《Elven Uprising [LitRPG Progression Fantasy, Non-Human MC]》


 Chapter 001 | And Hence, It Begins

    In the beginning, as he drifted through the endless void, long before time was a concept, lived a Dragon named Bolomere.


    Bolomere knew nothing of his origins, but the longer he existed, the stronger he became.


    All around him stretched a vast, indifferent void. It neither welcomed nor rejected him; it simply existed without company. Bolomere wandered alone in that silent nothingness for ages until, at last, he decided to act.


    [In my name, I will create a vibrant world teeming with joy and life!]


    Bolomere reached into the darkness and shaped a land out of nothing. He named this new land Gangnea¡ªa continent floating freely in a cocoon mist, safely sheltered from the endless void.


    Bolomere then tasked himself with bringing life, harnessing the Wood Laws of the Void, and condensing them into an authority, a seed with limitless vitality.


    Wood of Authority¡ªWorld Tree!


    He planted it in the heart of the Gangnea Continent, watching with amusement as the World Tree took root. Its vitality began to spread, creating rich forests that sprouted into life.


    The forests flourished, and from the trees and the sunlight, the first people emerged¡ªThe Wood Race of Elves!


    The children of the woods, the Elves, lived long lives and remained duty-bound to flourish the land. Bolomere watched his creation¡ªthe Gangnea Continent¡ªgrow in size as the Elven Race wielded authority over Wood¡ªto create and control it. They expanded the forests, nurtured the trees, deepened the roots, and strengthened the trunks.


    For a million years, the world remained peaceful and steady. Bolomere¡ªthe Dragon who had created this world¡ªwas satisfied and rested for a long time, content with what he had made. But when he eventually woke, Bolomere saw that Gangnea had grown too vast for the Elves to tend alone.


    [The world needs more hands.]


    From the depths of the voice, Bolomere harnessed the Metal Laws and forged a thumping heart, burying it deep within the Gangnea Continent.


    Metal of Authority¡ªEarthen Heart!


    The Earthen Heart thumped with a pulse of its own, slowly changing the soil in its surroundings into metal and imbuing it with the pulse of life. In time, after being granted vitality from the World Tree, the first of these new beings emerged from beneath the earth¡ªcreatures forged from earth and ore.


    The Metal Race of Dwarves!


    Where the Elves nurtured the world, the Dwarves strengthened it. The Dwarves delved deep into mountains, shaping stone and metal and making the land firm and unyielding. Bolomere was pleased with the strength and balance they brought to his world.


    The Dragon''s satisfaction knew no bounds as he reached into the void again and again to pull out new essences and form a new life. In this way, he created sixteen races, each one different and each adding something unique to Gangnea. The final race he brought forth came from the essence of fire itself¡ªpeople who were quick, bright, and restless.


    The Fire Race of Humans!


    At first, humans were kind and compassionate. They understood the other races, and even though their lives were short, they were remarkably wise¡ªnearly as wise as the Elves, who had lived for a million years.


    Satisfied, Bolomere felt nothing was undone and entered a long era of slumber without any worries.


    But Bolomere was old by then, and he should have known better. The fire never stays quiet for long, and a race as restless as humans could not exist without consequences.


    Greed emerged while desire manifested itself like a plague. Wars became frequent, and the Race of Humans exploded with the volatility of fire, engulfing everyone in a sea of flames. They began to see only what they could take instead of what they could give. And that was the beginning of the end.


    ¡ªAn introductory note to the World Lore, The Oldest of the Elven Kind.


    ???????????


    T''Hara Forest!


    The thick and choking scent of burning wood filled the air. Smoke curled between the towering trees, their once-vibrant leaves curling into black husks. T''Hara Forest, the heart of the Elven homeland, was burning.


    Located in the center of the Gangnea Continent, it spanned almost four million square kilometers in area and served as the home to the Elven Race.


    For centuries, this land had been a safe haven, nurtured by the roots of the World Tree, the heart of the Gangnea Continent. But now, it was scarred by fire and choked by war. A massive, three-kilometer-wide path of ash cut through the once-thriving forest, burned and torn apart by flame. At the end of the path stood the World Tree itself¡ªa towering giant stretching 8.8 kilometers into the sky, the very foundation of the Elven Race.


    At its foot was Tthranya, the Elven Capital City, currently aflame as an army of humans sauntered through it. Arrows rained upon them, killing a few but mainly fuelling the fire they launched, consuming the city.


    ¡°Damn Humans!¡± An Elven soldier, his body laced with glowing veins of green, used his authority to raise a wooden ballista from the ground and fired. The spear of timber skewered four human soldiers before they could react. He barely had time to reload before fire consumed him, reducing his form to ash.


    The human army marched forward in tight formation, protected by a wall of fire. Arrows that should have cut them down turned to ash before they could land. They outnumbered the Elves forty to one, and the battle was consuming the forest, leaving nothing but destruction in its wake.


    ¡°You are making a mistake, Humans,¡± A steady voice resounded through the battlefield, ¡°A grave one.¡±


    The Elven King remained motionless on his throne, woven from the living roots of the World Tree. His expression remained composed, but beneath them simmered a fury as deep as the earth.


    He had seen the first humans wander into elven lands¡ªlost, awestruck, humbled by the vastness of the forest. He had watched their cities rise, their empires expand, and their wars carve deep wounds into the world. And now, they had come to his doorstep, bearing wrath of fire, poised to strike at the heart of his people¡¯s home.


    Leading them was the Human King, a man in his sixties. His crown was produced from flames that burned eternally. His footsteps echoed as he sauntered through the wooden palace, leaving behind blackened scorch marks.


    ¡°A mistake?¡± He repeated, tilting his head slightly. ¡°No. This was always inevitable.¡±


    "The humans have run out of land to live on, " he continued, "My people have starved, waiting for salvation that would never come. We have outgrown the land you have permitted us. We have outgrown your mercy."


    The Elven King snorted, his voice thick with disdain. ¡°Don¡¯t shift the blame onto us,¡± he said, his eyes dark with centuries of frustration. ¡°I warned the Human Race¡ªtime and time again¡ªnot to let their numbers spiral out of control. You¡¯ve stripped your land bare, exhausted your resources, and now you come here to take what isn¡¯t yours. Even when a wise Human King heeds my warnings, it never lasts. The moment the crown changes hands, the cycle begins anew.¡±


    The Human King chuckled, unfazed. ¡°You may have a point,¡± he admitted with a shrug. ¡°But so what?¡±


    With a flick of his wrist, flames erupted from his very being, a violent inferno that engulfed the Elven Palace instantly.


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    ¡°The Elves are no longer the center of the world,¡± he declared, his voice ringing over the roaring flames. ¡°From now on, humanity will dictate the laws of this world!¡±


    A branch of wood cut through the fire.


    ¡°Not on my watch.¡±


    The Elven King emerged from the sea of flames, and the burn marks vanished in seconds as his body regenerated.


    With a flick of his wrist, the ground beneath them trembled. Thick roots burst from the earth, twisting and stabbing toward the Human King like spears.


    Boom!


    Explosions rippled through the battlefield as the Human King countered, carpeting the ground with firebombs.


    "Hahahaha!" The Human King''s laughter echoed through the burning ruins. Flames thrust out of his legs as he hovered in the sky. He then aimed the fire like a geyser and torched everything on the ground, including the Elven King and his attacks, "You''re strong, Elven King. But your wood is no match for my fire!"


    The Elven King gritted his teeth. Ginormous wooden structures sprouted from the ground and blocked the geyser of fire. Watching everything burn while hiding underneath a dome, the Elven King slumped.


    Pain shot through the Elven King¡¯s body¡ªa raw, searing agony he had not felt in centuries. His legs burned to the bone and healed spontaneously after. But the relentless fire came surging in, ever increasing.


    It wasn¡¯t enough.


    His trembling hand pressed into the ash beneath him. It was warm and soft. The remnants of his people, his home, scattered like dust on the wind.


    A faint touch.


    A thin root tendril, barely alive, curled against his palm.


    He inhaled sharply, his vision blurring. Slowly, reverently, he patted the root, his voice barely above a whisper.


    ¡°Forgive me, Mother.¡±


    The Elven King took a deep, shuddering breath. His body ached, his spirit wavered, but still, he straightened.


    ¡°I have failed you,¡± he murmured.


    His pride, so unshakable for centuries, now faltered.


    ¡°Your son could not serve you well.¡±


    His fingers tightened around the root, feeling its pulse. A final connection to the lifeblood of his people. His people were now nothing but embers in the wind.


    ¡°I know you have the power,¡± he whispered, his voice hoarse with desperation. ¡°Our ways¡ªour longevity-bound existence¡ªwill never overcome the relentless tide of the Humans. They are fleeting, yet they burn brighter than we ever could.¡±


    He bowed his head, forehead pressing into the ashen ground.


    ¡°So¡­ I beseech you. Only fire can fight fire.¡±


    Silence.


    And then¡ª


    A voice.


    Vast. Ancient. Patient. It echoed within him, threading through his very Soul.


    [I hear you, My Child.]


    The Elven King''s words stirred the World Tree. The roots of the World Tree dug deeper into the Gangnea Continent. A single tendril expanded outward and slithered through the voids, eventually reaching a blue planet to suck in the souls of every deceased human.


    Back in Tthranya, the World Tree responded.


    Translucent sacks grew from its branches, each holding a baby Elf floating in a strange liquid. These pods took twenty years to fully form before a child could be born.


    But one sack was different.


    A stolen soul was placed inside. The liquid rippled. The Elf inside twitched.


    His eyes snapped open.


    The first thing he saw was fire.


    Beyond the pod¡¯s barrier, flames burned through the ruins. And in the center of it all, an Elf stood¡ªhis body charring, healing, and burning again, over and over.


    The Elven King would soon turn to ash.


    ''Is this a¡­dream? I remember having dinner with my family¡­'' The baby Elf thought in a daze, feeling like it was in a nightmare as it watched the Elf King burning relentlessly.


    [You have died, my Child. I will now reincarnate you as my Child, an Elf!]


    ''Wait! Wait! WAIT!'' The baby Elf thought in a flurry, ''I died? What nonsense is that? I was having dinner with my family just moments ago¡­!''


    As if ignoring its cries, the World Tree''s words continued to echo in the Soul''s consciousness.


    [In this world, the Authority of every Race can be expressed numerically. It will serve you well since, appearance-wise, it resembles the status window you''re familiar with.]


    ''Hello? Is this a prank? Hey!'' The baby Elf cried out loud, trying to speak but unable to. Its body didn''t move, forced to helplessly listen to the World Tree''s voice, ''How do I even know this voice is the World Tree''s? Shit! Nothing makes sense!''


    [Dark times await the Elven Race, my Child. Fight and regain our honor. Do so, and I''ll reincarnate you on Earth and grant one wish of yours.]


    ''What kind of¡­ sick joke is this?'' The baby Elf stared blankly, rage surging through its being as it witnessed the Elven King burn nonstop for three days, swarmed by an army of humans before he collapsed as a charred corpse.


    ''I feel tired¡­I should get some sleep¡­!'' The baby Elf thought, ''This is just a nightmare. I probably drank too much yesterday. Everything will be back to usual once I am awake.''


    ???????????


    Year 0 marked the Elven Race''s downfall and the Human Race''s rise. All calendars were rewritten from that moment to center around humanity, erasing the old records.


    Tthranya, once the proud capital of the Elves, fell under human control. The history of the Elven people was burned, their survivors executed, and their once-great legacy wiped from existence. Newborn Elves were taken as slaves, raised under human rule, and domesticated for various purposes. What followed was an era of brutal change¡ªone defined by bloodshed and oppression.


    The Gangnea Continent¡¯s calendar was based on the Moons in the sky. Each year began with a single Moon, marking the first month. As time passed, more Moons appeared, reaching a peak of eight before fading again. Each month lasted forty-two days, shaping the rhythm of life in this new age.


    Year 19¡ª34th Day of the 8th Moon!


    The air was thick with the scent of wet wood and decay. A team of human soldiers climbed the spiraling wooden staircase wrapped around the colossal trunk of the World Tree, their boots thudding against the aged planks.


    One by one, they stopped beside the hanging sacks¡ªtranslucent cocoons where newborn Elves incubated. Their dull glow pulsed faintly as if resisting the inevitable.


    Tap. Tap. Tap.


    Gloved hands rapped against the sacks in a slow, deliberate rhythm. The hollow knocks echoed in the silence, swallowed by the dense forest.


    And then¡ª


    [Time to wake up, my Child. Pinaka.]


    The voice rippled through the sack, reverberating deep within the mind of the one inside.


    The membrane ruptured.


    A sharp inhale reverberated as a small, lean body tumbled onto the stairs, coated in the gelatinous fluid that had sustained him for years. Olive-green hair clung to his damp skin, his pointed ears twitching as the cold air sent a shiver down his spine.


    His mouth opened¡ªa cry of confusion, of panic¡ªbut before he could process what was happening, rough hands grabbed him.


    ¡°Sack it.¡±


    The command was short. Absolute.


    Strong hands yanked his arms. A burlap sack swallowed him whole, plunging him into muffled darkness.


    Then¡ªlight.


    The sack was torn open, and his body was dragged out, feet slipping against cold stone. A bucket of water was splashed on the body.


    Crack!


    A whip lashed across his back, burning white-hot pain into his flesh.


    He gasped and stumbled.


    ¡°Run.¡±


    He ran.


    "Teach that little brat some discipline, Mahnaka! If it¡¯s not obedient by dawn, you¡¯ll take the lashes instead!" A harsh, arrogant voice rang out from the corridor.


    The Elven child skidded to a stop when it saw another elf walking towards it. It was slightly taller, probably a few years older. One of its eyes was missing, and an X-shaped scar stretched across the bridge of its nose.


    It held out its right hand¡ªmissing a thumb. "Welcome to hell, little brother. Name¡¯s Mahnaka, the resident slave of this place."


    The newborn Elven child¡¯s head pounded, a wave of memories hitting him all at once. His breath hitched as realization struck. ¡®This isn''t a dream? Fuck!¡¯


    Mahnaka waited patiently, his hand still outstretched. "Did the World Tree give you a name?"


    "Pinaka," the Child muttered, hesitantly gripping Mahnaka¡¯s arm as he pulled himself up. His gaze drifted to Mahnaka¡¯s missing thumb, and curiosity got the better of him. "What¡­happened?"


    Mahnaka¡¯s eyes softened as he stared at Pinaka¡¯s intact thumb. "It¡¯s beautiful," he murmured. "You¡¯re going to be a great archer one day¡ªI can tell just by looking at it." His voice grew thick with emotion. "Cherish it while you still can. Because¡­"


    ¡°AARGHHH!¡±


    An hour later, Pinaka was strapped tightly to a cold stone table, a gag stuffed in his mouth. A middle-aged man wearing a stained apron raised a heavy cleaver above his head. With a sickening force, he brought it down.


    The right thumb flew off.


    ¡°A slave doesn¡¯t need a bow,¡± the man muttered, flashing his gold-rimmed buck teeth as he chuckled. He grabbed Pinaka¡¯s left hand, fingers twitching in resistance. Tightening the strap, he pressed the blade against the skin and¡ª


    ¡°Don¡¯t be scared now,¡± he cooed, forcing the thumb back, ready to slice. ¡°Just think of it like pulling out a strand of hair¡­¡±


    "GAHHHH!"


    ¡°GAHHHH!¡±


    TCH!


    Pinaka flinched, jerking the table. The cleaver slipped, making the man miss his mark.


    "Now look what you¡¯ve done," he clicked his tongue in annoyance.


    He studied the half-severed thumb, clicking his tongue. "I have to cut it again," he sighed, shaking his head. Then, reassuringly, he continued, "Now, don¡¯t move this time. Good¡­ harness that fear¡­ stay still¡­ That¡¯s it¡­ that¡¯s¡­ IT!"


    CLANG!


    Pinaka¡¯s vision blurred as waves of pain crashed into him. Blood poured freely, turning his world hazy. His breath hitched. His mind screamed.


    ¡®This is¡­ hell!¡¯


    His thoughts spiraled as his body trembled from blood loss.


    ¡®Fucking HELL!¡¯


    I wanted to believe this was a dream¡­ fuck that¡ªa nightmare.


    His tired eyes locked onto the middle-aged man, who casually picked up the severed thumbs and dropped them into a glass jar. He swirled the container, admiring his work like a fine specimen.


    Pinaka¡¯s lips twitched.


    A twisted smile stretched across his face.


    ¡®Elf? World Tree? Fate?¡¯


    ¡®I don¡¯t give a damn!¡¯


    His fingers curled into weak fists, his bloodied hands shaking.


    ¡®You took my thumbs?¡¯


    ¡®Now, it¡¯s personal.¡¯


    <div>


    ...

 Chapter 002 | A Mere Resource Point

    Mahnaka paced anxiously across the hectare of farmland, his body flinching every time Pinaka''s screams rang through the air. A pang of sympathy and anxiety struck his nerves.


    ''I''m sorry! It will hurt, but you must bear with it. There''s nothing you can do. Please, don''t die¡­''


    The screams cut off abruptly. He turned around in a panic.


    ''No! Did he resist?¡¯


    ''They will kill him if he does that¡­Dammit!''


    Mahnaka stared at the mortar-covered tunnel leading into a concrete facility. Just twenty meters ahead was the room where the balding middle-aged man would remove Pinaka''s thumbs.


    A sprint, and he''ll reach it in enough time to stop the man.


    ''I can kill the human¡­kill?''


    "Ha¡­Mahnaka, you idiot!" His legs locked in place, his throat burning to scream, and tears streamed down his face as his feet didn''t budge, "Move, you idiot. Do¡­something. At least this time..."


    "Anything!"


    ¡ªThud! Crash!


    Moments later, two Humans dragged a bloodied Elf forward and dumped him at Mahnaka''s feet. One of them jabbed a finger at him. ¡°You! Get him ready to work by dawn.¡±


    A sharp crack split the air as a whip lashed the ground, making Mahnaka flinch. Unsympathetic, the two men turned and strode to their quarters.


    "Taking care of these damn Elves is tiring," the man muttered, loosening his collar. "Prideful, aren''t they, for mere slaves?"


    His colleague snorted. "Pride? They¡¯re born with it. But give them a few months of ¡®education,¡¯ and they¡¯ll be obedient little farmers." He let out a harsh chuckle, and the other man joined in, their laughter echoing down the corridor.


    Mahnaka stood frozen like a statue, unable to budge until he heard the Humans'' conversation subside. Only after they were out of earshot did he hurriedly crouch to grab the wounded Elf before him, "Pinaka! Are you alright? Stay with me!"


    "I''ll patch you up¡ª" His words stopped. Despite his body convulsing in agony, Pinaka¡¯s eyes¡­they were cold¡ªa killer¡¯s eyes.


    Tears had streamed down the cheeks, veins bulged, and lips cracked from being bitten raw. Weak yet fuelled with rage, Pinaka''s eyes focused on Mahnaka as he extended his bloody hands and clasped his bloodied fingers around Mahnaka''s neck.


    He leaned in closer, his body swayed from exhaustion, whispering, "You''ve been here¡­for a while, right?"


    Mahnaka nodded, too stunned to speak. Pinaka let out a weak grunt and then collapsed.


    "Then...tell me everything about this cursed world!"


    ???????????


    "The World Tree must have told you this."


    It was late afternoon as Mahnaka cleaned and bandaged Pinaka''s wounds, "We¡­died on Earth and were reincarnated here by the World Tree."


    "Fucking hell!" Pinaka snorted, then sucked in a sharp breath in pain right after as he clutched his hands and stared at the stumps where his thumbs once used to be, "Are there no damn painkillers here?"


    "There used to be plenty." Mahnaka shook his head. "But after our defeat, the Humans took control of all our medicinal herbs. As Elves, we''re nothing but slaves now."


    "I''m a fucking human!" Pinaka grunted and tried to stand but hadn''t recovered enough to move. His breath came ragged as he glared at Mahnaka. "You''re from Earth, too, right? We''re humans!"


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    Mahnaka met his gaze, unyielding. "You''re an Elf now." His voice was steady, final. "And here, humanity is OUR enemy."


    A heavy silence lingered before Mahnaka finally spoke again. "I was born on the fourth day after the Elven Race fell. That makes me one of the oldest slaves at this place."


    Pinaka scoffed. "Guess you''ve made peace with being a slave." His words were sharp, bitter¡ªbut almost as soon as they left his mouth, he clenched his jaw and sighed. "Damn it¡­ sorry. That was uncalled for."


    "That¡¯s¡­ more kindness than I¡¯m used to here." Mahnaka smiled in gratitude and exhaustion, "I almost forgot what it felt like."


    He reached for a small pouch hidden under the tilled ground and pulled out a vial of dull green liquid. "I made this from the Agri crops here. It¡¯s not much, but it should dull the pain."


    Once he had finished dressing the wounds, he said, "I''ll explain using Earth terms as simply as I can."


    "This world is a vast, singular continent called Gangnea. Regarding landmass, it''s about the same size as Earth." He paused and then added, "According to its legends, a Dragon named Bolomere created this world and birthed sixteen sentient races¡ªeach with a unique authority."


    Mahnaka reached down, brushing his fingers against a blade of grass. "The Elves hold dominion over wood, while our enemy, the Humans, wield fire."


    "What type of authority is it?" Pinaka stared wide-eyed upon seeing Mahnaka grab a long strand of grass and weave it into a glove.


    "There are four stages," Mahnaka said. "Control, Creation, Relic, and Divine."


    He held up the woven glove. "This is Control. We can command the Wood element at will. That is Level 1."


    "Level 2 is Creation. Such Elves can create Wood." He explained in a solemn tone.


    Pinaka hesitated, "So they... grow trees fast or something?"


    "No." Mahnaka said in all seriousness, "They create it."


    He let the words settle before adding, "At Level 2, every Race can create their respective element. It¡¯s like holding a fragment of a god within us."


    "Suppose I reach Level 2," Pinaka said. "Can I just spam and create as much wood as I want?"


    "Yes," Mahnaka nodded, "When too much matter is created, the Gangnea Continent expands to accommodate it. That¡¯s how it¡¯s been growing since the beginning."


    "Then, why are we in this mess?" Pinaka asked.


    ¡°Elves were the first Race on Gangnea. And now? We¡¯re slaves. We lost the war and became nothing more than resource points¡ªfarming food, grains, and plant produce for Humans." Mahnaka let out a bitter sigh, "Wood fuels fire. And that''s why we can never win against Humans. We lack the numbers, strength, and elemental advantage to fight back."


    Pinaka''s expression darkened. "Then, what¡¯s the World Tree¡¯s goal?"


    "Exactly as it said." Mahnaka nodded. "It wants us to restore the Elven Race''s former glory. If we succeed, it''ll send us to Earth."


    "Does it truly have such power?" Pinaka wondered.


    "If the World Tree can''t, it''ll call upon Bolomere. Control and Creation, remember?" Mahnaka added thoughtfully, "I think Bolomere might have authority over space-time, so it shouldn''t be impossible to send us to our past on Earth. And if anyone knows where he is¡­ it¡¯s the World Tree."


    "One last question," Pinaka said after a moment of thought, "What about a peace talk? We used to be Humans. Can''t we communicate with the Humans of this world? The language isn¡¯t from Earth, but we understand it. And everyone here seems to speak the same one."


    Mahnaka sighed and stared at the sky, noticing it was evening. He got up and motioned for Pinaka to follow him, saying, "It''s better to show it to you firsthand."


    "Are we allowed to move as we please?" Pinaka glanced around warily. There was too much he didn¡¯t know about this twisted world he¡¯d been thrown into without consent. And Mahnaka¡­ he was the only other Elf in sight. That didn¡¯t mean he could be trusted.


    "It''s almost curfew," Mahnaka muttered as he walked into the mortar tunnel. His face gradually lost color while his body occasionally trembled. The first few rooms were where Pinaka had been scrubbed and then had his thumbs cut off.


    The air was damp and heavy with silence. The corridor stretched for hundreds of meters before opening into a massive cylindrical prison, its walls lined with narrow cells¡ªcramped, dark dwellings for Elves.


    Then he saw it.


    The moment he stepped inside, Pinaka froze.


    An Elf hung nailed to the central pillar.


    His chest had been split open, a jagged fang buried deep in the wound.


    The Elf stared at them, lips moving soundlessly.


    Pinaka didn¡¯t need to read lips to understand.


    "He¡­lp¡­me!"


    Mahnaka exhaled shakily. "He¡¯s the latest one who admitted he was from Earth." His voice was heavy with despair. "These Humans don¡¯t care about us, Pinaka."


    He looked up at the dying Elf, his fists clenched.


    "To them, we¡¯re nothing more than a resource point."


    ...


    Gangnea Daily Article #2:


    An Elf takes a century to reach adulthood and typically averages a lifespan of 4000 years. Their life expectancy though, was another matter altogether, dropping to a mere 20 years now.

 Chapter 003 | Status Screen

    The crack of a whip split the air.


    ¡°Get in line!¡±


    The command rang through the dimming light as a lean, middle-aged man lashed out with a Fire Whip. Every strike against the stone floor sent embers scattering like fireflies.


    He stood at the tunnel¡¯s entrance, clad in chainmail with plate armor covering his arms and legs. His dull-red beard bristled from the heat of the whip, but he didn¡¯t move. His reddish eyes narrowed as he watched the Elves hurry inside, his face twisting with disgust.


    "Late again!" His glare fell upon the last two stragglers. "Curfew is before sunset. You missed it!"


    ¡ªSmack!


    The Fire Whip snapped against their legs, leaving behind a seared mark. One Elf let out a strangled groan, clutching his leg, while the other gritted his teeth, his body already marred by older scars, and neither dared to protest.


    ¡°Kkeuk!¡± The two Elves clutched their mouths as a whip mark seared their legs. The pain was unbearable, but judging by a few more similar marks across their bodies, this wasn¡¯t the first time they were getting punished.


    ¡°Get in line!¡±


    Rachad snorted as he strode through the tunnel, his gaze sweeping over the line of gathered Elves. His reddish eyes flicked from one trembling figure to the next¡ªuntil they landed on Pinaka.


    Unlike the others, Pinaka bore no burn marks. For a moment, Rachad frowned. Then, he noticed the blood-soaked bandages where the Elf¡¯s thumbs should have been. His lips curled into a slow, cruel smirk.


    "Another baby Elf has joined us."


    Pinaka stood sixth in line. Mahnaka had pulled him in early, hoping to keep him away from the Fire Whip. Standing just ahead, Mahnaka tried to stay still, but his body wouldn¡¯t listen. His shoulders tensed, hands twitching at his sides. As Rachad got closer, the tremor in his stance became impossible to ignore.


    ¡®Please, go away! We didn¡¯t do anything wrong!¡¯ Mahnaka cried inwardly, his stomach churning while his scars acted up in response to the heat radiating off the Fire Whip.


    "Name?"


    Rachad ignored Mahnaka and turned to Pinaka, scowling as he had to tilt his head slightly upward. At 155 centimeters, Rachad was short¡ªeven newborn Elves stood taller. Pinaka, just born, had already reached 165 centimeters, surpassing him by a full ten centimeters.


    The height difference grated on Rachad, but Pinaka¡¯s silence set him off. Without warning, the Fire Whip lashed out¡ªcrack!¡ªsearing a red-hot mark across Pinaka¡¯s cheek.


    "Are you deaf, you little runt?" Rachad growled. "Or do you think you''re too good to answer me?"


    ¡°Argh!¡± Pinaka screamed and collapsed on the ground. His hand shot to his cheek, where raw, scorched flesh sizzled against his palm. The pain was blinding.


    ¡°He¡¯s named Pinaka.¡± Mahnaka burst out and hurriedly crouched to assist Pinaka. He turned around and smashed his head on the floor, ¡°Please forgive him, my Lord¡ªhe doesn¡¯t know!"


    Rachad sneered. "Do you take me for a fool? You think I am unaware?" The Fire Whip cracked again¡ªonce, twice¡ªsearing into Mahnaka¡¯s back.


    Seeing the latter trembling like a withered leaf, Rachad stared at the lock of luscious emerald hair covering Mahnaka¡¯s head, feeling irritated as he grabbed them and pulled fiercely, "Covering for the new kid, are we?"


    With a cruel chuckle, Rachad twisted his grip, forcing Mahnaka onto one knee¡ªhis head bowed just below Rachad¡¯s line of sight.


    ¡°Did you forget your past, Mahnaka?¡±


    Rachad grabbed Mahnaka¡¯s chin, forcing him to face the Elf nailed to the pillar. He said nothing¡ªjust let the sight speak for itself¡ªbefore shoving him away and resuming his slow, deliberate march down the tunnel.


    ¡°G-Get up,¡± Mahnaka crouched beside Pinaka.


    ¡°You¡¯re bleeding¡­¡± Pinaka¡¯s hands hovered as he scanned Mahnaka¡¯s wounds.


    ¡°It''s Nothing."Mahnaka said and turned around, rejoining the line, ¡°Just stay quiet and do what the others do.¡±


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


    Pinaka swallowed hard but nodded, falling in line as the procession moved forward.


    ???????????


    Beneath the looming pillar, a fully armored soldier stared ahead.


    ¡°Name?¡±


    The first Elf in line stiffened and saluted. "Nunaka. Two tonnes of rice harvested today, sir!"


    A massive, lumbering beast stepped forward, pushing a stone cart piled high with harvested grain. The creature towered over them, its five-meter frame casting an imposing shadow. Its thick, rhino-like hide was scarred from past battles, each mark a silent testament to a lost war.


    It was an Ogre of the Stone Race¡ªonce fierce warriors, now reduced to mere laborers. Unlike the Elves, they had not been wiped out. Instead, the victors had tamed them, shackling their strength for Human use.


    The Ogre stopped before the soldier, who methodically inspected the quality of the rice before making a checkmark on his list.


    The line moved forward.


    The soldier¡¯s eyes narrowed as he barked, "Status."


    Nunaka nodded stiffly, and a glowing green hologram appeared before him. It was a Status Screen.


    The moment it appeared, Pinaka¡¯s breath caught¡ªhe could see it. His eyes darted around, searching for doubt, but there was none. Everyone saw it. His stomach twisted. ¡®Dammit! No secrets, then!¡¯


    The soldier¡¯s frown deepened. "Your Weight Factor is up by one unit."


    Nunaka stiffened. "I¡­ I apologize, sir."


    The soldier¡¯s gaze lingered on him¡ªcold, assessing. Then he gave a slow nod. "It¡¯s still within limits."


    A pause.


    "But if it rises again, you¡¯ll be transferred to the potion factory."


    ¡°Y-Yes, I understand.¡± Nunaka stammered and then saluted, ¡°Glory to the Human Empire!¡±


    ¡°Come here,¡± The soldier beckoned for Nunaka to come closer. He then grabbed Nunaka''s chin, inhaling deeply near his neck, nostrils flaring before he scribbled something onto his notepad. ¡°Alright, you may return to your cell.¡±


    ¡°T-Thank you, My Lord!¡± Nunaka bowed without any hint of resistance and dragged his limping self to a cell on the ground floor.


    The prison stretched ten stories high¡ªrows upon rows of cages, each housing a reincarnated soul.


    One after another, the Elves in the line performed the same actions as Nunaka and relayed their completed tasks while an Ogre hauled their respective harvest for the soldier to check.


    ¡°Say ''Status,'' and it¡¯ll appear,¡± Mahnaka leaned in slightly, his voice barely above a whisper, and went to report to the soldier. Soon, it was Pinaka¡¯s turn.


    The soldier stared at him and judged that Pinaka was a newborn. He eyed Mahnaka once and asked Pinaka, ¡°Did that Elf teach you the basics?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Pinaka nodded, trying his best to mask his emotions, ¡®Dammit! I should be obedient for the time being. It¡¯s foolish to act out without knowing everything.¡¯


    "Proud little thing, aren¡¯t you?" He tilted his head, scrutinizing Pinaka¡¯s expression. "But at least you¡¯re not as mouthy as most newborns. Let¡¯s see if that lasts."


    Then, with an impatient wave of his hand, he ordered, "Status."


    Pinaka inhaled sharply, remembering Mahnaka¡¯s words. He whispered the command.


    A flickering green hologram materialized before his eyes, its translucent glow casting faint shadows across his face. Lines of glowing text scrolled across its surface¡ªstrange, unfamiliar symbols he understood effortlessly.


    He blinked. How? The language was alien, yet its meaning slid seamlessly into his mind as if he¡¯d always known it.


    ¡®A side effect of my rebirth¡­? Or does every living thing inherit this knowledge?¡¯


    [Name: Pinaka]


    [Race: Elf]


    [Authority: Wood]]


    [Control Factor: 1]


    [Weight Factor: 1]


    [Volume Factor: 1]


    [Range Factor: 1]


    [Speed Factor: 1]


    [Spell: -]


    "Step forward."


    Pinaka obeyed, keeping his expression neutral as the soldier scanned his Status Screen. The man sniffed, then frowned slightly.


    "You haven¡¯t eaten yet?"


    "No," Pinaka answered, forcing himself to stand still.


    The soldier barely glanced at him. "You¡¯ll get food in your cell. Move along. Next to Mahnaka."


    ¡°Yes,¡± Pinaka nodded, puzzled by the entire exchange. He didn¡¯t act out and instead kept to himself. His head swam, his body teetering on the edge of collapse. His cheek burned where the fire had licked it, and his hands¡ªwhere his thumbs had been¡ªthrobbed with a dull, crawling pain. Too much had happened. Too fast. He still wasn¡¯t entirely there.


    ¡®Blasted hell!¡¯ He swore in his head and forced his legs to move, climbing the stairs to the fourth floor.


    Pinaka¡¯s gaze darted around the prison. His exhaustion faded for just a second as something caught his attention.


    One soldier.


    A single guard.


    He blinked, disbelief crawling up his spine. More than a hundred Elves packed this place. Outnumbering the guards a hundred to one.


    And yet, they obeyed.


    No resistance. No fight. No desperate whispers of rebellion.


    Why?


    His fists clenched as he stepped closer to Mahnaka¡¯s cell, lowering his voice. "What¡­ is the deal with this place?"


    Mahnaka didn¡¯t look at him. "Wait until the soldier is gone," he muttered. "Then you¡¯ll understand why we don¡¯t fight."


    ¡­


    Gangnea Daily Article #3


    When manifested, every living being that isn¡¯t blind can see the Status Screen of the manifested individual. There are no secrets on Gangnea!

 Chapter 004 | Resolve

    Pinaka frowned. His eyes flicked to the Status Screen glowing before him, its dim green light cutting through the darkness.


    Then¡ª


    "Don¡¯t!¡±


    The whisper slithered through the silence, sharp with panic.


    Pinaka reacted instantly, willing the screen away. Darkness swallowed his cell once more.


    He exhaled slowly, his pulse pounding in his ears.


    ''There¡¯s no one to operate the door.''


    He had walked inside willingly. Nothing could stop him from walking out, and it was the same for everyone.


    Yet, no one was moving. No one even spoke of it.


    ¡®Why?¡¯


    His gaze slid to the stone wall separating him from Mahnaka. ¡®The moment I brought out my Status Window, he panicked.¡¯


    Shaking his head, Pinaka observed the prison cell.


    Cold, unyielding stone surrounded him, its rough texture like unpolished granite.


    Three meters long. One meter wide. Just enough space to lie down, nothing more. The ceiling stretched high¡ªfar enough to taunt him with the illusion of space, yet still a cage of stone.


    The steel door loomed before him, its lock operated by a ladle system embedded in the wall¡ªjust out of reach, ensuring prisoners had no control. The design was familiar¡ªsomething from Earth¡¯s preindustrial prisons. But unlike those, this one had a glaring flaw.


    ''There are no guards.''


    His brow furrowed. ¡®That soldier who checked my Status Screen. The whip bastard. They were the only ones he¡¯d seen. Too few humans. Too many prisoners.¡¯


    ''Why?''


    His thoughts flickered back¡ªto the two maids who scrubbed him raw, the ones who dragged him here, and finally, the oily middle-aged bastard who severed his thumbs like it was routine.


    Too few humans. And yet, they had complete control.


    ''Wood, fire¡­''


    Every Elf had authority over Wood. If that were true, revolt should have been easy. Breaking free should have been a matter of will.


    ''Then why hadn¡¯t anyone tried?''


    His gaze slid to the stone wall separating him from Mahnaka.


    ''The moment I brought out my Status Window, he panicked.''


    He let out a slow breath and shut his eyes. Memories from Earth surfaced. His family. Their faces, their voices, their laughter¡ªall so vivid.


    Except their names.


    His fists clenched.


    ¡®What kind of sick setup is this?¡¯


    He felt burning anger and a wildfire of confusion.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    The cells also grew colder, causing his body to shiver gradually.


    ¡®Do I have to spend every night like this?¡¯


    Then, he stared at his body, finally realizing what had been amiss all along, ¡®My clothes! I¡¯ve been naked all along!¡¯


    He then understood that despite hailing from Earth as a human, there had been a slight shift in his common sense and values. Moving about naked would have bothered him on Earth, but here, it felt natural¡ªtoo natural.


    And when he lowered his gaze further, he observed something even more puzzling as he stared at his groin and found¡­nothing.


    ¡°It¡¯s not¡­there,¡± He muttered, flustered for a moment when a snicker leaked out from the cell on the left.


    ¡°The youngest noticed it pretty soon,¡± The voice was snarky, carrying weight to it, unlike the other Elves he had heard until now.


    ¡°We don¡¯t have it, kid.¡± The voice continued, utterly unbothered, ¡°Elves don¡¯t have reproductive organs.¡±


    A pause. Then, with a hint of wry amusement¡ª


    ¡°We¡¯re plants that can walk around.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean by that?¡± Pinaka asked and instinctively trained his ear to the right, hoping to see what Mahnaka would say in response. However, Mahnaka remained silent while the snarky voice responded.


    ¡°The soldier has left, Mahnaka. You can stop cowering now.¡±


    ¡°¡­He''s right, Pinaka.¡± A defeated voice resounded from the cell on the right as Pinaka heard Mahnaka speak, ¡°Elves aren¡¯t male or female. We don¡¯t reproduce. We¡¯re spawned by the World Tree.¡±


    "Answering your earlier question," Mahnaka sighed, "the soldier sniffed us to check if we¡¯d eaten in secret."


    Pinaka frowned. Sniffed?


    "Unlike Humans, our excretory and perspiration systems are one."


    The snarky voice cut in. "Our sweat is our shit."


    ¡°We live on plant-based food, and our bodies digest it with near-perfect efficiency. We don¡¯t need to excrete solids¡ªwaste is expelled through sweat." Mahnaka didn¡¯t mind the snarky voice and explained honestly, "Our sweat has a fruity scent when we¡¯ve eaten. That¡¯s how the soldiers know. If we sneak food while working, they¡¯ll smell it on us."


    "They only let us eat at night, in our cells, after curfew," Mahnaka added. "It¡¯s how they control our intake."


    The snarky voice scoffed. "They don¡¯t want us getting stronger. If we bulk up, we might try to break out."


    ¡°Humans don¡¯t fear us, Zetaka.¡± Mahnaka said, ¡°I witnessed them burning our Elf King to ashes. No matter how strong we become, Wood cannot overcome Fire.¡±


    There was a tense pause. Then Zetaka¡¯s voice sharpened. "Speaking from experience, Mahnaka? You failed once, so what? Don¡¯t dump your fears on me."


    Mahnaka inhaled shakily. "...It wasn¡¯t just once or twice. I tried eight times."


    Silence hung heavy between them.


    Pinaka closed his eyes, shutting out the muffled cries from Mahnaka¡¯s cell. He focused his hearing, tuning into the fragmented whispers between other captives. Patterns emerged.


