Chapter 183

The cloak fell back, revealing a familiar face.

“Izabeka!” I raised my voice, but my body froze.

It couldn’t be. Janus had chased me into the Farlands, which meant Izabeka had been defeated. Janus wouldn’t let a witness live.

I examined her face. There was no sign she had been turned into undead: no mortal paleness, no putrefied meat, no unnatural stiffness. The campfire sputtered. Undead didn't light bonfires either.

“You died,” I said.

“And you underestimate how hard it is to kill a level fifty warrior,” she replied with a self-satisfied expression.

A void settled in my stomach, and my knees were weak. There was no doubt it was her. Suddenly, the void was replaced by a wave of relief. She was alive.

“Keep the hug to yourself. We have bigger troubles to deal with,” Izabeka said, pointing at the Warden’s Tree. However, she couldn’t escape Firana’s embrace. The girl shot from the top of the root system and clung to the woman’s neck. I expected Izabeka to push Firana away, but the girl retreated on her own, shaken.

“Captain… your arm,” Firana mumbled.

[Foresight] pinged my brain. Izabeka’s left sleeve hung like a flag on a windless day. She put her cloak over her shoulder and raised her arm. Or what was left of it. Izabeka’s arm had been severed well above the elbow.

“I’m not learning to play the fiddle any time soon,” she jokingly said.

“Janus?” I asked.

Her eyes flashed with anger.

“Yeah. That weasel took my arm and almost took my life, but the next time will be different.”

I sheathed my sword, and the elves relaxed.

“Is she a friend of yours?” Hallas asked.

I made the proper introductions, sparing the part where the elves tried to settle an outpost a few kilometers from Farcrest. We sat around Izabeka’s campfire and prepared a meal. It was well past noon, and we hadn’t stopped to rest since dawn. Izabeka examined Pyrrah from head to toe, but she didn’t make any comments other than giving me a dirty look.

“How did you survive?” I asked as the elves unpacked the cooking equipment.

I recognized the orcish hand behind her clothes and utensils but couldn’t imagine how she escaped from Janus.

Izabeka leaned back and chewed a piece of salted meat.

“Janus defeated me. No matter what I did, I couldn’t keep up with his speed. I hit him hard, though, and I think I broke his leg. After you escaped, Janus realized he couldn’t continue toying with me. He cut my arm and left me bleeding in the alley. He must’ve thought he killed me,” Izabeka explained.

The kids leaned forward like they were listening to a Christmas fable from the funny grandpa.

“That doesn’t tell us how you survived,” Ilya pointed out.

“You wouldn’t believe it,” Izabeka said, focusing on her piece of salted meat.

“Come on!” Firana pressed her.

Izabeka grimaced.

“You won’t believe me, really,” she said, but the kids were on the edge of their metaphorical seats, and pleading kids was Izabeka’s weakness. “Well… I was bleeding out on the ground. I thought it was over. Then, as Janus chased after Rob, roots emerged from the cobbled alley, wrapped around me, and dragged me underground. I thought I would suffocate, but again, it’s hard to kill a level fifty warrior. The roots took me, and I was pulled inside a red container. Then, I lost consciousness. I don’t know how long I was inside that red pod, but I was alive and above the ground when I woke up. I broke the walls, and I was healthy again. Naked and armless, yes, but healthy. I met a small orc tribe, and they gave me clothes and other stuff. When the Warden’s Tree appeared, I decided to come to kill the monster, and then I found all of you here. Crazy, uh?”

I nodded in silence. Izabeka’s story was consistent with what we have seen. The root system tried to use her body to create a spawn. I examined Izabeka’s face. Even her older scars seemed better. At least there was no sign of white bark armor or emerald crystalline formations.

I noticed Chrysalimorph pods and Holone Grapes had two things in common: their crimson color and healing properties. It couldn’t be a coincidence.

“Isn’t it a bit ambitious on your part to face a Warden alone?” Hallas pointed out.

Izabeka grinned.

“I already did once. I was barely more than a kid back then, but I like to think experience is more valuable than youthful strength.”

“You can’t be serious. A Warden isn’t a monster that a single human could kill,” Hallas replied. “You must’ve merely weakened it.”

This time, Izabeka raised an eyebrow.

“Age getting to your ears, tree hugger? I killed it. Destroyed it. I found the heart of the root system, cut the bark, shattered the core, and burned the seed,” she said. “I think I did a good job. The System awarded me with several levels.”

Hallas’ face went pale.

Even if Izabeka had killed the previous Warden, we were before Evindal’s seed powered by whatever growth-enhancing spell the Gardeners used. I exchanged glances with Pyrrah, and we both realized what was at stake. A ‘fast’ seed could create Chrysalimorphs faster than expected, and the branches were overloaded with fruit.

“We don’t have time to eat. We have to enter immediately,” Hallas said.

“Enter? Last time I checked, trees don’t have doors,” Izabeka replied.

