Just a little something for the ocerry Christmas!

  Ep 171.5 (Extra). Set Free

  Elven lights decorated the night sky, illuminating the dark in a glow of green and white. Despite the pending darkness, the ey of Rosaria seemed awake in celebration.

  But amidst the crowd of elves, a lo would wear a sour expression as he briskly made his way towards the city’s outskirts.

  Throughout his venture, he could see star-like decoratioing the birth of their world.

  Performers staged a vish act of their blessed history. In celebration of their very star’s birthday, every adult held a gift in their hands for a child to receive – just like how the Twelve had gifted the entire world to its people.

  But the elve’s scowl would refuse to fade as he made his way through the busy streets, aually into the nearby woods.

  Uhe city’s bustling streets, the woods had her lights nor music to celebrate the occasion. Rays of moonlight were the only lights it had to offer, a flowing stream the only music it had to py.

  Aually, the elf would vehrough the woods to arrive at a lone chapel.

  - ‘…’

  The hermit wordlessly approached its gate, pushing the rusty door open with a soundless creak.

  Beyond the rows of old, wooden chairs, an elven woman remained k on the floor. Their figure was bathed in moonlight, seeping through the chapel’s arched windows.

  Her flowing silver hair seemed unusually u, falling to the chapel floor in a haphazard manner – but as if oblivious to the fact, her eyes remained firmly closed, ung for how she’d appear to an onlooker. She remained unmoving in pce, her hands csped together in solemn prayer.

  Grimag, the hermit would approach the woman, ing to a stop some distance behind her.

  - ‘Letherien. The people are awaiting your arrival.’

  “…”

  Slowly, Letherien’s colorless eyes began to open.

  A soft, shuddering sigh slipped through her lips.

  “…I’m sorry. I’m te again, aren’t I.”

  - ‘It’s quite alright. This is my yearly excuse to care after our people.’

  “Is it? I’m gd.”

  A thin smile curved the woman’s lips. After another long sigh, Letherien’s csped hands unfolded to allow her ba her feet.

  Still, her eyes remained fixed onto the gleaming moon beyond the chapel’s window, unwilling to turn to face the hermit that had e for her.

  “It’s been so long…but it still paio celebrate this day.”

  - ‘A you tio force yourself to. I ’t imagine what that’d be like.’

  “Haha…I’m sure you uand, at least in part. You force yourself to e get me every year.”

  - ‘I’m quite certain it’s but a small trouble pared to yours.’

  Letherien’s gaze fell to the dusty floors.

  Surely, her troubles were hers alo was a burden she’d carry for the rest of eternity.

  But as long as the hermit would remain at her side, she could bear the burden for however long she had to.

  ‘As long as you’re here…’

  With that final thought, Letherien slowly turned around to see the empty chapel.

  “…”

  The elf’s dreary gaze gnced from one dusty er to the .

  But no matter how hard she looked, she saw nothing but old, abandoned furniture.

  She could no longer see the hermit that once was. Only his illusory voice echoed in her ears, remindihat no one would e to share iroubles anymore.

  “…Where…”

  A small tear rolled down her cheeks, dropping onto the grass beh her feet.

  Letherien grasped at her heart. Even though the actual ag had long stopped, her phantom pain refused to fade.

  “…Where have you gone, Clyus?”

  Eventually, the elf’s lost footsteps carried her outside the chapel.

  She could create the tallest of towers, the gra of paces. If she so wished, she could rebuild the abandoned chapel into the star’s rgest temple.

  Hehis abandoned chapel had always been special.

  A small, unremarkable structure in the middle of nowhere, abandoned ao rot. It was the only structure withiy of Rosaria that the creator had ouched, and the only structure that the hermit would ever call home.

  “Or so you’d say…if you were here.”

  The sadness in her heart quickly reshaped to despair.

  Then, to anger.

  And finally, to relief.

  With a crooked smile, the deity let out a soft ughter.

  “You’re not here anymore, Clyus.”

  A deep, g noise shook the earth. The grouh her lightly began to quake, the chapel’s windows webbed with sudden fractures.

  “You never will be again, will you?”

  With a thunderous he chapel’s windows shattered apart in unisoal branches sprouted forth from within and tio grow, lifting the entire building into the air.

  A t iron beam soon showed itself, serving as the trunk of the artificial tree. As the mass of metal tio grow, the chapel soon disappeared from sight, lifted much too high into the darkness of the night sky.

  As her ughter died dowherien csped her hands once more, whispering a silent prayer.

  ‘May you forever stay dead, Clyus.’

  The metal tree behihen began to emit a fring e glow. Its innards soon began to radiate areme amount of heat, threatening to burst at any moment.

  As its creatan to walk back to the city of her people, the giant tree burst in fmes behind her.

  The explosion did not go unheard, nor uhe ey of Rosaria saw the burst of fire in the distance. Blinding sparks exploded outwards to decorate the night sky, carrying bits of the chapel’s ied bits.

  In the distance, Letherien could hear a wave of heated shouts.

  And soon, several smaller explosions followed, this time from directly above the city.

  Boom!

  Fme-lit orbs soared into the air, exploding amongst each other to paint the sky in various lights. Men and women alike rejoiced in the marvels of their fireworks, children screaming in delight aement of the unusual sight.

  “Happy birthday, Nerion…”

  Letherien cleared her throat several times, trying to make her crooked smile fade.

  But when her mirth refused to subside, she began snickering ht instead.

  “Happy birthday indeed.”

  Praybird