    Newborns like me are desperate to escape. The older ones, like Mahnaka, have given up.


    A memory surfaced.


    ¡°Dad, I¡¯m pregnant,¡± his daughter announced over dinner, squeezing her husband¡¯s hand. ¡°You¡¯re going to be a grandpa!¡±


    ¡°¡­Really?¡±


    A man in his late fifties froze. Then, laughter burst from his chest, unrestrained and full of warmth. ¡°Hahaha!¡±


    He shot up from his seat, pulling his daughter and son-in-law into a tight embrace. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ that¡¯s the second-best news I¡¯ve ever heard.¡±


    The first is obviously when your mother gave birth to you.


    His gaze flickered to the framed photo of his late wife. ¡®We''ve been through so much, Dear. But we made it. We¡¯re finally happy.¡¯


    The next instant he was back to preset as Pinaka¡¯s eyes shot open fiercely and glared at the ceiling of his cell, clutching his head in pain, ¡®I can¡¯t remember past that point. Everything was finally on the right track, and then you say I died? Just like that?¡¯


    ¡®When I was FINALLY HAPPY?¡¯ His expression grew fierce, ¡®In a few more months, I would have met my grandchild! What kind of sick joke is this?¡¯


    ¡°I¡¯m returning home, no matter what.¡± He muttered and clutched the steel rods forming his cell¡¯s door, making his mind soon after as he walked out, observing his surroundings brimming with darkness, felt around the wall, and entered Mahnaka¡¯s cell.


    ¡°Please help me, Mahnaka.¡± His voice was fierce but respectful, ¡°I don¡¯t have time to rot in a fucking prison.¡±


    He met Mahnaka¡¯s hazy breaths and spoke the words that would decide everything.


    ¡°Teach me everything related to our Authority.¡±


    ¡­


    Gangnea Daily Article 4:


    The Human Race¡¯s history spans over 8000 years in Gangnea and was fully witnessed by the last Elf King.

 Chapter 005 | Factors And Spells

    ¡°Get up! Get out!¡±


    The soldier from last night stomped through the corridor, slamming a steel rod against the prison doors. The clangs echoed through the chamber, rattling the iron bars and jarring the Elves awake.


    ¡ªClang!


    Pinaka was already awake, but he lay motionlessly as he eyed the soldier who bashed his cell door, ¡®I barely got around five hours of sleep.¡¯


    With a scowl, he propped himself up and began to prepare for the day, ¡®Curfew at sunset, food near midnight. That bastard claps ten times¡ªreach him before the last one, or starve.¡¯


    His stomach twisted at the thought. Sleep or food¡ªcan¡¯t have both.


    Worst of all, Mahnaka told him the soldier loved to play with time. Some days, he was early, and others, he was late.


    With no way to predict the guard¡¯s mood, the Elves had no option but to remain awake in their cells. They were only provided food once a day, so they couldn¡¯t afford to miss it.


    ¡®Malnutrition. Sleep deprivation. Obedience beaten into us.¡¯


    Pinaka clenched his fists. The soldier moved on, banging another door, the metallic clangs ringing in his ears.


    He then stared at Mahnaka, recalling their conversation from the previous night.


    ¡®This guy was competent once, but after nearly twenty years in this hellhole, he¡¯s just a shadow of his former self.¡¯


    With a quiet sigh, he stepped out of his cell, joining the group of Elves assembling on the ground floor. Another round of tests awaited them. First was a weight test, where they had to step up on a scale.


    [Pinaka: 55 Kilogram]


    The soldier scribbled it down and turned to the Elf next in line. He eyed the Elf from head to toe and motioned for the latter to get on the scale, ¡°Next!¡±


    The second test was the same as the night before¡ªa sniffing test. But there was one difference here: The soldier grabbed Pinaka¡¯s hand and rubbed it with a paper towel, checking for cleanliness.


    The Elves were allowed to take a bath only once a week. So, for the rest of the time, they weren¡¯t supposed to be clean.


    Indeed, there was a faint layer of dirt on Pinaka, which the soldier noted. If an Elf consumes food and takes a bath, they wouldn¡¯t emit the fruity scent anymore. So, these tests were being conducted daily.


    Any attempt to train or bulk up would show in their weight. By taking these measurements daily, the Humans kept track of how the Elves fared, ensuring none tried to grow stronger and stage a revolt.


    After the three tests¡ªweight, sniffing, and paper towel¡ªthe final was the most revealing: Status Screen.


    ¡°Status?¡± The soldier asked.


    Pinaka muttered the word, and a green hologram flickered into existence before him. The soldier glanced at the numbers, scribbled them down, and issued his assignment.


    ¡°You¡¯re in charge of wheat. Get Mahnaka to teach you the necessary Spell. You¡¯re required to produce a tonne of wheat every six days.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Pinaka copied the mannerisms of other Elves and saluted him just like the others did. He then walked through the tunnel and stood at its end, watching Mahnaka arrive soon after.


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    ???????????


    ¡°Come, I¡¯ll teach you a Spell,¡± Mahnaka said, leading him forward. As they stepped onto the farmland, he gestured around. ¡°The walls are in the shape of a hexagon, and its interior is subdivided into six pieces of land, each a hectare in area.¡±


    He nodded toward a small tower perched on the wall.


    ¡°Every vortex of this hexagon has a small tower where a soldier sits inside and observes three hexagons. They monitor our actions while we¡¯re on the farm.¡±


    ¡°You talked to Zetaka yesterday. He¡¯s part of our hexagon, too.¡± Mahnaka stepped onto the field, eyeing a lone blade of grass. ¡°You understand our power system, right?¡±


    ¡°Control Factor determines how many pieces of wood I can manipulate,¡± Pinaka said.


    ¡°Correct.¡± Mahnaka plucked the blade of grass between his fingers. ¡°Our power works through contact. Even if I grab two blades simultaneously, I can only control one because my Control Factor is just one.¡±


    Pinaka nodded as Mahnaka continued.


    ¡°Next is Weight Factor, which means you can control a kilogram of wood.¡± Mahnaka played around with the strand of grass, ¡°For every unit increase in your Weight Factor, you can control an extra kilogram of wood.¡±


    ¡°Now, this is where you need to be careful,¡± Mahnaka warned, rolling the blade of grass between his fingers. With a flick, it reshaped into a delicate wooden cube, each side exactly a meter long. ¡°A Volume Factor of one lets you manipulate a cubic meter of wood. But increasing it isn¡¯t always a good idea.¡±


    Pinaka frowned. ¡°Isn¡¯t more always better?¡±


    Mahnaka shook his head. ¡°Not in this case. Wood density typically ranges from 300 to 900 kilograms per cubic meter. If your Weight Factor isn¡¯t high enough, all you¡¯re doing is controlling more volume without adding strength. You won¡¯t be able to compress it.¡±


    Pinaka¡¯s expression shifted as the logic clicked. ¡°So, if my Volume Factor reaches two, I¡¯d need a Weight Factor of at least a thousand before I could start compressing again.¡±


    ¡°Exactly.¡± Mahnaka nodded. ¡°Compression is what turns wood into a weapon. The denser it gets, the deadlier it becomes. That¡¯s why we always keep our Volume Factor at one¡ªany more, and you¡¯re just stretching yourself thin.¡±


    ¡°Next is Range Factor,¡± Mahnaka condensed the cube of grass into a blade of grass and then extended it like a needle towards Pinaka, ¡°It determines how far you can extend the wood from your point of contact. Since you need to stay in touch with it to use your power, the Range Factor is measured from where you¡¯re holding the wood.¡±


    Pinaka studied the extending needle. ¡°So, if my Range Factor is one, I can stretch it up to a meter away from my body?¡±


    ¡°Exactly.¡± Mahnaka nodded. ¡°And then there''s the Speed Factor¡ªit dictates how fast you can reshape wood per second. Think of it like moving a point on a block of wood by a meter in a single second.¡±


    To demonstrate, the needle in Mahnaka¡¯s hand shrank instantly into a tiny sphere. A moment later, it stretched out again, extending a full meter toward Pinaka, stopping just before his face.


    ¡°By combining your Weight and Volume Factors, you can apply your Range Factor to every wood particle. You can reshape a block of wood into any form you want. But remember¡ªno part of it can change size by more than a meter per second.¡±


    Pinaka absorbed the information before asking, ¡°How do I train my Stats?¡±


    Mahnaka smirked and pointed at him. ¡°Keep playing with wood, and you¡¯ll feel your Stats improving. It¡¯ll come naturally, like breathing, once you touch a piece of wood.¡±


    His expression grew serious. ¡°You¡¯ll also sense when you¡¯re about to gain a Stat, so be careful. Stop practicing the moment your Volume Factor is about to increase. Otherwise, you¡¯ll lose control of compression, and your strength will be wasted on dead weight.¡±


    ¡°Got it,¡± Pinaka nodded as he watched Mahnaka play around with the grass strand for a few minutes. He then asked, ¡°Now, about the Spell¡­?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Mahnaka nodded, growing serious as he said, ¡°This is where we need to be careful, Pinaka.¡±


    ¡°The moment you learn a Spell, it¡¯ll be recorded on your Status Screen.¡± He paused before adding in a solemn tone, ¡°And the moment you learn a combat-related Spell, the Humans will kill you.¡±


    Pinaka¡¯s brows furrowed. ¡°No matter how game-like this power system seems, it¡¯s not a game, right? There aren¡¯t spell books to learn from¡ª¡± He stopped, narrowing his eyes. ¡°Wait¡­ are there spell books?¡±


    Mahnaka shook his head. ¡°No. But you can create Spells however you want.¡±


    With a sigh, he pointed at the grass needle, ¡°If you can create this within a second and repeat it a hundred times, it¡¯ll be registered as a Spell. From that point onwards, you can create it without any brainpower expenditure.¡±


    ¡°A Spell only requires a thought to activate, and it manifests in one-tenth of a second.¡± Mahnaka muttered, ¡°That¡¯s what makes Spells so dangerous. That¡¯s why the Humans fear them.¡±


    ...


    Gangnea Daily Article #5


    Every individual can have a total of 16 Spells. Records hypothesized that¡¯s per the 16 Sentient Races on Gangnea.

 Chapter 006 | A Wood Genius

    ¡°Now that the explanation is over,¡± Mahnaka touched the soil and caused a seed to sprout. In just a few minutes, it had grown into a sturdy shrub. He plucked it from the earth and handed it to Pinaka. ¡°Touch it and feel the wood forming it. Everything else will come to you by instinct.


    Upon his instructions, Pinaka grabbed the shrub. A shiver ran down his spine almost instantly¡ªgoosebumps prickled his arms. A fresh breeze brushed his skin despite no real wind. He smelled the scent of vitality and felt his mind becoming sharper, energetic, and overall¡­connected.


    ¡ªThump! Thump!


    His heartbeat quickened. Without any conscious effort, he knew what to do. The shrub had a few interlocked branches and a bunch of leaves. Slowly, they intertwined and merged into a thicker stem. The leaves elongated and turned pointy at his input, gradually resembling the feathers of a bird.


    ¡°That¡¯s it,¡± Mahnaka grinned, ¡°Exercise your imagination. That¡¯s all this power system is¡ªpure imagination. The stronger your stats, the faster you can bring your ideas to life.¡±


    ¡°Thank you for the clear explanation,¡± Pinaka played around with the shrub, slowly changing its shape as he pleased. He created a ball, a glove covered by leaves, a shield, and, just for laughs, a wiener.


    Mahnaka blinked. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ damn.¡± He chuckled for the first time in years, his usual gloom momentarily lifted. ¡°What a monster.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a life-sized replica of mine from Earth,¡± Pinaka smirked, full of himself.


    Mahnaka squinted. ¡°You must have been a horse¡­¡± He trailed off, staring awkwardly for a few seconds before adding, ¡°Mine was slightly bigger.¡±


    ¡°Oh, fuck off!¡± Pinaka rolled his eyes as they spent the next few minutes casually insulting each other¡¯s ¡°little brothers.¡±


    Mahnaka, still grinning, finally sighed. ¡°Jokes aside,¡± he said, wiping away the last remnants of laughter, ¡°I haven¡¯t laughed like that in over a decade.¡±


    His demeanor shifted as he placed his hand on the ground, pulling out a tiny seed. ¡°Now, the first of the two Spells I can teach you is this.¡±


    [Spell: Seed Overgrowth]


    Saying so, Mahnaka planted the seed in the soil and maintained contact with his index finger. A mild stirrup from the nearby soil dried up in response. A couple of seconds later, a sapling sprouted. ¡°This Spell accelerates a seed¡¯s germination process.¡±


    Mahnaka then touched the second seed and beckoned Pinaka to do the same, ¡°You¡¯ll understand what to do as long as you touch the seed when I activate the Spell. That¡¯s one beauty of this power system¡ªonce you make contact, the knowledge comes to you naturally.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± His expression then turned sullen, ¡°That¡¯s also true for every sentient race, including the humans. And using that same understanding, they¡¯ve devised countless ways to burn us down¡­¡±


    ¡°Back to the topic, Mahnaka.¡± Pinaka was in no mood to listen to how dangerous humans were. He had heard plenty the previous night.


    Mahnaka exhaled, collecting himself. ¡°Right. Sorry.¡±


    He activated the Seed Overgrowth Spell, watching as Pinaka grasped the seed. As expected, the younger Elf instinctively understood the process.


    ¡®As I thought¡­ Pinaka is completely in tune with the Wood element. That¡¯s why his thumb was so pretty.¡¯


    To the Elves, a beautifully shaped thumb showed great talent in manipulating Wood. Only the older generation, like Mahnaka, still knew of this superstition.


    For a brief moment, Mahnaka hesitated.


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    ¡®If it¡¯s him¡­¡¯ Fear gripped him as he began trembling subconsciously, ¡®The Elves with such talent¡­I led them to their deaths before. Let¡¯s not repeat those mistakes.¡¯


    Once upon a time, he trained elves just like Pinaka¡ªbrilliant and gifted. They had believed they were strong enough to escape. But they had failed. Every single one of them was sent to the potion factories, doomed to a fate worse than slavery.


    His fingers curled into fists. ¡®If I don¡¯t teach him anything, he¡¯ll survive.¡¯


    ¡°I told you yesterday, right?¡± Pinaka expressed as if reading Mahnaka¡¯s mind, ¡°Teach me everything you know, Mahnaka, including your failures. I¡¯ll then make a plan, and this time,¡±


    He expressed confidently, ¡°We won¡¯t fail.¡±


    Mahnaka¡¯s throat felt heavy, but he still managed to let out, ¡°¡­Yes! We must succeed, Pinaka.¡±


    He then wiped his tears and stood up. His movements stiffened as he noticed a soldier watching them from a distance. ¡°I can¡¯t stay here for any longer. We¡¯ll continue tomorrow.¡±


    With that, he turned and walked away. Mahnaka was burdened with far more labor than the others as the oldest Elf in their hexagon. Once his farm work was done, he was taken to other plantations to be worked to the bone.


    ¡®Six vertices in a hexagon. Six guards watching. Three of them always have a clear line of sight on me.¡¯ Pinaka thought as he touched a seed and mimicked Mahnaka, watching a sapling sprout within ten seconds, ¡®So, even with the lowest stats, it only takes ten seconds. That means this is the easiest task for an Elf.¡¯


    Pinaka began the process, noticing that the duration had reduced to nine seconds by the time he was done with his thirtieth seed.


    ¡®I¡¯m getting more used to the method.¡¯


    ¡°Now I understand why the Humans have enslaved the Elves.¡± He muttered. A wheat seed took a week to sprout and become a seedling in ideal conditions. Under the hands of even a newborn Elf, that was reduced to a mere 10 seconds. This was his first attempt.


    ¡°With just a small group of Elves, enough food can be produced on a single farm to sustain an entire city,¡± Pinaka observed the ground, watching the soil lose its moisture as the seed absorbed it to become a seedling rapidly. ¡°It¡¯ll lose all its nutrients at this rate.¡±


    ¡°The soil will become worthless if we¡¯re farming at such insane speeds¡­¡± He swerved his head to the sky, observed the World Tree silhouette afar, and then watched the soil recover at speeds visible to the naked eye, ¡®So, that¡¯s why.¡¯


    ¡°No matter how much this land is abused, as long as the World Tree exists, the soil will recover its vitality and always be ideal for farming.¡± Pinaka let out a sigh and closed his eyes. He then subtly eyed the human guard, ¡®What Mahnaka said makes sense. With just Wood, it¡¯s impossible to overcome Fire in close combat.¡¯


    ¡®So, bows, crossbows, and ballistae are an option for ranged attacks. But,¡¯ He pondered, ¡®To make them effective in combat, I need to turn them into a Spell. But with all the checks, it¡¯ll be impossible to hide this information from the Humans.¡¯


    At Level 1, an Elf could only control Wood. They cannot create matter¡ªWood. Therefore, if Wood is out of reach, all Level 1 Elves become helpless, ¡®That¡¯s the first disadvantage.¡¯


    ¡°But it can be sorted,¡± He thought and focused on another seed, making its roots grow longer than usual, ¡®As long as I remain careful, I can plant some seeds within the prison walls and grow them there.¡¯


    ''As for battle Spells¡­'' Pinaka¡¯s thoughts trailed when noticed the soldier watching him shift his gaze to another Elf.


    A plan took shape in his mind. ''If I practice and refine the technique until I can execute it in under a second¡­ then repeat it 99 times without completing the final one, I¡¯ll be just one step away from registering it as a Spell.''


    A smirk tugged at his lips. ''All I¡¯d need is a single final activation, and the Humans wouldn¡¯t even notice.''


    He exhaled slowly, suppressing the flicker of excitement. "It¡¯s possible, as long as I don¡¯t push my stats beyond what the Humans deem acceptable."


    His eyes drifted toward the tunnel. ''The only real problem is whatever has been stopping every escape attempt so far.''


    Absentmindedly, he touched his left cheek¡ªthen winced. The sting grounded him for a moment, but then¡ª


    A thought struck him.


    ''Wait¡­ isn¡¯t wood a hydrocarbon?''


    His breathing hitched. His fingers curled as he stared at his own hand, realization dawning.


    "Then¡­" His pulse quickened. His lips parted slightly, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous thrill.


    "Aren¡¯t I one, too?"


    ...


    Gangnea Daily Article #6:


    On Gangnea, your power is limited only by your creativity.

 Chapter 007 | Project [Desertification]

    Wood is composed of Carbon, Hydrogen, Oxygen, and Nitrogen. It also contains calcium, potassium, sulfur, and magnesium¡ªall elements that form the hydrocarbon chains that makeup wood.


    The Wood Race of Elves!


    ¡®Whether it be a strand of grass, a seed, or a shrub, I¡¯m not feeling any differences in my sense of control over them.¡¯ Pinaka thought as he stared at his hands, ¡®If it means as long as the combination of these elements exist in a hydrocarbon chain to allow me to control it, then the same applies to my body, too.¡¯


    ¡®Even human bones are 15 percent Carbon by weight. So, it should be possible.¡¯ Pinaka tied a strand of grass on his index finger to test the sprouting idea in his mind and brought all his attention to it.


    Upon his will, the grass strand coiled itself to turn thinner. Next, Pinaka imposed the same will on the skin of his index finger.


    Nothing happened.


    ¡®If I had some reference, I think it¡¯d be easier.¡¯


    But Mahnaka had never demonstrated such an ability. That meant he was on his own.


    ¡®I am missing something.¡¯


    He frowned, grunted, and resumed germinating the wheat seeds planted in the soil. Even though he didn¡¯t wish to work like a slave, he had to act his part, at least until he got a chance to flee, ¡°There¡¯s too much I don¡¯t know yet.¡±


    ¡®I have some idea of our power system now. I can think of ideas further from here.¡¯ Pinaka then eyed the mortar wall, ¡®But I do not know this place. The terrain, the building layout, and how far must I flee before I¡¯m truly free?¡¯


    The rest of the day was uneventful. No one came to bother him, ¡®The Humans don¡¯t interfere as long as I produce the scheduled batch of wheat.¡¯


    ¡°Humans?¡± he frowned. There was a strange disconnect in his phrasing. ¡°I¡­am human¡­used to be human¡­¡±


    He felt strange as if he were referring to someone else. He clutched his head, ruffling his fingers through his hair to mutter, ¡°I am Pinaka, the Elf.¡±


    ¡°Shit!¡± Referring to himself as an Elf felt natural while Humans no longer seemed like his kin, despite his memories from Earth, ¡°I¡¯ve¡­only been here for two freaking days!¡±


    Pinaka was already a different individual physically. And now, he was also stabilizing mentally to his new identity, ¡®It doesn¡¯t make sense otherwise that it took me an entire day to realize I was naked. It didn¡¯t feel awkward for an instant, even when I was conversing with Mahnaka all along.¡¯


    Elves¡ªKin!


    Humans¡ªEnemies!


    The distinction was sharp. Instinctual. Unshakable.


    He would have to consciously make decisions by referencing his previous life¡¯s memories to avoid harming Humans in the future. But¡­ his experiences of the prior day¡ªthe pain, the torture¡ªweren¡¯t exactly pushing him toward sympathy for humanity.


    ¡°First, a self-analysis is necessary.¡±


    Pinaka observed the field before him and grabbed a seedling. He twisted it and plucked it off. His eyes stung with grief. ¡®I¡¯ve never mourned a tree being cut before¡­ this is new.¡¯


    He grabbed the strands of grass growing at spots across the field and casually placed them on his hip, ¡°It feels strange to cover myself.¡±


    Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    He compressed a strand of grass into a needle-thin stick and used it to draw two stick figures in the dirt¡ªone human and one Elf. He stared at them, analyzing his emotions. He stared at both and inspected his feelings.


    ¡°I see. Elves were inherently compassionate toward all life. But their greatest priority was plant life.¡± He then drew some fire on the human figurines¡¯ hands and a burning tree behind him, feeling mild anger seethe in him, ¡°When someone harms plant life, I feel anger.¡±


    ¡°Do I care about all lives?¡± He drew a bunch of stick-like creatures, dogs, cats, and elephants, scribbling through their bodies like a ginormous sword was cutting them.


    It wasn¡¯t much, but he felt hurt at the action, ¡°Elves mourn the loss of all life, regardless of the species.¡±


    Pinaka spent the next hour experimenting to determine his current emotional disposition. ¡°So, let me get this in order.¡±


    ¡°I grieve for all lives, but my plants take priority. Following them are animals and insects that live symbiotically in forests and help the plants with pollination, provide manure, and so on. At the bottom of this order are destructive creatures towards forests.¡± Pinaka concluded, ¡°Humans are lower on the ladder since their Authority over Fire is naturally destructive towards Wood.¡±


    ¡°Next is perception,¡± Pinaka said, focusing on the World Tree¡¯s task. ¡°Let¡¯s consider that the reward can transcend time and space.¡±


    ¡°If I think I¡¯ll be reincarnated to my family irrespective of how long I live here¡­¡± He muttered after a few seconds of thought, ¡°I¡¯ll plan for twenty years extensively and perfectly break out of this prison.¡±


    ¡°Damn, no wonder we lost.¡± He massaged his forehead, realizing one of the reasons why the Elves may have lost the war.


    ¡®Twenty years to me feel like what a day does to Humans.¡¯


    It¡¯s as if he slept a bit longer than usual. That¡¯s how an Elf perceived a timespan of twenty years, ¡®In that time, the Humans would create an entire generation.¡¯


    ¡°And if we¡¯re comparing manpower logistics at war,¡± He shook his head and stared at the sky to eye the silhouette of the far-away World Tree. ¡°I know that only the World Tree can produce Elves since I woke up there yesterday. And judging by how the Humans treated me upon introduction, it seems Elves aren¡¯t being birthed fast.¡±


    ¡®In comparison, Humans can mate with each other and raise their population at exponential rates.¡¯ For a moment, he recalled the population of Humans on Earth, ¡®They reached a billion at the start of the nineteenth century. And by the twenty-first century, they reached eight billion.¡¯


    ¡®So, in terms of numbers, we¡¯re too few while our enemy is rapidly raising their population through the food we¡¯re farming at massive rates here.¡¯ Pinaka analyzed their situation, ¡®In terms of raw power, Wood is weak to Fire. Even if I max out my Stats, I can¡¯t solo an entire army.¡¯


    ¡°Hmm¡­¡± He slumped to the ground and stared at the seedling before him, going in a daze as he recalled every statement Mahnaka had said. Soon, he broke into a smile, ¡®Forest fires are dangerous. Mahnaka used that to conclude Wood can never win against Fire.¡¯


    ¡°I think I''m starting to understand why the World Tree reincarnated Humans from Earth as Elves.¡± He chuckled, feeling enlightened, ¡®Forest Fires can defeat Elves, but they¡¯ll cripple the Human Race.¡¯


    Why? Because everyone needs food to survive.


    Pinaka observed the soldiers stationed on the mortal walls, found a window when he wasn¡¯t being observed, and sneaked into Mahnaka¡¯s farm to ask, ¡°Is there any Level 2 Elf here?¡±


    ¡°No, we¡¯ll be killed when we reach Level 2.¡± Mahnaka shook his head, staring in confusion to see Pinaka chuckle in response.


    ¡°Any idea on how to reach it?¡± Pinaka asked.


    ¡°No, the Humans burnt every detail regarding it immediately after winning the war.¡± Mahnaka responded perplexedly, ¡°Why? Are you planning something, Pinaka?¡±


    ¡°Nope, just satiating my curiosity.¡± Pinaka didn¡¯t express anything else and returned to his farm, beginning to resume work as he thought, with a wide grin, ¡®A large amount of food is necessary to upkeep the voracious appetite of a ginormous population. If it falls short, the population turns volatile upon itself.¡¯


    ¡®Pests among grains, poisoning the grains.¡¯ Pinaka muttered, ¡°There are ways to go about it. Since I now have a direction, I only need to work towards it while figuring out things along the way.¡±


    That was why the Humans from Earth are reincarnating as Elves on Gangnea, ¡®A pure-born Elf of this world would consider it blasphemous and would rather die than do it. But I¡­¡¯


    ¡°It¡¯ll surely hurt my feelings since I¡¯m now an Elf. But,¡± Pinaka touched his scorched cheeks with a vicious glare, ¡°When push comes to shove, I¡¯m ready to burn down all plant life.¡±


    ¡®A Level 2 Elf can create trees and live off its produce.¡¯ He concluded, ¡®If the world becomes a desert...only Elves will survive.¡¯


    ¡°Project Desertification, it is.¡± He let out a laugh.


    ¡­


    Gangnea Daily Article #7:


    There¡¯s no ceiling to the stats you can gain on Gangnea. You¡¯re only limited by how long you¡¯ve spent your life training.

 Chapter 008 | A Seed Of Plans

    Year 19¡ª35th Day of the 8th Moon!


    When Pinaka dragged himself away from his farm, evening had fallen, and every step weighed in exhaustion. ¡®It seems using my Authority is similar to simultaneously undergoing mental and physical exercise.¡¯


    ¡®There¡¯s no limit to the power itself, but I can only use it for as long as my stamina can sustain the process.¡¯ He grunted, ¡®Now I know why the Humans give us less food and sleep.¡¯


    Despite the grueling labor, he had managed to turn every seed in his hectare of farmland into a seedling. At first, harvesting wheat within six days had seemed impossible, but after experiencing the process firsthand, Pinaka knew Elves were more than capable of it.


    His speed had already improved¡ªhe could now use Seed Overgrowth to germinate a seed in under eight seconds. But it wasn¡¯t enough. Not if he wanted to escape.


    He had no interest in waiting decades for the Human King to die and political unrest to create an opening. That was a gamble¡ªand by then, he might end up like Mahnaka, too broken to try.


    ¡®Starvation and sleep deprivation for more than a decade would wear anyone down to nothing.¡¯


    ¡®I am not allowed tools, clothes, or enough food and sleep. Things aren¡¯t easy. And most of all, something still made Mahnaka fail eight times.¡¯ He thought as such and began to walk towards the tunnel.


    As he approached the tunnel leading back into the prison, a soldier stood waiting beside the central stone pillar, arms crossed.


    ¡°Status?¡± the soldier asked lazily.


    He wrote a line on his notepad, observed Pinaka¡¯s Status Screen, performed a sniffing test, and waved his hand, ¡°You can head to your cell now.¡±


    ¡®There¡¯s enough freedom if we¡¯re obedient and perform our work on time.¡¯ Pinaka thought, ¡®He judged my exhaustion but didn¡¯t comment.¡¯


    ¡®Thankfully, I managed to sneak this in here.¡¯ He mused upon entering his cell and took out a wheat grain buried within the bandages wrapped around his thumb. He placed the seed in the corner and used the Spell of Seed Overgrowth, ¡®I¡¯ve seen saplings sprout out of concrete and even bitumen roads.¡¯


    The wheat seed turned into a seedling and gently rooted itself into the corner, but the soil was dry and lacking moisture. Pinaka had a solution: ¡°Haack! Thuh!¡±


    It absorbed his spit as Pinaka noticed that its condition wasn¡¯t better than that of the seedlings on the farm outside. ¡®It still needs some sunlight, even if not direct.¡¯


    He observed his surroundings, then slumped on the floor and fell asleep. He also positioned his head towards the corner and used his hair to hide the seedling.


    Upon analyzing the Elven race, he wanted to attain a particular condition: ¡®We¡¯re meant to be born through wood, live on wood, and then become one with wood upon our deaths. So, even passively, I should always be in contact with Wood, no matter how little it is. That way, I¡¯ll figure out things faster. It should also be why the Humans make us sleep on stone floors, away from Wood.¡¯


    ¡®They might have burned down the Elven Race¡¯s history, but as long as I think about everything that the Humans make us do and then think against it in favor of a Forest or something, I¡¯ll be embracing my culture, and through it, I¡¯ll figure out everything regarding our authority.¡¯


    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    If an Elf uses his authority on Wood, any other Elf in contact with it could perceive the secrets. That was how Pinaka learned the Spell of Seed Overgrowth. ¡®This power system has no limitations. I¡¯m only limited by my imagination.¡¯


    While his head remained in contact with the seedling, Pinaka focused on his thumb. ¡®It constantly hurts there. Maybe that¡¯s what is necessary to maintain focus.¡¯


    The wound reopened frequently as he worked, blood seeping from the raw injury. But the Humans didn¡¯t care. They never did.


    They had seen it countless times¡ªElves didn¡¯t die from losing a thumb. No matter how weak one becomes, one always survives.


    As long as an Elf continued working like a slave, their suffering was nothing more than entertainment. A source of twisted pleasure.


    After all, until twenty years ago, Elves were the masters of Gangnea.


    ¡®Close it! Close the wound! Close it!¡¯ He willed himself, unsure whether or not it would work as he fell asleep, ¡®My body is composed of the same elements that make up the element of Wood. They are one! They are the same!¡¯


    ???????????


    ¡ªClap! Clap! Clap!


    Pinaka jolted awake.


    ¡°Shit!¡±


    His mind was sluggish, still trapped in the haze of sleep.


    ¡®How many claps have it been already?¡¯


    He ran out of his prison cell, grunting in pain when he brushed his thumb stump into the rod of a door left ajar nearby. It was dark, and his head was still groggy from sleep.


    ¡ªClap! Clap!


    His breath hitched. Mahnaka¡¯s cell was empty.


    So were the others.


    ¡®Shit! I¡¯m late!¡¯


    He strained his ears, picking up the soft murmurs from the ground floor, where the other Elves had already gathered. And standing before them was the soldier, clapping rhythmically.


    ¡°Shii¡­¡± Pinaka tumbled through the last batch of stairs and lifted his head quickly, only to notice the soldier was standing before him now.


    Hands behind his back. Gaze lowered in mock amusement. Lips curled in ridicule.


    He stepped forward, dragging his boot slowly¡ªjust close enough for the foul stench of sweat and rot to hit Pinaka¡¯s nose.


    A smirk twisted his lips. ¡°You¡¯re late.¡±


    The soldier¡¯s voice dripped with amusement.


    ¡°No dinner for you tonight.¡±


    He turned away, chuckling. ¡°The baby Elf lacks discipline.¡±


    He walked toward the crowd of Elves, his voice carrying over his shoulder.


    ¡°Guess you¡¯re starving tonight.¡±


    He then arrived before the crowd of Elves and started to hand out food, which consisted of two fruits resembling an apple and something like a berry alongside a leather pouch of water. That was it. But even that was deprived of Pinaka since he arrived a few seconds late.


    ¡°Let the baby Elf watch you lot eat.¡± The soldier clapped once as a tiny whisker of fire coiled around his arm, illuminating his face from below and causing long, deep shadows to cover his visage, especially his curling lips.


    ¡°Well, what are you waiting for?¡± Noticing a momentary hesitation among the Elves, the soldier bellowed, ¡°Eat!¡±


    ¡°Eat, you damn slaves!¡±


    His stomach protested in hunger as Pinaka watched the hesitant Elves eat the food. Some of the younger Elves were indignant, the averagely older ones showed pity towards Pinaka, and the oldest batch ate in silence.


    ¡®There are around 218 Elves here, including me.¡¯ Pinaka took this opportunity to make a headcount and then focused on the side of the Humans, ¡®There¡¯s only one Soldier here.¡¯


    The food was carried in a stone cart, pushed by an Ogre, the same one responsible for hurling in the farm produce harvested by the Elves.


    As Pinaka eyed the Elves, he noticed his thumb sockets were¡­itching. Using the light emitting from the Fire Whip coiled around the soldier¡¯s arm, Pinaka stared at the bandage on his arm and noticed the wound¡¯s edges had¡­closed up.


    ¡®Hydrocarbons! I was right!¡¯


    ...


    Gangnea Daily Article #8


    The rules of the power system are free to interpretation. If you think it makes sense, then it probably does, unless your common sense has emigrated out of Gangnea.

 Chapter 009 | Ash Road Network

    A metal behemoth thundered through the Tsingy Rock Forest, its eight massive wheels rattling over the jagged terrain.


    It was a fortified carriage, twenty meters long and six meters wide, moved with calculated precision. Each of its wheels, each a meter wide, let out dull rattles as the eight wheels sprang up and down upon the uneven rocky terrain.


    The carriage rattled forward, its advanced suspension the only thing keeping it from breaking apart on the rough terrain. The rubber-coated wheels fought against the uneven ground, swallowing each jolt as it pushed ahead.


    A soldier pressed his fingers against the narrow window grille, barely wide enough to fit a hand through. His breath smeared against the cold steel, vanishing as fast as it came. His eyes flicked across the barren land, searching, waiting.


    Across from him, another set of eyes peeked through a narrow slit. The soldier¡¯s face shone with sweat, jaw locked so tight it might snap. His fingers twitched against the wooden wall, restless, unsure.


    Inside, the air sat heavy, pressing down like a weight on their chests. Soldiers clutched their weapons like lifelines, knuckles pale, breathing shallow. But one figure didn¡¯t move. Their posture remained firm, eyes locked on the periscope jutting from the roof. When they spoke, their voice was steady. Cold.


    ¡°It¡¯s clear. Keep moving.¡±


    The armored carriage pressed on, its flame-powered propulsion kicking up dust as it advanced. Outside, the jagged stone formations began to tremble.


    A soldier stiffened. ¡°Your Highness, they¡¯re after us.¡±


    The imposing figure barely spared him a glance. ¡°Of course they are.¡±


    The periscope extended further, revealing massive figures emerging from the craggy landscape¡ªogres. Five meters tall, they wielded stone spears longer than the carriage itself. Their heavy footfalls sent deep tremors through the ground as they surged forward.


    A soldier hesitated. ¡°They will catch up soon.¡±


    Your Highness remained unimpressed. ¡°Then we move faster.¡±


    A burst of fire erupted from the rear vents, its roaring thrust propelling the carriage forward like a crude jet engine. Within the armored shell, a human stood at his station, with his palm outstretched toward the vent, his flames fueling their momentum.


    The Fire Race of Humans¡ªLevel 2 (Creation).


    At the command of the authoritative voice, he gritted his teeth and cranked up the output, the flames surging hotter through his palm. The carriage shuddered as it lurched forward, wringing every ounce of speed from its weight.


    On this terrain, the carriage was already moving near its top speed¡ª18 kilometers per hour¡ªbut most of the time, it managed only 12, far too slow for an escape.


    But with the weight and value of their cargo, there was no choice.


    The worst of the terrain was behind them. The jagged rocks of the Tsingy Rock Forest gave way to flat land with scattered boulders and patches of tall grass.


    Hidden within the grass were small piles of firewood, carefully placed to blend in. Not enough to be obvious, but enough to serve their purpose.


    The metal carriage¡¯s speed increased to 30 kilometers per hour, leaving deep tracks on the loose soil, ¡°Keep up the speed. Let them chase if they dare.¡±


    The metal carriage swerved around the boulders, its wheels leaving deep tracks in the soil as it was able to maintain speed. However, the Ogre Race, famed for their battle charge, were faster.


    Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    Their enormous bodies¡ªaveraging around a height of five meters¡ªrushed across the grassland, charging with unstoppable momentum. Held in the hands of each were rock columns reaching a height of eight meters, shaped like spears.


    The Stone Race of Ogres!


    With their Authority over Stone, the Ogres created Stone Spears by touching the boulders amidst their paths. They were steadily arming up while racing closer and closer to the metal carriage.


    ¡°Your Highness, the Ogres have reached the field and are closing in on us!¡± a soldier announced tensely, peering through a periscope.


    ¡°Torch the field.¡± came a cold reply. Immediately, over a dozen Flame Tongues flashed out of the metal carriage and set the fields on fire. The fresh grass didn¡¯t burn as quickly, but the scattered firewood showed its purpose.


    Flames spread from the carriage, quickly catching onto the scattered firewood. The dry wood fueled the blaze, raising the heat until the surrounding grass dried and ignited, turning the field into a firewall.


    ¡°Damn humans!¡± An Ogre charged through the flames, determined to reach the carriage. But as the fire seared his skin, he snarled and stopped short. Furious, he hurled a massive Stone Spear, the impact echoing with a loud clang as it struck the armored carriage.


    The Ogres would have caught up if the chase had lasted a few more minutes. But now, the spreading fire stood between them and the carriage.


    ¡°Quick! Make a path!¡±


    The Ogre bellowed as it approached the closest boulder. The rock shifted and reshaped, transforming into an eight-meter-long and two-meter-wide cylinder. Four Ogres grunted and rolled it across the field of fire, snuffing out the flames along the stone cylinder¡¯s path.


    ¡°Don¡¯t let them escape!¡± one roared, frustration mounting as the carriage gained distance. ¡°They have our Relic!¡±


    ¡°Kill them! No matter what!¡± As the Ogres roared in anger, one of them took out a conch and blew into it, sending a sharp, high-pitched shriek¡ªlike the piercing call of a bird.


    The commanding figure in the carriage stared ahead, ¡°Once we¡¯re past the border, they¡¯ll lose their advantage. They know it. That¡¯s why they¡¯re desperate. But they will find a way through. Be alert.¡±


    ???????????


    T¡¯Hara Forest!


    The forest edge marked the beginning of Elven territory, now fully controlled by the Humans. As the metal carriage crossed the border, the soldiers exhaled in relief.


    The Ogres¡¯ greatest strength¡ªAuthority over Stone¡ªwas useless here. With no boulders in sight, their power held little threat.


    Moreover, if push comes to shove, the Humans could torch the trees and create a forest fire, which provided them the perfect environmental advantage to deal with a horde of enemies without issues. Damage to the forest didn¡¯t matter since they could always use their Elven slaves to repair and regrow the burnt forest sections.