Hallas froze. His little secret was slowly getting leaked outside the elven kingdom. In any other situation, I’d have had more tact, but Hallas had proved to be an unreliable ally.

“The elves brought a Warden’s Seed, and the Lich got a hold of it,” I said.

“Why would they even do that?!” Izabeka was bewildered.

“As far as I know? They build their cities and many other nifty things with Warden Seeds,” I replied, my [Foresight] connecting dots in my brain. “You said ‘Enter’. Elven cities aren’t in the canopy… they are inside the trunk, right?”

I didn’t expect Pyrrah to challenge Hallas’ silence.

“Yes, that’s correct. The Gardeners can prepare certain seeds to create a city. As a result, the trunk is mostly hollow, like a silo. You just have to plant it and wait for the city to grow,” the elven woman said, her face full of defiance.

Hallas gave her an irritated glance.

I updated Captain Kiln on the rest of the situation. I told her about the Lich spreading Corruption, my encounter with the elves, the fall of Umolo, and the location of the Lich’s true body. She remained silent and only interrupted me to ask a few questions.

Stolen story; please report.

“And you decided to bring a bunch of kids to fight not just one but two high-level monsters?” Captain Kiln asked.

“Weren’t you, like, very young when you killed the other Forest Warden?” I countered.

“That was different, I…” Izabeka muttered, unable to find the words. “Well… yes, I was very young. But I bet you lot aren’t even level twenty!” She added, turning toward the kids.

They instantly got defensive.

“Don’t look down on us!” Firana said. “While you’ve been sleeping in your monster cocoon, we fought with all our might against the forces of evil! We are not just the kids you once met, Izabeka.”

Captain Kiln rolled her eyes.

“A single Gloomstalker could sweep your mercenary ass from the playground, kid.”

Firana grinned.

“That’s why we have a secret weapon. Robert?” she said, pointing at me.

I was caught off guard. “Do you want me to say something?”

“Yes! Come on! Tell her about our secret weapon!”

I sighed. It would be faster to show her.

“Give me your jacket, Izabeka,” I said.

“You are too young for me, Scholar,” she replied, amused.

The kids exchanged a mischievous look and leaned back, waiting for Captain Kiln’s reaction. I enchanted the jacket with a Reinforcement spell. Radiant Knights had no access to [Identify], yet Izabeka’s eyes shot wide open when I returned the garment. Maybe it was [Awareness] or just the natural ability to detect magic of those with deep mana pools, but she instantly detected she was holding an enchanted item.

“You are not normal, Robert Clarke.” Izabeka massaged her temples. “Did you get a Prestige Class? No… you can’t be above level thirty-five, and Scholars don’t turn into any Class with enchanting skills. What in the everloving System did you do, Robert?”

I let out an awkward laugh.

“I got something like a side-grade, but that’s not important right now,” I replied. I wasn’t going to blow Izabeka’s mind with the whole story about the System Avatar just before an important battle. “Let’s focus on recovering our strength before entering the Warden’s Tree.”

Izabeka accepted my words at face value and put on her enchanted jacket. Using a sole hand was still awkward for her, but she refused Zaon’s help. Then, she beamed at me.

“As a fervent follower of the Church of the System, I’m ready to accept anything you have to give, Robert Clarke. I want the whole package,” Izabeka grinned like a kid on Christmas day. “And you still owe me a detailed explanation.”

Despite Hallas’ worries, we rested for an hour. After entering the Warden’s Tree, there was no assurance we would have time to rest, so it was better to enter fresh and ready to fight.

While the kids prepared a proper meal, I enchanted a whole set of armor for Izabeka: Wind-Shoot Boots, self-drying socks, Reinforced Trousers, a Glowing Knife, a Leechflame Cutter, and an Insulation Linen Shirt. Izabeka was so strong already that any increment in attack and defense would be marginal at best. At least she was happy.

I tried to focus on the fight ahead, but it was difficult with the kids swarming Captain Kiln. For them, Izabeka wasn’t just the cool aunt who came to visit the orphanage from time to time. She was also a legend of Farcrest. She was probably the closest thing to a superhero in this world, and they were eager to tell her about their recent exploits.

The scene brought me back to the orphanage. To the old stove in the kitchen, the worn-out chairs, the cozy atmosphere, and Elincia. I was just three steps away from returning to my dream life: the Warden, the Lich, and Janus.

“Let’s break camp and end this nonsense,” I said after a moment.

Hallas let out a sigh of relief. Not once had he tried to apologize to Pyrrah, but it wasn’t a problem for me to solve. I hoped their quarrel didn’t pose a problem during combat.

A minute later, we were walking around the Warden’s Tree.

The entrance of an elven city was always facing the sunrise. We had reached the Warden’s Tree from the south, so we had quite a distance to go.

There was an eerie silence around the tree. I would have preferred a pack of Gloomstalkers raining on us.

