I thought about magic while seeing the hundredth True Elf blowing into smithereens in front of me.

The time of the Golden Age is coming fast.

Differentiation has now achieved its peak, and soon the world will be flooded with creatures.

Eventually they shall live by themselves and build empires.

When the time comes, I must slumber.

There is a maximum of civilization I can just directly inject on these beings.

True Elves are by nature limited. And their transformations and offspring, including Dragons and Demi-Gods, are just as limited.

Some levels of Reason and Creativity can’t be achieved unless they become true humans, like the ones on earth.

Until they are ready to start the second wave of differentiation, millions of years from now, I should just slumber and let them slowly evolve.

This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work.

This is why, as a new platoon of True Elves finally reach the branch right under me, I congratulate them.

- “Well done. Now, I shall show you even greater heights.”

The platoon showed awfully despaired faces.

- “Fear not. This is the last one I wish for you to reach.”

Some of them showed some hope after I said that, but not many.

A long time has passed now, since I first planted the World Tree.

It has reached even greater heights and depths, over 600km down and under earth.

The amount of Qi moving towards a single direction has also caused for a massive amount of Magic Power to come, and the tree itself became so infused with it that every single piece of wood and every single leaf are as magical as a philosopher’s stone, capable of curing any disease or even killing a god.

The tree has also developed its own consciousness, and quickly pledged its unwavering loyalty to me.

Only a bit more…

Five hundred thousand years.

This is how much time I have spent on this chore of guiding the True Elves up and down the World Tree.

My body, simultaneously inhabiting two places at the same time.

One at the top of the tree, stimulating the Elves to climb ever higher.

One at the bottom of it, stimulating them to go ever deeper.

This way, all kinds of races have been born so far, as new settlements are constantly build on the branches of the world tree, and there the Elves reproduce and live for a few years, until some of the older ones start to mutate.

At the time, the younger and most talented generation is ordered to try and go higher with me.

And soon….

Soon the last of the Great Races will be born.