    T¡¯Hara Forest lay at the heart of the Gangnea Continent, bordered by the territories of many races.


    In this forest, a narrow ash road stretched through the dense woods, part of a massive network built for war and conquest. The Humans had carved through the land, burning entire sections of forest to create these paths. The leftover ash was compacted with massive stone rollers, pushed by Ogre slaves, solidifying it into a serviceable road¡ªthe Ash Road Network.


    Meanwhile, the carriage rumbled forward; its heavy wheels cracked the hardened surface, but the ride was smooth compared to the brutal terrain before.


    For the first time in the journey, silence settled inside the carriage. The carriage touched its top speed of 35 kilometers per hour¡ªand, for now, they were safe.


    ¡°Your Highness, do we set up camp for the night?¡± one of the soldiers asked, clearly exhausted, as they had been fighting nonstop for days.


    ¡°No.¡± The response was firm, unwavering. ¡°We rest when we¡¯re home. Not before.¡±


    ¡ªBoom!


    Suddenly, a rock pillar protruded through the ash road, emerging in the metal carriage¡¯s path. It had appeared too suddenly and in closeup, so the metal carriage was unable to stop on time. ¡°Turn! Evade it!¡±


    However, despite their best efforts, the Humans couldn¡¯t turn the metal carriage fast enough and braced for impact. As it slammed into the rock pillar, it tumbled from its momentum. The impact shattered the pillar and caused it to fall on the carriage, trapping it.


    Immediately after, eight Ogres rushed towards the metal carriage, wielding stone spears.


    ¡°Defend the carriage!¡± The command rang out, sharp and unwavering. A soldier, shaken but still standing, climbed out of the wreckage¡ªonly to be impaled mid-step, a stone spear piercing through his chest.


    ¡°Die! Humans!¡± One of the Ogres climbed onto the carriage and attacked the entrance. With a brutal swing, he cut down a soldier, blood splattering against the metal. But the next moment, a wave of fire engulfed his face, illuminating the forest.


    ...


    Gangnea Daily Article #9


    The Ogre Race is the most physically gifted in Gangnea. However, their intelligence is compromised compared to other races.

 Chapter 010 | The 48th Human Prince

    ¡°Argh!¡± The Ogre palmed his face, trying to smother the flames. However, the fire seeped through the gaps between his fingers and burned his flesh. The air reeked of burning skin. He uttered a tortured roar, the sound twisting with the disgusting sizzle of his flesh melting away.


    ¡ªThud!


    The Ogre¡¯s massive body crashed to the ground, his death clearing the path for a second latch to unlock. The metal doors swung open, and four Humans rushed out, each wielding a Flame Whip.


    ¡°Only seven left! Burn them all!¡± The Soldier in the lead shouted and lashed out with his Flame Whip¡ªonly for a boulder to slam into his head.


    ¡ªCrack!


    His skull split apart like a crushed melon. His lifeless body collapsed mid-charge.


    Before his weapon could hit the ground, another soldier lunged forward, snatching the falling Flame Whip. Under his control, the Flame Whip transformed into a spear. He hurled it forward, aiming for an Ogre¡¯s eye.


    ¡ªSquelch!


    The fiery spear impaled the creature¡¯s socket, flames consuming his eye as the Ogre let out a guttural howl. But the fire burned out upon impact. Clicking his tongue, the Soldier swiftly retreated behind the armored carriage and bellowed: ¡°Your Highness!¡±


    A cold, amused voice rang out from within.


    ¡°Tell me, does it amuse you that I¡ªyour prince¡ªam keeping you alive?¡±


    The doors burst open. A young man, no older than twenty, emerged with a fiery mane of hair that gleamed under the night sky, casting a reddish-orange glow around him. He wore a fur-woven leather armor, dull yellow with blue embroidery, fitting snugly against his lean frame.


    He was lean, his frame compact yet brimming with coiled strength. At 172 centimeters, he stood. A thin, lackluster goatee clung to his chin, fluttering slightly in the night breeze.


    Then¡ªwhoosh!


    Flames erupted from his legs, roaring to life as they churned with raw energy. He shot into the air with a burst of fiery propulsion, soaring twenty meters above the battlefield.


    With an exasperated expression, he scanned the seven Ogres glaring at him, their eyes burning with hostility¡ªone clutching its charred, ruined eye.


    ¡®Tch. I knew that conch sound wouldn¡¯t just be a noise. It was a signal. These brutes were already lying in wait.¡¯


    ¡®So, the Ogres are making a move for T¡¯Hara Forest. Bold. Stupid, but bold.¡¯


    His gaze snapped to the wounded Ogre, a smirk curling at his lips.


    ¡°Look at you¡ªclutching your face like a wounded pup. Pathetic.¡±


    His voice cut through the air, laced with mockery and authority.


    ¡°Kneel. Submit to the will of Humanity, and perhaps I¡¯ll grant you the mercy of a quick death.¡±


    ¡°Arrogant Human! I¡¯ll pummel your head into paste!¡±


    With one eye burned and useless, the Ogre snarled and slapped the rock where the metal carriage crashed. The rock swiftly reshaped and turned a portion into a Stone Spear. He poised the spear toward the Human in the sky, and hurled the spear skyward with terrifying force.


    ¡ªWhoosh!


    ¡°Whoa!¡±


    The young man in the sky moved his shoulder, letting the Stone Spear miss its mark. A flame thrust appeared on his back, turning his figure into a fiery blur. In a series of motions, the Ogres jabbed from different angles, forcing the young man to change direction midair as he swerved through the seven Ogres, forming a helical fire pattern.


    ¡°Slow! Too slow!¡± He sneered as a Flame Whip lashed out, coiling around the nearest Ogre¡¯s thick neck and burnt through it. The Ogre roared and retaliated, but the young man darted like a fly while his Flame Whip remained coiled around its neck.


    A few moments later, the Ogre¡¯s head fell to the ground, burnt at the neck.


    There was a long-standing custom among humans: the children of Level 3 Humans were treated as royalty, addressed as Princes or Princesses, and numbered according to their birth order.


    These individuals were more likely to reach Level 2, a milestone that granted them the strength and abilities to carve their own path in the world.


    The one battling the Ogres had already reached Level 2, making him far more formidable than an ordinary Human. While physically weaker than the massive creatures, his agility, fire mastery, and hit-and-run tactics allowed him to stand his ground¡ªeven against a group of them.


    The forest had turned dark, its silence stretching beneath the vast night sky.


    Then¡ªFWOOOSH!


    A cone of fire erupted, engulfing the Ogres in an instant. Their roars of defiance turned into agonized shrieks as the flames devoured flesh and bone, leaving behind nothing but charred remains. Moments later, the battlefield again turned dark, with only faint embers scattered across the ground, pulsing with weak heat and light.


    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    Seconds later¡ª


    A blazing streak cut through the night. The young man reappeared at another location, trailing fire as he blasted flames like a roaring flamethrower. With a shift of his feet, the thrust beneath him angled in a new direction, effortlessly altering his flight path.


    ¡ªWhoosh! Crack! Boom!


    Rock Spears tore through the air, narrowly missing their mark. A massive Rock Hammer crashed toward him, only for him to twist aside at the last second.


    Then¡ªCRACK!


    An Ogre, crafting a path to him, had formed a set of Stone Stairs in seconds. With a thunderous lunge, it sprang forward, trying to grab him in midair.


    But he was already gone.


    [Spell: Torch]


    Among Level 2 Humans, it was one of the most commonly used spells. Upon activation, a burst of fire would erupt wide-spread, making it easy to control and highly effective. While not the most powerful spell, its consistent burn and low energy cost made it a staple in battle.


    With their rigid bodies and stone defenses, the Ogres could withstand the flames longer than most creatures. By shielding themselves with rocks, they delayed the inevitable¡ªbut only for a time.


    These were all Level 1 Ogres. They could not create stone and had exhausted most of their supplies, turning them into the stone spears they had hurled at the man. Their fate was sealed, with nowhere to run and nothing to defend themselves.


    The last remaining Ogre staggered, his body charred to the limit, skin blackened and cracking from the heat. He collapsed to his knees, coughing out a final, hate-filled breath.


    ¡°You¡­ will pay, damn Human¡­¡±


    His smoldering eyes glared at the young man, filled with fury even in death. ¡°My brethren will slaughter¡­¡±


    ¡ªThud!


    Its massive body fell forward, motionless.


    The young man exhaled, unimpressed. ¡°I keep hearing that,¡± he muttered, rolling his eyes. ¡°Yet, here I stand.¡±


    Without hesitation, he raised his palm, engulfing the corpse in a roaring inferno.


    ¡°The will of Humanity reigns supreme! Surrender, or be reduced to nothing.¡±


    He was the 48th Prince of the Human Race, Pronto.


    His fiery gaze swept the battlefield before he scowled in disgust.


    ¡°Tch. That was the last of them.¡± He dusted off his hands, his voice laced with contempt. Then, without turning, he barked out an order:


    ¡°Damn, cowards! Get out here.¡±


    The response was instant.


    ¡°Y-Yes, Your Highness!¡±


    Five soldiers scrambled out of their hiding spots, their faces flushed with embarrassment.


    ¡°Two of our comrades are dead.¡±


    Pronto¡¯s voice was flat, unmoved. He gestured toward the bodies, his gaze sharp.


    ¡°Burn them. Seal their ashes. Then clear the rubble. I don¡¯t have time for delays.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Your Highness!¡±


    The soldiers snapped into action and immediately collected the IDs of their fallen comrades before setting their bodies aflame. Their ashes were then sealed in earthen jars, following which the soldiers began to clear the collapsed rubble from the metal carriage, conducting repairs so that it could start moving as soon as possible.


    Meanwhile, Pronto landed on the carriage¡¯s rooftop and slipped through the open latch, his movements fluid. His eyes narrowed at seeing an older man slumped at the rear, snoring softly.


    His lips curled.


    ¡ªThud!


    Pronto¡¯s boot struck the old man¡¯s side, jolting him awake.


    ¡°I was out there fighting, and you were sleeping?¡±


    The old man gasped, his body jerking upright.


    ¡°Ah¡ª! Your Highness!¡± He scrambled into a stiff salute, his breath ragged.


    Pronto scoffed. ¡°Forget it.¡± His expression twisted with disdain. ¡°Just be ready. We¡¯re moving soon.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Your Highness.¡±


    The old man¡ªa Level 2 Human, but too weak to fight¡ªgritted his teeth and moved toward the rear of the carriage, where the flame-powered propulsion system awaited his control. His deep eyebags and sluggish movements betrayed exhaustion, but Pronto paid it no mind.


    Then¡ª


    ¡°Your Highness!¡±.


    A soldier burst into the carriage, saluting sharply.


    ¡°The damage is extensive. The carriage won¡¯t survive the journey.¡±


    Pronto¡¯s eyes flickered. ¡°How long will repairs take?¡±


    When he was met with silence, he frowned, ¡°You can¡¯t?¡±


    ¡ªCrack!


    The Soldier stumbled back, reeling from Pronto¡¯s swift kick.


    ¡°Incompetent bastards. If you can¡¯t fix it, I¡¯ll find someone who can.¡±


    The old man rubbed his side, suppressing a sigh. ¡°The Elven Prison, Your Highness.¡±


    Pronto¡¯s eyes narrowed.


    ¡°There¡¯s a Dwarf imprisoned there,¡± the old man continued. ¡°He can repair the carriage.¡± Then, with a grin that didn¡¯t quite reach his tired eyes, he added, ¡°Besides¡­ even the Ogres chasing us wouldn¡¯t dare set foot near the prison. His Lordship is stationed there.¡±


    Pronto exhaled. ¡°Yeah¡­¡± His fingers clenched at his side. Elven Prison¡¯s Warden intimidated him more than any adversaries he had met on this journey. "The Warden will offer protection until we¡¯re ready to move."


    The soldiers worked quickly, clearing the rubble, and soon, the metal carriage lurched forward, its battered frame groaning under the strain.


    ¡ªClang! Clatter!


    The wheels began rolling unevenly. The carriage''s axle was bent, the front dented, and the side bore deep scars from the battle, but there was no time for repairs.


    At the rear, the Spell of Fire Thrust flared at full intensity, pushing the crippled vehicle forward. Even at maximum output, it could barely scrape together a top speed of 14 kilometers per hour¡ªfar from ideal, but the only option.


    ???????????


    Twenty minutes later¡ª


    Over a hundred Ogres stormed onto the battlefield, their thundering steps sending ripples through the earth. At their head, five towering figures loomed¡ªLevel 2 Ogres. The largest one was the leader of the group, covered in scars and battle marks. He stared at the charred corpses of his brethren and roared in anger, ¡°The Humans will pay!¡±


    ¡°These burns are fresh¡­ fifteen, maybe twenty minutes ago," another Ogre, his deputy, muttered. His stone-plated face twisted in a scowl. "The Humans can''t be far."


    The leader¡¯s rocky gaze snapped toward the horizon.


    "Then we give chase!" he roared.


    ...


    Gangnea Daily Article #10:


    The Human Race has over 100 Princes and Princesses in every generation. When one becomes the Human King, the rest lose their Princely status.

 Chapter 011 | Race Authority And Relics

    As the metal carriage made its way to the Elven Prison, a disturbance stirred within its walls. To be precise, it stirred within an elf named Pinaka, who sat watching his fellow prisoners eat.


    Hunger.


    It consumed him, gnawing at his body. The dim light of the prison flickered, its only source a flame tongue coiled around a soldier¡¯s arm. The scent of fruit lingered in the air as the elves'' bodies digested their meager rations.


    And the more he breathed it in, the worse it became. The hunger was only increasing.


    A meter away, a soldier stood, watching with twisted delight. Those who worked in this place were rarely of sound mind, and this man was no exception.


    But Pinaka¡¯s focus wasn¡¯t on him¡ªit was on his own hands. His thumbs, once raw and bloodied, had scabbed over. A strange itch was beginning to intensify around his wound, urging him to remove the bandage and scratch over the scabs. He resisted, forcing himself to act. Weakly, he reached out, his fingers trembling as he grasped the soldier¡¯s ankle. His voice came out in a whisper, ragged and desperate.


    ¡°Please¡­some food¡­ I beg you!¡±


    His breath hitched and gasped in exhaustion, his eyes pleading in desperation. Beneath it all, however, his index finger made contact with the soldier¡¯s skin as Pinaka tried to form a connection with the soldier¡¯s body similar to how he made one with the seeds before. Just as he had once entwined his will with the seeds, coaxing them to grow, he now sought to find a connection within the soldier¡¯s flesh. It was a gamble.


    ¡ªThump! Thump!


    A strange feeling began to swell up in Pinaka. But before he could pinpoint¡ª


    ¡°Let go!¡± the soldier scoffed, shaking him off and slamming a boot into his face. Turning away, he strode toward the pillar.


    ¡°If you don¡¯t want to go hungry, be on time tomorrow,¡± he said with a chuckle. ¡°Don¡¯t whine when you¡¯re the one who chose sleep over food.¡±


    ¡°Please¡­¡± Pinaka gasped again, but the soldier ignored him.


    He remained sprawled on the floor, the picture of weakness. In truth, he was calm, his senses were occupied in absorbing the scents of every being in the prison. Be it the elves or the human soldier.


    ¡®My authority is over hydrocarbons. Therefore, I should be able to extend an Elf¡¯s senses throughout the hydrocarbon spectrum. Be it a piece of wood, or a lump of living flesh.¡¯


    The hunger was consuming his mind, but that was exactly what he needed at the moment. He knew the body¡¯s senses would reach their sharpest when pushed to the extreme¡ªusually in a life-or-death crisis. Right now, his starvation was forcing his olfactory senses to their absolute limit, creating a sense of awareness beyond anything he had ever experienced.


    For him, what stood before him were not elves or a human. But sacks of hydrocarbons that can move. ¡®Technically, they¡¯re all food, as long as my stomach can digest their flesh. And then, when I touched the soldier, I surely felt something.¡¯


    For just an instant, he had felt a flicker of familiarity¡ªlike he could¡­ control the soldier¡¯s body. The sensation was brief, vanishing almost as soon as he noticed it, but it was enough. Enough to confirm that whatever he was trying to do, he was doing something in the right direction.


    He focused on the soldier¡¯s scent. Breaking it down, he began to analyze every smell: A strong citrus scent. A mixture of pork, lime, garlic¡­ and a faint trace of ammonia.


    It was interesting to note that he could clearly distinguish the numerous scents interwoven in the air. Pinaka could only attribute it to an innate trait of being an elf.


    As if to test this hypothesis, he instinctively picked up Mahnaka¡¯s scent, having spent the most time beside him since his birth as an Elf.


    ¡®He smells like petrichor and pineapple.¡¯


    Petrichor¡ªthe earthy fragrance that accompanied the first rain after a long period of dryness¡ªwas a scent common among elves, mostly paired with a faint note of fruit. But the key word here was most.


    And this was true, because while analyzing Mahnaka¡¯s scent, he came across another elf¡¯s scent which was quite distinct. In fact, while most elves had a scent similar to Mahnaka¡¯s, this elf stood out amongst all.


    ¡®It¡¯s a mix of petrichor and rotting wood. And it¡¯s the faintest scent among everything here. Even if I had stood right next to him, I wouldn¡¯t be able to pick it up. It¡¯s only in this state that I have been able to catch a whiff of it.¡¯


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    Since he was lying down, it was hard for him to see who this elf was, and he wasn¡¯t curious enough to risk creating a seed of suspicion in the human soldier¡¯s mind. Thus, he remained immobile.


    Once he had observed most of the elven scents, his attention shifted to the food that the human soldier had distributed amongst the elves. The soldier has distributed fruits. And these fruits carried an unmistakable note of decay.


    ¡®They aren¡¯t fresh. He inhaled deeply, dissecting the smell further. These fruits will start rotting in a matter of hours.¡¯


    It wasn¡¯t surprising. In fact, it perfectly aligned with the soldier¡¯s behavior so far. It would have been strange for him to suddenly display apathy or pity toward the elves.


    Pinaka slowly opened his eyes while lying on the coarse floor. Feeling quite satisfied with the deduced information. However, at this moment, his eyes landed on someone, pulling all his attention to the one elf who had intrigued him the most since his birth ¡ªthe one hammered into the pillar at the center of the prison.


    Pinaka took this moment to observe this elf and his current state in detail.


    The Elf had been nailed high up on the pillar, suspended twenty meters above the ground. Embedded in his chest was a fang, radiating an intense, bloody scent.


    ¡®That might be how they¡¯re safely extracting the blood¡¯, Pinaka thought. Blood naturally coagulated upon exposure to air, forming clots to prevent excessive loss. ¡®In fiction, Vampires were often depicted as bats, but¡ªif I compare them to fellow bloodsuckers like mosquitoes, then things start to make sense.¡¯


    Mosquitoes secreted anticoagulants, preventing blood from clotting as they fed, allowing them to store it in liquid form. Leeches operated in a similar manner, ensuring their meals remained fluid. If the same principle applied here, then the fang embedded in the Elf¡¯s chest wasn¡¯t just an instrument of pain¡ªit was an extraction tool.


    ¡®It¡¯s drawing his blood without letting it coagulate, preserving whatever unique properties it holds.¡¯


    He then focused on the scent coming off the elf.


    In the next moment, Pinaka froze. The Elf exuded a dense, overwhelming scent¡ªa mix of petrichor and something resembling fresh grass. The moment he inhaled it, an image surfaced in his mind, unbidden yet undeniable.


    The World Tree.


    Suddenly, something clicked. ¡®I understand now.¡¯


    On Gangnea, as Mahnaka had explained to him, every Race possessed an Authority¡ªfundamental power unique to their kind. And these Authorities also have physical manifestations, and for the Elven Race, it was the World Tree. These manifestations interacted with their surroundings and generated byproducts known as Relics.


    The fruit of the World Tree was one such Relic, born of the Wood Authority. It possessed the ability to regenerate the body of the consumer, ¡®But it¡¯s limited to the Elves. And that¡¯s likely why I see the World Tree when I focus on this elf¡¯s scent. They must be force feeding the World Tree¡¯s fruit to this Elf, but why? Wait, this elf is a ¡®potion factory¡¯, does that mean the humans are extracting its blood because it now has some regenerative properties of the World Tree¡¯s fruit?¡¯


    Mahnaka knew about a total of three Relics¡ªthe Elven Race¡¯s, the Human Race''s, and the Dwarven Race¡¯s.


    Wood Relic of the Elven Race¡ªWorld Tree Fruit!


    Fire Relic of the Human Race¡ªSun Stone!


    The Sun Stone functioned as a fire battery, capable of storing an immense volume of fire. It was with the arrival of the Sun Stones that Humanity¡¯s dominance began.


    Pinaka recalled the memories from when he had been conscious within the World Tree¡ªmemories of a time when he had witnessed a group of Humans burning the Elven King. In those fragments, he distinctly remembered a pearl-like object in the possession of Humans, using which they unleashed massive fireballs beyond what their natural abilities could have allowed.


    Relics were a game-changer, not in just wars but for an individual as well. And as Pinaka inhaled the scent emanating from the Elf nailed to the pillar¡ªa scent rich with the essence which can be most likely of the World Tree Fruit¡ªhis understanding sharpened.


    ¡®If my thoughts are correct, the World Tree and its Fruit must hold the secret to level up. Maybe I can reach Level 2 if I get my hands on the World Tree Fruit?¡¯


    It was a bold and audacious thought.


    ¡®Is it my hunger?¡¯ Pinaka shook his head, ¡®No, it¡¯s my own will.¡¯


    The hunger was surely making him delirious, but he quite welcomed it. His current state¡ªon the brink of starvation¡ªwas perfect for deciphering the power system and exploiting it to his advantage.


    He hadn''t eaten a morsel since birth. If things continued like this, it was only a matter of time before hunger consumed him completely. But the moment he ate, the moment he gave in, he would lose his heightened senses and become no different from the other Elves.


    ¡®I might not even feel this sense again, I must take advantage of my current stage. Not like I am going to be fed anytime soon anyway.¡¯


    As the Elves finished their meager dinner and began shuffling back to their cells, some cast hesitant glances in his direction. A few wanted to help him but didn¡¯t dare act¡ªthe soldier was still nearby, watching.


    Pinaka remained sprawled on the floor, unmoving. Taking advantage of the commotion, he focused his eye on the Elf with the strange scent from earlier, tracking his every movement as he disappeared into the crowd.


    And then, just before the last of the Elves vanished into their cells, recognition struck him.


    His eyes widened.


    ¡®So, it was Zetaka.¡¯


    His other neighbour.


    ¡­


    Gangnea Daily Article #11


    Knowledge is power. And On Gangnea, knowledge literally translates into power.

 Chapter 012 | Bloody Fang

    Pinaka decided to stop the charade and find more about Zetaka. He lifted his head and stared at the soldier with feigned desperation.


    ¡°Scram!¡± the soldier barked.


    Pinaka wasted no time. He scrambled to his feet and hurried toward his cell but paused briefly outside Mahnaka¡¯s. Raising his thumb to his nose, he took a sniff. ¡®It¡¯s the same scent as Zetaka.¡¯


    To confirm, he lifted his arm and inhaled near his armpit. ¡®Petrichor.¡¯


    Pinaka returned to his cell and settled down while maintaining contact with the seedling growing there. He focused on his olfactory senses, and waited patiently. Only when the scent of the Human soldier finally faded from the prison did he rise to his feet.


    He walked to the nearby cell and stood before it, thinking for a moment before entering it, ¡°Hey, Zetaka¡­¡±


    He acted puzzled and suddenly faked a stumble, using the darkness as an excuse to collapse upon Zetaka, ¡°S-Sorry!¡±


    ¡°What the¡­ fuck?¡±


    Zetaka had fallen asleep the moment he returned to his cell, only to be jolted awake when Pinaka suddenly collapsed onto him. Instinctively, his hands shot toward Pinaka¡¯s throat, stopping just before making contact. His voice, laced with confusion, came out in a hushed whisper.


    ¡°Pinaka?¡±


    His brows furrowed as he tried to make sense of the situation. ¡°Why are you in my¡ª¡±


    Before he could finish, Pinaka was already backing away, slipping out of the cell.


    ¡°Sorry, I entered by mistake.¡± His voice carried exhaustion, dragging each word as he shuffled sluggishly back to his own cell.


    Zetaka frowned, clicking his tongue in irritation before shaking his head. ¡°Weirdo,¡± he muttered before lying back down and drifting off once more.


    Meanwhile, Pinaka slumped against the corner of his own cell, pressing gently against the seedling with his back. His lips curled ever so slightly, almost devilish in their amusement.


    ¡®Zetaka, what are you hiding?¡¯


    While musing over his thoughts, Pinaka touched the seedling with his index finger, channeling his authority to make its sprouted leaf wave gently. At the same time, he turned his focus inward, attempting to manipulate his own body¡ªjust as he had done with the seed.


    He recalled the sensation from before and tried to replicate it, concentrating on a single spot on his skin, willing it to shift. A faint bulge formed under his flesh. At the same time, the scent emanating from the wound began to change.


    The next moment, something shifted.


    The connection between him and the seedling was severed. The leaf instinctively recoiled from his finger, as if rejecting him.


    ¡®The moment I focus on controlling a body, my authority over wood begins to fade. Even though both are partly, or mostly, both are composed of hydrocarbons.¡¯


    Wielding authority came naturally to every sentient Race on Gangnea. As long as Pinaka remained in contact with a tree, he could sense its vitality, synchronize with its pulse, experience its life¡¯s journey, and influence it however he pleased. But now, his understanding of the Authority became clearer.


    ¡®This power system is granting me Authority. But I am merely wielding that authority, not owning it.¡¯


    And to ¡®own¡¯ this Authority, he will have to become more powerful.


    Wood Race of Elves¡ªLevel 2 (Creation)!


    Once he reached that level, his authority over wood would become fully his, unrestricted and absolute. Until then, he was only borrowing it.


    If I try to control a physical body before that, the World Tree will likely reclaim my authority.


    His gaze shifted to the left, toward the wall separating his cell from Zetaka¡¯s. His mind replayed the moment of contact, dissecting the sensation.


    ¡®That might have been the case with Zetaka. No¡­ I¡¯m almost certain. The moment I touched him with the intent to control his body, my authority faltered. It was the same feeling when I clutched the human soldier¡¯s leg and tried to connect with the flesh.¡¯


    The original Elves might have refrained from expressing their authority over the bodies of living beings. It might have been labelled a taboo or the thought might have never occurred to them, due to the way they lived for thousands of years.


    ¡®However, any bloke from Earth with a decent education should know that organic matter is composed of hydrocarbons,¡¯ Pinaka mused.


    ¡®I¡¯m pretty sure many Elves who had been reincarnated from Earth must have thought about it. But after realizing that attempting to control living bodies might cost them their authority over Wood, they never went through with it.¡¯


    ¡®Only one did.¡¯


    Pinaka¡¯s thoughts drifted to Zetaka, and his expression darkened.


    ¡®The change must have been reflected in his Status Window. So, how did he avoid detection?¡¯


    The rest of the night passed in silent contemplation. From the gnawing hunger, he was unable to fall asleep due to the intensity of it. Following the olfactory senses that had been stimulated thanks to food, Pinaka¡¯s auditory senses expanded to their limit.


    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    His body was instinctively trying to perceive the soldier¡¯s footsteps and claps, which meant it was time for dinner. ¡®I have only experienced it for two days but my body is tuned to it.¡¯


    ¡®Whatever the Humans are doing here, it¡¯s working.¡¯ He could feel why none of the Elves succeeded in breaking free from the prison. ¡®But I won¡¯t remain stuck here.¡¯


    He made a decision then and there. Before I adjust to this place, I¡¯ll break out.


    His body was in full survival mode, heightening every instinct, every reflex. His current state of mind could adapt quickly to the way authority functioned in this world, and perceive changes around him, allowing him to grasp its rules with startling clarity.


    But the moment his mouth tasted even a single morsel of food, he knew that desperation would fade.


    My limit is how long I can endure this hunger.


    Three days. Maybe less.


    The night dragged on, but Pinaka remained awake, keeping his senses sharp. The prison was silent, save for the slow, steady breaths of the other Elves. Every single one of them had succumbed to exhaustion, falling into deep slumber.


    They had no choice. If they didn¡¯t sleep after dinner, they wouldn¡¯t have the strength to work the next day.


    And any slacker was met with a Fire Whip.


    Pinaka knew firsthand how much it hurt. Even a mild lash had left a deep wound on his cheek, one that still ached and hadn¡¯t healed yet.


    ¡®No one wants to be whipped,¡¯ he thought, listening to the rhythmic breathing of the sleeping Elves. ¡®So they¡¯re all asleep.¡¯


    Which is why¡ªaside from those secretly plotting to escape¡ªno one else even knows about this¡­ shit.


    Pinaka¡¯s nose twitched as he inhaled the scent of six Humans entering the prison. Their steps were light, almost soundless.


    Unlike the soldiers, who wore tough leather shoes that clanked against the stone floors, this group moved with deliberate silence. Their footwear was soft. More than that, their gait lacked the rigid, trained movements of soldiers.


    ¡®They don¡¯t have that controlled stride soldiers usually have.¡¯


    It was only a guess¡ªafter all, he had only been alive for two days¡ªbut his instincts told him he was right.


    He shifted closer to the entrance of his cell, and brought his attention to the pillar where the Elf had been nailed.


    According to Mahnaka, the Elf¡¯s name was Rulruka. Back on Earth, he had been a politician. And upon awakening on Gangnea, he had tried to negotiate with the Humans.


    It might have worked¡ªif he had been the first to try.


    Whatever value Earth¡¯s knowledge had to offer had already been extracted from the first batch of Elves who had attempted to barter for their freedom. As a result, Rulruka¡¯s words held no weight, and he was reduced to nothing more than a living potion factory.


    Nailed to the pillar for all to see. Drained of his blood. Again and again.


    That¡¯s a horrible life.


    A shudder ran through Pinaka¡¯s body. His wounds throbbed, his fingers trembled involuntarily. Maybe it was anger. Maybe it was pain. Maybe he was too damn hungry to think straight. In that moment, he felt an urge to rush out and slaughter the six Humans upon hearing suppressed cries from Rulruka.


    STAY!


    He mentally roared at himself, gripping the cold metal bars.


    And then, he simply¡­ observed.


    He allowed his senses to expand, to piece together the unfolding scene. Even without seeing, he could perceive everything.


    ¡°Slow!¡±


    A hushed voice cut through the still air¡ªthe leader of the group. ¡°Don¡¯t make too much noise.¡±


    At his command, a second Human, clad in grey robes, climbed a 20-meter ladder positioned against the towering pillar. Once he reached the top, he inserted a metal lever into Rulruka¡¯s mouth and cranked it open. The Elf¡¯s jaw creaked in protest, but he was powerless to resist.


    Below, a wooden box was slowly lifted via a pulley system attached to the side of the ladder. Once it reached the top, the robed Human carefully pried it open, revealing a fruit no different from a plum¡ªexcept for its vibrant green hue and the golden vein patterns running across its surface.


    Wood Relic¡ªWorld Tree Fruit!


    It was no larger than a thumb, yet its potency was undeniable.


    The robed Human picked it up and carefully placed it into Rulruka¡¯s forcibly opened mouth. The Elf trembled violently, wanting to resist. But nailed to the pillar, he could do nothing. His body was immobilized, and his throat had long been crushed to prevent him from screaming.


    The leader below placed another box onto the pulley system, watching as it was lifted toward the top. Once it reached him, the grey-robed Human opened it, revealing a glass container with an opening designed to fit the rear of the fang lodged in Rulruka¡¯s chest.


    He picked it up, carefully aligning it with the fang before securing it in place.


    ¡°Ready,¡± the robed Human confirmed.


    The leader nodded. ¡°Begin.¡±


    Without hesitation, the grey robed Human pushed the World Tree Fruit down Rulruka¡¯s throat. The moment the Fruit went in, the Human pushed the fang deeper into Rulruka¡¯s chest and stabbed into the heart.


    ¡°G¡­a¡­h¡­¡±


    A muffled yet audible sound escaped Rulruka mouth. That was all his crushed throat could muster amidst unbearable pain as his eyes turned moist. His heart had been pierced.By all logic, he should have died instantly.


    But instead¡­ he remained alive.


    Meanwhile, the World Tree Fruit¡¯s effects became visible to the naked eye.


    His body, bound by the authority of Wood, reacted instinctively. Even as pain coursed through his body, his Authority latched onto the World Tree Fruit, and began extracting its regenerative properties.


    His heart began to heal, and in mere seconds, most of his ruptured organs had healed, with muscles fibres stitching themselves.


    That was the sheer potency of the World Tree Fruit. It is said that even if ones head were to be crushed, it would regenerate.


    The grey-robed Human, well-versed in this gruesome process, knew from experience that the World Tree Fruit¡¯s effects had already taken hold. Without hesitation, he grabbed the fang and began thrusting it in and out of Rulruka¡¯s chest, puncturing his heart over and over again.


    Each time the organ was pierced, it instantly regenerated, only to be stabbed again.


    And with every stab, a stream of blood was drawn into the fang and funneled into the glass container attached to its base.


    The container had about one-liter capacity, and within a few seconds, it was completely filled with fresh, uncoagulated blood. Without pause, the grey-robed Human detached the container and dropped it.


    Another Human, stationed below, was already prepared¡ªhe caught it seamlessly.


    By the time the filled container reached the ground, another empty glass container had already been raised via the pulley system. The grey-robed Human wasted no time, swiftly attaching the new one to the fang.


    The cycle continued.


    Pinaka observed everything through his heightened senses.


    ¡®The World Tree Fruit!¡¯


    ¡®It definitely holds the key to reaching Level 2.¡¯


    Staring at the pinned Elf, a plan formed in Pinaka¡¯s head.


    ¡®I¡¯ll find out!¡¯


    ¡­


    Gangnea Daily Article #12


    The Sentient Races introduced until now are: Humans, Elves, Dwarves, Ogres, and Vampires.

 Chapter 013 | Sneaky Seed Container

    Staring at the fang used to repeatedly stab the elf, Pinaka had a feeling it wasn¡¯t just any normal fang.


    ¡®Could that be¡­ the Vampire Race¡¯s Relic?¡¯


    His gaze focused on the blood stream that would spurt every time the human would stab Rulruka¡¯s heart. He hadn¡¯t been certain before, but now that he had the World Tree Fruit as a reference, he could state it with confidence.


    The World Tree Fruit carried the dense, rich scent of a thriving forest, while the fang exuded a scent just as intense¡ªexcept it was pure bloodlust. Each time the fang stabbed into Rulruka¡¯s heart, the Elf¡¯s heartbeat stopped, only to be revived instantly by the fruit¡¯s regenerative powers.


    Before long, the humans had about twenty two containers full of the elf¡¯s blood. And by the time the last container was full, the regenerative powers of the World Tree Fruit were also dissipating. At last, the grey-robed human then carefully retracted the fang, pulling it back just enough so that it no longer punctured the heart but remained lodged partway into the chest.


    The World Tree Fruit¡¯s regenerative factor kicked in immediately, sealing the muscle fibers around the wound.


    ¡°Finish it.¡±


    From the floor, their leader let out a cold and decisive command.


    After securing the final glass container in a prepared crate, the grey-robed Human turned back to Rulruka. He gripped the lever that had been forced into the Elf¡¯s mouth and pressed a concealed button.


    A bendy apparatus shot down Rulruka¡¯s throat, shredding his vocal cords.


    His body twitched violently, but no screams escaped¡ªhis voice had already been lost long ago.


    Earlier when Rulruka had been force fed the World Tree Fruit, his vocal cords had healed as well due to the regenerative effect. Now, the humans were making sure they left the elf in his prior state. It was mainly a precaution.


    With the intuitive power system, prolonged contact with the World Tree Fruit must have allowed Rulruka to unravel deeper insights into their Authority. But if he managed to share that knowledge with others, the Elves would eventually reclaim enough power to stage a revolt.


    A few seconds later, the lever was removed, the grey-robed Human studied Rulruka carefully. With the lingering effects of the World Tree Fruit, the elf was healed just enough to survive for another day, and that was all that mattered. Tomorrow, they would do it all over again.


    ¡°Double-check the nails,¡± the leader commanded from below.


    The grey-robed Human methodically inspected them, his fingers tracing each one as he confirmed their placement. After a thorough check, he muttered under his breath, ¡°It¡¯s impossible to free him from the nails without killing him.¡±


    The nails weren¡¯t ordinary restraints. Each one had internal extensions that ran through Rulruka¡¯s body. If anyone attempted to pull them out, they would rupture his internal organs, ensuring a swift, agonizing death.


    The Humans had meticulously prepared for every possible scenario.


    They allowed the Elves the illusion of freedom, but in reality, they had layered failsafe mechanisms to crush any potential rebellion before it could take root.


    And of course, the other tactics they employed daily made the Elves more and more resistant to the idea of seeking freedom.


    ¡®They¡¯re leaving.¡¯


    Pinaka remained perfectly still, his senses tracking the six Humans as they exited the prison.


    Two of them carried the ladder, while the other four transported the crate, filled with approximately 22 liters of Rulruka¡¯s regeneration-rich blood.


    Once he was confident there were no humans left, Pinaka slowly, silently, stepped out of his cell. His bare feet made no sound against the cold stone.


    The prison was pitch-black, completely devoid of light. Moving cautiously, Pinaka flailed his hands around to orient himself as he made his way downward.


    The layout was simple¡ªno obstacles, no unnecessary structures. As long as he stuck to the walls and walked forward, he would eventually reach the flight of stairs. That was how all the Elves navigated during dinner time.


    Of course, it was easier then. The soldier on duty always carried a weak source of light, making movement slightly more manageable.


    Now, however, he had only his senses to guide him.


    Soon, Pinaka reached the base of the pillar, relying entirely on scent to determine Rulruka¡¯s position.


    For a brief moment, he manifested his Status Window¡ªjust an instant¡ªbefore retracting it immediately.


    His plan worked. Even in the darkness, he hoped Rulruka had seen that flicker of light. Pinaka stood in silence, waiting.


    A few seconds passed before a faint light flashed in response¡ªRulruka had briefly manifested his Status Window. Pinaka exhaled slowly, feeling an odd sense of relief.


    A silent acknowledgement. More importantly, Rulruka displaying his Status Window meant one crucial thing¡ª


    ¡®There¡¯s no one watching us right now.¡¯


    If someone had been monitoring them, Rulruka would never have risked responding.


    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    Pinaka took another moment to analyze his own Status Window. When he had flashed it earlier, he had carefully observed the intensity of its glow.


    ¡®If it only appears for an instant, the light from my Status Window is nothing more than a weak flash. It probably won¡¯t radiate far enough to be noticed.¡¯


    His earlier experiment confirmed it. The light wasn¡¯t even strong enough to reach the prison walls, let alone be visible through the tunnels leading outside. Still, he had only flashed it briefly, just to be absolutely certain. And Rulruka reciprocated in the same manner.


    That confirmed his theory. But something else caught his attention¡ª


    The moment Rulruka¡¯s Status Window appeared, Pinaka had caught a glimpse of his stats.


    He inhaled sharply.


    ¡®What the hell¡­?¡¯


    [Name: Rulruka]


    [Race: Elf]


    [Authority: Wood]]


    [Control Factor: 1]


    [Weight Factor: 1184]


    [Volume Factor: 22]


    [Range Factor: 84]


    [Speed Factor: 12]


    [Spell: Seed Overgrowth, Crop Maturity]


    ¡°Do the six Humans have higher stats than you?¡± Pinaka whispered. He quickly added, ¡°Flash it once for yes and twice for no.¡±


    Two flashes.


