***The Saint’s Tree***

  The dungeons dedicated to the enemies of Her Holiness were within the deepest parts of the Elf Saint’s official residence. Before, the pace officials tried to have their rivals thrown in those cells, but the Life Guards frustrated their efforts, decring that it was the property of the holy dy, thus, she was the only one with the authority to imprison someone there. It could be safely said that since the Lady Hinwe ascended the holy office, those dark chambers underneath the ancient tree pace remained unused…until now.

  Confined in the underground forest of old roots and soil, with no chance to escape because his legs were chained, was the captain of the Life Guards captain, Sir Eldarv. Detained with him were the others from the Elf Saint’s retinue, and the surviving pace maids. They all knew that once an elf’s chains were suddenly removed by themselves and that person would let themselves out, that poor soul would end as a grisly meal of the human monster sitting on the throne above where they were.

  After all, they witnessed how ‘Lord Kuro of Arles’ ate his first kills before their eyes.

  “…”

  They had no idea how powerful that human was; the only thing they were sure of was that they were imprisoned there like livestock, waiting for the time they were called to the throne room to be murdered. However, Sir Eldarv was resolved to fight for his life, even if he died trying. The only problem was the chains. If he could remove those, he’d have his chance to escape.

  “What are you doing?” a fellow elf asked him when they noticed the elf captain kept on squirming.

  “I’m trying to remove my shackles,” he whispered. “Look, my wrists and hands are pretty small, I guess I can make it slip off me.”

  “You know we can’t do anything about it. Might as well accept our fate.”

  “Well, I’m not!” Sir Eldarv countered. “Hey, don’t lose hope; we can still do something if we think of a way to get these things off our wrists and legs.”

  “Milord, I suggest you don’t. It’s a futile effort, anyway. Are you turning crazy like that Chersean elf over there?”

  Sir Eldarv followed his fellow prisoner’s direction, and asked, “You’re talking about that Cerdan guy?”

  The other elf nodded. “Haven’t you heard his ramblings? He’s saying that we should expect help from the ‘real Lord Kuro of Arles’. That the one up there is a fake, and the true one is mounting an expedition to free us and restore Her Holiness to her throne.”

  “He really did say those things?”

  “You’re not listening?”

  “I’m busy with my escape attempt that I don’t pay attention to others.”

  “Fair enough. Well, what do you pn to do, milord? Ask him about his nonsense?”

  “Well, at this point, I’m desperate enough to welcome any suggestions, or ways out, even if it’s crazy,” the elf captain quipped.

  “Suit yourself.”

  Then, Sir Eldarv called out to the Chersean elf, “Hey there! Your name is Cerdan, right?”

  “Are you talking to me?” Cerdan asked.

  “Yes,” the former captain followed up. “What do you mean by that monster up there is a fake ‘Lord Kuro of Arles’ and we should expect the ‘real one’ to help us?”

  “It is what it is,” the Chersean elf answered. “If you won’t believe me and call me crazy, it’s fine. I know what I’m talking about.”

  “You sure are confident in this human,” Sir Eldarv commented.

  “Of course. In case you guys don’t know, the Lord Kuro of Arles is a living legend among the Cherseans, the people of Cherwind, and the demons. He saved those races from the greatest dangers they faced recently.”

  “Well, if that person up there isn’t the ‘true’ Lord Kuro, then who is it?”

  “Beats me,” Cerdan shrugged. “That’s what we need to find out.”

  “No way!” the other elves cried out, listening to their talk. “There’s no way we’ll return there if we escape this prison!”

  “Well,” the Chersean elf replied. “What if I tell you we can escape this prison?”

  “You’re joking,” one of the other prisoners accused. “Don’t get our hopes up!”

  “Honestly, yes…I’m joking,” Cerdan chuckled as he showed them his shackles falling off his wrists and legs, much to the astonishment of everyone. “It’s only a joke when I let myself get imprisoned here, and it’s only a joke when I acted like I can’t escape these chains. Now, choose; die like a livestock here, or fight for your lives?”

  Sir Eldarv, who watched everything the Chersean elf did, couldn’t help but ask, “Who are you? How did you free yourself from those things?”