“No human has entered an elven city in the past hundred years. Be grateful,” Hallas said as the root system opened into a plain devoid of vegetation.

Towering above us, the city gates seamlessly merged into the living bark. It was an imposing sight. The round edges were lined with intricate patterns of leaves and vines, similar to the decorations of Pyrrah’s armor. The shifting light filtering through the canopy tricked the eye into believing the decorations moved and slithered over the bark.

The gates parted slightly, revealing the hollow inside.

“Where are the other elves?” Izabeka asked.

“There are no other elves out here, just the two of us,” Hallas replied.

Izabeka didn’t seem happy with the answer.

“That design alone would require a month’s work of a small army of artisans.”

Hallas shrugged.

“Evindal, the Gardener, carved the city in the seed beforehand,” Pyrrah said, glaring at Hallas. “Only a seasoned Gardener could engrave such fine detail. I’m talking about someone with at least fifty years of experience in gardening.”

The final part was undoubtedly a dig at Hallas.

I wondered how long Pyrrah had been Evindal’s squire without knowing his true identity.

We stopped before the doorway. A chilling wind came from inside, and the spot of Corruption on my chest dug its tiny claws into my skin. At last, we were in the place of the mysterious coordinates.

I turned around and faced the kids.

“I know I’ve already asked more than a teacher should ask from his students, and I apologize for that. I won’t be disappointed if any of you decide to pull out of this adventure,” I said, my eyes moving from face to face. “If someone is unsure of their ability to fight, speak now. You have my permission to skip this exercise.”

The kids remained silent, clutching their rifles.

“Wolf, you should return to the Teal Moon tribe,” I said.

The boy gave me a confused look.

“Is this a test?”

Technically, it was an evaluation, but I didn’t say that.

“You are their Warchief. Corruption will worsen from now on, and they will need someone smart to guide them.”

Wolf, in his usual fashion, didn’t answer right away. He closed his eyes for a moment, looking inside. When he opened them again, I noticed no trace of doubt in his body language.

“If I don’t fight now, the tribe will suffer later. My predecessor failed to see that, and he paid the ultimate price,” Wolf said. “I will fight.”

I nodded and shifted toward Ilya.

“This isn’t the place for a gnome to be.”

“When I finish hunting down the last monster inside, it will be,” Ilya replied, her voice full of confidence.

There was no arrogance in her words.

“Zaon. Your indecision will get us killed,” I said.

The boy opened his mouth to reply but stumbled upon his words, almost proving me right. I was the first to recognize that Zaon had changed since we first met. He had overcome many of his flaws and reached milestones he believed impossible, yet part of the old Zaon refused to let go. That devious little voice that whispered in his ear that he wasn’t up to the task was still there. No matter how often I complimented him, I couldn’t make it disappear. That was something only Zaon could do.

“I-If I mess up, I’ll make sure not to drag anyone down with me, I guess…” he said hesitantly.

That wasn’t the answer I needed. If Zaon were going to fight with mental shackles around his legs, I would rather leave him behind for his own good.

Zaon looked around, but the other kids avoided his glance, not wanting to interfere with his decision. Then, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He remained in that position for a long minute.

Suddenly, his face lit up.

“I’ll do it. I know I’m far from perfect, and messing up is a real possibility, but if I fail, it will not be due to my indecisiveness,” Zaon said. “I’ll do it because I want to do it. I’ll do it because I have to do it. I’ll do it because only I can do it. I’ll do it because I won’t be able to live with myself if something happens to any of you, and I wasn’t there to help.”

I smiled.

“That’s the correct answer, Zaon.”

The boy blushed and fixed his gaze on the tips of his boots. His lips, however, twitched into a shy smile—a smile directed to himself.

“Alright, people. I’m not one for long speeches, so I will keep this brief. For months, we have unknowingly been preparing for this moment. Each of you has earned the skills for the job through effort and work, so I’ll say this: trust your abilities and your companions. You have walked all the way here, and you’ll make it through.”

I glanced at the group with pride.

“We’ll make it through,” Ilya corrected me.

“We’ll make it through,” I conceded.

Firana raised her hand.

“Why didn’t you ask me anything?”

“Because I already knew your answer when I said adventure,” I replied, to Firana’s dismay. “Let’s go.”

The grand archway led into a plaza framed by a fence of braided roots.

Bioluminescent moss hung from the walls, showering the hollow tree with a pale green light. [Night Vision] made it look like it was midday. I raised my head. The city hung over us like an intricate maze of platforms, balconies, tents, and walls. Bridges of green translucent resin connected one level to another—if the vertical separations could be called levels at all. More than a silo or an apartment complex with a recursive structure, the elven city was an organic mishmash of elements. It was like the insides of a clockwork tower combined with an Ewok citadel.

I noticed I was holding my breath.

The air was thick with the scent of sap and varnish. The whole scene seemed taken from a child’s book, yet I couldn’t shed the feeling of something breathing on our necks.