    ¡®His stats are well beyond what we¡¯ve been allowed to build.¡¯


    [Control Factor: 1]


    [Weight Factor: 12]


    [Volume Factor: 1]


    [Range Factor: 4]


    [Speed Factor: 2]


    That was the absolute upper limit the Elves could reach. If they exceeded it, they faced one of two fates¡ªdeath or turned into the Potion Factory. If there was already someone designated as the Potion Factory, then the only option left was execution.


    ¡®Mahnaka told me that Rulruka was put here on the night of the same day he was born.¡¯ Pinaka thought and asked, ¡°Did your Stats improve so much just by consuming the World Tree Fruits?¡±


    One flash.


    Yes.


    Pinaka¡¯s breath slowed.


    That single response told him everything he needed to know.


    ¡°¡­Thank you.¡±


    Having listened to Rulruka¡¯s suffering earlier, Pinaka understood one crucial thing¡ªRulruka was desperate. He had nothing left to lose, which was why he was cooperating so readily. The continous stabs to his heart, and then getting his body broken again at the end was an excruciating experience. And he was suffering the same every night.


    ¡®There are risks involved, but I don¡¯t have to worry about being exposed. He wants to survive just as much as I do.¡¯


    Pinaka took a step closer.


    ¡°Please open your mouth,¡± he whispered.


    To reassure him, he flashed his Status Window once, then extended his palm, revealing the seedling growing in his grasp. ¡°I want you to keep this in your mouth,¡± he explained, his voice steady but urgent. ¡°Use it to store a small portion of the World Tree Fruit.¡±


    Rulruka had more than enough stats to carry out this task without issue. So, Pinaka explained the plan to him.


    A thin root tendril, no thicker than a strand of hair, would coil around one of his teeth for support. From there, it would extend into his throat, forming a tiny container inside him to store a fragment of the World Tree Fruit.


    Once the Humans left, Rulruka would use his Control Authority to pull the root back, bringing the stored portion to his mouth, where he could spit it out.


    Through this method, Pinaka would obtain a small amount of the World Tree Fruit¡ªjust enough to confirm his hypothesis.


    And if he was right? Then he would attempt a much bolder move.


    ¡°Do this for me,¡± Pinaka promised, ¡°and I swear I¡¯ll free you soon. In a matter of days. I promise.¡±


    A single flash.


    Rulruka agreed.


    And in the flash, their eyes met. Both felt each other¡¯s desperation.


    ¡®Good! Unlike Mahnaka, he¡¯s desperate. And his situation warrants it¡ªhis stats are too high. The Humans can decide to kill him at any moment.¡¯


    For about the next forty minutes, Pinaka kept throwing the seedling, feeling increasingly exhausted with each failure. Every time the seedling failed to reach Rulruka¡¯s mouth, he groaned mentally. He turned its structure to be more suited to be thrown, like a dart, considering its small size and limited weight.


    Still, failure after failure mounted. His muscles pulsed and his limbs felt as if they would fall off. But then¡ª


    A flash.


    Finally!


    Rulruka had caught the seed in his mouth.


    Without hesitation, he began the preparations, adjusting the seedling as instructed. After securing it properly, he flashed his Status Window once more, signaling he was ready.


    Pinaka let out a slow, measured breath and whispered, ¡°Then, I¡¯ll see you tomorrow.¡±


    Dragging his exhausted body across the prison floor, he forced himself back toward his cell. In his current state, each step was agonising, and hunger had grown even more unbearable, amplifying the pain from the burn wounds on his face.


    ¡®It¡¯s hell!¡¯


    ¡®Fucking hell!¡¯


    He collapsed the moment he reached his cell.


    But he didn¡¯t rest.


    Even in his weakened state, he forced his mind to remain sharp, his senses attuned to every shift in the air, every scent, every distant footstep.


    His thoughts raced, locked onto one goal¡ªReaching Level 2.


    Creation!


    Creation of Wood!


    Creation of Hydrocarbons!


    ¡®Then, if I¡¯m able to create Wood, my Status Window will reflect that. But how would it define it?¡¯


    Pinaka pondered over it, narrowing his thoughts to a single conclusion.


    ¡®Creation Factor seems like the correct term¡ªafter all, Level 2 is literally called Creation.¡¯


    He clenched his fists, feeling the strain in his exhausted body but ignoring it.


    ¡®By ingesting the World Tree Fruit, I¡¯ll be able to sense matter being created within me. If I can fully synchronize with that process, I should be able to reach Level 2.¡¯


    It wasn¡¯t a far-fetched conclusion, neither was it without any basis. But Pinaka was also aware that even if he succeeded in reaching Level 2 and gained Creation Factor, it may not be enough. After all, The Elf King¡ªa being far beyond Level 2¡ªhad still died.


    ¡®Then anything less than complete authority over Hydrocarbons is worthless.¡¯


    His gaze sharpened as he watched Zetaka pass by his cell. It was morning now.


    That was his next target.


    While reaching Level 2 in Wood, he would simultaneously reconstruct his thumbs, using the power of the World Tree Fruit to do it.


    But before that¡­


    ¡®I need to know how Zetaka hides the truth about himself from others.¡¯


    ¡­


    Gangnea Daily Article #13:


    Despite their recent population boom, the Human Race isn¡¯t the most populous on Gangnea.

 Chapter 014 | Other Side of the Elven Race

    Year 19¡ª36th Day of the 8th Moon!


    Sniffing test. Weight test. Skin rubbing test.


    The routine never changed.


    Pinaka stood in line, his chest rising and falling heavily as he panted behind Zetaka. Hunger clawed at his stomach, and his throat was unbearably dry.


    ¡®Two more days¡­ just two more!¡¯


    ¡°Status?¡± The soldier¡¯s voice was flat, mechanical.


    Zetaka barely reacted before Pinaka staggered forward. His knees buckled, and he collapsed onto Zetaka¡¯s back just as the latter manifested his Status Window.


    The soldier didn¡¯t so much as blink. He glared at Zetaka who had lost balance and then he stepped closer to Pinaka, nudging him with his boot¡ªonce, twice¡ªbefore delivering a sharp kick that flipped him onto his back.


    The soldier withdrew a whistle, brought it to his lips, and blew. The shrill sound cut through the heavy silence. Then, without another word, he returned to his post, his gaze flicking toward Zetaka, who stood frozen.


    ¡°Status?¡± The soldier repeated, his tone flat.


    Zetaka swallowed the anger burning in his gut and forced himself to look weak, trembling as he re-manifested his Status Window. He knew to act better and let out a faint whimper.


    ¡°Y-Yes.¡±


    He was then allowed to head to his hectare land.


    When the soldier waved him off, he wasted no time moving toward the tunnel that led to his allotted hectare of land.


    His footsteps were light, but inside, his thoughts were anything but.


    ¡®That bastard¡­ what the fuck is wrong with him?¡¯


    He clenched his fists, the muscles on his right hand twitching as if hardening into nails. ¡®I tried to be decent to him since Mahnaka seems to value him, but fuck that.¡¯


    If Pinaka pulled something like that again, Zetaka wouldn¡¯t hesitate. He¡¯d break him.


    Still¡­ he placed a hand over his chest, feeling his heart pounding against his ribs. That was close. ¡®If I hadn¡¯t retracted my Status Window fast enough, I would¡¯ve been found out.¡¯


    A shadow passed in the tunnel. Zetaka¡¯s body tensed as he hunched his back further, keeping his gaze down. ¡®That oily bastard is here.¡¯


    Rachad.


    ¡®Pinaka will suffer today.¡¯


    Zetaka stole a glance over his shoulder. Officer Rachad strutted past, barely sparing anyone a glance¡ªuntil Mahnaka appeared in his path. Without missing a beat, Rachad raised a hand and casually conjured a Fire Whip.


    Crack!


    The burning lash struck Mahnaka¡¯s arm, and he yelped in pain.


    Rachad chuckled.


    Zetaka''s jaw tightened, his fingers curling into a fist until his nails bit into his skin. His breaths were slow, controlled.


    But in his mind, the decision was already made.


    ¡®That bastard will die by my hands.¡¯


    ¡®Sooner or later.¡¯


    Zetaka grunted as he watched Rachad let out arrogant cackles upon hearing Mahnaka¡¯s screams.


    ¡°How long must I wait, Mahnaka?¡± Zetaka¡¯s voice was low, edged with impatience as he stepped closer. Rachad was gone, but his presence still lingered like a shadow.


    Mahnaka didn¡¯t look up. He was busy applying a salve to his foot, where the Fire Whip had barely grazed him. The wound wasn¡¯t deep, but the pain showed in the sweat dripping down his face. He let out a sharp breath but kept his voice steady.


    ¡°Until you¡¯re strong enough.¡±


    Zetaka scoffed. ¡°Yeah, yeah, by then, I¡¯ll turn into a wimpy ass like you.¡± His eyes flicked over Mahnaka¡¯s body, the countless scars telling stories of past suffering. He snorted, turning to leave¡ªbut after a few steps, he halted.


    His voice faltered. ¡°I¡¯m¡­ not sure how long I can endure this.¡± His fingers clenched into a fist. ¡°It¡¯s suffocating. My body is failing me, and my mind is slipping into darkness.¡±


    Mahnaka¡¯s expression softened. ¡°Just a little more time,¡± he pleaded. ¡°I¡¯ll convince that Dwarf soon.¡±


    ¡°¡­Forget it.¡± Zetaka barely spared him a glance. He checked their surroundings, ensuring they were alone before whispering, ¡°Status.¡±


    A dull green window flickered into existence before him. Unlike the bright emerald hue of normal Elves, his was tainted with hints of grey¡ªa mark of his transformation.


    [Name: Zetaka]


    [Race: Dark Elf]


    [Authority: Fauna]


    [Control Factor: 2]


    [Weight Factor: 208]


    [Volume Factor: 1]


    [Range Factor: 8]


    [Speed Factor: 32]


    [Spell: Status Epidermis, Great Wings]


    He stared at the numbers, his jaw tightening. ¡®This isn¡¯t enough. I can kill a small group of Humans at best¡­ before they burn me to ashes.¡¯


    He dismissed the window with a frustrated hiss.


    He turned to Mahnaka, gripping his shoulder, his hand trembling with barely contained desperation. His eyes burned with something close to madness.


    ¡°I need space, Mahnaka, my growth is limited by this Prison,¡± he whispered. ¡°If I can train without being noticed, I¡¯ll get stronger. And then¡ª¡± his fingers dug in deeper¡ª ¡°I¡¯ll kill that monster.¡±


    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    A gut-wrenching scream tore through the tunnel.


    Both of them turned sharply.


    Pinaka.


    Zetaka exhaled through his nose, his expression unreadable as he stared down the tunnel. ¡°Something like that, on a larger scale, would be enough to distract the Humans.¡± His voice was eerily calm. ¡°Make a distraction, Mahnaka.¡±


    Mahnaka nodded. ¡°I will do that¡ª¡±


    Zetaka¡¯s hand shot out, fingers wrapping around Mahnaka¡¯s throat.


    ¡°Not you, dumbass,¡± he growled. ¡°Find someone else to die.¡± He released his grip, stepping back with a sneer. ¡°Like it or not, you¡¯re the only one who can reach the Dwarf. Cowardice aside, you¡¯re still useful.¡±


    Mahnaka rubbed his neck but didn¡¯t protest. ¡°¡­Alright,¡±


    ¡®Frustrating.¡¯


    Zetaka swallowed his urge to strangle him on the spot. He needed Mahnaka¡ªfor now.


    As they walked toward their designated fields, he glanced sideways, watching Mahnaka begin tending to their crops.


    ¡®Ever since I became a Dark Elf¡­ I lost my authority over Wood.¡¯


    ???????????


    ¡°AAARGHHH!¡±


    Near the prison¡¯s central pillar, Pinaka¡¯s screams echoed through the dimly lit chamber. His agony was drowned out only by the sadistic cackles of Rachad.


    ¡ªCrack!


    The Flame Whip cracked in the air before lashing across Pinaka¡¯s thigh. The smell of burnt flesh filled the space, accompanied by the sickening sound of sizzling skin.


    ¡°Do you find it so hard to obey, slave?¡± Rachad sneered, his voice laced with twisted amusement. His whip slithered across Pinaka¡¯s leg like a living thing, leaving behind angry red burns.


    Pinaka convulsed, foam gathering at the corners of his mouth. His body trembled, unable to even voice resistance.


    ¡°Urgh¡­ keuk¡­¡± His choked cries barely escaped his lips.


    ¡°You¡¯re nothing but disposable trash.¡± He smirked. ¡°Your beloved World Tree keeps spitting out more of you. What difference does it make?¡±


    He flicked his gaze to a nearby soldier, who stood silently with a notepad in hand.


    ¡°How much has this baby contributed?¡±


    The soldier flipped a few pages, his expression unreadable. ¡°Nothing yet. It¡¯s only been two days since its birth.¡±


    Rachad let out a low whistle. ¡°Well, I¡¯ll be damned.¡±


    His grip tightened, pulling Pinaka upright by the hair until their faces were inches apart. The Elf¡¯s head lolled to the side, barely conscious.


    ¡°You¡¯re a lucky one.¡± Rachad chuckled. ¡°His Majesty has ordained that all Elves be given grace until their first harvest. Only then are they disposed of if they fail to meet expectations.¡± He tapped Pinaka¡¯s cheek, tilting his head to get a better look at the dazed expression.


    ¡°Well? What are you waiting for?¡± His voice dropped to a whisper, predatory. ¡°Holler your gratitude.¡±


    Pinaka barely registered the words. But self-preservation kicked in.


    ¡°L-Long live¡­ His Majesty!¡± he rasped.


    Crack!


    A slap struck his face, tearing through what little remained of his strength.


    ¡°Again,¡± Rachad demanded, his eyes glinting with cruel delight.


    Pinaka sobbed, his body shuddering, but his lips moved nonetheless.


    ¡°L-Long live¡­ His Majesty¡­¡±


    His voice broke as he slumped forward, unconscious.


    Rachad exhaled, clicking his tongue. ¡°Wake it up.¡±


    The lined-up Elves flinched, their bodies quivering. Not a single one among them had been spared his whip, and none dared to meet his gaze.


    His eyes drifted over them before settling on a particular figure.


    Nunaka.


    Rachad¡¯s smirk deepened. He glanced at the soldier, arching an eyebrow. The soldier nodded once.


    ¡®Ah. So it¡¯s finally reaching its limit.¡¯


    Nunaka¡¯s stats had been growing too fast. Despite the Elf¡¯s efforts to suppress its strength, even simple farm work had continued to push its limits.


    Rachad¡¯s fingers twitched in anticipation. It¡¯s getting too strong to be useful as a potion factory. That means it¡¯s time for disposal.


    Turning to Nunaka, he issued a casual command which could seal the elf¡¯s fate.


    ¡°If that baby Elf isn¡¯t working the fields in an hour¡­¡± He let the threat hang, watching tension stiffen Nunaka¡¯s frame.


    Then, with a smirk, he finished, ¡°You¡¯ll be graduating from slavery.¡±


    ¡°M-My Lord!¡± Nunaka¡¯s voice trembled, his desperation leaking through every syllable. ¡°I¡­ I¡¯ve been obedient! Please¡ªhave mercy¡­¡±


    Rachad didn¡¯t respond. Instead, he casually raised his hand, and the Fire Whip coiled around his fingers, flickering ominously.


    Nunaka¡¯s breath hitched.


    ¡°I-I¡¯ll wake him up.¡± He swallowed hard and nodded meekly. ¡°Please¡­ not the whip¡­ I beg you¡­¡±


    Rachad merely smirked. ¡°Time¡¯s ticking.¡±


    With that, he turned away, his gaze drifting across the line of cowering Elves. A few steps later, he raised his arm and struck¡ªa random tall Elf kneeled in pain under the lash.


    Just because.


    The notepad-holding soldier watched, unimpressed. ¡®Guess it doesn¡¯t matter how much he harms them.¡¯


    His eyes flicked toward Pinaka¡¯s motionless form, then to Nunaka¡¯s frantic expression.


    ¡®The World Tree birthed six more Elves today.¡¯ His fingers tapped against the notepad thoughtfully. ¡®It¡¯s time to be rid of the unnecessary ones, then¡¯.


    He flipped through the pages and began marking names. Six were needed. Six would be erased.


    Pinaka¡¯s name was added.


    Nunaka¡¯s name was added.


    His pen hovered over the page before jotting down their execution dates.


    ¡®His Majesty¡¯s decree states that newborns must be given a grace period until their first harvest. That means the earliest I can set for Pinaka is the end of the month.¡¯


    He finalized the report, readying it for the Warden.


    ¡®Five days left.¡¯


    ???????????


    ¡°G-Get up,¡± Nunaka stammered, nudging Pinaka¡¯s shoulder. No response.


    His nudging turned to shaking. ¡°Wake up!¡±


    But no matter what he did, Pinaka didn¡¯t get up.


    Panic surged through him. He gulped, glancing at the other Elves as they shuffled toward their farmlands. One after another, they disappeared into the tunnels, leaving him alone.


    ¡®No, no, no, I can¡¯t be left behind!¡¯


    Heart pounding, Nunaka grabbed Pinaka by the leg and began to drag him toward his respective field.


    ¡®I¡¯ll think of something once I get him there.¡¯


    The rough stone floor scraped Pinaka¡¯s already mangled body. Blood smeared against the ground, staining the path behind them. His skin tore further, deepening his wounds.


    Nunaka gritted his teeth, his arms burning with exhaustion. His breaths came in ragged gasps.


    ¡°Shit¡­ shit¡­ shit¡­!¡±


    His malnourished body shook with effort, struggling to pull Pinaka even an inch further. He crouched low, digging his feet against the ground as he leaned back, using his full body weight to keep moving.


    His muscles ached. Sweat dripped into his eyes.


    Yet, he kept going.


    Because if he stopped¡ªif he was caught falling behind¡ªhe¡¯d die too.


    ¡®It... doesn¡¯t hurt. Not at all.¡¯


    Pinaka¡¯s eyes flickered open¡ªjust for an instant. He caught a glimpse of Nunaka¡ªteeth clenched, muscles straining, every movement fueled by desperation. He felt himself being dragged, his wounds scraping against the rough stone floor.


    Yet, there was no pain.


    His mind sharpened. ¡®Adrenaline?¡¯


    A slow exhale.


    ¡®Perfect.¡¯


    ¡ªThump! Thump!


    He focused, feeling his thumping heart as an invigorating sensation pervaded his being, allowing Pinaka to feel complete control over his body. ¡®So this is what Zetaka was doing.¡¯


    [Spell: Status Epidermis!]


    Pinaka¡¯s exhaustion, his weakness, his agony¡ªall of it vanished. A numbing wave settled over his body as adrenaline flooded his system, but this wasn¡¯t just natural instinct.


    No.


    He had triggered it. Controlled it.


    ¡®Thank you, Zetaka.¡¯


    Hiding his real stats through a false membrane.


    His perception expanded. Wood.


    That¡¯s what it felt like¡ªhis once rigid, unyielding form now shifting under his will, like a block of wood shaped by a master craftsman.


    And it wasn¡¯t just his body.


    ¡®Nunaka.¡¯


    Pinaka felt him. Every tremor in his exhausted frame, every strained breath. The moment their bodies touched, his Control Factor locked onto the connection. His mind mapped Nunaka¡¯s movements as if they were his own.


    Eyes still closed, Pinaka smirked.


    ¡®I¡¯m ready.¡¯

 Chapter 015 | Graduating From Slavery

    Technically, Pinaka could manipulate Nunaka¡¯s body while maintaining physical contact¡ªthough only its structure. Controlling him like a puppet would require far more precision, knowledge, and experience than he currently possessed.


    Still, he held back.


    Because the moment he actively altered another living body, he would lose his authority over Wood.


    To retain both abilities, he needed to harness his control over Wood and physical bodies simultaneously.


    If his instincts were right, he had to reach Level 2 for that to happen. That was his conjecture, built upon the heightened awareness he had developed in the desperate grip of survival. Near death had only sharpened his senses further.


    Whether or not his theory held true¡ªhe would find out tonight.


    A piece of the World Tree Fruit would decide his fate.


    If his guess was correct, he would evolve. If not, he would simply consume it to heal himself and move to Plan B.


    And if there was no Plan B?


    He would think of one.


    ¡®I¡¯ve lived my entire life struggling.¡¯


    This place terrified him. The thought of spending another day here was enough to choke him with despair. But none of that mattered.


    Because what truly scared him¡­


    ¡®To never see my family again.¡¯


    ¡ªThump!


    ¡°Gah!¡±


    Nunaka gasped for breath as he finally collapsed, their destination in sight. Pinaka¡¯s farmland stretched before them, tiny seedlings barely sprouting from the soil.


    Spent and trembling, Nunaka reached out, his hands shaking Pinaka¡¯s unmoving form sprawled over the fragile crops.


    ¡°G-Get up¡­¡± he croaked, his voice raw. Nothing. ¡°Get up, you damn bastard! Get up!¡±


    Desperation twisted his face, turning his expression almost inhuman. His nails dug into Pinaka¡¯s skin.


    ¡°I can¡¯t¡­ I won¡¯t die in this dump¡­¡± His voice cracked.


    ¡°Get up! Please, get up!¡±


    A slow breath. A calm voice.


    ¡°You¡¯re noisy, dude.¡±


    Pinaka¡¯s eyes flickered open, meeting Nunaka¡¯s stunned gaze.


    ¡°¡­You¡ªyou¡¯re awake!¡± Nunaka¡¯s relief exploded into messy sobs. Tears streaked his dirty face, snot dribbling faintly from his nose, but he didn¡¯t care.


    He clutched at Pinaka¡¯s shoulders, shaking him lightly.


    ¡°Thank goodness¡­ I won¡¯t be dying soon.¡±


    His relief was short-lived. Panic replaced it.


    He leaned in close, frantic.


    ¡°Please don¡¯t make a mess. Just work.¡±


    His breath hitched.


    ¡°Work, damn it! If you don¡¯t work, I¡¯ll be punished! Please¡­ I beg you!¡±


    Pinaka didn¡¯t react. Instead, his hand shot out, gripping Nunaka¡¯s arm.


    Nunaka flinched.


    ¡°What¡­?¡± His voice quivered.


    Pinaka¡¯s gaze sharpened. ¡°How long have you been here?¡±


    Nunaka stiffened. ¡°How long I¡¯ve been here? What does it matter?¡±


    He turned away. ¡°I¡ª I have to get back to work¡­¡±


    Pinaka¡¯s voice stopped him.


    ¡°Were you a farmer on Earth?¡±


    Nunaka flinched mid-step. His shoulders tensed.


    ¡°You¡¯ve got nothing to gain from that.¡± He huffed, shaking off the unease and taking another step¡ªOnly to stumble. His feet refused to move. Pinaka had latched onto them.


    ¡°Let¡­ go!¡± He jerked his leg, trying to shake him off.


    Pinaka tightened his grip. ¡°Just answer my question, and I will.¡±


    Nunaka gritted his teeth, his frustration boiling over. He raised a fist. Before he could swing, Pinaka spoke quickly, his voice urgent. ¡°If you hit me, I¡¯ll faint.¡±


    Nunaka paused. Pinaka knew to strike while the iron was hot.


    ¡°And I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll wake up before your time limit runs out.¡±


    ¡®Damn it.¡¯


    Nunaka exhaled sharply. ¡°Tch!¡± His voice was tense, uncertain. ¡°I was a game developer.¡±


    Pinaka¡¯s grip didn¡¯t loosen. ¡°Oh? What kind of game?¡±


    Nunaka¡¯s eye twitched.


    ¡°Fucking let me go.¡± His voice was strained, but he didn¡¯t move. ¡°Stop fishing for information¡ªit¡¯s useless.¡±


    Pinaka didn¡¯t respond.


    Nunaka scowled. ¡°It was just a traditional fantasy RPG. Elves, Dwarves, Dragons, the usual crap.¡±


    ¡°¡­Were the Elves in your game like us?¡±


    ¡°By appearance? Yeah.¡± He grunted, struggling against his grip. ¡°But that¡¯s where the similarities end. The Elves there used magic, but the stuff here? It¡¯s different.¡±


    ¡°Have you ever thought why the World Tree reincarnated you here?¡± Pinaka¡¯s voice was rough, barely holding together. ¡°Just answer this, and I¡¯ll let go.¡±


    Nunaka ripped his leg free, stumbling back. With his ragged breath, he glared at Pinaka.


    ¡°We all know what a fantasy world is,¡± he muttered, wiping sweat from his forehead.


    ¡°Elves, the World Tree, Dwarves¡ªbasic stuff. Anyone who¡¯s played a damn RPG knows that.¡±


    He took a shaky step back, then another, before finally turning away.


    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    ¡°¡­I don¡¯t care what you¡¯re trying to do.¡± His voice was flat, distant. ¡°Leave me out of it.¡±


    And then, he ran.


    Nunaka hurried away, heart pounding, afraid of missing his farming quota. But as he reached the tunnel leading to his farmland, something nagged at him.


    ¡®Wait¡­¡¯


    A cold realization crept in.


    ¡®How did he know?¡¯


    How the hell did Pinaka know about the one-hour time limit¡­ if he was unconscious the whole time? Nunaka''s stomach twisted.


    ¡®Unless¡­¡¯


    His hands clenched.


    ¡®He was awake through all that pain?¡¯


    A shudder ran through him.


    ¡®What kind of bastard¡­?¡¯


    Nunaka shook his head, forcing the thought away.


    ¡®Doesn¡¯t matter. Just survive.¡¯


    That¡¯s all that mattered.


    He hurried back to his farm, trying to push the unease out of his mind.


    ¡®It¡¯s been days since Rachad last whipped me.¡¯


    Maybe¡­ just maybe¡­ Things were finally looking better.


    ???????????


    Pinaka watched Nunaka scoot away and then slumped back on the soil.


    ¡°Another broken man.¡±


    His thoughts drifted.


    ¡®There¡¯s a clear conflict between our mentalities from Earth and what we are now as Elves. It¡¯s messing with our heads. Or rather, most of us barely have a personality at all.¡¯


    Fight. Fright. Flight.


    Every Elf here had latched onto one of the three, moving like a machine. No real thought, no real choice¡ªjust an instinctual response to survive.


    Pinaka exhaled, feeling the soft seedlings against his back. For a second, his mind cleared. But the moment he relaxed, blackness pressed in.


    ¡®Damn. If I fall asleep now, I¡¯m screwed.¡¯


    ¡ªThump! Thump!


    He focused on himself and with careful effort, he nudged his own body, imposing his will to keep the adrenaline flowing. ¡®Good, I can exercise this level of control without any issues.¡¯


    As long as he didn¡¯t force a physical transformation, he could keep his authority over Wood. That was the line. He wouldn¡¯t cross it. Not yet.


    Pinaka sighed. ¡°At least this much works in my favor.¡±


    A warm trickle ran down his back. His own blood.


    The scorched skin had torn open, soaking into the soil. The seedlings beneath him absorbed it, drinking the nutrients. A single sprout shivered, then grew. Its stem stretched forward, thin and fragile, until it touched his wound.


    A leaf unfurled. Soft. Gentle. It pressed against his back like makeshift gauze. Then, a faint itch spread through his skin¡ªa sign of healing.


    Pinaka lay still, barely breathing. He let the saplings grow, guiding them with just enough control to close his wounds¡ªbut not fully.


    Too much healing, and Rachad would take notice.


    Too little, and he¡¯d bleed out.


    It was a compromise.


    Just a few more days. Then, he could start planning his escape for real.


    ¡ªTap! Tap! Tap!


    The rhythmic tap of boots echoed through the farmland as Rachad exited the tunnel. His gaze landed on Pinaka, who sat hunched over, tears streaking his face, his body trembling as he worked. He grunted through the pain, coaxing seedlings into saplings, his hands shaking with effort.


    Rachad¡¯s eyes flickered toward the bloody mess on Pinaka¡¯s back. A slow grin curled on his lips before he turned and disappeared back into the tunnel.


    Pinaka kept up the act a little longer, making sure the soldiers stationed along the wall saw him struggle. Only when their attention wavered did he wipe his tears away.


    As his fingers pressed into the soil, coaxing seedlings to grow, his foot brushed against a young sapling.


    It reacted instantly, wrapping around his leg, shifting, reshaping itself. Within seconds, it had molded into a shoe, soft but sturdy, cushioning his feet.


    He took a cautious step, testing the sensation. Less pain. That was good.


    He continued across his field, moving slowly, naturally¡ªnot too fast, not too direct. Every step brought him closer to the far edge of his farmland, near the wall.


    He subtly eyed the soldiers on the wall, ¡®Good, they¡¯re looking elsewhere.¡¯


    It was lunchtime. The Human soldiers were distracted, their focus no longer on the farms. Timing had been crucial for him, and so far, everything was lining up.


    Pinaka exhaled quietly, ¡°Slowly.¡±


    He lifted his right foot, pressing it against the mortar wall. The sapling wrapped around his foot had already shifted, its roots reshaping to form a grip. The moment his foot touched the surface, the roots extended and dug in, anchoring themselves several centimeters deep.


    Plants did this all the time¡ªbreaking through concrete, creeping through asphalt. He had seen it happen countless times on Earth. Now, he was relying on that same resilience to carry out his plan.


    He took another breath, steadying himself, and repeated the process on his right hand. The roots hanging from the glove latched onto the stone, burrowing in like tiny claws.


    Then the left hand. Then the left foot.


    His Control Authority only let him manipulate one object at a time. That meant he had to trust that the other shoe and gloves were strong enough to hold his weight.


    He hesitated¡ªjust for a second.


    Then he pushed forward.


    Carefully, he released his right glove from the wall, moving it forward, planting it again. The roots dug in. Next, his left glove.


    Then the right shoe.


    Finally, the left.


    Bit by bit, Pinaka began to climb.


    Pinaka had climbed a little over four meters before he felt the strain. A good portion of the roots had torn off during the ascent, leaving him tense. ¡®It¡¯s not enough to reach the top.¡¯


    Slowly, he climbed back down, landing lightly on the ground. His eyes fell to his makeshift shoes and gloves, their surfaces showing clear signs of wear and tear.


    ¡°Not bad for a test run.¡±


    The sapling¡¯s size had clear limitations¡ªit simply wasn¡¯t strong enough to handle his full weight. The shoots and roots had torn during the climb, unable to keep up with the strain.


    Stepping closer to the wall, he noticed tiny root tendrils still lodged in the cracks.


    They had broken off when he climbed.


    His control wasn¡¯t refined enough yet. Some roots had remained stuck in the wall, wasted.


    ¡®I need to get better at this. Every piece lost is a weakness.¡¯


    The traces were faint¡ªonly noticeable from up close. Pinaka ran a hand over the wall, gathering dust, then rubbed it over the exposed roots. The texture blended in, leaving no sign of his attempt.


    Satisfied, he stepped away.


    As he walked, the sapling shoes shifted, morphing back into their original plant form, roots sinking into the soil once more.


    The moment his foot touched the next seedling, it transformed¡ªturning into a shoe around his foot. A few seconds later, it reverted to its sapling state and rooted itself back in place.


    Step after step, he repeated the process.


    Each time, the transition became smoother, faster, more precise.


    ¡®This is how I¡¯ll train.¡¯


    His work continued as usual, but with every step, he refined his control¡ªshortening the time it took to transform, learning to manipulate the process with greater efficiency. Steady progress. That was all that mattered.


    ???????????


    ¡°You¡­ need to eat,¡± Mahnaka said the moment evening arrived.


    He crouched beside Pinaka, carefully examining his wounds before applying a salve over them. His touch was gentle but firm, his voice laced with guilt.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry I couldn¡¯t help you this morning. I wasn¡¯t able to leave my farm.¡±


    Pinaka watched him silently.


    ¡®Yeah, you were stealthily working on Zetaka¡¯s farm too.¡¯


    He had seen it¡ªwhen he climbed the mortar wall that afternoon. But he didn¡¯t say anything.


    Instead, he met Mahnaka¡¯s gaze and simply said, ¡°Thank you for your help. I appreciate it.¡±


    Mahnaka nodded, saying nothing more.


    A smaller stone wall, four meters high, divided each hectare of farmland. Near the tunnel entrance leading into the hexagon, an open space served as the meeting point before the Elves were sent back. That was where Mahnaka met Pinaka before their return.


    Now, as evening settled, Pinaka, Mahnaka, Zetaka, and three other Elves from their hexagon stood in line to return to the prison.


    They froze.


    Officer Rachad stood waiting, right before the pillar. A team of thirty soldiers flanked him on either side.


    In Rachad¡¯s hand, he held a scroll, its edges decorated with Elven skulls.


    Mahnaka¡¯s face was drained of color. His steps slowed.


    ¡®Someone¡¯s dying today.¡¯


    Mahnaka and Zetaka locked eyes. Zetaka¡¯s stare was sharp. Unreadable.


    Mahnaka took a deep breath. Then, his expression shifted¡ªa mix of resignation and quiet determination.


    ¡°Now!¡±


    Officer Rachad¡¯s voice boomed across the space. All the Elves had gathered. Slowly, he unrolled the scroll.


    A drawing of a face stared back at them. Rachad lifted it high.


    ¡°The one whose face is painted here¡ªstep forward.¡±


    A heavy silence fell.


    Rachad¡¯s lips curled.


    ¡°You¡¯re graduating from slavery today.¡±

 Chapter 016 | Lava Moat And Sky Boulder

    Year 19¡ª36th Day of the 8th Moon!


    Early in the morning, a metal carriage sped through the dense expanse of T¡¯Hara Forest. Inside, Pronto and his team of soldiers sat tense and alert. One of the periscopes at the top peeked out, and a soldier¡¯s voice rang through the vehicle.


    "I see the World Tree!"


    ¡°Good,¡± Pronto uttered, his voice steady despite the sharp pulses of pain from his left arm. The bruises stretched like ink stains beneath his skin, and the faint scent of charred flesh lingered from where he had burned the muscles to stop the poison¡¯s spread. His fingers flexed, assessing movement. ¡®Still usable. That¡¯s enough.¡¯


    Exactly forty kilometers from the World Tree, the metal carriage came to a halt in a region where the forest had been completely cleared. The ground was coated in ash, forming a loose, unstable topsoil. The vehicle struggled to move forward, as if attempting to traverse a desert¡ªterrain it was ill-equipped to handle.


    "It''s hot!" a soldier grumbled as he hurriedly jumped out. His eyes widened as he took in the sight before him¡ªa colossal gate towering over the landscape.


    Standing at forty meters tall and stretching two hundred meters wide, the gate was framed by an arch of solid mortar. Behind it loomed a small fortress, built to accommodate a thousand men. Atop the walls, a row of metal ballistae stood, their design unmistakably the work of the Dwarven Race¡ªwielding authority over Metal.


    Each ballista was designed to launch two-meter-long javelins, powerful enough to bring down an Ogre in a single strike. Forty of them lined the fortress wall, each manned by a team of four.


    Yet, despite the fortress¡¯s imposing defenses, the gate itself was nothing more than thick wooden panels, divided into five-meter-wide sections. From a strategic standpoint, it made little sense¡ªany determined force could breach it with ease. But that was precisely the intention. If an enemy army approached, the gate would be burned to ashes, denying them the ability to use it as cover.


    The land surrounding the gate had been scorched clean, leaving behind a barren stretch two kilometers wide. It provided an unobstructed view of any incoming force¡ªa deliberate measure taken by those watching over the gate.


    This was the Ogre Gate!


    The World Tree stood at the heart of T¡¯Hara Forest. In recent years, the land surrounding it had been transformed into the Elven Prison. Fifteen entry points granted access to this heavily guarded region, each secured by a gate.


    These gates bore the names of the territories their ash roads led to, marking the domains of the various Races.


    ¡°State your identity!¡±


    A soldier atop the gate bellowed, his voice amplified by a conical device as he spotted the approaching metal carriage.


    ¡°I am Pronto, ordained as the 48th Prince by His Majesty, The Emperor!¡±


    Pronto stepped out of the carriage, flanked by his team of soldiers. He raised a hand in salute. ¡°Our transport was wrecked on our way back from a mission into the Land of the Ogres. We seek refuge and repairs.¡±


    The soldier on the wall studied them for a moment before disappearing to relay the information. Moments later, a middle-aged man emerged, flanked by twenty soldiers. His burly frame was accentuated by a thick reddish-white mustache, and he moved with the confidence of someone accustomed to authority.


    He wore armor crafted from the hide of a Level 2 Ogre¡ªtough, resistant to physical attacks, and nearly impervious to blades. The Humans had only needed to capture one such beast. The secret to repeatedly harvesting its skin?


    Healing Potion.


    A concoction created from the blood of an Elf¡ªextracted through the Vampire Race¡¯s Relic¡ªafter it had consumed a World Tree Potion. Upon consumption, it could heal virtually any wound, allowing the same Ogre¡¯s hide to be regrown and harvested indefinitely.


    Due to the potion¡¯s cost, only noble-born Humans who had reached Level 2 were granted armor made from Ogre leather.


    The burly man¡¯s belt was lined with essential supplies: two Healing Potions, a grappling hook, a rolled fishing net, an emergency ration, and a small canteen of water¡ªalways prepared to charge into battle at a moment¡¯s notice.


    Pronto took in the sight of the burly man, masking the brief wave of relief behind a sharp nod. ¡°Sir Nancho, good. That simplifies things.¡± His stance remained firm, his injured arm tucked at his side as if it were of no consequence.


    Nancho¡¯s sharp gaze landed on him. ¡°Prince Pronto?¡± Recognition flashed across his face before he saluted. ¡°An honor to welcome you, Your Highness!¡±


    His eyes flicked toward the metal carriage. ¡°The fact that you¡¯re here¡­¡± He trailed off, his expression turning expectant.


    Pronto gave a slight nod. ¡°Yes, we succeeded.¡±


    ¡°And?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve come here to seek refuge and repairs.¡± Pronto¡¯s voice dropped slightly. ¡°There¡¯s probably an army of Ogres trailing us, so¡­¡±


    Nancho stiffened at that. ¡°Your Highness.¡± He saluted once more before turning to his men. ¡°Open the gates!¡±


    As the doors groaned open, he blew into a whistle. A soldier hurried over, quill and parchment in hand. Nancho quickly scrawled a message, signed it, then pressed his personal seal onto the paper. He handed it over.


    ¡°Deliver this to the Warden. Immediately.¡±


    The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    The soldier sprinted into the fortress and returned moments later, pushing a vehicle that resembled a bike. It had two wheels, a sleek metal body, and a seat carved from stone. A series of metal pipes stretched along the back, forming exhaust-like vents.


    At the heart of the machine, positioned just before the seat, was a fist-sized pearl. The air around it seemed slightly darker than the rest of the environment.


    Fire Relic¡ªSun Stone.


    It absorbed sunlight, storing energy for propulsion. As the soldier climbed onto the bike, he placed his hand on the Sun Stone. Instantly, fire coursed through the pipes, turning them red-hot. A powerful thrust of flame erupted from the vents, propelling the bike forward.


    With a fiery trail in its wake, the soldier sped off toward the Elven Prison.


    After their crushing defeat, the Elves faced total annihilation at the hands of the Humans. But the World Tree, in a desperate bid for survival, reached beyond this world¡ªpulling the souls of dead humans from Earth and reincarnating them as Elves.


    Some of these reincarnated Elves, desperate to escape captivity, tried to bargain for their freedom, offering their knowledge in exchange. But the Humans had no intention of honoring such deals. They extracted, analyzed, and implemented everything of value¡ªtwisting foreign concepts into their own power system.


    The metal carriage and bike were direct results of this knowledge.


