves—just a massive trunk standing in the heart of the great forest.
Still, aside from that mystery, one fact was becoming more certain.
‘…The elves are no longer suspects.’
He invoked the name of the Mother World Tree.
That couldn’t be a lie.
It may sound odd by human standards to let faith outweigh greed or survival, but that’s their nature.
The World Tree is a unique god that took form as a tree.
The elves live under its protection and are blessed with affinity for spirits.
To them, faith is not just sacred—it’s absolute, etched into their very souls from birth.
The choice, the inability to claim ownership—
By invoking the World Tree, the Elder effectively proved the elves’ innocence in the attack on Pharos.
My tension eased slightly.
In the more relaxed air, the Elder continued.
“Though your ancestor has long passed, the same applies to you. Are you not wielding the sacred wood now?”
He was likely referring to the moment I saw the demon's essence through the rod.
I remained silent, which he took as affirmation.
The Elder nodded and added:
“You too have been chosen. That is why we cannot covet it.”
Silence fell for a moment.
In it, I posed a question.
“Could you tell me anything about this rod… the sacred wood? There are no records of it in my family.”
If there’s a chance to learn something, I have to take it.
And so far, he’s been generous with his answers—it could be an unexpected stroke of luck.
But maybe I was too optimistic.
The Elder shook his head.
“I cannot tell you.”
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“…Pardon?”
“That was the ‘promise.’”
My body froze.
My eyes widened.
The promise of goodwill… it involved the rod?
“What promise?”
“That too, I cannot say. A promise must not be spoken until the moment of its fulfillment.”
The Elder rose from his seat.
As if he were about to leave, urgency welled up within me.
“Wa—”
“I came here to confirm eligibility. And the verification is complete. This generation’s Dragonblood is exceptional. The Guide is qualified. So I will speak.”
The Elder spoke, not quickly, but with firm resolve.
“Since the Dragonblood and the Guide have proven their qualifications with due evidence, when the day comes that you inherit all authority, come to the Great Forest and find me—Regilion. Our covenant will be fulfilled at that moment.”
The Dragonblood must mean the Crown Prince, and the Guide likely refers to me.
By inheriting authority, he must mean when I come of age and fully succeed my family.
In other words, I need to complete the "Succession Ceremony."
I wanted to ask more, but I couldn’t.
‘Obligation?’
I could tell that “I cannot say” was different from “I won’t say.”
It seemed the promise between the Founding Emperor and the ancestors carried a kind of binding force.
So, I changed my question.
“Then will you tell me what the promise is, and what this rod means, at that time?” “Indeed, I will. That too is part of the promise.”
I glared at him.
The Elder, unbothered by my gaze, gave a short nod and spoke.
“May I see the master of the Sacred Tree again. I do not wish for the waiting to continue any longer.”
The Elder left.
I stood there for quite a while after his departure, trying to organize what I had heard.
* * *
Regilion, the High Elder of the Elves, walked calmly through the gardens of the Imperial Palace.
Guardians followed silently behind him.
It was then—
“Elder.”
“Yes, Nihia.”
“Do they truly have the qualifications?”
Regilion’s gaze turned to Nihia, the commander of the Guardians.
A defiant glint filled her youthful eyes—barely 300 years old, a mere fledgling by elven standards, still prone to emotional turbulence.
And yet, she had become commander due to her extraordinary ability, so her fiery spirit was somewhat understandable.
Regilion looked away and replied.
“They do. Without doubt, the most qualified in the past thousand years.”
He recalled the Crown Prince he had met at the banquet.
His soul burned with golden flame, just as Regilion remembered.
Fitting for one who claimed to be a reincarnation, his presence brought back every unpleasant memory.
But more than that, it was Yuren who left Regilion in awe.
‘He had already resonated.’
An incredible sensitivity.
As far as Regilion knew, without undergoing the Succession Ceremony, it should be impossible to resonate with the Sacred Tree.
And yet, he had already achieved his first resonance.
When he first heard Yuren had slain a demon, he was skeptical.
It could’ve been ignored—but the fact that he had become the Grand Master, and thus, the Sacred Tree’s master, made it impossible for Regilion to dismiss it lightly.