  “Me?” Cerdan dusted himself as he approached the next prisoner and picked up her shackles. “I’m Cerdan, a spy of the Lord Kuro—the real one, who serves Her Holiness the Lady Hinwe. However, before that, I was a pickpocket in Chersea…”

  ----------

  ***The city of Elgon, to the southwest edges of Cherwoods…***

  Simir to the other cities in the direct path of the advancing sands, the city of Elgon was threatened by the problem of Cherwoods’ desertification. Its people used to depend on the long journeys made by their ‘water carriers,’ who travel from their city to the goon of Cherwoods and back. However, when the Grand Canal project of the Saint’s Tree was started, they contributed elves to help with its building. The city’s council decided it was worth the sacrifice since they’d have to halve their elves working as ‘water carriers’ to complete that water artery that was supposed to bring water and save Cherwoods’ interior.

  However, the Saint’s Tree suddenly stopped the project, and the canal workers awakened with no one to lead them. Because of this, they were forced to go back to their respective cities, only to find those who were suffering from drought and starvation…including the citizens of Elgon.

  And to make matters worse, rumors of a murderous army wandering and plundering unprotected elvish cities were going around. It made the ‘water carriers’ reluctant to venture out of the city limits for fear of encountering and leading those killers to Elgon and their families.

  “…”

  From a distance, the Bck God watched the city cower in fear. Warriors always manned the city ‘walls,’ taking turns in the vigil. The ‘water carriers’ would try to find a water source from underground veins. But digging from when they woke up till the long sleep was unsuccessful, so they relied on their water magicians. While they could go on with this for quite a while, the water magic spells would eventually consume the caster’s mana, and they had to rest for long.

  If that happens, the Bck God knows their survival chances are slim.

  And he won’t let that come true. So, he took a step outside his observation spot and let himself be seen by the scouts of the city.

  “!!!”

  The deity’s sign that the elves had already spotted him was when they shot a few distances away from his feet. This is their usual warning to unwelcome intruders, especially now that everyone’s paranoid.

  “You there, the man in the bck mask! Identify yourself! Are you a friend or a foe?”

  “If I’m an enemy,” the Bck God replied, “then I won’t come near you with my sword in its sheath.”

  “Then if you’re a friend, remove your mask!” the warriors at the wall demanded. The deity was aware of the reason behind this request since, by now, these elves must’ve learned that the ‘attackers’ from the Saint’s Tree had darkened skin, almost purple like the dead, yet they could still hack and kill with impunity. However…

  “I’m sorry, friends,” the Bck God raised his hand to show he intended no harm. “As of now, I can’t do what you’re asking from me. Nevertheless, I assure you, I come in peace. Is there anyone from you that I can talk to? An elder or a captain of your army, perhaps?”

  The elvish warriors debated among themselves about the deity’s proposal. Some of them distrusted him; others wanted to give him a chance. In the end, however, the distrustful party won the argument.

  “Whoever you are, we’ll ask you again! Take off your mask!”

  “I will not do that; it’s for your safety as well…”

  At that moment, the elves let loose their arrows towards the Bck God. However, he easily stopped the projectiles altogether, and though it was not needed, he broke those with a wave of his hand. Of course, the warriors were awestruck at what he did, watching their broken arrows fall to his feet.

  “I’m telling you, my friends,” the deity made his point once again, “if I wanted to kill you like the ones you fear, I can always do it. However, I do not wish for it to happen. In this fight, we are allies, elves of Elgon! Won’t you care to listen to me?”

  ----------

  In his previous ‘vigil,’ the Bck God counted on the united forces of the Cherwoods' elves to weaken the Seductress threat. And in the current one, it was no different. Like his previous loops, he started with Berondin, and continued with Elgon. While he did convince the elders of the former that he was their ally, the tter was even more suspicious, since they were the ones who received the ‘eyewitness accounts’ first-hand.

  But it was all within the expectations of the god. He had been in this situation before and knew what he would do…

  “You must be Lady Fangorn of Elgon,” the Bck God greeted the most senior member of the city’s elder council with a bow. “A pleasure to meet you again.”

  The dy elder was taken aback at his words. “Who are you? Have we met before?”

  “Well, in this timeline, this is our first meeting,” he replied. “However, we’ve met in the previous loops.”

  “I…I don’t understand what you mean,” the Lady Fangorn countered; her face pale.

  “Would you believe that I’m a traveler of ages?” the Bck God told her. “That I can go back in the ancient times if I decide to?”

  “My apologies, sir,” the dy answered. “However, I will only believe your story if you’re a god, or some otherworldly hero like the Lady Cassandra David.”