    Of course, Relics were far too valuable to be used recklessly. They were only deployed in secure territories, where the risk of theft or destruction was minimal.


    "Please follow me," Nancho instructed as his subordinates pushed the metal carriage through the gate.


    Every inch of it was inspected¡ªexcept for a section safeguarded in the center. Only once the soldiers confirmed there were no security risks was it allowed entry.


    The carriage was first taken to a sealed chamber within the fortress. Inside, Nancho turned to Pronto and saluted.


    ¡°Now, please allow me to verify your claims.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Pronto said smoothly, stepping forward without hesitation. His eyes flicked across the chamber, tracing the nail-wide grooves along the walls. Oil flowed through them. A fire-based defense¡ªefficient but ruthless. ¡®Nancho is thorough¡¯, he noted, storing the information. Even in a supposed place of safety, he never stopped assessing.


    Nancho remained cordial, but as a Gate Officer, he was always prepared for the worst. As a Level 2 Human, he didn¡¯t need oil, but his subordinates relied on it. If danger arose, all it would take was a single spark. The fire would engulf the gates, turning the entrance into an inferno that only Humans trained in fire control could navigate.


    The wooden gates weren¡¯t a weakness. They were a trap.


    ¡ªBang!


    The metal door groaned as Nancho pushed it open. His gaze remained fixed for a moment, taking in the object before him.


    It was a stone¡ªa pyramid-shaped relic with rough, chiseled edges. Moss clung to its coarse surface.


    Despite being a solid block of rock, it hovered effortlessly in the air, restrained only by thick metal chains bolted to the floor. The chains creaked under tension, barely managing to keep the stone in place.


    Stone Relic of Ogres¡ªSky Boulder.


    Breaking free from his reverie, Nancho quickly slammed the door shut. Only he and Pronto were present¡ªensuring no word of the Relic would leak, even among the common citizens of the Human race.


    Nancho exhaled sharply, then bowed. "I''ve confirmed the Ogre Race''s Relic."


    Lifting his head, he smiled. "Congratulations, Your Highness!"


    His voice carried genuine admiration. "You''ve accomplished something scholars once deemed impossible without first defeating the Ogre Race."


    Pronto let out a short breath. "It wasn¡¯t easy." Then, with a smirk, he added, "But ¡®impossible¡¯ isn¡¯t in my dictionary."


    Nancho chuckled. "I¡¯ve heard of your past feats, Your Highness." He nodded. "That¡¯s why I recognized you, despite living in this fortress for over a decade."


    "You flatter me, Sir Nancho." Pronto grinned.


    Escorted outside the chamber, he stepped beyond the fortress walls¡ªonly to freeze in place.


    His eyes widened in shock.


    Before him stretched a landscape of fire.


    "What in the horrors happened to this place?"


    Stretching a kilometer wide, a searing lavascape sprawled before Pronto. Though much of it had solidified, leaving cracked, drought-like terrain, rivers of molten lava still coursed through the deep gaps in the hardened surface. The sheer heat radiating from the ground gave the entire landscape a dull, orange glow.


    As Pronto stared in disbelief, a truck rumbled up on the other side of the lava. Soldiers hopped off, unloading stacks of firewood and tossing them into the lavascape.


    The moment the wood caught fire, the heat surged. Solidified sections of rock melted, allowing the lava to flow freely once more.


    The lava moat encircled the entire area¡ªspanning forty kilometers around the World Tree like an unbreakable ring of fire.


    Pronto¡¯s brows furrowed. ¡°You must be feeding it constantly to keep it from solidifying.¡±


    ¡°We keep it alive.¡± Nancho replied, his tone matter-of-fact. ¡°Many personnel stationed in the Elven Prison exist solely to ferry firewood into the moat.¡±


    He gestured towards the lavascape. ¡°Look there.¡±


    Floating at its midsection was a head-sized pearl, hovering just above the lava¡¯s surface.


    ¡°That thing regulates the heat, ensuring the lava never cools.¡±


    Nancho extended a hand. A controlled stream of fire left his palm, flowing into the Sun Stone. The moment it absorbed the energy, the stone flashed red-hot. A wave of heat pulsed outward, and in response, the lava brightened¡ªshifting from dull orange to searing yellow.


    Dozens of Sun Stones were strategically positioned along the Lava Moat. They absorbed sunlight and discharged the excess heat into their surroundings, which maintained the Lava Moat. If the temperature dropped¡ªwhether from cool winds or heavy rain¡ªa Level 2 Human would recharge the Sun Stones with fire, rekindling the moat¡¯s intensity.


    And when an immediate boost was needed, large volumes of firewood were dumped in at once, igniting an inferno.


    ¡°An impressive display,¡± Pronto remarked, though his gaze sharpened as he studied the searing expanse. ¡°But isn¡¯t this excessive? None of our enemies should be foolish enough to challenge the Elven Prison¡ªnot with HIM present.¡± The way he said it wasn¡¯t hesitation, but a test, watching Nancho¡¯s response closely.


    Nancho nodded. ¡°You¡¯re right.¡± His expression darkened. ¡°But we cannot take chances. None of the Elves can ever escape this place. And no one¡ªnot a single outsider¡ªmust ever make contact with them. We can¡¯t allow them even a sliver of hope.¡±


    His gaze shifted toward the World Tree, the heart of it all.


    ¡°We need them to remain our slaves.¡± His voice was cold. ¡°Because that tree¡­ is far too important to our future.¡±


    He turned back to Pronto, then lifted a hand, pointing skyward.


    Directly above the lava moat, the air shimmered, bathed in a reddish glow.


    ¡°The heat rising from the moat creates an invisible wall.¡± He smirked. ¡°Even a Wyvern¡¯s wings would burn to ash before crossing it.¡±


    His voice carried finality. ¡°No one can breach this moat¡ªnot by land, not by sky.¡±


    ???????????


    Gangnea Daily Article #16:


    A race¡¯s strength is directly tied to the number of Relics it possesses. The World Tree produces more Relics than any other known source. However, unlike standard Relics, the World Tree Fruit is a consumable, making its power temporary rather than permanent.

 Chapter 017 | Fire Tree Amidst Stone Tunnels

    The Elven Prison was a machine, and Pronto admired its ruthless efficiency. Every field, tunnel, and broken body had its place.


    The land within the lava moat was treated as prison property, divided into farmlands, orchards, flower beds, granaries, and factories dedicated to processing plant-based goods.


    Elves were sorted into sectors based on production needs. The sheer volume of goods produced here turned the prison into the economic backbone of the Human Race, allowing those in Human-controlled territories to focus entirely on industrial expansion.


    Stretching from the Ogre Gate across the lava moat was a steel bridge. It glowed red-hot, yet hadn¡¯t reached its melting point¡ªthe metal had been specially refined to withstand extreme heat.


    But that wasn¡¯t all.


    At either end of the bridge, embedded like altar stones, were two Sun Stones.


    Nancho approached the nearest one and pressed his palm against it.


    At once, the metal bridge cooled as the Sun Stone absorbed the heat, drawing it away from the surface. Satisfied, he turned to Pronto.


    ¡°You can cross now, Your Highness.¡±


    Pronto hesitated. ¡°You¡¯re not coming with me?¡± His brow furrowed. ¡°This is my first time here. I need a guide.¡±


    Nancho shook his head. ¡°My subordinate will accompany you.¡±


    A soldier stepped forward, saluting.


    ¡°I have my own duties to attend to,¡± Nancho continued. ¡°Please pardon my inability to personally guide you through the Elven Prison.¡±


    Pronto studied him for a moment before inclining his head. ¡°Thank you for your cooperation. Please, carry on with your work.¡±


    Cupping his fists in respect, he boarded the metal carriage, the soldier stepping in beside him as their journey into the prison began.


    A thrust of flame erupted behind the metal carriage, propelling it slowly across the steel bridge. Now that the bridge was cool, the wheels remained intact, avoiding the risk of melting.


    The crossing took nearly five minutes, and the moment the carriage reached the other side, Nancho removed his hand from the Sun Stone.


    Instantly, the bridge reactivated.


    The metal absorbed the heat radiating off the lava moat, its surface shifting into a dull orange glow. Within moments, it had reached a temperature hot enough to sear flesh on contact. Now, this bridge was a path only Humans could cross.


    Of course, if an Ogre Army attempted to layer it with stone, enough heat would still permeate through, rendering their efforts futile. But that wasn¡¯t the only safeguard.


    The bridge was engineered with weight limitations¡ªit could withstand only so much pressure before failing. For the Ogres to safely cross, they would need to pile an immense amount of stone¡ªfar beyond the bridge¡¯s structural tolerance.


    And if the Humans ever needed to retreat, they had a final contingency. By overloading the Sun Stones, the bridge would heat to near-melting point. If the Ogres attempted to cross in that state, the ends would buckle and collapse, sending them plunging into the lava moat below.


    Even if they somehow found a way to traverse it, the fumes alone were lethal. By the time they accounted for every risk, the Humans would have regrouped and returned with a larger force.


    The moment the metal carriage arrived on the other side, a sharp whistle cut through the air.


    Nancho whipped his head toward the gate just as shadowy figures emerged at the clearing¡¯s edge.


    Without hesitation, flames erupted from his legs, launching him into the air. He landed atop the gate, scanning the approaching figures. A quick glance was all it took.


    Then, he ascended higher, soaring to an altitude of two hundred meters for a better view.


    ¡®One¡­ five¡­ twenty¡­ a hundred¡­¡¯ His eyes narrowed. ¡®There are a hundred Ogres. This will be a tough battle.¡¯


    But what concerned him more was the small team of five at the center. Their stance, their aura, their sheer presence¡ªhe knew exactly what they were.


    ¡®Level 2 Ogres¡­ five of them.¡¯


    Nancho exhaled sharply. ¡°I¡¯ll need serious firepower for this.¡±


    He landed on the fortress wall, his voice sharp and unwavering.


    ¡°Bring me my weapon.¡±


    "I''ll handle the Level 2 Ogres. As for the rest," Nancho bellowed, "Target them with the Ballistae!"


    A minute later, a soldier hurried over, presenting a metal gun embedded with a Sun Stone. The stone was set into the handle, ensuring it remained in direct contact with the wielder¡¯s palm.


    The gun¡¯s design resembled a revolver, built to hold six bullets¡ªthough unlike those on Earth, these bullets were massive, measuring fifteen centimeters in length.


    Each bullet had a tapered front, forged from reinforced metal. The rear consisted of a 12-centimeter-long cylinder, its interior packed with compressed air.


    To fire, the wielder would channel heat from the Sun Stone into the bullet¡¯s rear. The heat would rapidly expand the air, triggering a controlled explosion that launched the bullet forward.


    The weapon was effective, but limited. An Ogre¡¯s hide was too tough for direct penetration. Nancho carried the revolver not to kill, but to blind his enemies before closing in to incinerate them.


    More importantly, he could tap into the Sun Stone¡¯s stored energy to unleash firepower beyond his own capabilities¡ªhis true trump card.


    Slipping a bag of extra bullets onto his belt, Nancho signaled the Ballistae crews to prepare to fire.


    Then, he froze.


    The Ogres had stopped moving.


    Nancho¡¯s eyes narrowed as five Level 2 Ogres stepped forward. They scanned the Ballistae, taking a few moments to observe the layout of the battlefield.


    Then, they summoned stones.


    While the Level 2 Ogres conjured raw stone, the Level 1 Ogres immediately got to work, shaping it with precision. They were building a fortress.


    Nancho¡¯s jaw clenched. "This will be a battle of attrition."


    His instincts screamed that something was off. Ogres were never this patient. They relied on brute force, overwhelming their enemies with sheer numbers and power.


    Stolen novel; please report.


    Yet now, before his very eyes, a stone fortress was rising¡ªbuilt just beyond the Ballistae''s range.


    If the Ogres charged head-on, they would be massacred. Instead, they had adapted. Their plan was clear: they would extend their fortress, inch by inch, moving forward while staying protected.


    "Bring out the oil containers!" Nancho barked.


    If the Ogres thought they could hide behind stone, he would burn them out. He grabbed a barrel of oil, launched into the sky, and prepared to drop it directly onto their fort.


    But by the time he reached overhead¡ª


    The roof was already complete.


    A layered stone structure, tiled like the rooftops in regions prone to heavy rainfall, shielded the entire fortress.


    Nancho cursed under his breath. ¡®Damn it. They came prepared this time.¡¯


    He dropped back to the ground, his face grim.


    "Damn it. They''re digging in for a siege." he growled.


    ???????????


    Hours had passed before the metal carriage finally arrived at its destination¡ªa garage buried deep within afortress.


    Pronto followed the silent soldier through a maze of narrow tunnels, most of which wound underground, where darkness clung to the walls. Small air vents provided circulation, their faint hum the only sound beyond their footsteps.


    The tunnels were clean, well-maintained even, yet there was something suffocating about them.


    ¡®I imagine keeping one¡¯s sanity intact in this place would be an achievement.¡¯


    Even with the ventilation, the sterile corridors carried a dreary weight¡ªan unseen presence pressing in from all sides.


    It was a labyrinth, designed to disorient, to trap. And yet, the soldier never hesitated, not once doubting his path.


    For twenty minutes, they walked without stopping.


    Pronto, accustomed to leading rather than following, finally gave in to curiosity.


    "How¡­ how do you know where to go?"


    The soldier didn¡¯t even glance back. "I apologize, Your Highness. Please refrain from asking. I am merely a grunt following orders."


    Pronto clicked his tongue. "Alright. Forget I asked."


    Instead, he focused on the subtleties¡ªthe way the soldier walked, the barely noticeable tension in his shoulders. He was following something unseen, something Pronto had yet to perceive.


    And then, the realization struck.


    He muttered, half to himself, ¡°We¡¯re following heat.¡±


    ¡ªTap!


    The soldier halted abruptly. His head snapped toward Pronto, his eyes wide with something very close to fear.


    A heartbeat later, he caught himself, saluted stiffly, and forced his voice steady. "I apologize for my behavior, Your Highness."


    He turned and resumed walking, but Pronto noticed the change immediately.


    The soldier¡¯s steps had lost their strength. Before, he had moved with the certainty of duty. Now, he walked as if marching toward the gallows.


    For another hour, they walked deeper into the heart of the maze. The air grew thicker, heavy with something unseen yet inescapable. Then, at last, they arrived.


    The soldier stopped before a massive stone gate, turning to meet Pronto¡¯s gaze.


    His voice was flat, void of emotion. "You were right. We navigate using the heat as a compass. And the source..." He reached for a lever, his hands steady in a way that only made the moment feel more wrong, "Summons your presence."


    With a deep groan, the gate opened.


    Beyond it lay an open field, a full hectare of land blanketed in dew-dripping grass. At its center stood a tree of fire.


    The flames were gentle, flickering softly, their glow washing over Pronto in an eerie, suffocating warmth. Yet, despite its very nature, nothing burned. The grass beneath its roots remained untouched, unscorched, unbothered by the blazing inferno above.


    At a glance, it resembled a banyan tree, its branches thick with opaque flames, swaying as if whispering in a tongue older than language itself.


    Pronto had seen Relics, weapons, war machines, but this?


    This was not natural.


    This was not meant to exist.


    ¡°I have brought Prince Pronto!¡±


    The soldier¡¯s voice rang out, shattering the silence. He prostrated at the entrance, pressing his forehead into the cold stone. Then, after a deep breath, he spoke again.


    "I have fulfilled my role, Your Majesty. I am ready to receive judgment."


    The fire tree burned without sound, its flames flickering softly, almost gentle¡ªuntil suddenly, it stirred.


    And then, a voice emerged.


    A voice that did not need to rise to command. A voice that carried such weight, such presence, that it made the very air shudder in submission.


    ¡°Walk towards me.¡±


    "Yes, Your Majesty."


    The soldier¡¯s voice was steady. Resigned. Without hesitation, he stepped forward, crossing the grassland¡ªand then, as though passing through a veil, he entered the fire.


    There was no scream. No thrashing. The flames did not surge or flicker. They simply swallowed him whole.


    A ripple. Then¡ªashes.


    The remains floated gently down, vanishing between the blades of grass, indistinguishable from the dew. As though he had never existed at all.


    Then, the voice returned, this time directed at Pronto.


    "You must be Pronto."


    It was not a question.


    "That soldier revealed the maze¡¯s secrets to an outsider. So, he chose to retain his honor as a soldier. His family will be compensated for his sacrifice and given preferential treatment for a job of their choosing."


    The voice paused. Then, with a tone of deliberate indifference, the voice added¡ª


    "Since you''re a prince, I offered you an explanation."


    The words hung in the air, cold and absolute.


    "Satisfied?"


    Pronto was already kneeling. He hadn¡¯t even realized it at first.


    Sweat dripped down his face, his body drenched, his lungs burning as though he¡¯d been shoved into a furnace.


    The heat wasn¡¯t coming from the fire tree.


    It was inside him.


    His blood felt boiling, his skin tightening over his bones. His vision blurred for a moment as waves of scalding air pressed into his chest, filling his throat like invisible smoke.


    He was being cooked alive.


    His body screamed, his instincts roared, but he forced himself to remain composed.


    "Yes, Your Highness!"


    The heat stopped instantly.


    Not gradually.


    Instantly.


    The unbearable heat, the suffocating pressure¡ªit was simply gone, as if it had never been there at all. Pronto exhaled sharply, not daring to wipe the sweat from his brow. Before he could fully recover, something fluttered through the air toward him.


    A parchment.


    It did not fall. It did not drift randomly.


    It moved with purpose, floating toward him with an unnatural grace. A thin stream of fire danced beneath it, controlling the air currents with surgical precision¡ªangling, lifting, guiding it forward.


    Pronto snatched it midair, his fingers tightening around the parchment.


    For the first time in a long time, he hesitated.


    ¡®Is this even¡­ humanly possible?¡¯


    He had fought powerful warriors. He had witnessed the might of Relics¡ªbut this was different. This was not strength alone. This was mastery. Perfect, terrifying mastery.


    Unfolding the parchment, he saw what he had come for¡ªwritten permission to meet the Dwarf capable of repairing his metal carriage. A flicker of thought passed through his mind.


    ¡®Father always complained about the Warden¡¯s troublesome personality.¡¯


    Pronto had assumed it was just an exaggeration. It was not.


    The voice spoke again, casual yet absolute, as if granting him a favor out of amusement rather than obligation.


    "An officer named Rachad will guide you to an Elf who is responsible for contacting the Dwarf."


    At that moment, another soldier entered, prostrating at the entrance, awaiting his command. The Warden had already arranged everything.


    "Since you got what you came for, leave."


    There was no room for argument.


    Pronto stood, saluted, and turned, his mind still racing with thoughts. He had never seen the Warden¡¯s face. He had never even glimpsed his silhouette. And yet, it was as if the entire world bent to his presence.


    He was halfway through the exit when the voice spoke again. This time, there was something different in its tone. Amusement.


    "Oh, there''s a small ceremony scheduled at sunset."


    Pronto paused.


    "Rachad is probably en route to organize it. As a guest, you¡¯re welcome to join the fun."


    The stone gate slammed shut behind him. A final whisper lingered in the air, almost like a chuckle¡ª


    "Welcome to the Elven Prison."


    ¡­


    Gangnea Daily Article #17:


    At least one slave from every Sentient Race can be found within Human Territory.

 Chapter 018 | Don’t Pick Me, Sir Enemy

    The evening air was cool, heavy with the damp scent of stone and iron. Torches flickered along the tunnel walls, their light casting elongated shadows as twenty soldiers marched in tight formation. At their head strode Prince Pronto, his crimson hair catching the glow, the faint heat it emitted distorting the air just enough to make it ripple like a mirage.


    Beside him, Rachad walked with a measured pace, his posture composed, his expression respectful. He offered a mild salute before speaking. ¡°It¡¯s an honor to guide you through the Elven Prison, Your Highness.¡±


    Without waiting for a response, he reached into his belt pouch and produced a cylindrical glass container¡ªconical at the base, corked at the top. ¡°Please take this.¡± His voice was even, almost cordial. ¡°I noticed your injuries are still severe.¡±


    ¡°I don''t need it.¡± Pronto didn¡¯t even glance at the potion, his voice as firm as steel. ¡°Save it for someone desperate.¡±


    Rachad pressed the bottle forward, but Pronto merely lifted his injured arm, eyes cold. ¡°This? Hardly a concern. I¡¯ve survived worse.¡±


    ¡°The Warden insists.¡± Rachad extended the potion again, this time without elaboration.


    Pronto exhaled through his nose¡ªbarely a sigh, more like a restrained irritation. ¡°Fine.¡± He took the bottle and tipped it back, drinking the barest amount needed.


    As his wounds sealed, he flicked a glance at Rachad. ¡°There. Your duty to the Warden is fulfilled.¡± The way he said it made it clear¡ªthis was an obligation, not gratitude.


    A familiar warmth spread through his wounds as they began to knit together. He pocketed the rest, intending to pass it on to his soldiers.


    ¡®Another favor owed to the Warden¡­ I wanted to avoid this.¡¯


    As a prince, Pronto had no shortage of wealth. Healing potions were hardly beyond his means. But the Warden wasn¡¯t after wealth¡ªhe was after leverage. A small debt here, another there, until eventually, it became an obligation. With Pronto¡¯s father being a Level 3 Human, equal in rank to the Warden, this was a calculated maneuver.


    And Pronto understood it all too well.


    For now, though, he had no choice but to play along. His mission was complete, but his carriage was in ruins. The Elven Prison¡¯s Dwarf was his only hope for repairs, and only the Warden had the authority to grant access tohim.


    So, for now, he had to dance to the Warden¡¯s tune.


    ¡°Now, I must ask Your Highness to refrain from¡­ unnecessary displays.¡± Rachad¡¯s tone remained formal, yet carefully neutral. ¡°Please show no reaction to the Elves. We don¡¯t want them reading into anything they shouldn¡¯t.¡±


    If Pronto caught the edge beneath those words, he didn¡¯t let it show.


    Rachad, however, was bristling on the inside.


    ¡®If you weren¡¯t a prince, I wouldn¡¯t have even let you set foot in the Elven Prison, much less be your guide.¡¯


    He stole a glance at Pronto, irritation simmering beneath the surface.


    Pronto stood tall at 185 centimeters, his body well-built from countless battles. Even among Level 2 Humans, his stats were impressive for someone his age. But what annoyed Rachad the most was Pronto¡¯s crimson hair¡ªit wasn¡¯t just red, it gave off a soft warmth, heating the air just enough to make his strands lift slightly.


    As he walked, his hair moved like waves in the wind, trailing behind him, almost like a lion¡¯s mane mid-sprint. It made him look noble, effortlessly commanding attention. Even if he wore nothing but rags, people would still be drawn to him¡ªhis looks, his presence, the way he carried himself.


    Pronto was everything Rachad wished he could be but never could. And the more he thought about it, the more irritated he became¡ªso much so that he felt the urge to take it out on a group of Elves.


    Rachad kept his composure, but his fingers curled ever so slightly. A part of him itched to lash out, to vent his frustration on the Elves.


    Pronto, of course, noticed.


    ¡°Thank you for the reminder.¡± His words were smooth, his nod subtle. ¡°I have no intention of overstaying my welcome. You can relax.¡±


    Rachad¡¯s jaw tightened.


    ¡®This smug bastard¡­¡¯


    It wasn¡¯t just acknowledgement. It was a warning. A silent message, laced with a quiet authority that grated against Rachad¡¯s pride.


    ¡®I won¡¯t interfere with your work, so you¡¯d best stay in line.¡¯


    Both were Level 2 Humans, but their standings were vastly different. Rachad was nobility; Pronto was royalty. And if Pronto continued proving himself¡ªif he reached Level 3¡ªhe would one day become King.


    Apart from the duo, the twenty soldiers marched in silence. They eventually arrived at a prison cell where the Elves, forced to farm cereal crops, were held.


    By evening, the Elves returned from the fields, their movements sluggish from exhaustion. But as soon as they spotted Rachad, their tiredness melted into tense wariness. Their eyes darted toward the scroll he held¡ªa scroll with Elf skulls affixed to its ends.


    Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    Pronto remained behind the line of soldiers, keeping to the shadows, observing. His frown deepened.


    ¡®Are these¡­ Elves?¡¯


    They were nothing like what his father had described. There was no arrogance, no defiance, none of the mystical presence he had grown up believing in.


    All he saw were hunched figures, their postures stripped of dignity. Their fear clung to the air like a damp fog, thick and suffocating.


    ¡®These are just cattle, nothing more.¡¯ The thought settled in his mind like cold iron.


    Rachad¡¯s voice cut through the tense silence.


    ¡°Now!¡± He unfurled the scroll, lifting it for all to see. An image had been drawn onto the parchment¡ªa face. ¡°The one whose face is painted here, come out.¡±


    A heavy pause.


    ¡°You¡¯re graduating from slavery today.¡±


    Murmurs broke out among the Elves.


    ¡°That is¡­?¡±


    ¡°My goodness¡­¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m glad it¡¯s not me.¡±


    But the one singled out looked stricken with terror.


    ¡°No¡­ T-this cannot be true,¡± Nunaka stammered, falling to his knees. ¡°I¡­ My Lord, I¡¯ve completed all my tasks¡­ Please, spare me¡­¡±


    ¡°Are you questioning me, slave?¡± Rachad¡¯s Fire Whip cracked against the floor, leaving a scorched mark. The heat it radiated was enough to melt through bone.


    ¡°I¡¯m not!¡± Nunaka cried. ¡°My Lord, I¡¯ll accept any punishment. But please¡­ I beg you¡ª¡±


    ¡°Allow me to live!¡±


    Rachad smirked, his gaze sweeping across the other Elves. He chuckled when they flinched. ¡°Does it feel unfair?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t want to do this either,¡± he said, his voice dripping with false sympathy. He looked down at Nunaka, still trembling on the ground. ¡°But your beloved World Tree gave birth to six new Elves yesterday. And since His Majesty is so compassionate, the babies are allowed to live.¡±


    ¡°Unfortunately, that means six of you must graduate.¡±


    He stepped closer to Nunaka, enjoying the way he shuddered. His voice turned mocking. ¡°If you want to blame someone, blame the World Tree.¡±


    ¡°Please¡­ spare me,¡± Nunaka sobbed, lifting his tear-streaked face. His eyes were desperate as he met Rachad¡¯s gaze. ¡°I¡¯ll do anything¡­ anything! Just let me live.¡±


    ¡°The rules are the same as always,¡± Rachad said, pointing at the gathered Elves. ¡°Pick one of them to fight. If you win, you¡¯re pardoned. If they lose¡­ they take your place.¡±


    Nunaka¡¯s eyes darted wildly across the crowd of Elves, scanning them like a starving beast, desperate to find someone he could kill.


    Rachad could have simply executed him once his stats increased past the limit, but that wasn¡¯t the point. The real goal was to keep the Elves divided, to stop them from ever banding together against their oppressors.


    Every time an Elf graduated, Rachad made sure to remind everyone why it was happening¡ªbecause the World Tree had spawned another Elf. If not for that, the victim could have kept living.


    Over time, this idea took root. A small but growing resentment towards the World Tree had begun to fester among the Elves. And as their connection to the tree weakened, it would become harder for them to improve their strength and reach higher levels.


    Step by step, their potential to reach Level 2 was being crushed. If things kept going this way, a day would come when Elves would completely lose the instinct to evolve, all because of the hate planted inside them.


    The second part of the plan was even simpler¡ªbreak their unity.


    By forcing Elves to fight each other to survive, distrust had spread. It had gone on for so long that some groups had even started keeping a few of their own weak on purpose¡ªeasy sacrifices for moments like this.


    Twenty years of this system had already done its damage. The cracks ran deep.


    ¡®Yup, this is fun!¡¯ Rachad thought, breathing in the moment with satisfaction. Watching Nunaka¡¯s face twist as he scanned the crowd filled him with delight, ¡®Their unity has long since been shattered.¡¯


    ¡°Not me¡­¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to fight¡­¡±


    The older Elves shuddered upon meeting Nunaka¡¯s gaze. The longer they had lived under these conditions¡ªmalnourished, sleepless¡ªthe weaker they had become. To Nunaka, they were easy prey.


    Nunaka wasn¡¯t in much better condition himself. Fifteen years old, worn down by hardship, but still desperate. Just as he was about to pick one of the weakest among them¡ªone who had clearly been bullied into staying weak¡ªhe suddenly stopped.


    His gaze landed on Pinaka.


    Nunaka¡¯s lips curled into a sick smile. ¡®He¡¯s injured. Badly.¡¯


    ¡®When I dragged him earlier, I could feel how damaged his body was. If it¡¯s him¡­¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m guaranteed to win.¡¯


    ¡°Him.¡± Nunaka pointed at Pinaka. ¡°I¡¯ll fight him.¡±


    Rachad raised an eyebrow. ¡°The baby Elf?¡± He seemed mildly surprised but shrugged. ¡°Well, His Majesty¡¯s orders only apply to Humans. If you want to kill each other, that¡¯s none of our business.¡±


    He grinned and cracked his Fire Whip against the ground. ¡°Alright, everyone, clear the area!¡±


    The Fire Whip lashed out, its searing heat forcing the Elves back to the prison¡¯s edges. The twenty soldiers spread out, taking their positions, ensuring no one would interfere.


    Rachad, meanwhile, leaned lazily against a central pillar. His whip extended, its burning length coiling into a perfect circle¡ªfour meters across.


    His grin widened.


    ¡°Now, Pinaka and Nunaka.¡± His voice held a touch of mockery. ¡°Step into the circle.¡±


    A heavy silence fell.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Pinaka.¡±


    Mahnaka rested a hand on Pinaka¡¯s back, his voice thick with quiet grief. ¡°There¡¯s nothing you can do at this point.¡±


    He knew. They all knew.


    Pinaka was in no condition to fight. His injuries alone would seal his fate.


    Mahnaka exhaled. ¡°I can only hope¡ª¡±


    ¡°Save your breath,¡± Pinaka interrupted, his tone drained of emotion.


    Dragging himself forward, he met Nunaka¡¯s gaze, his own expression unreadable. ¡®I have to apologize for what happens next, my brother in this hellscape world.¡¯


    ¡®But I can¡¯t afford kindness.¡¯


    He stepped into the fire-ringed circle.


    Inhaled once.


    Twice.


    Three times.


    And then, he was ready.


    ¡­

 Chapter 019 | Graduation

    ? Content Warning:


    This chapter contains graphic violence, psychological manipulation, forced execution, and themes of oppression. Reader discretion is advised.


    If you find these themes distressing, please proceed with caution or consider skipping this chapter.


    <hr>


    ¡°Since we have a baby Elf participating, let me go over the rules again.¡± Rachad¡¯s voice carried a hint of amusement as he pointed to the circle of fire, its flickering edges casting eerie shadows.


    ¡°This ring has a radius of two meters. Step outside it, and you lose.¡±


    He tapped his boot against the stone floor twice. ¡°Touch the ground with anything other than your feet, and you lose.¡±


    As Pinaka and Nunaka stepped into the circle, Rachad continued, his grin widening. ¡°No punches. No kicks. You may only use your head as a weapon.¡±


    A soldier stepped forward at Rachad¡¯s cue, carrying two identical blocks of wood, each weighing about a kilogram. He handed one to Pinaka and the other to Nunaka.


    ¡°Now, turn this into a gauntlet for your right hand.¡±


    Pinaka took the wooden block, watching as it began to change. Over the course of thirty seconds, the wood expanded, twisting and molding itself around his fingers and palm, solidifying into a crude yet sturdy gauntlet.


    ¡®Strange rules¡­ but I see what he¡¯s doing,¡¯ Pinaka thought.


    Rachad wasn¡¯t just forcing them to fight. He was making them use their Authority over Wood¡ªan ability unique to Elves¡ªagainst each other.


    Even if they hesitated to kill, they would still be the ones shaping their opponent¡¯s demise. The very power that was meant to connect them to the World Tree, to their identity as Elves, was now a tool for their destruction.


    A subtle yet effective way to drive in the wedge of doubt.


    Pinaka¡¯s gaze flicked toward Rachad. His smirk was knowing, satisfied. ¡®He¡¯s enjoying this. Hard to miss with that subtitled face of his.¡¯


    Then, Pinaka turned to Nunaka. The older Elf¡¯s posture had shifted ever so slightly¡ªhis shoulders a little straighter, his grip on the wooden block a little firmer.


    ¡®He¡¯s feeling more confident now. Good. The more confident he gets, the more openings he¡¯ll leave for me to exploit.¡¯


    Purposefully, Pinaka slowed his movements, making it seem as though he was struggling to mold the wood.


    ¡°Hold hands,¡± Rachad ordered.


    Pinaka and Nunaka faced each other, extending their left hands. Their palms interlocked, securing their grip.


    ¡°On my mark, the battle begins.¡±


    Pinaka assessed the situation quickly.


    ¡®Nunaka has the advantage in stats. He¡¯s stronger, faster, and in better condition.¡¯


    Both of them had formed their gauntlets on their right hands. By holding hands with their left, Pinaka was in direct contact with Nunaka¡¯s gauntlet. ¡®If I were skilled enough, I could disrupt his Authority and strip it away from him, but that¡¯s not an option¡ªI¡¯d lose that fight in an instant.¡¯


    His fingers twitched as Nunaka tightened his grip. The pressure was immediate, painful. Even before the battle had begun, he was already trying to crush Pinaka¡¯s hand.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Pinaka.¡± Nunaka¡¯s voice was low, firm. His grip didn¡¯t waver. ¡°I can¡¯t afford to die. There¡¯s still so much I need to do.¡±


    Pinaka exhaled softly.


    ¡°If you truly intend to survive no matter what,¡± he whispered, his voice barely audible, ¡°then promise me this.¡±


    Nunaka hesitated.


    ¡°If you ever succeed,¡± Pinaka continued, his eyes stinging with unshed tears, ¡°please make a wish to reincarnate me on Earth, back with my family. That¡¯s all I beg of you.¡±


    A pause.


    Then, Pinaka slowly loosened his grip, signaling surrender. ¡°If you can promise me that, I won¡¯t resist.¡±


    ¡°I¡­ I promise¡­¡± Nunaka murmured.


    His grip remained tight, his knuckles whitening.


    The rules were clear: no punches, no kicks. They had to remain holding hands. If either of them broke free, the fight would be declared void and restarted.


    Pinaka closed his eyes for a moment, steadying himself.


    Nunaka had already made up his mind to win.


    Pinaka had already made up his mind to fight.


    Headbutting was a terrible option. Even if Pinaka managed to survive the fight, the risk of a severe concussion was too high. And with their lives on the line, Nunaka wouldn¡¯t hesitate¡ªhe would fight until the bitter end.


    Controlling the wood was pointless as well. Statistically, Nunaka outmatched him in every way¡ªstrength, speed, precision. Any attempt at manipulating the gauntlets would be a losing battle.


    That left only one option.


    Grappling.


    Pinaka let his body speak for him. His posture sagged, his grip weakened, his face held nothing but surrender. Every part of him radiated resignation, the acceptance of a man who had already embraced death.


    And it worked.


    Even the onlookers believed it.


    Mahnaka turned his head away, unable to watch. He already knew how this would end. ¡®I¡¯m sorry, Pinaka¡­¡¯


    Nearby, Rachad scoffed, disappointed. ¡°These damn slaves,¡± he muttered under his breath, feeling robbed of his entertainment. Clicking his tongue, he waved his hand dismissively.


    ¡°Well then,¡± his voice rose, ¡°the fight¡ª¡±


    ¡°Begins!¡±


    The moment the words left Rachad¡¯s mouth, Pinaka flinched¡ªjust slightly, just enough. His body jerked as if he had lost his footing, his weight suddenly giving out beneath him.


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    To everyone watching, it looked like an accident. Like he had slipped. Like his body had finally given up.


    Nunaka hesitated.


    That split-second delay was all Pinaka needed.


    As he fell, he subtly twisted his torso to the right, shifting his center of gravity. His grip on Nunaka¡¯s hand remained tight, but now, instead of resisting¡ªhe pulled.


    With a sudden burst of force, he yanked Nunaka down with him.


    His toes dug into the ground, anchoring his momentum. Using the full weight of his falling body, he pivoted. The shift sent Nunaka careening forward, his balance ripped away in an instant.


    By the time Nunaka realized what was happening¡ª


    ¡ªhe was already going down.


    ¡ªGasp!


    The Elves stared in shock, their eyes wide, mouths slightly open. None of them had expected things to turn out like this.


    ¡°Pfff! Hahaha!¡± Rachad burst into laughter, shaking his head at Nunaka. ¡°Seems like even luck isn¡¯t on your side.¡±


    ¡°What¡­?¡±


    Nunaka finally snapped back to reality. The cold, rough ground pressed against his back. He had fallen¡ªsomehow. And lying on top of him was Pinaka, his face just as shocked.


    ¡°Eh¡­?¡±


    ¡°Eh?¡±


    Silence stretched between them¡ªuntil realization crashed down like a landslide.


    ¡°Ah¡­!¡±


    Nunaka scrambled up, his body shaking, his face twisting into something between horror and rage. His throat tightened, his chest burned, and before he knew it, tears were spilling down his cheeks.


    ¡°You¡­ INCOMPETENT BASTARD!¡±


    With a snarl, he lunged, his hands seizing Pinaka¡¯s throat.


    ¡°Why couldn¡¯t you just die properly?! Huh? HUH?!¡± His grip tightened, his fingers digging into Pinaka¡¯s skin. The raw hatred in his voice made the onlookers shudder.


    Then¡ªCRACK!


    The sharp snap of a whip tore through the air.


    Nunaka flinched and stumbled backward.


    ¡°Behave yourself, slave!¡± Rachad snapped, his Fire Whip glowing brighter with heat. He turned to Pinaka and waved a dismissive hand. ¡°Looks like luck is on your side today, baby Elf.¡±


    But Pronto, who had been observing from the sidelines, had some doubts.


    ¡®Was it just luck?¡¯


    He replayed the moment in his head. ¡®Pinaka flinched when Rachad shouted¡­ then somehow lost his balance¡­ but the way he fell¡ª¡¯


    It had been too smooth. Too clean.


    He had pulled Nunaka down with him, but in such a way that Nunaka ended up on the bottom.


    ¡®That kind of accident shouldn¡¯t happen so perfectly. You¡¯d have to try a hundred times to pull it off.¡¯


    Pronto narrowed his eyes at Pinaka for a second. Then, he shrugged. ¡®Whatever. Even if he¡¯s got some brains, it doesn¡¯t matter. He¡¯s never leaving this prison anyway.¡¯


    Rachad clapped his hands together, a wide grin splitting his face. ¡°Now, we begin the graduation ceremony!¡±


    Four soldiers stepped forward, yanking the wooden gauntlets from Pinaka and Nunaka¡¯s hands. Rachad¡¯s Fire Whip curled around them, burning them into nothing but smoke and embers.


    ¡°Circle up, everyone!¡± he barked.


    Mahnaka wasted no time, gripping Pinaka¡¯s arm and pulling him into the formation of Elves. His voice was hushed but firm. ¡°I¡¯m glad you survived.¡±


    Pinaka followed without resistance, but unease settled in his gut as he noticed the other Elves¡¯ expressions. Their faces had gone pale, some trembling as if suppressing the urge to retch. Beside him, Zetaka¡¯s breathing was heavy, uneven, almost furious.


    Pinaka frowned. ¡°What¡¯s happening now?¡±


    Mahnaka exhaled shakily. ¡°Now¡­ Now you will see why no uprising has ever succeeded.¡± His voice was laced with something heavy¡ªdefeat.


