Chapter 46: The World Tree (6)

 

For elves, lifespan was everything.

 

A blessing of longevity that no other race was granted was truly a special gift.

 

Only elves could extend their lifespan through training.

 

Other races sometimes belittled elves, calling them arrogant... But short-lived beings simply couldn’t understand.

 

They couldn’t grasp the immense power of time.

 

Even without formal education, the experiences amassed over long years lead to their own form of wisdom.

 

Throughout their long lives, when elves dedicated themselves to a particular skill, they ascended to levels of mastery that overshadowed all others.

 

A wise sage.

 

A swordsman who has mastered the art of the sword.

 

A merchant with boundless wealth.

 

A blacksmith who forges unbreakable instruments.

 

An artist who creates once-in-a-lifetime masterpieces... and so on.

 

In any field, the power of time transformed them into the best.

 

No matter how proud a dwarf might be of their blacksmithing, they could not surpass an elven blacksmith who had hammered at the anvil for centuries.

 

No matter how much dragonians train with their swords, they could not surpass an elven swordsman who had danced between blades for centuries.

 

No matter how much wealth merchants accumulate, they couldn’t surpass the networks of an elven trader.

 

Even the most pristine of creatures pales in comparison to an elf who had trained for hundreds of years.

 

In a way, it was understandable why they might become arrogant.

 

This difference in perspective was irreconcilable.

 

Most elves wouldn’t bother arguing with such short-lived beings.

 

Regardless of what was said, the fact remained: the best, irrespective of the field, was an elf.

 

There was no force as powerful as time, and as it flowed, none could escape its truths.

 

Thus, from their early days, elves continue their training to make the most of this time.

 

Through consistent training, they expand the vessel of lifespan within them.

 

The more diligently and rightly an elf conducts this training, the longer they lived, and naturally, the more respect they garnered amongst their kin.

 

Every night, elves visualized their lifespan vessels as radiant lights.

 

The brighter the lifespan vessel shone, the longer one could live.

 

Black was the color of the lifespan vessel possessed by newborn elves.

 

It signified a life of up to 300 years.

 

This was the lifespan limit of elves who didn’t train.

 

Following that, purple represented 400 years.

 

Blue meant 500 years, red meant 600 years, orange indicated 700 years, and yellow signified 800 years...

 

Most average elves usually died with an orange lifespan vessel.

 

After giving a portion of their life force to the World Tree, occasionally indulging in alcohol, making love, immersing in other skills, and skipping training on lazy days, they would possess the orange lifespan vessel.

 

However, those who practiced more meticulously and diligently continued to have a yellow lifespan vessel.

 

From then on, they received respect from others and were even qualified to become the elders of the elven village.

 

Although orange and yellow might seem similar... a difference of 100 years wasn’t something easily dismissed.

 

In that respect, Arwin Celebrien was called a blessing from the heavens.

 

When 10-year-old Arwin first revealed her lifespan vessel... it was already shining yellow.

 

From the moment of her birth, she was bestowed with a lifespan of 800 years.

 

If she continued her training, she might live up to 1300 years, a prodigious talent.

 

Knowing the immense power of time, the elves realized Arwin would be a significant figure in elven history.

 

However, with such potential came an inevitably increased burden.

 

“Daddy, where are we going?”

 

The Celebrien elves became nourishment for the World Tree.

 

Believing that the blessing of longevity came from the World Tree, they felt obliged to share their life force to preserve the tree for a long time.

 

Until they reached the age of 200 years, or adulthood, young elves experienced the same daily routine.

 

While young elves played near the World Tree, it would slowly and almost imperceptibly absorb some of their lifespan.

 

They wouldn’t even notice it.

 

With training, it was a life force they could easily recover.

 

But Arwin was different.

 

Her usual routine of sitting next to the World Tree and sharing her life force with other young elves changed after revealing her lifespan vessel.

 

“Daddy? Where are we go-”

 

“-You are my daughter, Arwin. As nobles, we must sacrifice more. Especially one as blessed as you.”

 

Under the stern guidance of Ascal, Arwin was led into a small cave at the base of the World Tree.

 

The usual brightness was absent in the cave.

 

Instead of the fresh scent of vibrant green grass, the space was filled with the damp smell of aged wood.

 

Arwin continued to walk into that intimidating place, following her most trusted father.

 

Even as occasional water droplets startled her, she never let go of her father’s arm.

 

Finally, she reached a room with tree roots that resembled hands.

 

The 10-year-old Arwin looked anxiously at her father, but he, with a resolute expression, led her forward.

 

“Don’t be afraid because it’s the World Tree’s roots.”

 

Despite his words, it was challenging for her not to feel repulsed by the eerie-looking roots.

 

“This is a process I also went through. It’s okay.”

 

As Ascal guided her to a prepared seat, the roots of the World Tree began to wriggle and move as if responding to her presence.

 

“Gasp...!”

 

Arwin jumped up from her seat in fear, but two arms grabbed her and held her down.

 

It was Ascal who had restrained her.

 

He continued to speak.

 

“It’ll be okay, Arwin. You’ll be fine.”

 

Soon, the wriggling root grasped Arwin’s back.

