I don’t really remember much about my old world and life, just bits and pieces. I was just a winged seedpod, almost ready to fall through space-time looking for somewhere to stop and take root. When one day my mother’s favourite dryad plucked me from a branch and dove into mothers bark, only to emerge a moment later from another part of mother several worlds away. The dryad handed me to a young elven cultivator. My Master, My first and most powerful “Owner”.

She sang to me as I grew, slowing my growth upwards, while also helping my spirit to grow instead. For ten thousand years I was watered with spirit potions, fertilized with dragon feces, and fed the souls of my master’s foes and rivals. She used the elven songs to control the growth of wood in unique and powerful ways, to force my body through cultivation advancements like a mortal, and protect me from divine tribulations.

Also, I was pruned. I remember the pain.

The Immortal used tiny clippers made of adamantium and blessed my the Elven God of plants. They could prune worlds from me, harm me in ways even dragon fire couldn’t. I may have been the weakest World tree ever to survive so long if you only looked at the quantity of mana. However, I had the densest bark and the hardest wood, the strongest spirit, My master continued to force me down the path of immortality, even though I had no real mind of my own back then. I was just an off-shoot of that realm’s world tree, I never got the chance to start my own universe like my mother tree because her presence stifled my mind, she fed from me and my roots as she did all the other saplings within her worlds.

Then my master was tricked into giving me to the re-incarnated Hero. The master offered the Hero her most powerful storage item for rescuing her granddaughter. Rather than take the best bracelet made from my almost-immortal pruned branches, she took me. Thus ending my ownership in the hands of the immortal cultivator elf. The only owner to not die and pass my care on to someone else.

The Hero only owned me for 500 years or so, but that was a long time for a human, she dragged me from world to world solving problems and filling the tiny worlds within my branches with treasures and monsters. A magic pot floated me along behind her throughout her adventures. She used me to shield her from monsters on occasion, but mostly she kept calling me the “Inventory Tree”.

Eventually, she saved the universe or something... I wasn’t listening.

The God or whatever of my universe offered her a 1-way ticket home, potentially even to the moment in time of her death. But, being the crafty bitch she was, she had the god send her 2 thousand years back in time to a wild continent she called “South America”. There she founded the Amazon Democratic Monarchy to protect “the lungs of the world” or some such bullshit, then proceeds to name a massive rainforest after her kingdom.

That was the first time my mind was free of my parent world tree’s crushing presence, I mean my Mother’s embrace… yeah.

There was a world tree here too, Yggdrasil. However I wasn’t his sapling, so he had no power over me. He was also very weak, less than 10 worlds by my guess. Obviously still much more powerful than me, as just this “Earth” planet was exponentially bigger than all my little worlds put together.

I should have thrived here.

But instead, I withered.

There was not enough mana to support me or my menagerie of monsters. Dragons, Phoenixes, Immortal Turtles, Unstoppable Tigers all died out first. I managed to save One baby dragon by having it sleep in my world of roots, sleep forever, or until I could grow again.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Quezahoggr, Feathered serpent dragon, Amazonian society/mythology decided she was the child of Quetzalcoatl and Níðhöggr, completely ignoring her otherworldly origins. I loved the Hero in my way, but her people and especially her descendants are an eternal pain in my roots.

As my most powerful monsters died from mana starvation, my mana production dropped more, thus killing off the next tier of power, which then lowers ambient mana killing the next tier, and so on in an unstoppable slow extinction event.

The Heroine turned Amazon Queen also occasionally summoned forth monsters from my lands to fight her enemies, but by the time she had conquered most of “South America” I only had Slimes and a few animals with minor magic powers left.

I occasionally took samples of the local non-magical wildlife, but I would be left unable to use mana for months each time, so I lack the level of bio-diversity I have observed in various worlds.

I was also more of a semi-intelligent magic item than a sapient being at the time too. I never considered trying to say no to her summons to keep my creatures safe for example. I was content to grow slowly and continue my cultivation even if this world was thousands of times less efficient than my old universe.

By the time she died, we could no longer call anything larger or more powerful than a house cat from within me. Vaults full of Drained magic items wait to be re-charged even to this day within my trunk.

After she died I stopped being able to capture or release anything larger than a bug but kept getting smarter, cultivating my mind in a way I never could before, Blocked by mother. Smart enough to get bored. I learned to read anything written on paper once made from a tree, I could copy the pages within myself to read again later. Like that, I created a Library within my trunk vaults. I learned to use my leaves to listen to vibrations in the air transcribing all audio conversations to my libraries.

The efficiency of my data storage has improved in the last 50 years since I copied the human’s phonograph technology with wood and stone, I can re-listen to things I hear now, not just read automated transcriptions.

What was I talking about?

Right the Amazons being a pain in the roots. I was a sacred artifact, but they lacked the basic knowledge and skill with mana manipulation to bond with me properly. So no one could draw forth books or weapons or anything from within me. I lacked the power to pull people in and teach them. Eventually, I became more of a curio, sacred enough to always have an official Owner/caretaker, but the importance of that position waned as it seemed more ceremonial than anything.

Starting to understand the human’s ceremonies, I copied and altered the will of one of my owners and bequeathed myself to his least favoured relative outside Amazon lands. After a few more generations of things like that, no-one cared about my owners at all, and I “saw” more of the world. Usually in the hands of the least favoured descendant of the Hero.

Free of the Amazons besides the occasional checkup to make sure I hadn’t died. Maybe they were praying? who knows? Amazons are weird. But, at least they would never blaspheme their ancient founder by stealing me from one of her true descendants, not even a male one. Surprisingly Consistent in their weirdness at least, unlike most other human countries in this world. 

Anyway today I get a new owner, and he’s sworn to give me something no other previous owner ever has.

A name.