    Above them, the human soldiers moved, positioning themselves along the railings on the first floor. They leaned forward, watching with interest.


    Down below, Nunaka stood alone.


    His steps were unsteady as he made his way toward the central pillar. His limbs trembled, his eyes glistened with unshed tears. His lips¡ªbitten raw¡ªbled slightly as he turned to face the gathered Elves.


    His breathing hitched.


    Then, with visible effort, he forced himself to inhale deeply.


    He was preparing himself.


    Pinaka didn¡¯t understand¡ªuntil Rachad¡¯s voice echoed through the prison, amusement laced in every syllable.


    ¡°Now¡ªstone him to death.¡±


    Pinaka¡¯s blood ran cold.


    Pinaka¡¯s eyes widened in disbelief. He turned to Mahnaka, hoping he had misheard. But the disgust and pain on Mahnaka¡¯s face told him everything.


    ¡ªThud!


    Fist-sized wooden spheres dropped to the floor, tossed down from the upper level by the soldiers. The humans all stood above, watching, while the Elves lined up below, trapped in the suffocating space of the ground floor.


    The prison glowed brighter. The heat in the air rose. It wasn¡¯t just from torches¡ªno, this was intentional. The soldiers made sure every Elf could see Nunaka¡¯s face clearly, made sure they could watch every flicker of fear, every desperate twitch.


    A wooden sphere rolled to Pinaka¡¯s feet. He picked it up, fingers trembling with disgust.


    Carved into the surface, in deep, bold letters, was a single word:


    KILL.


    Pinaka¡¯s throat tightened. He glanced around and saw the same word carved upon every sphere. This wasn¡¯t just execution. It was psychological warfare.


    Forcing the Elves to murder their own kind, again and again, with their own hands¡ªwith intent¡ªshattered any chance of unity.


    Even if they refused at first, they would break eventually. And once they did, they could never stand together again.


    Pinaka clenched his teeth so hard that blood pooled at the corner of his lips. ¡®Fucking¡­ SCUM!¡¯ His hands trembled in fury, but he was just as helpless as the rest of them.


    ¡®Soon. One day. Once I have the strength, I¡¯ll change everything.¡¯


    ¡®Once I change everything¡­ I¡¯m leaving this fucked-up world behind. I¡¯m going home.¡¯


    Rachad¡¯s voice rang through the prison like a death bell.


    ¡°I will count down from three hundred.¡±


    The words sent a ripple of dread through the Elves.


    ¡°If Nunaka is still alive when I reach one, we¡¯ll repeat the graduation ceremony. But this time¡­¡±


    Rachad¡¯s grin widened.


    ¡°I¡¯ll randomly pick three more Elves to graduate.¡±


    The room was silent.


    Deadly silent.


    Rachad let the moment stretch, let the weight of his words sink into every mind.


    Then¡ª


    ¡°Shoot!¡±


    ¡ªThud!


    The first throw came from an old, frail Elf. His hands shook, but the aim was off, and the wooden sphere clattered uselessly to the ground.


    He gasped, hurriedly snatching another and hurling it again. This time, it struck Nunaka¡¯s knee.


    The impact was weak. Pitiful.


    But that was what made it cruel.


    None of the Elves had the strength to give Nunaka a merciful death. Instead, he would die by a thousand tiny wounds, each one too weak to end him quickly, but strong enough to make him suffer.


    ¡®This isn¡¯t execution. This is torture.¡¯


    Pinaka stood frozen, his hands gripping the wooden sphere so tightly his nails dug into the wood.


    ¡°Throw it.¡±


    Zetaka grabbed him by the neck, his voice hoarse, his eyes bloodshot.


    ¡°Even if you hate it, throw it. Kill him quickly. Don¡¯t make him suffer.¡±


    His voice cracked, but his grip didn¡¯t loosen.


    Then, Zetaka turned away and threw his own sphere. It struck Nunaka¡¯s forehead, cutting deep. Blood ran down his face.


    ¡°That¡¯s the only mercy we can give him.¡±


    ¡°¡­Fuck.¡±


    Pinaka swallowed hard. His hands shook.


    He raised the sphere.


    ¡®I will succeed in the World Tree¡¯s damn mission.¡¯


    His vision blurred, the blood and dirt mixing together in his eyes.


    ¡®And when I do, I¡¯ll bring everyone back to Earth with me.¡¯


    He flinched as Nunaka stood there, battered, bloodied, but unmoving. His body swayed, but he didn¡¯t collapse. He just¡­ accepted it.


    Pinaka¡¯s grip tightened. His breath hitched. Tears ran down his cheeks.


    ¡®I¡¯ll make up for this, Nunaka. One day, after we return to Earth¡­ I¡¯ll make up for this. So please¡­¡¯


    ¡®Die!¡¯


    And he threw another.


    ¡­

 Chapter 020 | No More Human

    Chapter 20: No More Human


    ¡°144¡­ Wow! You lot are ruthless.¡± Rachad¡¯s laughter echoed through the still prison. The words struck the already distraught Elves with a cruel finality. ¡°You managed to kill it in half the allotted time.¡±


    His chuckle was low, almost amused, but there was something else beneath it¡ªsomething sharper. ¡°Did you despise that poor slave?¡± He tilted his head, feigning curiosity before announcing, ¡°Now, in order, call out the number of times you threw the sphere and successfully hit Nunaka.¡±


    He let the moment linger, lips curling, his expression one of twisted delight. ¡°The one with the lowest score gets ten lashes.¡±


    His tone turned colder. ¡°I¡¯ll verify by counting the wounds on Nunaka¡¯s corpse. If the total you report doesn¡¯t match the number of injuries, everyone gets whipped three times.¡±


    As his words hung in the air, heavy footsteps echoed through the chamber. Soldiers stomped down the stone steps, their boots hitting the ground in a steady, almost threatening beat.


    Rachad flicked his hand toward one of the Elves, his gaze cold and unyielding. ¡°Now,¡± he said. ¡°Tell the truth, or everyone suffers.¡±


    ¡°Four!¡± the first Elf blurted out, his voice tight with panic.


    ¡°Seven,¡± another muttered, his disgust barely hidden.


    ¡°Six.¡±


    ¡°Four.¡±


    One by one, the Elves shouted their numbers, their voices brittle with dread. A soldier stood nearby, recording each answer with methodical detachment.


    Meanwhile, a group of seasoned experts knelt beside Nunaka¡¯s lifeless body. They examined every wound, counting the distinct marks left by the wooden spheres. Their hands moved with the precision of those who had done this countless times before.


    ¡°Fourteen,¡± Zetaka grunted, his red-rimmed eyes betraying his anguish.


    ¡°Seven.¡± Mahnaka trembled, his body stiff with fear.


    ¡°Four.¡± Pinaka¡¯s throat tightened, veins bulging on his neck as disgust churned in his gut. ¡®This world is beyond fucked up.¡¯


    Rachad exhaled through his nose, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his gaze before he spoke again. ¡°One thousand, two hundred and eighty-seven hits.¡±


    His eyes swept over the broken Elves. ¡°You slaves are disgustingly cruel to your own kind.¡±


    Then, with an air of detached curiosity, he turned to the soldiers. ¡°And? What¡¯s the final count?¡±


    ¡°1,282, sir.¡± One of the experts reported, his tone devoid of hesitation.


    In truth, they had counted exactly 1,287 hits. None of the Elves had lied. But that wouldn¡¯t be any fun, would it? Distrust needed to fester, to take root.


    This was why, half the time, the experts deliberately falsified the numbers. Not always¡ªjust enough to keep the Elves guessing and doubting each other. And it worked.


    Because no matter how cruel Rachad was, he had no reason to lie. That was the reality they had been forced to accept. If the numbers didn¡¯t match, the fault had to lie with one of their own¡ªsomeone who had chosen to deceive the rest to save himself.


    Rachad¡¯s grin widened as he snapped his Fire Whip against the stone floor, the crack reverberating like a gunshot. ¡°Well, well... What do we have here?¡± His voice was laced with mock amusement.


    ¡°Who lied?¡± His eyes gleamed with sadistic delight. ¡°We can¡¯t have a liar among us, can we?¡±


    His gaze swept over the Elves, lingering just long enough to let paranoia settle in.


    ¡°So.¡± He spread his arms. ¡°Find the culprit yourselves.¡± A pause. Then, his smile sharpened.


    ¡°Or everyone suffers the consequences.¡±


    ¡°It was him!¡± An older Elf jabbed a finger at a younger one¡ªan easy target, someone his group had tormented before. His voice carried a desperate urgency. ¡°I saw him hit only twice, but he claimed four!¡±


    ¡°He threw three times but lied, saying five.¡±


    ¡°He only threw twice and pretended it was three.¡±


    One after another, accusations flew. Each group shoved someone forward, desperate to shift the blame and fix the count.


    Rachad leaned back. He could never get tired of this. The sheer thrill of it sent a rush through him, almost dizzying.


    With an easy flick of his fingers, he gestured to the accused. ¡°Ten lashes each.¡±


    The Fire Whip cracked through the air.


    ¡°¡ªArgh!¡±


    ¡°¡ªAIEEE!¡±


    Their screams tore through the chamber, raw and jagged, as the lashes cut deep, burning through flesh. The stench of scorched skin mixed with the thick, metallic tang of blood, making the air feel heavier.


    Rachad let it all sink in, soaking up the moment before clapping his hands twice. ¡°Good work, everyone.¡± His tone was almost cheerful, like he¡¯d just wrapped up a normal day¡¯s task. ¡°Back to your cells. You¡¯ll be called when it¡¯s time for dinner.¡±


    No one spoke. The crowd shuffled away in stiff silence, leaving behind only the ragged, uneven breaths of those who had just learned their lesson.


    The soldiers moved through the chamber, gathering up the wooden spheres one by one. They counted them, turned them over in their hands, checking for anything off. Weighing, measuring, making sure nothing had been tampered with¡ªbecause they knew how desperate the Elves were. Only after double-checking everything did they finally leave, dragging Nunaka¡¯s lifeless body with them.


    Two soldiers stayed behind a little longer, scrubbing at the bloodstains. When they were done, they, too, filed out, leaving behind a silence that felt heavier than before.


    Pinaka walked back to his cell, his steps slow, careful. His wide, unblinking eyes stared straight ahead, but as he passed Rulruka, he gave the smallest nod. The plan was still on. That much was certain.


    Tears streamed down his face, burning as they slid over the raw welts on his cheeks.


    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    Once inside his cell, he sank down into the corner, pulling his arms around his knees. His chin rested against them, his breathing shaky as he glared at the iron bars. He was exhausted. Completely drained.


    His body felt like it had nothing left to give. Even sleep seemed impossible. And really, there was no guarantee he¡¯d even make it to tomorrow. He¡¯d pushed himself too far. And now, the weight of it was crashing down.


    ¡®Tonight¡­ I have to do it.¡¯ His fingers dug into his arms. Just one piece of the World Tree Fruit. That¡¯s all he needed.


    The plan had been to talk things through with Rulruka tonight¡ªto go over the details and try to steal a whole fruit tomorrow. That was the backup plan. The safety net in case tonight didn¡¯t work out.


    ¡®I have to do it tonight.¡¯


    He trusted Rulruka. He really did. But if the plan failed, Rulruka would be the one to suffer for it, not him.


    And failure wasn¡¯t an option.


    Not now. Not when all he had to do was survive one more night.


    As he sat there, motionless, Pinaka could hear the quiet cries of the young Elves. The sound filled the prison, slipping through the thick, stale air like a ghost that refused to leave. No one spoke aloud. They didn¡¯t have to. Every Elf had sharp hearing¡ªeach and every one of them could hear everything.


    For Pinaka, the whispers were even sharper. His body, pushed past its limit, had heightened his senses to something unnatural. Every tremble in their voices, every shaky breath, every muffled sob¡ªit all rang in his ears with painful clarity.


    ¡®Damn it.¡¯ Pinaka clenched his fists, his breath catching. The thick, metallic stench clung to his skin. It wouldn¡¯t go away. No matter how much he willed it, it was still there¡ªNunaka¡¯s blood. A sickening, inescapable reminder of what had just happened.


    ¡®I¡¯ll never forget this. Not as long as I live.¡¯


    His mind replayed the scene again and again¡ªthe look in Nunaka¡¯s eyes, filled with quiet resignation. The way he died, bit by bit, at the hands of his own people. His own people. The thought sank deeper, festering.


    ¡°Hic¡­!¡± A sharp breath escaped him, his body trembling on its own. He tried to hold it in, to push it down, but the feeling only grew stronger.


    ¡®If there''s hell, this is it.¡¯


    His chest tightened, bitterness clawing at his thoughts. ¡®I already paid for my sins back on Earth! I already suffered! So why? Why is this happening to me now, just when I finally had a shot at happiness?¡¯


    Something inside him cracked.


    ¡®I will return home. I will return home. I WILL RETURN HOME.¡¯


    His grip on his knees tightened, his fingers digging in so hard they hurt. But the pain barely even registered. He was unraveling. The torture, the powerlessness, the endless cycle of suffering¡ªit was sinking in too deep.


    ¡®I will butcher all the Humans.¡¯


    The shift was subtle, but it was there. An undeniable change. At that moment, he no longer felt like one of them. Humanity was now a different race. And he¡­ he was an Elf.


    Maybe it was madness. Maybe it was just survival. Maybe it didn¡¯t matter.


    But when he thought of his family¡ªhis daughter, his son-in-law¡ªsomething strange happened. His mind twisted the image, reshaping them. He still saw them, still recognized them. But their faces¡­ their features¡­ they weren¡¯t Human anymore. They were Elven.


    He caught it instantly. ¡®That¡¯s not real.¡¯ But the thought didn¡¯t unsettle him.


    ¡®That is that. This is this.¡¯


    Pinaka exhaled, his mind settling into something cold. ¡®I was Human once. When I go back to Earth, I¡¯ll be Human again. But here, on Gangnea, I am an Elf.¡¯


    His eyes darkened.


    ¡®And this Elf will slaughter his enemies.¡¯


    The change inside him was final. His body reacted, his stats shifting¡ªsmall, but definite. His instincts sharpened, his mind clearer than ever.


    This wasn¡¯t just survival anymore.


    This was war.


    And in response to the change, his stats improved, by a little, only accommodating his existing training into their growth.


    [Name: Pinaka]


    [Race: Elf]


    [Authority: Wood]]


    [Control Factor: 1]


    [Weight Factor: 2]


    [Volume Factor: 1]


    [Range Factor: 2]


    [Speed Factor: 2]


    [Spell: -]


    Pinaka knew he was holding himself back. He could feel it.


    His Control Factor was accumulating experience at an alarming rate. His current state¡ªteetering on the edge of death¡ªwas the perfect breeding ground for rapid development. The body unleashed its full potential only when pushed to the absolute limit.


    He was close. Too close.


    ¡®If I push any further¡­ it¡¯ll reach two units.¡¯


    His Control Factor teetered on the brink of two units. If he pushed himself any further, if he trained for just a few more hours in this state, he would reach two.


    And that was not an option.


    ¡®But I have Zetaka¡¯s Spell of Status Epidermis.¡¯


    His heart pounded at the thought. ¡®Once I succeed tonight, I¡¯ll be able to use it without worrying about losing my Authority over Wood.¡¯


    With that resolve, he forced himself to stay awake.


    The prison had quieted. The whispered cries gradually faded, replaced by the heavy, exhausted silence of resignation. Time stretched endlessly as hunger gnawed at their already starved bodies.


    The soldier, ever sadistic, delayed his arrival. It was deliberate¡ªmeant to give the Elves ample time to stew in their misery, to turn their despair into self-loathing.


    ¡ªClap! Clap! Clap!


    The sound echoed sharply through the chamber. A soldier strode in, clapping ten times before wordlessly distributing the food.


    Some of the Elves ignored the rations entirely, too lost in their grief to eat. Others had already succumbed to exhaustion. The meal concluded swiftly, and the prison fell back into silence as the Elves retreated into restless sleep.


    Pinaka remained still, listening.


    One by one, he focused on each cell, straining to detect movement, waiting¡ªwaiting until he was certain.


    They were all asleep.


    Then, the sound of footsteps.


    Six humans entered the prison, carrying a ladder. Pinaka¡¯s breath slowed as he listened, his fists clenched as they approached Rulruka¡¯s cell.


    A soft grunt. The rustling of fabric. And then¡ª


    ¡®They¡¯re feeding him World Tree Fruit.¡¯


    Rulruka¡¯s muffled groans of pain filled the air, each one tightening the coil in Pinaka¡¯s chest. He clenched his fists harder¡ªnot just in anger, but in restrained excitement.


    Then, a human clicked his tongue.


    ¡°There¡¯s less than twenty-one liters tonight? Tch!¡±


    Pinaka¡¯s pulse quickened. His mind raced.


    ¡®It was almost twenty-two liters yesterday¡­¡¯


    That meant only one thing.


    ¡®Rulruka succeeded.¡¯


    Relief and exhilaration coursed through him in equal measure. The plan was in motion.


    For minutes longer, he remained perfectly still, listening¡ªwaiting until he could no longer detect the scent of the humans.


    Only then did he move.


    Silent as a shadow, he slipped out of his cell and made his way to the ground floor. His steps were measured, controlled. The pillar loomed ahead, its surface worn but unassuming.


    He stopped before it and, without hesitation, flashed his Status Window once.


    A brief flash from above.


    Then¡ª


    ¡ªThump! Thump!


    A tiny container struck his head before dropping onto the floor.


    Pinaka knelt, fingers wrapping around the cool surface. The moment his skin made contact, he knew.


    A shiver ran through him. His grip tightened.


    ¡®There it is, inside! A piece of it!¡¯


    Inside the container, nestled securely¡ª


    Wood Relic¡ªWorld Tree Fruit!


    ¡­

 Chapter 021 | Control And Creation

    A scent that was both calming and liberating, one that any sentient being would instinctively associate with nature¡ªthat was petrichor.


    But what if the stakes were pushed to the extreme? If a man, parched and exhausted after wandering through a desert for days without a single drop of water, were to catch a whiff of petrichor, the emotions surging through him would be overwhelming. It wouldn¡¯t just feel like relief¡ªit would be as if he had stumbled, no, barged into heaven itself.


    Taken to its absolute extreme, in the most literal sense, that was Pinaka¡¯s current state. Intoxicated. Consumed. The weight of his burdens momentarily erased. His body, mind, and soul fixated on a single object.


    Resting in his palm, held delicately between his thumb and index finger, was a small wooden container. And inside it lay a fragment¡ªone-twentieth of the World Tree Fruit by mass.


    ¡ªThump! Thump!


    A shiver ran down his spine, goosebumps spreading across his skin. Pinaka stared at the container, his breath catching. No¡ªbreathing itself felt like a distraction. His entire being, every fiber of his existence, was focused on perceiving what rested in the palm of his hand.


    ¡®I can do it!¡¯


    The mere contact with the fruit had already begun to stir something deep within him. He could feel it¡ªhis body reacting, his senses sharpening. If he willed it, wood would manifest, and he would step into Level 2.


    ¡®I¡¯ve been walking the right path all along.¡¯


    But before he could proceed, there was something he needed to do first. With the fragment of the World Tree Fruit in his possession, the next step was simple.


    Pinaka started walking in slow circles, his fingers working on the wooden container, shaping it, pulling it in opposite directions. His goal was clear¡ªsplit the container apart. This was his way of training, farming the experience needed to raise his Control Factor to two.


    As long as he kept going, he would get there. And with the fruit amplifying his progress, it wouldn¡¯t take long.


    ¡ªCrack!


    After nearly an hour, the container finally split in two.


    The moment it broke open, the fragment of the World Tree Fruit was exposed. Without hesitation, Pinaka placed it in his mouth. If he had delayed even a moment longer, its scent would have spread far and wide, alerting a good number of Elves.


    The World Tree Fruit¡¯s scent was naturally restrained¡ªonly those with a heightened sense of smell, like Pinaka, could detect it in its whole form. But once split, its fragrance would have diffused rapidly, making it impossible to conceal. That was why he acted without pause.


    Taking a deep breath, he swallowed.


    Almost immediately, his power responded. Warmth surged through his body, his wounds beginning to close. He focused, watching as his severed thumb slowly regenerated.


    [Control Factor: 2]


    ¡®In this power system, a single touch is enough to understand an entire process.¡¯


    As the new flesh formed, he studied every detail, memorizing the process. The World Tree Fruit wasn¡¯t merely healing him¡ªit was creating brand-new cells, restoring him from the inside out. A grin spread across his face.


    "I¡¯m ready."


    He inhaled deeply, exhaled thrice, then raised both hands, palms facing upward.


    "Form!"


    With his Control Factor now at Level Two, Pinaka could manipulate two objects simultaneously¡ªwhether to create or control.


    In his right palm, a solid block of wood appeared, weighing a kilogram. In his left, a fully-formed hand, identical in mass.


    Thump!


    For a brief moment, a strange sensation washed over him¡ªa feeling as if his Authority was slipping away. But before it could overwhelm him, Pinaka stabilized the power, successfully manifesting two objects at once.


    Level 2.


    "This¡­ T-this is amazing!"


    Excitement surged through him. The power now belonged to him¡ªfully, unquestionably. His body, now completely healed by the World Tree Fruit, brimmed with energy. A single wave of his hand, and he could create anything he desired.


    ¡®On Earth¡­ I would be that existence¡­!¡¯


    Year 19 ¡ª 37th Day of the 8th Moon


    On this day, he had ascended beyond mere mortals. On this day, he had become¡ª


    A God.


    His body felt different, stronger. The fruit had not only healed him but had also increased his mass. He glanced down at his arms¡ªhis muscles had thickened, not with excess weight, but with the refined power of rigorous training.


    But that wasn¡¯t all.


    His spells, his stats, his very understanding of the world¡ªeverything had surged forward.


    Unlike Rulruka, whose blood was extracted to drain the essence of the World Tree Fruit, Pinaka had absorbed every last bit. Rulruka consumed a fruit daily, yet its effects were minimal¡ªstripped down, leaving only residual nourishment to support his body.


    ¡®If his blood had never been drained, he¡¯d be overpowered by now.¡¯


    But Pinaka was different. Even though he had only consumed one-twentieth of the fruit, he had fully absorbed its essence.


    The difference?


    Massive.


    ¡®Status!¡¯


    [Name: Pinaka]


    [Race: High Elf]


    [Authority: Lifeform]


    [Control Factor: 2]


    [Weight Factor: 22]


    [Volume Factor: 1]


    [Range Factor: 8]


    [Speed Factor: 2]


    [Creation Factor: 1]


    [Spell: -]


    ¡®So, it really is the Creation Factor¡­¡¯ Pinaka thought, excitement surging through him. ¡®It determines the mass of matter I can create every second. Right now, that limit is one kilogram per second.¡¯


    His eyes flicked to the second line of his Status Window, realization dawning. Although he made sure to not keep the status window open for long.


    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    ¡®High Elf?¡¯


    He wasn¡¯t just an Elf. He wasn¡¯t just a Dark Elf. He was both. His Authority over Lifeforms extended across flora and fauna, giving him power beyond either race alone.


    ¡®Basically¡­ hydrocarbons.¡¯ He chuckled inwardly, overwhelmed by the sheer potential of his abilities. His excitement was uncontrollable¡ªlike a parched traveler stumbling upon an oasis. No, more than that. This oasis even had a waterfall.


    He was high on the rush of power but it didn¡¯t take long for him to regain composure.


    Morning was approaching, and Pinaka forced himself to calm down. His gaze shifted to his creations¡ªhis first true manifestations of Level 2 Authority.


    The wooden block in his hand? He snapped it into two and tossed them onto the ground. As he stepped onto the pieces, they responded, coiling up around his feet, forming shoes.


    And the kilogram of flesh in the shape of a hand? He focused on it, morphing it into a pair of gloves¡ªgloves shaped like gecko feet. With a practiced motion, he slipped them on.


    A slow exhale. A couple of sharp breaths.


    ¡®Let¡¯s see how it goes this time around.¡¯


    Then, without hesitation¡ª


    He sprinted.


    Racing toward the pillar, he leapt, his gecko gloves gripping onto its surface for a split second¡ªlong enough to propel himself upward. His legs barely made contact, just enough to launch himself higher.


    In seconds, he was there.


    Thin roots extended from his wooden shoes, anchoring him to the pillar as he stabilized his position. His gecko gloves adjusted their grip, applying just the right pressure to keep him in place.


    The sprint. The climb. The balance.


    Everything Pinaka had done just now was flawless¡ªthe kind of movement only achieved through years of experience.


    And then¡ª


    "Hey."


    Pinaka stared at Rulruka, "I succeeded."


    He then extended his index finger, and the glove covering it receded, revealing the bare tip. His finger moved until it made contact with Rulruka¡¯s throat¡ªlatter¡¯s skin parted like water as Pinaka¡¯s fingertip sank in.


    "I¡¯m not a doctor," he admitted, his voice calm but firm. "I don¡¯t know how to properly treat you. But¡­ I can try, at least with what little I understand."


    Upon contact, the damaged throat muscles shifted, responding to his intent. Pinaka focused, using his ability to mildly mend the tears. If he were a doctor, this would have been easy¡ªhis power let him perceive every organ inside Rulruka¡¯s body, as clear as a 3D hologram in his mind.


    But he wasn¡¯t.


    So, he worked with common sense, doing what he could to ease the damage.


    "Can you speak?"


    A strained whisper followed.


    "It¡­ seems¡­ I can."


    Rulruka¡¯s voice was weak, his throat still far from healed. But at least he could communicate.


    "Now¡­ can you free me?"


    Pinaka hesitated. His expression darkened.


    "About that¡­" he exhaled, his tone heavy with regret. "I¡¯m sorry, Rulruka."


    Shock flickered across Rulruka¡¯s face.


    "You¡­ promised!"


    But then, something made him pause. He brought up his Status Window, highlighting Pinaka¡¯s face. And in it, he saw something undeniable¡ªgenuine sadness.


    His voice softened. "Can you explain yourself?"


    Pinaka nodded.


    "I can free you from this position. But¡­ that¡¯s it." His words were measured. "I don¡¯t have the means to get you out of this prison."


    He continued, his gaze steady.


    "The moment you¡¯re freed, the Humans will realize we have a method¡ªa power¡ªto break their restraints. That will only make them investigate further, tightening security and restricting any hope we have of escape."


    "Hiding you, sneaking you out, keeping everything under wraps¡ªit¡¯s impossible right now. Even if I tried, it would only make things worse."


    Pinaka took a deep breath.


    "But more than that¡­" His voice lowered, almost hesitant. "There are too many unknowns. We need time. I need strength. If we act recklessly now, we¡¯ll lose everything."


    "So for now¡­ there¡¯s only one solution."


    His jaw clenched.


    "And unfortunately, it means leaving you here."


    Rulruka fell silent, digesting his words. Then, he sighed.


    "I see." A small, resigned chuckle. "It¡¯s the darkest under the lamppost, huh?"


    Pinaka nodded.


    "Exactly."


    Then, gently, he placed a hand over Rulruka¡¯s chest.


    "I¡¯m sorry." His voice was steady, but his eyes wavered. "Rest now. When you wake up¡­ you¡¯ll be back on Earth."


    His grip tightened.


    "I promise, I¡¯ll succeed. And when I do¡ª"


    His gaze sharpened.


    "¡ªI¡¯ll bring everyone back to Earth with me."


    A wry smile crept onto Rulruka¡¯s lips.


    "Yeah¡­ in the end, it¡¯s not a competition." He let out a slow breath. "We¡¯re all stuck in the same mess¡­ fighting for the same goal."


    His eyelids grew heavy.


    "Only one of us has to win."


    "It feels ironic¡­ placing my faith in someone else." Rulruka let out a dry chuckle, his tone laced with self-deprecation. "I was a politician on Earth. Making promises was my thing."


    A second passed before he added, almost as an afterthought¡ª


    "And breaking them, like clockwork."


    Pinaka didn¡¯t flinch. His voice was steady. "Well, you don¡¯t have to worry about that with me." He met Rulruka¡¯s gaze, his expression unreadable. "I¡¯m just a desperate family man trying to reunite with his family."


    A pause.


    "I don¡¯t have the luxury to lie."


    Rulruka exhaled, finally accepting his fate. But before Pinaka could act, he spoke again.


    "Before you go¡­ I¡¯m curious," His voice was quieter now, contemplative,"What did you do on Earth?"


    Pinaka hesitated for a beat before answering, "A stuntman. Low-budget cinema industry."


    Rulruka raised a brow.


    "From the start?"


    Pinaka''s reaction made him smirk.


    "I¡¯m a politician. I understand people." He narrowed his eyes slightly. "So¡­ what did you do before you screwed up your life?"


    Silence.


    Then, with a small shake of his head, Pinaka admitted¡ª


    "I represented my nation in the Science Olympiad." A bitter smile tugged at his lips. "But after that¡­ I didn¡¯t achieve anything noteworthy."


    Rulruka hummed, as if weighing the words. Then, he closed his eyes.


    "I think¡­ I can put my fate in your hands. Not that I have much of a choice in the matter."


    A deep breath. Then, softly¡ª


    "I hope you win, Pinaka."


    His voice was firm.


    "No¡ª"


    He opened his eyes one last time.


    "You must win."


    Pinaka met his gaze.


    "I will."


    And with that, his hand sank into Rulruka¡¯s chest like butter, reaching the heart. Rulruka¡¯s body convulsed once¡ªthen went completely still. His heart had stopped.


    The muscles rippled like water as Pinaka retracted his hand. There was no wound, no evidence of what he had done. Rulruka¡¯s chest looked exactly the same as before¡ªuntouched, unchanged.


    Just like dipping a hand into water, Pinaka had performed the action smoothly, stopping Rulruka¡¯s heart without a trace.


    With calculated precision, he removed his gecko gloves and placed them into Rulruka¡¯s stomach, allowing the stomach acids to dissolve them. Then, he did the same with his left shoe.


    Finally, gripping the pillar with force, he stretched out his right leg and drove his remaining shoe deep into Rulruka¡¯s stomach.


    Pinaka double-checked his work using his Authority over Flesh, ensuring the stomach acids had begun breaking down the four objects.


    Rulruka hadn¡¯t been weighed in a while¡ªan additional two kilograms wouldn¡¯t raise any suspicion. The scent wasn¡¯t an issue either; his natural petrichor-like aroma would mask any foreign elements.


    That meant Pinaka could get away with hiding his creations inside Rulruka¡¯s body.


    With Rulruka dead, a new Elf would soon be assigned to his place at the potion factory.


    Either Pinaka took over that position¡ªor he assumed the identity of the next replacement. "It¡¯s too risky to take Rulruka¡¯s identity¡­ his days were already numbered. I can, with effort, modify my body, and wear the skin of the person I replace."


    ¡°So, I need to wear an identity that allows me to be the potion factory for as long as possible. Consuming World Tree Fruits daily is the fastest way to build up my stats.¡±


    He carefully analyzed the floor, making sure he hadn¡¯t left any traces of his presence. Once he was certain, he returned to his cell.


    Now, there was one final task.


    Pinaka extracted the concentrated sweat, flesh particles, and excess muscle mass from his own body. He added them into Rulruka¡¯s stomach, along with his two thumbs¡ªremoving them painlessly thanks to his Authority over Flesh.


    With the scent markers expelled, his body now carried only the faintest trace of its previous scent¡ªtoo weak for a human nose to detect.


    Satisfied, he sat down inside his cell.


    Then, with meticulous precision, he began recreating his injuries. Scars and scorch marks reappeared across his body, spreading over his skin like brushstrokes on a canvas. Pinaka took a moment to observe himself, using his flesh control to form a mental image of his body.


    ¡®Good. I look exactly the same as before.¡¯


    Next, he brought up his Status Window.


    ¡®Now, I need to practice Status Epidermis and get it up to speed before the soldier arrives to wake everyone up.¡¯


    ¡­

 Chapter 022 | Epidermis

    [Spell: Status Epidermis!]


    He followed the Spell¡¯s instructions and watched as a paper-thin layer of skin, barely visible to the naked eye, peeled itself from his face and hovered in front of him. It floated like a translucent kite, tethered to his forehead by a strand no thicker than a hair.


    He grimaced. There was nothing special to it¡ªat least, not at first glance. But if the guards saw what was really on his Status Window, he''d be dead.


    The skin layer drifted into place over the Status Window. Barely visible ridges ran across its surface¡ªmicroscopic patterns designed to bend light with precision. As the Status Window lit up behind it, the layer refracted the light, subtly twisting the display.


    These tiny distortions let Pinaka manipulate how the information appeared¡ªredirecting the light from specific radiation points to alter text, numbers, even whole rows. To an outside observer, the Status Window showed something entirely different.


    It worked like a polariser on an LED screen: a clever filter that changed the output depending on the pattern. But the tricky part was control¡ªthe layer operated at a microscopic scale, while Pinaka could only see the macroscopic results with his eyes.


    Suppose the octagon is status window:


    New shape can also be created, changing how the numbers look or disappear.


    ¡ªugh!


    That was his gut reaction when he saw the Status Window all jumbled up¡ªa chaotic mess of distorted characters and numbers, thanks to the random patterns scrambling the light.


    He started tweaking the designs, one after the other, watching the display closely as he made each change.


    Thankfully, he had a starting point¡ªsome reference patterns he¡¯d picked up from Zetaka while touching him during his own use of the spell. Using that as a guide, he kept adjusting the patterns, slowly watching the garbled mess clear up. Words and numbers began to take shape.


    Bit by bit, he kept refining it. While he couldn¡¯t control the image down to the individual pixel, he could adjust the overall look until it matched what he wanted.


    He had four main parts of the Status Window to alter¡ªRace, Authority, the stat numbers for various Factors, and the Creation Factor.


    He needed to change ¡°High Elf¡± to just ¡°Elf,¡± switch ¡°Lifeform¡± to ¡°Wood,¡± and completely remove the ¡°Creation Factor¡± row.


    The stat numbers were a little easier¡ªjust a matter of tweaking the digits.


    ¡ªClang!


    A soldier strolled into the prison, banging his baton against every steel door on the way. It was the morning wake-up call. Pinaka scrambled to finish up, making quick adjustments until the display matched what it originally showed.


    [Name: Pinaka]


    [Race: Elf]


    [Authority: Wood]


    [Control Factor: 1]


    [Weight Factor: 1]


    [Volume Factor: 1]


    [Range Factor: 1]


    [Speed Factor: 1]


    [Spell: -]


    He had just finalized the pattern on his Status Epidermis¡ªonly to realize he''d forgotten to unleash it a hundred times in a second to convert it into a Spell. That meant today, he¡¯d need to be careful. The epidermis layer was still just a delicate film, invisible to the eye and easily disturbed. Even the breeze from walking could ruin it. So, as he moved, Pinaka had to continuously use his power to keep it stable.


    ¡®How did Zetaka even manage to turn this into a Spell in less than a day?¡¯ he wondered. Zetaka had probably figured this out right after becoming a Dark Elf, with barely any time to practice before he needed to hide his Status Window. ¡®That¡¯s damn impressive. Guy must¡¯ve been an engineer or someone who messed around with optics a lot.¡¯


    ¡®I just hope I can pull it off,¡¯ Pinaka thought, slowly rising to his feet. As he moved, the Status Window flickered slightly. He caught it just in time, steadying the projection with a relieved sigh. The display hadn¡¯t warped. ¡®Alright... I have to keep it exactly like this. No mistakes.¡¯


    He dismissed the Status Window, already feeling the pressure settle in his chest. He wouldn''t be able to check it again until he stood in front of the soldier. If anything went wrong, he¡¯d have to run¡ªand that meant drawing blood. ¡®I¡¯d need to cause a distraction... and kill another Elf.¡¯


    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    That Elf¡¯s identity would become his next cover. Not that the killing part worried him. Even the soldier who did the morning checks was just a Level 1 Human.


    Pinaka would be close enough. All he had to do was reach out. His hand would slice through the soldier¡¯s neck like it was cutting water.


    No, the kill wasn¡¯t the hard part. It was everything that came after. ¡®I¡¯m not ready for that kind of fighting... not yet.¡¯


    Pinaka¡¯s chest tightened, heart pounding loud enough to feel in his throat. He quickly used his authority to steady it, keeping his body in an optimal state as he focused everything on maintaining the Status Epidermis.


    The delicate sheet of skin dangled from his right hand like a kite on a string. Moving slowly, he reached out with his left and pushed open the cell gate. Hunched over, he shuffled forward at a painful crawl¡ªthankfully, exactly what everyone expected of him.


    To others, Pinaka was the half-dead Elf who hadn¡¯t eaten since birth, barely surviving severe injuries and a brutal fight with Nunaka the night before. No one would blink if he dropped dead on the spot.


    Honestly, he would have, if not for becoming a High Elf.


    As he stepped out of his cell, he noticed the floor was already cleared. A line had formed on the ground level, where the Elves were being checked one by one.


    He made his way down the stairs at a crawl, every step deliberate, tuning out the constant shuffle of footsteps as the other prisoners were processed and led away.


    ¡°Do you think I have all the time in the world, slave?¡± the soldier sneered when he finally spotted him.


    ¡°I... I¡¯m sorry,¡± Pinaka stammered, swaying like he might collapse. When the soldier reached for his whip, panic sparked in his chest¡ªone lash would shred the fragile Status Epidermis instantly.


    ¡°I won¡¯t make any excuses,¡± he blurted, voice trembling. ¡°I¡¯ll finish my quota on time!¡±


    ¡°S-Status!¡± he added quickly, flinching under the soldier¡¯s glare as he pulled up his Status Window. Relief flooded through him the moment he saw it was still intact.


    ¡°Did I ask you to show your Status Window?¡± The whip cracked against the floor, making Pinaka jump. ¡°Stay in your place, slave!¡±


    ¡°Y-Yes,¡± he nodded quickly and moved on to the tests: sniffing, tissue rub, and weight check.


    The Status Window was normally the last test, but Pinaka had shown it early on purpose. The sniffing and tissue rub required the soldier to get close, and any sudden movement could damage the Epidermis. By displaying it first, he avoided the risk.


    The soldier had already seen it, and since that box was checked, he didn¡¯t bother looking again.


    ¡°Get on with your work,¡± the soldier muttered, snapping the whip against the floor before walking away.


    He didn¡¯t strike Pinaka¡ªnot because of mercy, but because killing an Elf without cause was a direct violation of the Human King¡¯s decree. Even when they wanted to lash out, soldiers had to restrain themselves. Every Elf was property of the King, a strategic resource.


    Pinaka knew this well. That¡¯s why he leaned into his appearance as a starving baby Elf¡ªhelpless, non-threatening, and easily overlooked. And it worked.


    ???????????


    ¡®I... survived that.¡¯


    Only once Pinaka stepped out of the tunnel and onto his designated hectare of land did he finally let out a breath. The Status Epidermis had already disintegrated long ago. It was so faint that when it fell, it vanished into the dust, impossible to notice.


    ¡®If that soldier had touched my Status Window, the epidermis would¡¯ve torn, and my real stats would¡¯ve been exposed.¡¯ He now understood both the strength and fragility of the spell. ¡®Still... just having a way to fake my stats is huge. Thank god Zetaka came up with this.¡¯


    That thought opened a door. ¡®There are so many Elves here, each from a different background on Earth.¡¯


    Pinaka had been a stuntman, and using that experience, he¡¯d created shoes that let him walk on walls. Zetaka had clearly worked with optics in some way, leading to the creation of Status Epidermis. ¡®There¡¯s a chance every Elf here has one Spell tied to their own area of expertise. If I can learn all of them... I¡¯ll become a monster.¡¯


    Most wouldn¡¯t go so far as to turn their ideas into full-fledged Spells. Doing so would expose their hand through the Status Window¡ªpractically inviting death. But many might¡¯ve trained their abilities just short of that point, ready to unleash them at the right moment.