 

Before the engulfing fear had a chance to fully set in, a sharp pain pierced through her body.

 

Her long ears trembled.

 

“Ahhh...! Ahhhh! It hurts! Help me, Daddy! It hurts!”

 

Arwin pleaded, but her father soon let go of her arms and stepped back, only watching her.

 

“You’ll get used to it. It’s for the World Tree, for the elves.”

 

But little Arwin couldn’t understand Ascal’s words.

 

All she wished for was the pain to stop. Concepts of the World Tree and elves were far beyond her comprehension now.

 

“I-It hurts too much! Dad! Please, remove it! Ahhhh!”

 

“It’s the Elders’ decision, Arwin! Endure!”

 

After that, Arwin couldn’t hear her father’s words. The pain became so intense that her vision whitened, and her ears were filled with the sound of her own sobbing cries.

 

Twisting and thrashing in desperation, Arwin tried to break free from her seat, but the World Tree’s roots gripped her tightly, refusing to let go.

 

After what felt like an eternity, when she regained consciousness, she found herself lying in a bed.

 

Her body felt utterly drained, devoid of any strength.

 

She had fainted from the pain.

 

With heavy-lidded eyes, Arwin managed to focus on Ascal and weakly asked,

 

“...Why... Why didn’t you help me?”

 

“You wouldn’t understand now. It was all for the greater good... Just know that.”

 

From that moment, Arwin’s life was forever changed.

 

But to say it changed may be an understatement, given the brevity of her life so far.

 

Perhaps it was more accurate to say that from the moment of her birth, Arwin had always been accompanied by that torment.

 

She had to endure that agonizing ritual every six months.

 

Every half year, she had to endure that pain, giving herself as nourishment for the World Tree.

 

All because she was born with a blessed lifespan.

 

No matter how much she cried or resisted, not a single soul lent a sympathetic ear.

 

The sacrifice for the World Tree was sacred; no one could truly empathize with her suffering.

 

In truth, she wasn’t the only one to undergo such a ritual.

 

It was rare, but some elves experienced their lifespans being directly drained.

 

Not as frequently or as extensively as Arwin, but it was said to happen.

 

Being young and impressionable, Arwin was persuaded by the words of the elders, including her father.

 

It was also challenging to go against the words of the mature elves.

 

Looking up to the World Tree as she always had, Arwin had no choice but to accept her fate.

 

While the pain was immense, she sacrificed herself for the sake of the World Tree and the elves.

 

She wanted to be a good child.

 

And so, ten years passed.

 

While Arwin had her lifespan drained every six months, she diligently practiced to expand her lifespan vessel.

 

Every day, she visualized her blessed yellow lifespan vessel and continued her training, striving for the next level.

 

She had now grown somewhat accustomed to the excruciating ritual that returned every six months.

 

Although the pain itself never became familiar, she had learned to accept and endure it.

 

If she decided to grit her teeth and bear it for just one day, she could enjoy a period of tranquility afterward.

 

In this manner, she fulfilled her duty, working hard to become the great elf the elder elves expected her to be.

 

“...What did you say?”

 

But her sacrifices didn’t end there.

 

“From now on, you will have to undergo the ritual every month,” Ascal delivered in a stern tone.

 

Arwin’s mouth gaped open, words failing her.

 

Given the sacredness of the sacrifice, she couldn’t muster any protest. She had believed, up to this point, that the blessing of longevity stemmed from the World Tree.

 

“Why...”

 

But her faint question slipped past her lips. Ascal, not missing her doubt, responded.

 

“It’s only natural that you, having received greater blessings, make greater sacrifices. You are aware of this, aren’t you?”

 

“...”

 

Arwin had no choice but to remain silent.

 

After all, according to him, she could live for 800 years without training.

 

She had already pondered the notion that it wasn’t simply bestowed upon her.

 

It was a gift from the World Tree.

 

Thus, that fleeting doubt was the entirety of Arwin’s rebellion.

 

Had she fidgeted with her fingers? Perhaps she might have.

 

Without arguing or raising her voice, she had to endure the swiftly altered daily routine.

 

In this way, Arwin bore the agony every month.

 

There was much to prepare for on the eve of the Sacrifice Day.

 

Just as she would clench her fists to withstand the pain, she had to meticulously trim her nails.

 

Otherwise, the flesh of her palm would repeatedly get dented.

 

She needed to prepare a mouthguard to prevent her teeth from breaking and had to drink a lot of water in anticipation of dehydration from the cold sweat.

 

Yet, despite such preparations, things would always go awry.

 

On the Day of Sacrifice, she would scream all day until the blood vessels in her eyes burst and her throat became hoarse.

 

Occasionally, blood would even spurt from her throat.

 

The next day, she would be accompanied by muscle aches so severe that she couldn’t walk.

 

The only reward at the end of all these sacrifices was... the single fact that it was her duty.

 

Even though she knew it was something she inherently had to do, at times, it felt unjust.

 

However, the other elves couldn’t understand her.

 

If only they could have a lifespan vessel as blessed as hers, they believed they could endure anything.

 

After all, for the elves, lifespan was everything.

 

– – – End of Chapter – – –