  “I’m no hero, but let me show you my god-powers.”

  “Wha—”

  At that moment, the Bck God grabbed Lady Fangorn’s hands and used the god-power of healing on her. The other elves watched the whole spectacle unfold, and when he was finished, he told their elder, “Right now, I removed the ugly scar in your thigh, midy. Did you receive it when you were still a mercenary maiden in Cherwind, during the Telessaria Rebellion?”

  The elf’s eyes widened, and she quickly went into some hidden pce to check. A few minutes ter, she emerged and decred, “This person is really a god!”

  When the other elves heard that, they immediately fell on the Bck God’s feet and begged, “Please forgive us for doubting you, lord!”

  “Ah, please rise! I’m not here to ensve you; I intend to help you deal with that army you fear!”

  “What do you mean, lord?”

  “I’ll have to ask your city’s allegiance and cooperation in fighting against the greatest enemy that set foot in your nd,” the deity expined. “Will you fight with me?”

  Complete silence. Though it was not clear from his face, since it was hidden by his mask, the Bck God was surprised at the reception of the elves when he revealed his purpose.

  “B-But lord,” Lady Fangorn answered for them. “While we think fighting alongside with you is good, as of now, we can’t even provide for ourselves! Not to mention, our army was decimated by hunger, and paralyzed by fear.”

  Then, the Bck God noticed the people of Elgon who gathered around him. While there were warriors at the city walls, the locals were significantly fewer than in his previous loop. There were refugees mixed with the city's natives, but they were not willing to fight for anything as well…not even for their survival.

  In their hearts, the Bck God could see that many of the individuals he expected to see in that pce had already died, and even if he resurrected those people, the elves of Elgon in this loop wouldn’t fight unless they were pressed into a corner.

  And even then, it is only so they won’t be killed easily. But everyone is already expecting they will die…and they accept it.

  The deity looked at his notes. It was certainly a case of subversion in the timeline. He didn’t expect a huge—and important—deviation to happen in the sequence of events that should happen…

  And the Bck God knows the root cause of all this.

  “Tch. It’s that otherworlder, Kuro…”

  ----------

  ***New Elebor***

  The new recruits of the ‘Elvish Expeditionary Forces’ were given two days to report back to their recruiting officers so that they could prepare everything for the journey ahead. It was not a secret to the leaders of that force that many of the families of the elves they enlisted were not keen on sending their children to war, having experienced the conflicts of the previous Chersean years before the Saint’s Peace. Thus, they were allowed time to fix these issues with their parents and/or guardians.

  The Duke of Maverny wants no ‘loose ends’ on the endeavor he and those people he’ll bring is about to undertake…

  One of those who were ‘lucky’ to get the blessing of their family was Behrien. As the second child born to his household, he was always considered a ‘spare’ to his family’s legacy, and was not expected to inherit his parents’ properties. Because of this, the young elf yearned for adventure and had lingering desires to prove himself.

  “…” Having packed all his necessary belongings, including the weapons he’d use in the upcoming training, Behrien headed for the doorway of his home. His father and mother were on the garden porch, eating breakfast with their other children, including his eldest sister.

  “You’re heading off to war now?” his father asked with a smile on his face. “Won’t you eat your breakfast first before marching?”

  Behrien only smiled back and shook his head.

  “Ah!” his mother handed him a small box. “Since you can’t wait for you own adventure, I packed you some food for the journey. May the saints’ blessings be with you! Oh, and don’t drink alcohol while you’re in battle, alright? You know how we elves are weak to those drinks!”

  “You worry too much, mum! I won’t do it; rumors have it that the Duke of Maverny won’t allow alcohol in the army as well, so it’ll be okay.”

  “Good luck, little bro!” his sister waved at him. “Become a legendary hero like His Grace the Lord Kuro!”

  “Yes, of course!” the young elf beat his chest and saluted his sibling and parents. “Once I come back, I’ll be so famous you won’t recognize me!”

  His sister ughed, though Behrien knew it was not to insult him. “Well, you better get going hero!”

  Having said their goodbyes and well-wishes, the elf hit the road to the vilge center, where most of his fellow recruits gathered.

  ----------

  The property that Behrien’s family owned was at the far edges of New Elebor’s limits. Because of this, the elf had to walk and pass through some woodnds before reaching the main vilge. Along the road, he met fellow recruits going in the same direction…

  “Want to hitch a ride, Behrien?” one of them asked him, riding on a farmer’s wagon.