    Pinaka knew his limitations. His ideas were bound by his own experience, and that naturally capped how many unique Spells he could invent on his own. But that was fine. He would focus on what he knew best¡ªand learn everything else from the others.


    ¡®Every Elf here is likely a master of something. I¡¯ll learn their Spells.¡¯


    ¡®And once I do, I¡¯ll be ready.¡¯


    With that thought, he got to work in his field, occasionally glancing up at the soldiers patrolling the wall. Whenever no one was watching, he quietly resumed practicing Status Epidermis.


    The pattern didn¡¯t need to change unless his stats did. So, he could just keep training the current one until it became a Spell. ¡®That way, I can activate it instantly whenever I need to show my Status Window¡ªno more delicate balancing act.¡¯


    ???????????


    At the same time, Rachad strolled through a corridor, whistling, with a trembling Mahnaka in tow and a calm, unreadable Pronto pacing a few steps behind.


    ¡°Relax,¡± Rachad said with a smirk. ¡°I won¡¯t whip you. Unless I feel like it.¡±


    ¡°Y-Yes,¡± Mahnaka replied, flinching when Rachad nudged toward him. Pronto remained silent, his expression neutral.


    ¡°Alright, we¡¯re here.¡± They stopped in front of a lava waterfall. Rachad placed his hand on a Sun Stone embedded beside it, and the curtain of lava peeled back slightly¡ªjust enough for one person to pass through.


    ¡°Go feed the Dwarf. You¡¯ve got ten minutes. I¡¯m closing the curtain after that,¡± Rachad said with a chuckle, then turned to Pronto and gave a polite bow. ¡°The Elf will guide you inside.¡±


    ¡°Y-Yes,¡± Mahnaka said quickly. The heat was suffocating, but he straightened up a little now that Rachad was out of sight. He turned to Pronto and gave a respectful bow. ¡°Please, follow me.¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± Pronto replied curtly, trailing behind.


    ¡®This time¡­¡¯ Mahnaka thought, heart pounding but face composed, ¡®I¡¯ll convince the Dwarf. This time for real.¡¯


    ¡®With his help, we can escape this hell.¡¯


    ...

 Chapter 023 | The Dwarf

    A metallic stench¡ªlike a mix of rusted iron and aluminum¡ªclung to the air, thick and oppressive. The cave was dark, the ground beneath their feet a strange patchwork of damp and dry soil. The deeper they went, the darker it became, until even the ground underfoot felt uncertain.


    ¡°Cover your nose from this point on,¡± Mahnaka said, stopping at the top of a descending staircase. ¡°One breath down there and you¡¯ll be out cold. If no one pulls you out in time, you¡¯ll die.¡±


    ¡°How long¡¯s the path?¡± Pronto asked.


    ¡°Ten steps down, twenty meters across, and another ten steps of descent,¡± Mahnaka replied, then took a deep breath. Once ready, he dashed down the stairs.


    As his foot hit the first step, Pronto¡¯s brow furrowed. ¡®Metal?¡¯


    The fact that a prisoner was freely using his authority, completely unsupervised, raised questions. ¡®What¡¯s keeping this Dwarf locked down here?¡¯


    The entire floor¡ªdown the stairs, through the path, and along the second descent¡ªwas metal. Curious, Pronto conjured a tiny flame. It vanished the moment it formed. ¡®No oxygen. Probably carbon monoxide,¡¯ he reasoned. ¡®Explains the Elf¡¯s warning.¡¯


    The path was narrow, just wide enough for one person. The darkness didn¡¯t bother Pronto. He moved with precision, each step measured, allowing him to sense the second set of stairs and descend without hesitation.


    ¡°Puhaa!¡± He took a long, refreshing breath as soon as he reached the bottom. He stood in a circular pit, about ten meters deep, open to the sky above. The floor and walls were fully covered in metal.


    The pit had a radius of roughly forty meters. In its center lay a mountain of weapons¡ªswords, spears, ballistae, caltrops of all sizes. Some looked brand new, others corroded from exposure to air and moisture.


    A brook trickled down the wall, forming a small, artificial waterfall that splashed into the pit. At its base sat a cluster of smooth riverbed rocks, and as the water fell, it produced a soft, calming sound.


    A semi-circular metal pool¡ªthree meters wide and two meters deep¡ªcollected the water. A small outlet at the base kept it fresh and flowing.


    To one side of the pool stood a row of fruit trees. On the other side, a patch of shrubs grew: potatoes, carrots, and the like. It was the only place in the entire pit where real soil could be seen.


    Bending over the pool was a stocky figure, scooping water with a metal ladle. He was short¡ªbarely 110 centimeters¡ªbut built like a boulder, his muscular, hairy arms thick as tree trunks. In his grip, the ladle looked like a fragile twig.


    He poured the water over a nearby shrub, then froze mid-motion. His hand clenched tighter as the ladle suddenly began to spasm¡ªtwisting, warping, writhing in his grip until it was completely deformed.


    With a growl, he hurled it across the pit. ¡°Argh!¡±


    The Metal Race of Dwarves.


    ¡°Die!¡±


    A metal hammer formed in the Dwarf¡¯s hand as he slammed it into the pool, thrashing wildly. Water splashed out, flooding the metal floor, which rippled like waves¡ªmirroring the Dwarf¡¯s mind, teetering on the edge of madness or already drowning in it.


    ¡°Die! Die!¡± he shouted again, hammer flailing for a few seconds before he hurled it at the pit wall. It clanged loudly as it bounced and rolled to the bottom.


    ¡°AARRGGH!¡± he roared.


    ¡°Huff¡­ puff¡­ phew¡­¡±


    Each exhale made his scraggly beard dance. Noticing the visitors, he turned¡ªhis sleek black hair falling like he was auditioning for a hair tonic commercial made by Elves. His black eyes, streaked with cloudy silver, sized up the two. His moustache twitched as a gravelly voice, slurred like a drunk at dawn, croaked out, ¡°Which flippity fart sent you?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m here for the usual,¡± Mahnaka said, giving a short bow before walking toward the line of trees. He placed a hand on one, and it instantly began absorbing nutrients faster. Within seconds, it was heavy with fruit.


    He moved down the row, doing the same with each tree, then turned to the shrubs. Once a week, Mahnaka came to tend the garden in the Dwarf¡¯s prison cell, making sure it yielded enough food for the grumpy inhabitant.


    ¡°Gracious doomsqueak, I don¡¯t need a squeaky Elf¡¯s help.¡±


    The Dwarf conjured a spoon and flung it at Mahnaka, who sidestepped out of habit and kept working. The spoon was tiny, barely a few grams¡ªharmless even if it hit.


    Not that the Dwarf had thrown it with any real force. But he didn¡¯t stop there. He kept chucking spoons¡ªone after another¡ªuntil Mahnaka finished his task.


    ¡°Run off now! I need to puke out all this damn Elf air.¡±


    ¡°I was also asked to bring him here,¡± Mahnaka said, pointing at Pronto.


    ¡°Nothing I have to say to a fucking Human!¡±


    The Dwarf growled, kicking a spoon and stomping back to the broken pool. With a touch, the metal healed and reformed.


    ¡°I¡ª¡± Pronto started to speak, but froze.


    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    A spear had shot up from the floor, its point hovering just inches from his right eye.


    ¡°One fucking word outta you, and I¡¯ll lop your head off,¡± the Dwarf muttered, patting the pool and scratching off a patch of rust with a metal fingernail, humming something that sounded like a war chant or a lullaby.


    ¡®This¡­ bastard!¡¯


    Pronto¡¯s anger flared, and he nearly lashed out. But before he could move, his mind caught up and scanned the room. In the corner, he spotted a massive helmet.


    ¡®Fuck.¡¯


    Metal Race of Dwarves¡ªLevel 3 (Relic)!


    The Dwarf locked up in the Elven Prison wasn¡¯t just any grunt¡ªhe was someone at the very top of their kind, equal in rank to the Warden.


    Dwarves were notoriously hard to kill and even worse to deal with¡ªwhether out in the wild or on a battlefield. They held dominion over Metal, turning themselves into walking tanks. Among all the enemy races, they remained one of Humanity¡¯s most dangerous and persistent foes.


    But Level 3 Dwarves? They were pure nightmares.


    Every Human scholar who¡¯d studied them in wartime came to the same conclusion:


    ¡°Even if you manage to kill one, his blade will hunt you down for eternity.¡±


    And the reason was the Dwarven Relic¡ªbelieved to be the strongest one on all of Gangnea.


    Metal Relic of Dwarves¡ªLiving Armour!


    These weren¡¯t just suits of armor. They were perpetual motion machines, crafted to follow preset instructions, traveling wherever they needed to finish the task they''d been built for.


    In battle, a Level 3 Dwarf didn¡¯t even need to fight directly. He could just create Living Armours and let them do the work.


    ¡®Before my flames even touch him, I¡¯ll be skewered. And even if I burn him somehow, his armour will kill me,¡¯ Pronto thought, his back drenched in sweat. He hadn¡¯t come here to fight¡ªhe was here to ask for help. So he kept his mouth shut.


    Instead, he took out the scroll the Warden had given him and gently rolled it toward the Dwarf.


    The Dwarf glanced at it¡ªthen burst into laughter. ¡°Hahahaha! Finally!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll kill him this time!¡± he shouted, clutching the scroll with both hands and flashing a wide grin at Pronto. ¡°You must be important to the Humans. Otherwise, the Warden wouldn¡¯t have traded his life for yours.¡±


    ¡®What?¡¯ Pronto froze at the words, blinking as a spiral staircase formed in the pit, leading up to the surface.


    ¡°Get out and wait on the surface. I¡¯ll be up shortly,¡± the Dwarf growled.


    Before Pronto could respond, metal shoes shot out from the floor, clamped onto his feet, and dragged him up the stairs.


    They let go only after he was tossed onto the ground above.


    The Dwarf then turned to Mahnaka and clapped twice, loud and rude. He jabbed a finger toward Mahnaka¡¯s usual route out. ¡°Get lost!¡±


    ¡°Help me¡ªjust this once!¡± Mahnaka said quickly, taking the chance now that Pronto was out of earshot. ¡°We¡¯ll repay you when we¡¯re out of this prison.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re dreaming, baby Elf,¡± the Dwarf snorted. ¡°Not interested in your little sob story.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve got a real plan to break out,¡± Mahnaka pressed. ¡°If you¡¯re in, we will escape.¡±


    ¡°Escape?¡± the Dwarf chuckled. ¡°You think I¡¯m trapped here?¡±


    ¡°Flippity idiot.¡± He strolled over to a nearby fruit tree, plucked a bunch of fruit, and tossed them into a strange metal device. With a touch, it whirred to life and poured out a jug of ale. He brought it to his nose, took a whiff¡ª¡°Ahh!¡±


    Then he chugged it in one go. ¡°That hits the spot.¡±


    ¡°I can help with whatever you need,¡± Mahnaka said, desperation creeping into his voice. His time was almost up. If he stayed past ten minutes, Rachad would beat him half to death.


    ¡°The Warden¡¯s head. Bring me that, and I¡¯ll free all the Elves.¡± The Dwarf grinned, pouring himself another jug and downing it. ¡°Hell, I¡¯ll even protect you hatchlings till you can fend for yourselves.¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t do it?¡± he slammed the jug onto the machine. A heavy silence followed.


    ¡°The Warden stole my father¡¯s Living Armour. And now, somehow, he¡¯s using it.¡±


    ¡°So yeah, I¡¯m here for one thing¡ªhis head,¡± the Dwarf said, tapping the scroll. ¡°Know what this is? A token that lets me challenge the Warden once¡ªno consequences.¡±


    ¡°Even if I lose, I won¡¯t be killed. Every time I help the Warden, he gives me one of these tokens . In return, I earn another chance at his life.¡±


    ¡°Either bring me three of these tokens¡­ or the armour itself.¡± He waved his hand dismissively. ¡°Otherwise, scram.¡±


    With a click of his tongue, the metal floor shifted, carrying him smoothly up the spiral stairs to the surface.


    ¡°Dammit!¡± Mahnaka collapsed to the ground, frustration etched across his face. ¡®I failed again!¡¯


    Seeing his time was nearly up, he bit his lip in regret and started heading back.


    ¡°You¡¯re punctual, huh?¡± Rachad sneered, sliding the curtain of lava shut behind him. The curtain wasn¡¯t there to hold the Dwarf in¡ªbut to keep nosy Elves from sneaking in and begging for help.


    Mahnaka didn¡¯t respond. He just trudged along the winding tunnels beside Rachad, eyes heavy with defeat. When they finally reached the Elf quarters, Rachad walked off, clearly disappointed. He hadn¡¯t gotten the chance to whip anyone today.


    Mahnaka, meanwhile, headed toward his allotted hectare of land. With a tired sigh, he picked up his tools and returned to farming.


    ???????????


    On the adjacent plot, Pinaka was grinning like a model on a runway, strutting along the top of the wall like it was his personal catwalk. A few minutes later, he leapt down and landed smoothly, posture sharp and focused, like he was deep in thought. Then, he willed it.


    In an instant, a thin layer of wood wrapped around his feet¡ªsoft and flexible for movement, yet strong enough to carry his weight. Roots burst out from underneath, coiling tightly to form sturdy soles, ready to dig into any surface for grip.


    Pinaka watched closely as the shoes split open, a new pair forming immediately after. Another second, another pair. Over and over, he repeated the action, pushing his control to the limit. Finally, it happened¡ªhis Status Window pinged.


    [Spell: Root Glove]


    The shoes formed on his feet in a tenth of a second. With a Control Factor of 2, he could cast it on both feet simultaneously, allowing a full pair of Root Gloves to appear almost instantly. ¡®It¡¯s done!¡¯


    ¡°Now I can scale this prison wall without a problem,¡± Pinaka muttered, eyeing the towering barrier surrounding his land. He tensed his legs, and the failed shoe attempts from before turned into sawdust. He scooped up a handful and sprinkled it over his crops. ¡°Good manure¡­ I think.¡±


    ¡°Heh¡­ hehe, this is exciting,¡± he chuckled to himself, now proud owner of two Spells. With a glint in his eyes, he looked toward Mahnaka¡¯s land. ¡®Now if I can just figure out whether Mahnaka has any unique Spells¡­ that¡¯d help a lot.¡¯


    ...

 Chapter 24 | Awawawa Head

    By afternoon, Pinaka had already picked up two new Spells. The pace was nuts, but he had enough raw power to build the constructs in under a second.


    With his current power, he could probably fire them off a hundred times without breaking a sweat. ¡°And off you go¡­¡±


    He mixed sawdust into the topsoil and spread it evenly across the farmland. If a soil testing expert happened to wander by, they¡¯d spot signs of his tampering everywhere¡ªbut no one checks, and no one cares.


    ¡®As long as I finish my tasks on time,¡¯ Pinaka thought, glancing toward the three soldiers stationed on one corner of the wall surrounding his hectare of land. He flashed them a wide, mean grin. ¡®They¡¯re the only ones I need to worry about seeing me.¡¯


    ¡°Now, for the real prep,¡± he muttered, then casually triggered the wheat crops to grow, one after another, until they reached his knees. Once a patch was tall enough, he crouched among the crops, hidden.


    He pointed his index finger forward and activated his power over flesh. A cluster of optic nerves coiled around the tip and extended outward. An eyeball formed, gradually veined with red as it strained to stabilize.


    Without the aqueous and vitreous humors, the eye began to break down almost immediately. The one he just made didn¡¯t have either, and it was taking damage fast.


    ¡°This is what it¡¯s like?¡± He focused his power on his eyes and did his best to recreate the two fluids, molding them into place around the new eye. Once it stopped breaking down, he brought it closer to his head, optic nerves still dangling from his finger.


    He wanted to connect it to his own optic nerve, just to see if his brain could process the vision from this improvised third eye.


    But right before he went through with it, he froze. ¡°No, too risky. One mistake and I could go blind.¡±


    At Level 2, Pinaka could create living tissue¡ªincluding full organs¡ªbut he still couldn¡¯t regenerate injuries. Instead, he had to craft matching muscle tissue and manually merge it with the wound using precise control.


    It was kind of like DIY plastic surgery.


    If he messed up and wrecked his optic nerve, sure, he could make a new one and swap it in. But that kind of repair needed skill he didn¡¯t have yet. ¡®Just because I can doesn¡¯t mean I should mess around like an idiot.¡¯


    ¡°Step by step. Build knowledge, build skill, build experience. Only then can I start pushing limits,¡± he muttered. Then he shrugged. ¡°Though... there¡¯s something else I can try.¡±


    He tucked his index finger down into the wheat and extended his pinky. Another eye grew from it. He closed his own eyes, tapped into his control over flesh, and began sculpting a replica of his own body outside of himself.


    He could technically make two at once, but he didn¡¯t have the focus for that yet. So he went piece by piece¡ªbody part after body part¡ªuntil he finally closed it all up inside a rough skull.


    ¡°Damn,¡± he muttered, staring at it. ¡°What an abomination.¡±


    Elven muscle strands looked way more fibrous than human ones, and without skin, the face was straight-up nightmare fuel. Definitely creepier than a human¡¯s. ¡®Then again, I¡¯ve only ever seen diagrams of skinned human faces... way tamer than the real thing. Guess I shouldn¡¯t jump to conclusions.¡¯


    ¡°Alright, let¡¯s give you life.¡± He attached the arteries and veins trailing from the neck to his own body, letting his blood flow into the head. He couldn¡¯t go completely off the rails here¡ªcovering his tracks would get way harder. This was the middle ground.


    ¡°You alive?¡± he asked¡ªthen nearly jumped when the mouth twitched and the eyeballs focused on him.


    ¡°Awa¡­ wawa¡­ waaa¡­¡± The throat moved slightly, just enough to show it was functioning. The sounds, though, were like a baby¡¯s babble.


    ¡®This is way more complicated than I expected,¡¯ Pinaka thought, studying the head, ¡®I copied my own brain when I made it¡ªeverything, even my memories. But it¡¯s just¡­ blank.¡¯


    ¡®Did I screw something up?¡¯ He stayed connected to the head, which was all it took, thanks to how intuitive the power system was.


    Just like when he first made those shoes, he hadn¡¯t been precise. Tons of mistakes. It was only through trial and error that he¡¯d improved. For something as delicate as the brain, those mistakes were enough to make a useless copy with no memories at all.


    ¡®So I just need to keep training until it works.¡¯ His goal was simple. Now that he¡¯d reached Level 2, he could create lifeforms. So¡­ if he made a copy of himself, would it have his authority?


    If yes, he could flood the entire place with clones overnight. ¡®Only one way to find out.¡¯


    He kept tinkering with the head, using his power to reshape it again and again. Since the materials were already made, it was like working with clay. He¡¯d mold a new head, compare it to the previous version, and break it back down into components.


    Bone, muscle, brain matter¡ªhe separated them all, then built the head from scratch again. Over and over, each time asking the same thing when he was done:


    ¡°Can you speak?¡±


    ¡°Guaaa!¡±


    He tried again.


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    ¡°Awwuu¡­!¡±


    Another attempt.


    ¡°Aii...caaawww!¡± This one sounded like a toddler.


    Pinaka was exhausted by now. He disconnected the arteries and veins, then broke the head down again. This time, he shaped the pieces into small chunks and planted them into the soil, letting them touch the nearby wheat stalks.


    ¡°They¡¯re your nutrients. Take them. Grow!¡±


    And they did. That was how he cleaned up the evidence.


    ¡®Still got a long way to go,¡¯ he thought, working for another hour before calling it a day. By his calculations, he was on track to finish his quota in time. ¡®Just bare minimum to stay off their radar. Nothing more.¡¯


    ¡°Now¡­¡± He flopped onto the ground, the warmth of the soil seeping into his back as the wheat stalks curled over him like a blanket. ¡°What¡¯s the source of my Authority?¡±


    The question reminded him of long chats with scriptwriters back when he worked as a stuntman. They''d spin wild martial arts stories between takes, especially during desert shoots with no signal.


    Martial arts stories were one of the most popular ice breakers because of the action sequence discussions.


    ¡®Then there were those eastern fantasies. In every one of those, there was always some kind of energy center¡ªa core or dantian¡ªthat acted as the power source.¡¯


    ¡®Is my system like that?¡¯ he wondered. ¡®Or is it more like the superhero kind, where the power just¡­ exists?¡¯


    The more he thought about it, the clearer it became¡ªhis powers didn¡¯t seem to come from anywhere specific. They just were. As natural as breathing or digesting food. Whether it was his Control Authority or Creation Authority, he could use it endlessly.


    His only real limit was physical and mental exhaustion. ¡®If I don¡¯t get tired, there¡¯s nothing stopping me from going full blast.¡¯


    In theory, he could keep spamming Wood until the Gangnea Continent got swallowed up by it. Which, apparently, was how the continent expanded in the first place. ¡®Elves create Wood, Humans burn it into ash and merge with the Earth to make fertile soil. Ogres create Stone. Dwarves make metal. All of it enriches the land and helps it grow steadily.¡¯


    ¡®There¡¯s a system here.¡¯ Even with his half-baked understanding, Pinaka could tell each race played a role. Using their Authorities, they mass-produced their respective elements, which the others used or absorbed. Over time, it all blended into the environment.


    That¡¯s how the Gangnea Continent kept growing¡ªslow, steady, endless.


    Pinaka circled back to the core question and landed on one conclusion: since his Authority didn¡¯t seem to have a fixed origin point, he needed to redefine what a ¡°source¡± even meant. ¡®If I had to break my body down and point to the part that acts as the source¡­ there¡¯s only one answer.¡¯


    The Nervous System.


    Made up of the central nervous system¡ªthe brain and spinal cord¡ªand the peripheral nervous system branching out from there, it was like the body was just a mech suit, and the nervous system was the one piloting it.


    Since his power didn¡¯t have a clear source, he figured the next best thing was to identify the smallest part of his body that could use his Authority. ¡®And that¡¯s gotta be the nervous system.¡¯


    He had a very specific reason for chasing this line of thought¡ªremote activation.


    There was a major flaw in how their power system worked: it needed physical contact. If a Human wanted to control Fire, they had to be touching Fire. Same deal for Elves.


    When Pinaka created Wood, he couldn¡¯t just summon it out of thin air in front of him. The Wood had to stay connected to his body the entire time. To others, it looked like the Wood was growing out of him.


    This rule applied across the board¡ªno touch, no Authority. And that was one of the key reasons the Elven race had fallen so hard.


    Didn¡¯t matter how powerful an Elf was. The Humans had figured out flight. They floated high above and rained down walls of fire, turning the battlefield into a burning hell.


    The best the Elves could do from a distance was shoot arrows¡ªbasically wooden sticks. And when the flames were hot enough, even those were reduced to ash midair.


    That was all the Elves could do. And it wasn¡¯t enough.


    But Pinaka wasn¡¯t just an Elf. He was a High Elf, with Authority over Lifeforms. He wasn¡¯t satisfied with those same limitations. He wanted to know if a clone of himself could use his power. But more importantly, he wanted to find the exact organ that let him channel his power.


    ¡®I¡¯m still not completely sure¡­ but if this works, everything changes!¡¯


    His plan was simple: craft a copy of his central nervous system, tuck it into an arrow, and shoot it.


    From the outside, the arrow would look completely normal. But hidden inside, the spine would be carrying his Authority. And once it was in the air, it could start spamming Wood, rapidly increasing the arrow¡¯s size mid-flight.


    The speed would stay the same, but the growing mass would make the impact devastating.


    By the time one of Pinaka¡¯s arrows hit its target, it would be the size of a house. Burning through something that massive wouldn¡¯t be easy, especially with the spine still pumping out more and more material.


    Since this power system let him create matter from nothing, remote activation was the only thing holding him back. If he cracked that, he¡¯d be able to destroy enemies from a distance with arrows the size of buildings. ¡®It¡¯d be like calling down a meteor storm.¡¯


    And he wouldn¡¯t stop at one. He could spam them. ¡®I just need the right stats¡ªand the skill¡ªto pull it off.¡¯


    ¡®No rushing. Patience.¡¯ He closed his eyes and took a short nap, letting the thoughts settle. When he woke up, the sun was dipping low. He wandered the farm for a bit, clearing his head, then rejoined his group of six when it was time to return to the prison.


    ¡®They removed him.¡¯ As they stepped inside, Pinaka subtly glanced at the pillar. It was empty. His throat tightened, his eyes stinging slightly, but he forced himself to stay composed. No reaction. No suspicion.


    ¡®That¡­ is fucking insane.¡¯ He cursed internally, as now that Rulruka was gone, the apparatus that was used to keep him nailed to the pillar was fully visible. ¡®How twisted do you have to be to design something like that?¡¯


    ¡®Then again,¡¯ he sighed, ¡®I might not be far off myself. Maybe I¡¯m already there.¡¯


    He noticed a soldier scanning an unfurled scroll, lips twitching in anticipation. ¡®So¡­ who¡¯s next in line to be turned into a potion factory?¡¯


    ¡°The one I call for, come out.¡± The soldier finally looked up, voice loud and clear now that all the Elves had gathered. ¡°You¡¯re being given the honor of serving His Majesty directly.¡±


    He smiled with pride.


    ¡°As a potion factory.¡±


    ¡­

 Chapter 025 | No Hero

    ¡°The Elf named Prichka, come out!¡± the soldier called, scanning the crowd. His eyes landed on a group that quietly parted to reveal the elf.


    He pointed at Prichka.


    ¡°Come with me,¡± he said, grabbing Prichka and dragging him off in chains. If they nailed him to the pillar now, he¡¯d bleed out before the potion extraction even began.


    So, for now, they took him elsewhere. Later that night, the group in charge of the Healing Potion would drag him back, bind him to the pillar, and drive the nails in¡ªonly then would they use the World Tree Fruit to patch him up.


    ¡®Well, this is better,¡¯ Pinaka thought, watching Prichka being led away. In the few seconds he had, he studied the Elf¡¯s appearance. ¡®It¡¯s possible. I can take his place.¡¯


    The Elves returned to their cells, calling it a day. No one put up much of a fight.


    ¡®As long as it¡¯s not me.¡¯


    ¡®Prichka stood out. That¡¯s on him.¡¯


    ¡®If he¡¯d worked harder, he might have survived.¡¯


    Thoughts like these drifted through the minds of the older Elves as they sat in the corners of their cells, eyes shut. None of them were asleep¡ªthey couldn¡¯t afford to miss dinner¡ªbut they rested, conserving energy. It was something they¡¯d trained themselves to do over the years. Not much, but it kept them going. A little trick to survive.


    There wasn¡¯t much talking. Most of the Elves didn¡¯t even bother anymore. A few scattered groups still clung to hope, mostly younger ones. They still whispered, still schemed.


    Pinaka strained to listen.


    ¡°I¡¯ve managed to dig down about forty meters now. The hole¡¯s just wide enough for someone thin to squeeze through. I covered the entrance with some rice stalks.¡±


    From a distant cell, two Elves whispered¡ªjust barely audible to Pinaka. He barely caught a muffled whisper. Curious, he slipped out of his cell, stepping carefully. His steps were soft¡ªfeline silent, even to Elf ears.


    ¡®I¡¯m not starving anymore, so my heightened senses have dulled. I¡¯ll have to get closer to hear anything useful.¡¯


    The prison was dark, which helped. No one saw him move. And since he was silent, he crept closer to the cell where the plan was unfolding.


    It was on the third floor. Inside, three figures huddled together. Only up close did Pinaka notice a third figure¡ªsilent the entire time. Pinaka only noticed him because of the faint scent of tree sap emanating from him.


    ¡°Forty meters? That¡¯s solid,¡± said the second Elf. ¡°With my grafting skills, we can fuse the wooden pieces into one structure. Once we reinforce the inside of the tunnel with this wood, we won¡¯t have to crawl¡ªwe¡¯ll be able to slide right through.¡±


    ¡®Slide?¡¯ Pinaka¡¯s ears twitched. One word¡ªand everything changed. He leaned in, listening even more closely.


    ¡°The biggest issue is timing,¡± the first Elf said, his voice low and tight with frustration. ¡°I need time to dig underground, but if I¡¯m gone too long from the farm, the soldiers will catch on.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve been digging during their lunch break, right?¡± the second Elf asked.


    ¡°Obviously,¡± the first muttered.


    ¡°We don¡¯t have a choice,¡± the second Elf said with a sigh. ¡°The older Elves might even rat us out just to save their own skins. We can¡¯t trust them. It¡¯s just the three of us now¡ªwe work with what we¡¯ve got.¡±


    ¡°No. It¡¯s just the two of you,¡± said the third Elf, speaking for the first time. His voice was calm but heavy, like someone who¡¯d already accepted the end. ¡°I¡¯ll pray that you both succeed.¡±


    ¡°What? Why?¡± The first Elf turned on him, frustration flaring. ¡°You were in this with us! You¡¯re giving up now?¡±


    ¡°No, I never gave up,¡± the third Elf said, his tone soft and almost mournful. ¡°I¡¯ve been cursed with the World Tree¡¯s blessing¡ªworse than either of you can imagine.¡±


    ¡°What are you even saying?¡± the first Elf snapped. Anger and confusion tangled in his voice.


    ¡°Talent,¡± He was Raepekka. ¡°Every three days, my Weight Factor increases by one, no matter what I do to slow it down. And today, at noon, my Control Factor hit two.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be killed tomorrow.¡±


    The words hit like a stone. The second Elf recoiled, his breath catching. The first took a step back, his jaw clenched tight, eyes wide with disbelief. The silence wasn¡¯t just stunned¡ªit was hollow, like the air had been sucked out of the cell. In that moment, their plans didn¡¯t just falter. They died.


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    ¡®If his Stats are rising that fast, he¡¯s one of the most gifted Elves alive,¡¯ Pinaka thought. He crept a few steps closer. A gust of air passed by as Raepekka moved along the prison wall, feeling his way back to his cell.


    On Gangnea, talent wasn¡¯t just some vague idea¡ªit meant being in tune with the elements. Understanding how Spells worked. How Authority flowed. The deep mechanics behind it all. The more talent you had, the faster you grew.


    This Elf¡ªRaepekka¡ªsimply understood things others didn¡¯t. His connection to Wood was sharper, deeper. So even when doing the same work as everyone else, he advanced faster. Too fast.


    ¡®Even his thumb probably looks better than mine,¡¯ Pinaka mused darkly, trailing Raepekka back to his cell. ¡®If he¡¯s marked for death tomorrow, maybe I can help him.¡¯


    Raepekka was born four months ago. Not once in those four months did he know joy. Every time his Weight Factor ticked up, it was just another countdown to execution.


    He¡¯d learned to count his life in days. Now, there were none left.


    ¡®I wanted to believe I had time... but that was just a lie. They¡¯re too slow. And I have none left..¡¯


    As he reached for the cell gate to close it behind him, he felt a slight resistance.


    ¡®Is someone... holding it?¡¯


    A cold breath brushed his face, sending a chill down his spine. Not a single footstep, not even the faintest shift in the air¡ªnothing escaped his sharp hearing. Yet his instincts were blaring.


    ¡®D-Do ghosts exist in this world?¡¯


    His body froze. Then something warm pressed against his chest¡ªa smooth wooden block, five centimeters long, three wide, and one thick.


    The moment it touched him, Raepekka¡¯s Authority flared to life on its own. Words flared to life on the wood¡¯s surface¡ªclear to his senses.


    [I can save you.]


    ¡®What?¡¯ Raepekka blinked, stunned. His instincts screamed caution, but he was already a dead man walking. That gave him just enough courage to be reckless.


    ¡®Let¡¯s see what this person wants.¡¯


    He had no idea who it was. The darkness cloaked everything, and the stranger hadn¡¯t spoken a word.


    ¡®So, they want to stay hidden.¡¯


    Fine by him. He had nothing to lose. Raepekka used his Authority to reshape the block¡¯s internal grain, changing the message. The technique worked well because both of them could sense wood on a deeper level through their Authority. It was a silent, efficient way to communicate.


    [How?]


    This was why the Elves were locked in stone cells, cut off from wood. It forced them to rely on spoken words, slowly dulling their instinctual connection to their Authority. A quiet form of oppression¡ªone they all were forced to adopt.


    [Wait on the ground floor after dinner. I¡¯ll explain everything.]


    The wood block slipped away as quietly as it had come. Pinaka melted into the dark, his footsteps softer than a breeze. Raepekka never got a glimpse of him.


    ¡®By tomorrow morning,¡¯ Pinaka thought, ¡®everyone will believe I¡¯m dead.¡¯


    But he wasn¡¯t one to take risks lightly. Even when helping someone, he moved with precision. This wasn¡¯t an act of kindness¡ªit was strategy.


    If Raepekka truly was that talented, then with time and freedom, he could become a force to reckon with. And Pinaka needed that. He wanted to build something in the shadows¡ªan army of Elves, hidden beneath the Humans¡¯ noses.


    All he had to do was touch Raepekka. Just once. That would be enough to form a corpse copy¡ªan exact replica, right down to the scent. Not a true clone, but convincing enough to pass as suicide.


    That would keep suspicions low. Meanwhile, he¡¯d also use his abilities to modify Prichka¡ªturn him into a corpse that looked like Pinaka.


    Then he¡¯d walk into the potion factory¡ªdisguised as Prichka.


    ¡°I failed¡­¡±


    Pinaka caught Mahnaka¡¯s defeated voice as he made his way back. He tiptoed quietly to his cell, ears tuned to any noise from Zetaka¡¯s direction.


    Mahnaka sat in front of Zetaka, worry etched into his face. ¡°I figured out what the Dwarf wants¡ªwe can¡¯t win him over.¡±


    ¡°If begging fails, we threaten him,¡± Zetaka said after hearing him out. ¡°If I¡¯m determined, I can sneak into his quarters.¡±


    ¡°The Dwarf¡¯s at Level 3,¡± Mahnaka muttered, defeated. ¡°Even if every Elf here jumped him, we couldn¡¯t lay a finger on him.¡±


    ¡°I only need to touch him once,¡± Zetaka replied. ¡°One touch, and we win.¡±


    ¡°That guy¡ªPronto, right?¡± Zetaka muttered, thinking aloud. ¡°If he¡¯s someone important, we just need him to trigger Rachad. That hothead will overreact, and in the chaos, I¡¯ll move in on the Dwarf.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s too risky,¡± Mahnaka said with a sigh. ¡°Give me some time. I¡¯ll figure something out. Don¡¯t forget your identity stays hidden, no matter what.¡± With that, he turned¡ªbut paused in front of Pinaka¡¯s cell.


    ¡®I heard him leave earlier. If he¡¯s back and overheard us¡­¡¯


    But the cell was empty. Mahnaka let out a quiet breath and returned to his own.


    Pinaka, meanwhile, had already made his way to the staircase, tiptoeing down step by step until he reached the ground floor.


    ¡®Before I help that Elf, I need to get a proper feel for the layout.¡¯


    ¡ªThump. Thump.


    He forced a growl from his stomach¡ªloud and real. Hunger sharpened his senses, sending a slow wave of adrenaline through him. Every movement sharpened. Every breath around him, more noticeable.


    He crept toward the tunnel that led to his assigned farmland.


    ¡®If I can map the guards and posts, I¡¯ll know how to move.¡¯


    He needed to find a hiding spot for Raepekka. Somewhere close, secure, and invisible. If he found one, the plan would move forward.


    ¡®If not, I¡¯ll call it off¡ªand apologize.¡¯


    He wouldn¡¯t show up after dinner. Raepekka would meet his fate when dawn came.


    ¡®I won¡¯t gamble with everything.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m no hero.¡¯


    ....

 Chapter 026 | A Night Walk Beyond Walls

    The prison was surrounded by walls shaped like hexagons, laid out in a honeycomb pattern. Each hexagon enclosed six hectares of land and was bordered by twenty-meter-tall walls.


    Every hexagon touched six others. At each junction¡ªwhere three hexagons met¡ªstood a watchtower, three meters high and made from the same mortar as the walls.


    Each tower was circular and housed three seats, one for each soldier. Each soldier was assigned a hexagon but mainly focused on a single hectare, occasionally glancing at neighboring plots.


    ¡ªCrackle.


    An oil lamp hung from the ceiling in one of the towers. Its thumb-sized flame cast a soft, flickering glow. The three soldiers inside, all Level 1, sat cross-legged under it.


    They wore thick leather armor, layered with woolen shawls to keep out the night chill. The glass casing kept the wind from snuffing it out.


    ¡°Sheesh, it¡¯s cold tonight,¡± one of them muttered as he carefully pulled a rectangular wooden piece from a wobbly tower of blocks.


    ¡°Don¡¯t blame the cold for your lack of skill,¡± the second one shot back, pulling out a piece from a trickier spot.


    ¡°We have this same conversation every night,¡± the third one said as he reached for his piece. His hand twitched, and the wooden tower toppled over. ¡°My loss.¡±


    They were playing Jenga. It was the only thing that helped pass the time. Technically, games were banned during duty hours¡ªthey were supposed to stay alert.


    On paper, that sounded doable. But day after day, cramped and idle, vigilance became a joke. At least the day shift had the Elves to watch, minor distractions and idle chatter..


    The night shift had it worse. There was nothing to see or do. Though eight moons lit the land, the Elven Prison remained shrouded in darkness thanks to the towering presence of the World Tree, which loomed at 8.8 kilometers tall.


    Its canopy blotted out the sky, plunging everything below into endless shadow. The place was pitch black.


    If a soldier dared to look out beyond the tower, all they¡¯d see was a thick wall of darkness¡ªeerie, suffocating, and cold. Too many had lost their minds staring into it for too long.


    After enough soldiers broke down, the newer ones learned to pretend. They kept their eyes on the lamp, or each other, never looking beyond. That was the unspoken rule¡ªdon¡¯t look outside.


    They weren¡¯t allowed to bring games, so they made do. They''d collect plain, rectangular wooden pieces during their off hours and hide them under the chairs. Nothing fancy¡ªjust enough to build their little tower and make it through another long, silent night.


    Just them, the cold, and the wind that never stopped whispering.


    ¡°I won again,¡± the second soldier said dryly after a few more rounds.


    ¡ªChuckle.


    The wooden tower toppled with a soft clatter. With the practiced ease of someone who¡¯d done this a hundred times, the second soldier started rebuilding it. Then he froze, eyes narrowing at the shadows beyond the tower. ¡°Guys¡­?¡±


    ¡°You see something?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± the first soldier said, not even bothering to look up. ¡°Probably just your nerves.¡±


    ¡°I swear something moved behind me,¡± the second soldier insisted, eyes scanning the shadows.


    ¡°If you''re spooked, just check,¡± the third one grumbled, standing up with a stiff groan. He dipped his index finger into the oil lamp, pulling out a thin stream of fire, and stretched it out beyond the tower. ¡°See? Nothing there.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t mess with me like that,¡± the second one muttered as the fire circled around the outside of the tower before flickering out. The fire flickered out, leaving only the lamp¡¯s small flame to hold back the dark.


    ¡°I know I felt something¡­¡± he whispered, shivering a little. ¡®Damn, I¡¯m losing it.¡¯


    But he wasn¡¯t imagining things.¡±


    There really had been something behind him a moment ago¡ªand now, that something was sitting quietly on top of the tower.


    ???????????


    Perched atop the tower, Pinaka scanned the landscape. Points of light blinked in the distance¡ªeach one marking a watch tower.


    ¡°So that¡¯s the layout,¡± he realized. They couldn¡¯t have shown it to him more clearly if they¡¯d tried.