Knowing that nothing clears doubt like firsthand observation, he came in person.
And indeed—Yuren had resonated.
There was only one explanation.
‘His blood had awakened on its own.’
Regilion’s gaze sank deeper.
Even with such a generational leap, someone had still emerged with that blood awakened.
It brought a strange sense of emotion.
Or perhaps it was anxiety, knowing that the time for fulfilling the promise might be near.
A certain heaviness filled his chest.
“…But Elder.”
“Yes?”
“They're mere humans who haven’t even lived twenty years. How could they possibly—”
“Nihia. Watch your words.”
“…Apologies.”
Nihia pressed her lips shut.
But her expression still showed clear dissatisfaction.
Regilion understood her rebellious stance, perhaps because he had been just like her a thousand years ago.
He offered advice drawn from experience.
“Do not underestimate humans. Because their lives are short, they burn all the brighter.” “…Yes.”
She still looked like she had more to say.
Regilion knew she wouldn’t listen no matter what he said.
He stroked his chin absentmindedly.
‘Perhaps even we need to face it to truly understand.’
He recalled his own youth, when he was reckless and full of pride.
—Heh, heeey!!!
—Got you, you pointy-eared bastard!
—You bullied us, so now you have to be punished!
His fingers froze mid-stroke on his jaw.
Even after a thousand years, the pain in his chin from that day was still vivid.
Why wouldn’t the smiling face of the Dragonblood fade?
Why was the trajectory the Sacred Tree showed that day still burned so clearly in his mind?
“Hmph…”
Regilion looked up at the sky above the capital with discomfort.
Unlike the Great Forest, where the canopy blocked the view, here the stars shone clearly.
* * *
The Founding Festival ended without incident.
I had kept the rod in hand and stayed vigilant, but none of the guests, internal or external, seemed connected to demons.
Thus, the only thing weighing on my mind was the conversation with the Elder.
I had spoken to the Crown Prince about it, and his response was:
—Hmm. It seems to be a matter shrouded in mystery and bound by some compulsion. Still, from what I hear, it didn’t seem like a negative encounter. As he said, once your succession is complete, we can go to the Great Forest together and uncover the truth then, no?
A reasonable opinion.
There’s no point agonizing over something that cannot be solved now.
The covenant with the elves wouldn’t stir complications until the moment arrived.
From the Crown Prince’s perspective, that was the end of it.
What bothered me was the Elder's knowledge of Pharos's succession ceremony.
‘How did he know something only direct heirs are told?’
…Well, that too will be revealed eventually.
As the Crown Prince said, it's better to set aside a problem that cannot be solved at the moment.
Still, I gained something from this.
‘The Sacred Tree, the Sacred Tree. If I dig into that word, maybe I’ll find something.’
Understanding the purpose of the tools I use is no small matter.
I intend to continue researching this.
Anyway, the Founding Festival was over.
With the major event past, lessons with the Crown Prince resumed.
And on the first day back—
Smack!
“Oof…!”
As usual, I smacked the Crown Prince during our lesson.
Back in the palace, he rubbed ice over his eye.
While I enjoyed watching that, he spoke.
“Ah, I forgot to mention.”
“What is it?”
“It’s time to begin.”
Begin what?
I didn’t ask.
There was only one thing the two of us had planned to act on.
“We’ve chosen the first target to erase Rebecca’s Brand.”
“Who is it?”
“The Saint of the Papal Curia.”
I nodded.
“Come to think of it, we’ve received a request for testimony.”
The summoning of the demon by Beatrice.
The Papal Curia had begun a thorough investigation, naming the Crown Prince and me as key witnesses.
Since we, the ones who knew the truth, kept silent, their investigation had stalled.
So now they were reaching out, thinking we might know something.
It was a good sign.
It meant we could observe the Saint without arousing suspicion.
The Crown Prince smiled despite his bruised face.
“Let’s see what that sly friend of ours is planning. One more thing.”
He added something else.
And at that moment, I felt deeply uncomfortable.
“We must also investigate the Saintess. She’s the one most likely to notice any change in the Saint.”
My fingertips trembled ever so slightly.
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