  Nevertheless, the elf refused. Deep inside, while he was excited to go on an adventure of his own, there was a small lingering feeling of loneliness in his chest. The recruiting officer did say that they would surely be away from Chersea for quite a while, so Behrien knew he would miss the vilge of his childhood. So, he opted to walk along the road to 'imprint' those sceneries in his mind before heading to war.

  Soon, the elf found that he was alone. The elvish farms, with their golden colors mixed with the lush, green woodnds, stretched as far as his eyes could see, and for the first time in his life, he noticed the beauty of the pce where he grew up.

  Is this what the others say that, it is only when one knows he’ll be away for long that he’ll start to appreciate the things he has taken for granted?

  “…”

  Behrien shook his head. Maybe he was also nervous, as he was excited, that he thought of those things, but his heart wouldn’t waver. He was determined to stand alongside the other brave elves who fought battles in faraway nds. And he won’t be dissuaded now.

  As he turned towards the vilge center, Behrien would have to pass another woodnd. While he had passed this stretch of the road many times in the past, the elf suddenly felt uneasy about taking this route. This was because, a few steps from his spot, stood another elf he knew so well, Gmden.

  “…”

  The opposing elf also had his bag on his back, and on his side was a sword, which Behrien surmised was originally from his sister’s. While his height was small for an elf his age, nevertheless, Behrien could feel the animosity from him. It’s as if Gmden would never let him pass.

  “What do you want from me?” the elf soldier asked.

  “Your enlistment papers,” Gmden replied. “Give them to me.”

  Behrien, though privately intimidated by the much smaller elf, bluffed, “What do you want to do with it? Fake your way through the Lord Kuro’s army?”

  “If I have to, then why not? And your uniform as well, I want it,” he answered, pulling out a wooden club from his back. Gmden avoided the sword; he never intended to kill a childhood friend, anyway. “Though, if you can just hand it to me, then I’ll just let you go.”

  “Damn it! This is a joke! You’re joking, right? I had enough of your silly games, Gmden,” Behrien couldn’t believe what was happening. “Do you really want to enlist that much?”

  “I’m sorry, Behrien. You know, I had enough being the ughingstock! I’ll show you that I’m as courageous and respectable as my sister!” Gmden then unched his attack, chanting a wind spell and using it to aid him in reaching his enemy quickly.

  However, Behrien blocked his assault with his bayonet sword. An elf with an affinity to fire magic, he countered Gmden’s wind with a fireball spell that nearly singed the tter's clothes.

  “!!!” Gmden retreated in the meantime to rethink his strategy.

  “Dude, I don’t want to beat you up!” Behrien told him, trying to walk past his enemy. “I’m in a hurry, so if you’ll stop pestering me, I’ll let you off the hook, okay?”

  However, the little elf was not one to compromise anymore. He had already decided he’d enlist, even if he had to beat Behrien senseless. Gmden chanted another wind spell meant to lift the dust off the road. Seeing that the little elf meant to blind him, Behrien retreated to a safe distance from the tempest. He cast a firewall spell around his spot as he knew Gmden would attack him again.

  But then…

  “I got you now!”

  “!!!”

  One weakness of the firewall spell was that it left the upper part (the area directly above the head of the caster) open. The only spell that afforded full protection was the magic shield spell that could be cast by elves with an affinity to light magic (as well as the humans, who could use every magic type as long as their abilities allow it). Exploiting that weakness, Gmden threw himself above Behrien, and sent himself crashing down on the elf soldier.

  Behrien was only halfway through his counter-spell when his head was hit by the wooden club. His vision immediately went dark after that.

  ----------

  ***The outskirts of the Saint’s Tree…***

  As part of his efforts to convince the Berondin elves of the danger that would befall them, Lord Ingwer of Dorian asked an elder of the city to join him in a ‘scouting’ mission to the Elf Saint’s holy residence. Giving him the benefit of the doubt, the city council gave in to his request, and the Lord Fenorian came with him, along with a sizeable army from Berondin.

  “…”

  When they reached the certain part of Cherwoods where the ancient canopy of the Saint’s Tree could be seen from afar, the Dorian lord didn’t expect what they saw. The formerly brown-and-green tree pace was as bck as soot, from its trunk up to some parts all the way up the leaves and branches. It’s as if they were looking at a dead tree…

  “What in Cherwoods has happened?” the Lord Fenorian bemoaned. “That beautiful ancient wood…now it looks horrible.”

  “This is more than what they told me,” Lord Ingwer’s knees weakened, and he had to lean on his sword and a nearby warrior to prop himself up. “How dangerous is that monster we’re dealing with?”

  The other elves were also weeping at the woeful sight of their holy pace. However, their sorrows didn’t st long. They heard something explode from their spots, and saw bck smoke rise from the pace courtyard. The stillness of the pce was pierced by dreadful screams and shouts as if some group of people was engaged in a desperate battle.

  The Lord Fenorian ordered a warrior, “Tenvin, go to a higher point and see what’s going on!”

  At once, the elf set out to look for a favorable spot, disappearing into the vegetation. However, the Berondin elves and the Dorian lord never waited for the scout’s report. They immediately drew their swords, and the others nocked arrows on their bows, anticipating the fight was coming their way, for the screams, the thuds, and even the csh of bdes grew louder with every second that passed.

  “!!!”

  And then, complete silence…

  “…”

  Everyone exchanged tense looks, as they were clueless about what had happened. The elevated clearing where they watched and heard the weird events at the Saint’s Tree was obscured by the tall grasses that surrounded the area; thus, they couldn’t know if anyone was approaching their positions. The scout they sent to reconnoiter was taking his time; they didn’t even know if he was still alive.

  “Open your ears, my brethren,” the Lord Fenorian warned. “Listen to any noise. Be prepared to fight and run if we have to.”

  His men never answered though they all agreed to their elder’s instructions. The several minutes of silent tension seemed like an eternity. No one dared to speak or move; everyone was ready to shoot their arrows and flung their swords the moment something appeared in the grasses.

  And then…

  “Fuck it! Fuck it!”

  “!!!” From their left, the grasses moved. Everyone’s attention went in the same direction. Some elves aimed their bows towards the movement, but Lord Ingwer stopped them, in case it was their scout from earlier.

  “Damn it! Run!”

  However, instead of their friend, two disheveled, bloodied, and screaming elves burst out of the vegetation, not even bothering to stop by to expin why everyone should run. The Lord Fenorian, the Lord Ingwer, and the rest of the Berondin elves were all bewildered at the sudden appearance of those elves, they all froze for a second.

  Nevertheless, not wishing to gamble and wait, they eventually broke into a scamper when their senses returned, even if they didn’t know whom they were running from.

  ----------

  ***Somewhere in Chersea…***

  “What?” Seirna’s chief spymaster, the former Amaranthine prince Umberto Benicci, excimed when he learned his new ‘mission’ from the Overseer Saint. “You really dared to tell me that I should work with that accursed saint, Madeine?”

  “Look, this pn has the approval of the emperor, too,” Seirna said, showing him a letter signed by His Imperial Majesty.

  “I don’t give a damn what others say, Your Holiness,” he answered, his voice still with a hint of bitterness.

  “Okay, let’s rephrase this then,” the Overseer Saint paused, then continued, “I request that you help the otherworlder gather funds for his invasion of Cherwoods. If you can’t do it for the Lady Madeine, at least, do it for the Duke of Maverny. That bloke’s doing what he can to save us all, anyway.”

  The spymaster threw a suspicious gre at Seirna. “The way you say ‘bloke’ is somewhat different from before, Your Holiness,” he noted. “And also, you changed your tone when you refer to the Lord Kuro. Did something happen?”

  “Wh-What are you talking about?”

  “Oh…I see that your scar on your neck is gone!” Umberto pointed out. “Is this request connected to that?”

  “Who…Who knows?”

  The spymaster heaved a sigh. “Alright, Your Holiness.” He took the books and other illustrations made by Lady Hinwe. “How much would you like me to sell these things for?”

  “Up to you. You know your connections.”

  “Mhmm…” Umberto examined the artworks. “By the way, Your Holiness, these are full of ero—”

  “I never checked it, Umberto,” Seirna cut him off. “The Lady Hinwe said something like ‘Hentai will save these worlds by giving us funds’; nevertheless, I didn’t look.”

  “But—”

  “I. Didn’t. Look,” the Overseer Saint reiterated, as she averted her face. Her ears were red, though. “Sell those. Profit. Buy arms and equipment to save our asses. That’s it.”