    The central prison area was surrounded by six hexagons in the first ring. The second ring held twelve, and the third had eighteen. Each hexagon held six plots, all worked by Elves.


    Thirty-six hexagons in total¡ªtwo hundred and sixteen Elves. ¡®Strange,¡¯ Pinaka thought. ¡®I remember counting 218.¡¯


    One Elf was assigned to the potion factory. So either he miscounted, or there was one extra Elf doing neither farm work nor potion-making. ¡®I¡¯ll figure out who eventually.¡¯


    But for now, he wanted to scout the edges of the prison. According to what Mahnaka had told him, there were multiple prison cells scattered throughout the area.


    Pinaka was currently stationed in the cell responsible for growing staple crops¡ªrice, wheat, and the like. ¡®Would be great if the Humans only monitored within the walls and not outside them.¡¯


    That was just a guess, though. He needed more information.


    Each hexagon was numbered 1 through 36. He was stationed in the staple crops sector¡ªhexagon 4¡ªjust beside the main prison zone. Right now, he was crouched atop a watch tower that connected hexagons 4, 5, and 15. Hexagon 15 was part of the second ring, and beyond that was the third.


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    ¡®This shouldn¡¯t take long,¡¯ he thought, pressing lower against the roof. He focused his enhanced hearing on the soldiers below. The clack of wooden blocks told him all he needed¡ªthey were playing Jenga.


    He listened patiently, waiting for their chatter to signal the moment the game reached its peak¡ªthat tense point when their attention was locked on the wobbly tower


    None of them ever looked outside. They never had a reason to.


    That was when Pinaka moved.


    He jumped down from the roof, his wooden shoes softened for stealth.


    ¡ªThud.


    A faint noise echoed below. The soldiers stiffened, ears perked. Outside the tower, everything was pitch black. Pinaka had darted right past them¡ªbut in the dark, all they caught was the sound.


    If any of them had been looking out at that exact moment, they might have caught the faint blur of his shape slipping by.


    ¡°There was something!¡± the second soldier blurted, scrambling to his feet. He grabbed the lamp¡¯s flame and flung out a stream of fire across the wall.


    The light streaked through the darkness¡ª


    ¡ªbut revealed nothing.


    ¡°Maybe it was the wind,¡± the third soldier said after a few minutes of pointless searching. They stayed inside, sweeping the stream of fire across the wall outside.


    With no railings and barely two meters of width, it was far too easy to slip. Especially with the wind constantly howling through the prison. None of them were willing to take that risk.


    ¡°Could be,¡± the second soldier muttered, patting his chest as his heartbeat began to slow. He slumped back into his seat. ¡°I want to quit this job!¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be stupid,¡± the third one snorted. ¡°The pay¡¯s insane for what little we actually do. You won¡¯t find a better deal anywhere else, not as a commoner.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± the second soldier sighed. ¡°My family¡¯s living comfortably because of this salary. We even splurge a little whenever I go back home.¡±


    He held up his arm to show the goosebumps. ¡°Still¡­ doesn¡¯t stop me from getting scared.¡±


    Even the smallest topic could spark hours of conversation between them. With nothing else to do, talking was all they had.


    ???????????


    While they rambled on, Pinaka listened intently to their voices.


    Pinaka clung just below the wall¡¯s edge, gecko-like. The instant he¡¯d landed, he¡¯d rolled to the edge and gone still, his gloves burrowed tiny roots into the stone.


    He watched as the fire streams flicked through the air above, sweeping around without revealing anything. Shifting light danced across deeper shadows, but none touched his hiding spot. ¡®Good thing I moved fast. Would¡¯ve been bad timing otherwise.¡¯


    In his wall-crawling pose¡ªuncannily like something out of an old action film¡ªhe waited for the patrol to settle. When it finally did, he crept up and crossed along the narrow wall between hexagons 4 and 15.


    As he neared the next tower, located where hexagons 4, 15, and 14 met, he crept around the side and began crawling up vertically, soundless against stone. Once he was past the soldiers'' line of sight, he climbed back onto the top and kept moving along the path between hexagons 14 and 15.


    At the end of that path was another watchtower, with three more soldiers inside. They were monitoring hexagons 14, 15, and 31. From there, he moved on the path between hexagons 15 and 31, and then 31 and 32, finally reaching the watchtower at the end that monitored hexagons 31, 32, and the space beyond the prison wall.


    Pinaka hugged the edge, crawling underneath the tower. When he finally reached the outside-facing side, he exhaled, slow and steady, dangling in the shadows.


    Out beyond the wall, it was pitch black for several hundred meters. But in the distance, a few faint lights blinked into view.


    ¡®Another prison, maybe.¡¯


    ¡®If I could find some fireflies¡­ I could reproduce their glow when I need light.¡¯ He scanned the area, eyes straining for movement. ¡®They¡¯re always in forests. If Gangnea has anything like them, I need to find it.¡¯


    ¡®Well¡­ I do have another way.¡¯


    Carefully, he began climbing down the wall, using the tower¡¯s glow to estimate how far he had to go. Once he was nearly at ground level, he whispered, ¡°Status.¡±


    A faint flash lit up as his Status Window opened, just for a second¡ªbarely long enough to cast a soft glow over the area. It vanished in a blink¡ªhe¡¯d already memorized it.


    ¡®Lots of shrubs,¡¯ he noted. ¡®Ash-covered ground. They burn the plants often¡ªmakes hiding harder.¡¯


    That wasn¡¯t ideal.


    ¡®If they torch this place often, it''ll be hard to stay hidden¡­¡¯


    Then he paused.


    ¡®Wait. Am I an idiot?¡¯ He resisted the urge to smack his forehead. ¡®But if they¡¯re torching it all¡­ maybe they¡¯re erasing my tracks for me. And since they¡¯re not bothering with inspections, just torching it all¡­ I might actually be safer.¡¯


    Near the wall, one could build an underground bunker. The entrance hatch could be covered with ash, blending in perfectly. ¡®This¡¯ll save a lot of time digging through the prison. And once the shrubs regrow, they¡¯ll provide cover for movement.¡¯


    More importantly, two Elves could communicate just by touching the same shrub. That meant the plants could become a link between Pinaka on the surface and the Elf who¡¯d be living underground. It¡¯s possible!


    ¡®Even if the bunker gets discovered later, my identity stays safe. Starting tonight, I¡¯ll officially be working in the potion factory,¡¯ Pinaka thought. Resolved, he turned back and slipped into hexagon 4.


    On the way, he transformed his gloves and shoes into withered wheat stalks and planted them in the soil. He paused, listening carefully. Once sure no one was nearby, he sprinted into the tunnel.


    His feet, shaped like tiger paws, absorbed sound with every step.


    ¡ªThump. Thump.


    His heart rattled in his chest¡ªhe breathed deep, willing it to slow. He pulled sweat from his skin, condensed it into a drop, and swallowed¡ªgrimacing at the taste. Then, slowly and silently, he slipped back into his cell, only opening the gate after confirming Mahnaka and Zetaka were asleep.


    ¡®Their breathing is slow and steady. Probably napping.¡¯


    He closed the gate gently behind him and let out a quiet sigh. ¡®That was my first time outside. A little nerve-wracking¡­ but efficient. Less than an hour.¡±¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯ll have to check the prison¡¯s terrace later.¡¯ For now, though, he didn¡¯t risk it¡ªthe window for the soldier¡¯s arrival was too unpredictable. Sometime in the next six hours, he could show up without warning.


    ???????????


    ¡ªClap. Clap.


    Two hours later, the double clap echoed through the prison. Pinaka slowly stood up once Mahnaka and Zetaka left, deliberately being the last to leave his floor. Patted his cheeks, changing his face.


    ¡®This should be enough.¡¯


    ¡®Let¡¯s go.¡¯


    He climbed the stairs slowly, biding time until dinner ended. The soldier left right after. From above, Pinaka saw Raepekka linger while the others filed back.


    Once the coast was clear, Pinaka descended the stairs, stepped onto the railing of the first floor, and dropped down to the ground.


    He landed softly¡ªright in front of Raepekka¡ªand gave him a confident smile.


    ¡­


    Gangnea Daily Article #26:

 Announcement

    Hello, Uprisers!


    First off, thank you so much for your incredible support¡ªwhether you¡¯ve left a comment, a review, hit that follow button, or simply favorited the story. I may not reply to every message, but rest assured, I read them all and take your feedback seriously. It means the world.


    We just crossed over 900 followers¡ªthat¡¯s wild! And it¡¯s inspired me to take this journey to the next level.


    Earlier today, I wrote two new chapters and made a big decision: I¡¯ve officially launched a Patreon! This is my way of committing more deeply to the story, to you, and to the vision I¡¯ve been building since chapter one.


    I know two chapters might not seem like much right now, especially if you¡¯re comparing it to more established series¡ªbut I don¡¯t want anyone to feel shortchanged. So, here¡¯s the plan:


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


    From now until the end of April, I¡¯ll be releasing two chapters every single day for Patrons.


    My goal?


    To build a library of 30+ advanced chapters ahead of the Royal Road version by the end of next month.


    This story means a lot to me. It¡¯s far from perfect, but I¡¯ve poured my heart into it¡ªand I¡¯ve planned it all the way to the end. No dropped plots. No unfinished arcs. Just a full, meaningful journey that I can¡¯t wait to share with you.


    If you''re the kind of reader who likes to wait and see how things develop¡ªI get it, truly. But if you¡¯ve enjoyed what you¡¯ve read so far and want to support this project directly, even a little, your help on Patreon would mean the world.


    To everyone¡ªreaders, commenters, fellow writers¡ªthank you. You¡¯ve helped make this story more than just an idea. Let¡¯s see how far we can take it.


    With gratitude,


    Anvelope & Shekhawat

 Chapter 027 | Spell Windfall

    ¡®Where is he?¡¯ Raepekka glanced around during dinner, but saw no sign of the person he was hoping to find. ¡®Have I gone delusional from desperation?¡¯


    The thought crossed his mind, but he shook his head slowly. ¡®No, I¡¯m not that far gone. I¡¯ve already come to terms with how things are.¡¯


    ¡®I know what I felt back then.¡¯ He remembered the moment his hand touched the block of wood. It had been subtle, but something in his mind had cleared up.


    It was like stepping out of a smog-choked city and taking your first breath in a quiet mountain village.


    He watched the soldier leave, and one by one, the Elves trudged back into their cells. None of them even glanced at him. They were too tired, too broken to care. Or maybe they just didn¡¯t notice that he was still down on the ground floor.


    Raepekka stayed put. He was sure of himself now¡ªno second-guessing. He waited patiently, and it paid off. A soft draft of air brushed against him, followed by the faint sound of someone landing in front of him. A moment later, light flashed across his face, revealing the features of an Elf he¡¯d never seen before.


    ¡®What the¡ª that¡¯s insane!¡¯ The light came from the stranger¡¯s Status Screen. Raepekka¡¯s eyes darted across the glowing panel, heart thudding. What he saw gave him hope. A quiet confidence began to take root.


    [Name: Virchuka]


    [Race: Elf]


    [Authority: Wood]


    [Control Factor: 2]


    [Weight Factor: 240]


    [Volume Factor: 8]


    [Range Factor: 44]


    [Speed Factor: 8]


    [Creation Factor: 12]


    [Spell: -]


    Pinaka had used the Spell of Status Epidermis to create a fake identity. Naturally, he¡¯d juiced up the stats a bit for dramatic effect.


    Still using the glowing screen to light the space, Pinaka extended a block of wood toward him. As soon as Raepekka touched it, the Status Window blinked out. Now, they could speak freely.


    [Who are you? I¡¯ve never seen you before.]


    Raepekka¡¯s first question was direct.


    [Do you really want to waste time asking that? Or do you want to survive?]


    Pinaka¡¯s response shut him up instantly. The silence between them stretched out, awkward and heavy.


    ¡®I can¡¯t figure out what this Elf wants,¡¯ Raepekka thought. That¡¯s when he felt warm fingers press gently against his neck. Instantly, his breath caught. He couldn¡¯t inhale, couldn¡¯t even cry out. His windpipe was closed off¡ªand something blocked his mouth too. No air. No sound.


    In seconds, Raepekka collapsed, unconscious.


    "Alright, that went smoothly." Pinaka crouched down and placed his hand on Raepekka¡¯s throat, using his power to repair the damage. Soon, Raepekka¡¯s breathing evened out.


    Then, without wasting time, Pinaka sealed Raepekka¡¯s lips, eyelids, and ears. He did the same to his limbs, making sure the Elf couldn¡¯t move or make sense of what was happening.


    If he had used wood to restrain him, Raepekka would¡¯ve broken free in seconds. Stat-wise, Raepekka outclassed him. If they clashed, Pinaka¡¯s bluff would fall apart.


    So instead, he used his authority over flesh to close off Raepekka¡¯s senses and fuse the ends of his limbs together.


    "Urgh... this is nasty." He felt a surge of discomfort, a deep instinctive revulsion. But he didn¡¯t suppress it. Instead, he leaned into it. ¡®If I¡¯m going to wield this power, I have to own everything I do with it¡ªgood, bad, or messed up.¡¯


    Pinaka slung Raepekka over his back and began walking out of the tunnel. When he reached the edge of his hectare of land, he started climbing the wall. ¡®This would be so much easier without carrying someone.¡¯


    [Spell: Root Glove!]


    He summoned a wooden belt to strap Raepekka tighter to his back. Then, just like before, he retraced his path out of the prison.


    "Gah!" he gasped toward the end. The whole journey had taken nearly two hours. Climbing up and down had been the worst part.


    ¡ªThud!


    He hit the ground, raising a small cloud of ash. Thankfully, he¡¯d already wrapped himself in a thin layer of skin¡ªpart of his disguise. When he was done here, he¡¯d shed the fake skin like a snake, roll it into a ball, and feed it to one of the wheat stalks on his farm.


    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    He moved with extreme caution. One mistake, and everything could fall apart. ¡®But I can''t live like this forever. It''s already starting to choke me.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m getting out of here. Soon.¡¯


    With that resolve, he touched a nearby shrub. Then, he created a replica and planted it right into the soil. The new shrub looked identical above ground, but its roots were spreading fast underground.


    With a Range Factor of 8, the roots could tunnel down to eight meters. Once they reached that depth, they began to thicken and coil into a tight ball, expanding outwards and pushing the surrounding earth aside.


    Even a blade of grass can split concrete. Slow, steady pressure¡ªthat was the strength of plants. Instead of digging with brute force, Pinaka let the roots do the work.


    Digging deep was always a nightmare. You could shovel the topsoil, but once you hit gravel or clay, it became back-breaking.


    Thankfully, he had a better method. The roots thickened and grew outward, shifting the soil horizontally so nothing bulged on the surface.


    ¡®Hmm.¡¯ He noticed the problem right away. As the roots thickened, they took up more space. And soon, the total volume hit a cubic meter. That was his current limit¡ªhe couldn¡¯t expand them any further.


    The roots had to expand to make room. Without that volumetric growth, he¡¯d have no choice but to dig manually. A plant¡¯s greatest force came from its growth¡ªrelentless, and strong.


    ¡®Mahnaka told me to keep my Volume Factor at 1. But his reasoning never really made sense.¡¯ Pinaka frowned. ¡®Even if my Volume stat goes up, I can still choose how much of it I use.¡¯


    ¡®Did he misunderstand how Volume Factor works?¡¯ A cold shiver crept down his spine. ¡®Or¡­ did he lie on purpose?¡¯


    ¡®Good thing I didn¡¯t tell him.¡¯ Exhaling in relief, Pinaka withdrew most of the wood from the shrub¡¯s roots. He split it into dozens of pieces, reshaped them to resemble the nearby plants, and scattered them across the ground.


    They¡¯d wilt and die soon. Just dry bush among the rest¡ªnothing that would draw attention.


    Seven meters beneath the surface, there was now a bunker carved out¡ªa cubic meter hollowed out. Just enough for Raepekka to hide when the time came.


    With the hiding spot ready, Pinaka unsealed Raepekka¡¯s senses and slapped him awake.


    ¡°W-Where am I?¡± Raepekka asked in dazed upon noticing his feet were no longer touching stone. He reached out and felt a shrub. The moment his fingers brushed against it, energy surged into him.


    The shrub twisted and reshaped, wrapping around him like armor. Bark-like plates formed over the surface, each one ready to crack and fall off on impact. They¡¯d take the brunt of any force¡ªphysical or fire¡ªabsorbing damage before it reached him.


    ¡°Relax, I¡¯m not your enemy,¡± Pinaka whispered. ¡°And keep your voice down. Place is crawling with soldiers.¡±


    Raepekka¡¯s eyes flicked around, sharp and focused. A quick glance told him enough¡ªwatchtowers. ¡°Where are we?¡±


    ¡°Right outside the prison,¡± Pinaka replied. ¡°But only the one we were in. There are more of them. Lots more. And who knows how far we are from freedom.¡±


    ¡°If I¡¯m not free yet¡­¡± Raepekka paused, thinking it through. ¡°The humans will realize I¡¯m missing. They¡¯ll start searching.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t need to worry about that.¡± Pinaka let out a short laugh. ¡°You know why I knocked you out?¡±


    ¡°Please, tell me.¡± Raepekka leaned in slightly, alert now. To him, this Elf¡ªVirchuka¡ªwas infuriatingly arrogant, yet somehow radiated this unshakable confidence. ¡®I asked him a question earlier and he ignored me. Might as well take what I can get now.¡¯


    ¡°I used a sliver of World Tree Fruit on you,¡± Pinaka said, like he was talking about seasoning a dish. ¡°After I cut you open. The upper half that¡¯s alive now¡ªthat¡¯s you, after your legs regenerated.¡±


    ¡°The lower half regenerated a new upper body, but it had no life. That corpse is still lying in your cell.¡± Pinaka added smugly, ¡°The humans won¡¯t realize the truth¡ªunless you¡¯re dumb enough to show your face.¡±


    ¡°What do you want from me?¡± Raepekka asked. There was genuine gratitude in his voice now. He understood the risk and effort it must¡¯ve taken to free him. ¡°I know you didn¡¯t do all this out of kindness.¡±


    ¡°I need two things from you.¡± Pinaka held up two fingers, like he¡¯d been expecting that question. ¡°First, I want you to stay hidden here, expand an underground tunnel system, and collect information about this place. I¡¯ll check in from time to time, and we¡¯ll share what we¡¯ve learned. Eventually, we¡¯ll use it to escape.¡±


    ¡°Understood.¡± Raepekka bowed. ¡°I¡¯ll handle it well, sir.¡±


    ¡°And second¡­¡± Pinaka wiggled his middle finger. ¡°Show me all your Spells.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Raepekka stared, stunned. So that¡¯s it? He recalled how Pinaka hadn¡¯t shown any Spells in his Status Window. ¡®With stats like that, he wouldn¡¯t be left alive if a human saw them. So if he¡¯s managing to stay hidden from Humans, he has all the time in the world to train his Spells.


    ¡°You can just make whatever Spells you want.¡± Raepekka said, then paused as his head throbbed. His head throbbed until it clicked. ¡°Your Spell ideas suck, so you want to trade formine.¡±


    Pinaka said with a shrug. ¡°I just want the best. I¡¯m always looking to see if someone else has made something better than what I¡¯ve come up with. So far? Nothing impressive.¡±


    ¡°I overheard your conversation and acted on a whim. That¡¯s all.¡± He finished, as if it was no big deal.


    ¡°I¡¯ll teach it to you.¡± Raepekka didn¡¯t argue. He was just glad to be alive¡ªhopeful, even.


    He grabbed a nearby shrub and held it out to Pinaka. When Pinaka touched it, Raepekka activated two abilities. ¡°Can you tell what it does?¡±


    ¡°Yeah¡­ it¡¯s decent, I guess.¡± Pinaka nodded, then gestured toward the bunker. ¡°That¡¯s your hideout. Get inside.¡±


    ¡°Alright.¡± Raepekka slipped into the small bunker and pulled the wooden hatch shut behind him. The shrub twitched, scooped up ash to cover the hatch, and expanded to blend in with the surroundings.


    Tiny holes dotted its branches like straws, letting air into the bunker.


    In the pitch dark below, Pinaka knew Raepekka couldn¡¯t see himl. He quickly scaled the wall with the Spell of Root Glove and headed back toward his farm.


    He couldn¡¯t stop grinning.


    ¡®Oh¡­ MY¡­ GOODNESS!¡¯


    ¡®I struck gold with that spell!¡¯ It was decent enough at Level 1¡ªbut at Level 2, once Creation was involved, it turned into something insane. His mind buzzed with ideas.


    ¡®I need to try it out¡ªsoon!¡¯


    [Spell: Wood Ski]


    ¡­

 Chapter 028 | New Potion Factory

    [Spell: Wood Ski]


    This spell was activated through the legs, requiring precise footwork and mainly relying on the Speed Factor.


    The left foot stayed still, anchoring the body, while Control Authority was channeled through the right foot ¡ª onto the contact surface. Even with minimal stats, both Range and Speed Factors sat at one unit, letting the Elf manipulate wood within a metre at a speed of one metre per second. So when the spell activated, the wood beneath the right foot shifted forward by half a metre in half a second, pulling the foot along with it ¡ª no muscle movement involved.


    Once the foot came to a stop, the same process repeated with the other foot. Step by step, this allowed the Elf to glide slowly across the wood. It seemed unimpressive at first ¡ª until the stats began climbing.


    At a Speed Factor of 5, that same half-metre shift took just a tenth of a second. And that was all it needed.


    One-tenth of a second ¡ª that was the spell¡¯s activation window. It also happened to be the fastest human reaction time back on Earth. So, in one second, alternating the spell between right and left foot five times each, the Elf could glide forward by five metres.


    And keep in mind ¡ª a Speed Factor of 5 wasn¡¯t even hard to get. As it climbed higher, the speed an Elf could hit with this spell easily outpaced anything the muscles could manage. As long as the mind was sharp and the body could handle the pressure, movement speeds far beyond regular bipedal limits were within reach.


    ¡®And that¡¯s at Level 1, with just a Control Factor of 1.¡¯ Pinaka felt an almost painful urge to try it out right away. ¡®I¡¯m already at Level 2¡­ and my Control Factor hit 2 as well. What I can pull off with this spell is¡­¡¯


    ¡°Heh¡ªhaha!¡± He slapped a hand over his mouth, trying not to burst out laughing.


    At Control Factor 1, the spell used static friction to keep the foot in place, and Control Authority was focused on moving just one foot forward.


    But once the Control Factor hit 2, everything changed. As one foot slid ahead, the other could anchor firmly ¡ª because Control Authority could now be applied through both feet at once.


    That meant skiing over slopes ¡ª or even up vertical wooden surfaces ¡ª was suddenly possible. One foot pushed forward, the other held steady.


    ¡®And this isn¡¯t even the best part.¡¯


    The same spell became something else entirely with the addition of the Creation Factor. That¡¯s when things really got scary. Now, a new possibility opened up ¡ª the anchoring foot could use the Creation Factor to generate a wooden foothold, while the moving foot glided over it.


    If the Elf had a Speed Factor of 10, the moving foot would channel five units of that speed, gliding forward at five metres per second.


    Meanwhile, the Creation Factor would generate a wooden floor at ten metres per second.


    Say the right foot moved forward by half a metre ¡ª the left foot, acting as the anchor, would create a wooden foothold stretching a full metre ahead. Since it was producing wood faster than the right foot that was moving, there would always be a solid surface for the right foot to ski over.


    Once the right foot came to a stop, it would then spawn wood from its new position, while the left foot slid forward next. In this way, there was always a wooden path underfoot ¡ª meaning the Elf could keep moving, practically forever, without stopping.


    ¡®The only thing holding this back is the mind,¡¯ Pinaka thought. Sure, the body would still feel the strain of all that movement ¡ª but skiing used far less energy than running. That meant longer distances, and at much higher speeds.


    ¡®If I study civil engineering¡­ I can build wooden bridges mid-air, shaped however I want, and they won¡¯t fall apart during combat.¡¯ Structural stability would be key if he wanted to spawn platforms in the sky, especially when only a small section was touching the ground ¡ª like a floating bridge.


    With just a bit of study and experimentation, the possibilities were endless. And the moment that thought fully clicked, he couldn¡¯t help but blurt, ¡°Damn!¡±


    The Spell of Wood Ski could also be cast through the palms ¡ª but skiing that way required way more finesse than doing it with the feet.


    ¡®This spell alone makes everything worth it!¡¯ Pinaka grinned, barely able to contain his excitement. He¡¯d gotten two spells from Raepekka. The guy had ideas for a bunch more, but only these two were truly creative ¡ª actually making full use of their power system¡¯s function.


    [Spell: Grafting]


    Grafting was a method of joining two plants or plant tissues together. That was the definition back on Earth ¡ª and here, the spell did exactly that.


    Normally, you couldn¡¯t use Control Authority to merge two separate pieces of wood. You could change their shape, sure, but that was about it.


    That¡¯s why whenever they used Control Authority, it was always on a single object. Like when Pinaka manipulated a stalk of wheat ¡ª he reshaped it, compressing the roots and shoots into whatever form he needed. Structurally, even if it had multiple branches, it still counted as one object.


    That¡¯s also why he constantly had to discard his shoes. Every little crack or scuff chipped off small bits of wood, and since the material was no longer whole, the total mass of ¡°one object¡± kept shrinking.


    Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    The Grafting spell fixed that. It lets one join two pieces back together. For someone at Level 1, that was huge. Pinaka, though, didn¡¯t really need it ¡ª he could create wood on command now.


    Still, just understanding how the spell worked and the logic behind it was more than enough. He didn¡¯t need to waste a spell slot on it.


    While he was deep in thought¨Csparks of inspiration were flying left and right thanks to his new spells¨Ca team of six soldiers marched into the prison, dragging the limp body of Prichka behind them.


    Pinaka subtly peeked through the railings on his floor, watching as the soldiers shoved the World Tree Fruit into Prichka¡¯s mouth and roughly strapped him into the apparatus. They weren¡¯t gentle, but it didn¡¯t matter ¡ª the World Tree Fruit healed the Elf¡¯s wounds almost instantly.


    Once Prichka was secured to the pillar¡¯s device, the fang from the Vampire Race was stabbed straight into his heart. Twenty litres of blood were drawn in total.


    ¡°It¡¯s a bit less today. We wasted some of the healing power on this slave¡¯s setup,¡± muttered a grey-robed Human. The group finished up quickly, cleaned the area, and left.


    ¡°You¡¯re struggling, huh?¡± Pinaka stepped out once the coast was clear, standing before the pillar and looking at Prichka. His face was filled with silent grief. For a second, Pinaka hesitated, questioning himself. ¡®Can I really go through that kind of pain without losing my mind?¡¯


    ¡®Man, fuck this world,¡¯ he sighed. Still, this was the fastest way to boost his stats ¡ª and he could do it without any surveillance watching over him.


    Activating the Spell of Root Glove, Pinaka climbed the pillar. Once at the top, he let the glow of his Status Window light up Prichka¡¯s face.


    ¡°Do you want to survive?¡± he asked.


    Prichka couldn¡¯t speak, but the answer was clear in his eyes ¡ª he wanted to live.


    ¡°Then show me your Status Window,¡± Pinaka said. He only asked so he could copy it, just in case the Humans ever demanded to see it. ¡®From what I¡¯ve seen these past few days, they never do. But it¡¯s better to be safe.¡¯


    [Name: Prichka]


    [Race: Elf]


    [Authority: Wood]


    [Control Factor: 1]


    [Weight Factor: 6]


    [Volume Factor: 1]


    [Range Factor: 2]


    [Speed Factor: 1]


    [Spell: Seed Overgrowth]


    For someone who¡¯d been alive for over a year, Prichka¡¯s stats were painfully underwhelming. He didn¡¯t have the talent, and even his deliveries were sloppy. The quality of his output never measured up to the other Elves. When it dropped below acceptable levels, he was shoved into the role of a potion factory.


    Only the least talented Elves ended up there. Otherwise, with daily access to World Tree Fruits, their stats would skyrocket beyond control.


    That¡¯s why people like Nunaka ¡ª Elves with decent potential ¡ª were killed off after a while. They kept growing despite everything: the awful conditions, the restrictions. Even when they tried to hold themselves back, they still advanced.


    ¡®I think I¡¯m pretty decently talented too,¡¯ Pinaka thought, leaning in close to study Prichka¡¯s face. ¡®Which means I¡¯m not going to be kept alive for long. So this is better anyway. Once I¡¯ve squeezed every last benefit out of this place, I¡¯m gone.¡¯


    ¡°Goodbye.¡±


    Pinaka slowly extended his index finger and drove it into Prichka¡¯s heart.


    The shock on the Elf¡¯s face was gutting ¡ª disbelief, then the crushing realization as the last flicker of hope shattered.


    And just like that, Pinaka stopped his heart.


    Prichka was dead.


    Like warm butter sliding around a sharp knife, Prichka¡¯s muscles loosened under Pinaka¡¯s control, freeing themselves from the nails.


    In just a few minutes, he had pulled Prichka completely out of the apparatus. Carrying the limp body down to the floor, Pinaka used the glow of his Status Window for light and got to work altering the Elf¡¯s appearance.


    ¡®Perfect. He looks just like me.¡¯ Pinaka double-checked every scar and detail, making sure Prichka was a flawless copy. At the same time, he reshaped his own features to match Prichka¡¯s.


    Once everything was in place, Pinaka carried the real Prichka to his cell and laid him on the floor, arranging the body to look like someone who had died from extreme starvation.


    ¡®Hmm¡­ whatever.¡¯ He glanced into Mahnaka¡¯s cell for a moment, but shrugged it off. ¡®Whether he¡¯s on our side or has sold out to the Humans, it doesn¡¯t matter.¡¯


    Next, he walked over to Raepekka¡¯s cell and crafted a corpse of him.


    Before long, Pinaka returned to the pillar. He gently strapped himself into the apparatus, bracing himself.


    ¡®It¡­ HURTS!¡¯


    He surged adrenaline through his body, doing everything he could to avoid triggering the pain receptors. Even so, a couple of small mistakes had him instantly regretting his boldness.


    The gloves he¡¯d used to climb the pillar had been transformed into a thin sheet, which he slipped beneath the skin of his stomach. He made the final adjustments to his appearance, making sure he looked exactly like Prichka.


    Then he let himself relax.


    ¡°Now, I wait.¡±


    Clang! Clang!


    At dawn, a soldier stormed into the prison, banging his baton against the metal gates to wake the Elves. The sharp, grating noise stirred them from their sleep. He only moved on to the next cell once he saw movement inside the first.


    The Elves had learned to snap awake the moment they heard that sound. All of them did ¡ª except for one.


    The soldier frowned. ¡°Slave!¡± he barked.


    Storming into the cell, he drew his whip and lashed it onto the floor, right beside the Elf¡¯s face. ¡°GET UP!¡±


    Still no reaction.


    Scowling, he kicked the Elf in the stomach. Nothing.


    ¡®No way¡­¡¯ He crouched down, placing a finger under the Elf¡¯s nose, then checked for a pulse. A few seconds passed before he straightened up, face grim. ¡°He¡¯s dead.¡±


    The commotion drew the attention of the nearby cellmates ¡ª Zetaka and Mahnaka ¡ª who came over, confused.


    Then they heard the soldier¡¯s verdict.


    Zetaka clicked his tongue in annoyance and turned away, uninterested. But Mahnaka stared in disbelief for a moment, eyes fixed on the body. ¡®I thought you were going to do something, Pinaka. Where¡¯s the fire you had on the first day?¡¯


    ¡®I guess¡­ in the end, you weren¡¯t any different from the rest of us.¡¯ He sighed, shaking his head slowly before turning to leave.


    ¡®This fucked up place got you too.¡¯


    ¡­


    Gangnea Daily Article #28


    The metal carriage, Sun Stone tech, and bridge systems were all created by Master Whorren ¡ª the Human Librarian. Famous for inventing the potion factory¡¯s apparatus, he loved torture, and most of his ¡°innovations¡± began as flawed torture devices.

 Chapter 029 | Growing Bolder

    "That''s pretty nasty," the soldier muttered as he stopped in front of Raepekka¡¯s cell. He glared at the scene, then slowly forced his expression blank.


    Raepekka¡¯s hands were locked around his own neck, leaving deep indentations. Blood spurted from the wound in erratic bursts, sometimes whistling faintly like a broken flute. The pressure had crushed his windpipe, choking him to death.


    The floor was smeared in a dark, wet mess of gore. As the soldier stared, a thin arc of blood suddenly sprayed from the corpse¡¯s neck. His eyes shifted to Raepekka¡¯s face ¡ª twisted in agony. The Elf¡¯s last moments had been anything but peaceful.


    Pain, frustration, and regret were all etched clearly into his expression. The soldier flinched and turned his head, muttering, ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s gonna haunt me tonight. Bloody hell.¡±


    He walked off and got back to the morning¡¯s duties. Once the Elves were out in the fields, he returned with a squad. Together, they carried the bodies of Pinaka and Raepekka out of their cells.


    ¡°One starved, the other¡­ bloody trash,¡± Rachad growled when he arrived. His eyes locked on Raepekka¡¯s corpse, and he barked, ¡°Suicide?¡±


    He spotted the soldier who logged the Elves¡¯ stats each morning and motioned him over with a curled finger. ¡°Get over here.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± the soldier said, stepping forward ¡ª only to be met with a sharp slap across the face.


    ¡°Fucking idiot!¡± Rachad barked, landing a second slap. ¡°You should¡¯ve caught it if that Elf showed signs of offing himself!¡±


    His voice echoed off the walls. ¡°We would¡¯ve killed him first! His stats were already close to the limit ¡ª and he knew it!¡±


    ¡°What the hell are you doing? Just blindly jotting numbers like some damn clerk?¡± He let loose a stream of curses, not just at the note-taker but at the squad hauling the corpses too ¡ª because he could.


    Every soldier in the prison was Level 1. Officers like Rachad were rare and ranked at Level 2. Each prison had one officer in charge ¡ª which meant Rachad¡¯s word was law here. Everyone else followed his lead, whether they liked it or not.


    ¡®He¡¯s an asshole, through and through.¡¯


    That thought came from Pinaka, nailed to the pillar with a front-row seat to everything. He was starting to get used to it ¡ª the stillness, the silence. That was all he could do. The more he watched, the more he understood what this place truly was.


    Once you were nailed here, you didn¡¯t leave. You stayed alive, but you couldn¡¯t speak or move. All you could do was stare.


    Elves rarely looked at the pillar. It was a silent warning ¡ª step out of line, and this could be your fate. Just glancing at the one nailed there was enough to crush any lingering hope. It made most of them avoid even glancing toward the potion factory.


    The Elf nailed to the pillar would be begging inside, pleading to be freed with everything they had left. But that silent, desperate face was too much for most Elves to bear.


    Humans didn¡¯t care. Every night, they checked the nails, made sure everything was still holding. But none of them ever looked up. To them, the most pitiful Elf in the prison wasn¡¯t even worth a glance.


    That was exactly why Pinaka had chosen to become the potion factory. In this role, he¡¯d become a blind spot¡ªignored by both Humans and Elves. That gave him nearly complete freedom during the day.


    After the Elves were marched to the farms, the prison fell silent. ¡®The Humans barely show up either,¡¯ he thought.


    The group of soldiers hauled the two corpses off for disposal, with Rachad trailing them a few dozen meters behind, still muttering angrily under his breath.


    The walls enclosing the hexagon-shaped lands had tunnels running through them. Every so often, an entrance would open into one of the hexagons ¡ª the only way in or out.


    Rachad entered one of these tunnels, the one connecting Hexagon 1 and 2.


    Without wasting time, Pinaka peeled himself free from the nails. In his place, he left behind a hollow clone ¡ª fragile, a single hit would make it crumble. But left alone, it held up fine. The eyes were closed, the skin looked just like his. From a distance, it passed.


    And since nobody ever looked at the potion factory, Pinaka was free to move around in broad daylight. His first goal was to follow Rachad and figure out what he was up to.


    ¡®If I can find where they store the World Tree Fruits, that¡¯d be perfect.¡¯ The place would be locked down tight ¡ª but that didn¡¯t concern him. He wasn¡¯t planning to fight his way in. He¡¯d move like a shadow, disguised as a soldier, get close, and just touch them. ¡®As long as I move before they torch me, I¡¯ll win.¡¯


    Outside the prison walls, pressed against the edge of Hexagon 21, stood an office building. It had four floors. The top floor was reserved as the soldiers¡¯ living quarters.


    The ground floor was cluttered with tables piled high with documents. Tools lined the walls: hammers, chains, even whips ¡ª though most were for construction, not torture. The soldiers here mainly handled inspections and logistics.


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


    Very few of them had any direct interaction with the Elves.


    Pinaka crawled silently across the floor, unnoticed. He reshaped his palms and feet to mimic a feline¡¯s, moving silently as he trailed Rachad from a distance.


    He peeked around a corner, waiting for Rachad to make the next turn before creeping forward. One wrong move and it¡¯d be over. But Rachad, in typical fashion, moved with swagger ¡ª casual, overconfident, like he owned the place. Technically, he did.


    Security was so relaxed because all the Elves had already been accounted for and sent to the farms. Only after confirming this did Rachad start heading toward his office. The tunnel stretched the full length of a hexagon side.


    Each hexagon covered six hectares. That meant each side was about 152 meters long ¡ª not a short distance, especially when moving blind. Once Rachad turned a corner, Pinaka had no way of knowing where he was until he caught up that full distance.


    If Rachad happened to glance back for any reason, he¡¯d spot an Elf in the tunnel. ¡®It¡¯s risky... but I don¡¯t have much of a choice. No matter when I decide to do this, the risk stays the same.¡¯


    ¨CCreak!


    Pinaka froze. Just 152 meters left between him and the office. He saw Rachad disappear inside. ¡®No guard at the door.¡¯


    He didn¡¯t rush in. Instead, he stayed still, keeping a close watch on the office. The door had been left slightly open, and vague silhouettes moved around inside. ¡®There are a lot of Humans in there. Better to wait and see.¡¯


    Each day, a batch of Elves reported their harvest. Depending on the crop, harvest cycles ranged from six to ten days. Since every Elf worked on a different schedule, there was always something ready to ship out.


    That explained the activity in the office. As Pinaka observed, the soldiers gradually cleared out. A tunnel extended from the back of the office, leading toward the grain storage facility. From there, goods produced in the Elven Prison were transported to the Human Kingdom.


    Eyes sharp and ears tuned to every sound, Pinaka stayed alert. If someone got too close, he could bolt into the nearest farmland. He always kept that as a backup.


    In seconds, he could bury himself under some nearby crops and vanish into the greenery.


    All six farms in Hexagon 21 were nearing harvest. The crops were tall, thick, and ideal for hiding. That¡¯s what gave him the confidence to sit here and watch so openly.


    He waited. Patiently.


    Then came lunchtime ¡ª and his chance. The smell of food drifted down as the soldiers headed to the second floor. One by one, they filed out, leaving the ground floor completely empty.


    Every Elf was accounted for ¡ª no reason for anyone to stay behind. No one had gone missing. Nothing had seemed out of place.


    That explained why security was practically nonexistent.


    His feet moved soundlessly across the floor. He hadn''t touched an actual feline since becoming an Elf, so his mimicry wasn¡¯t perfect. But relying on memories from Earth, he shaped his limbs into something close.


    Back when he worked as a stuntman, he¡¯d worn costumes of lions and other animals for shoots. It wasn¡¯t ideal, but it gave him enough understanding to move without making a sound.


    The sight of papers stacked on the tables reminded him of office days back on Earth. He crept up to the nearest pile and skimmed the contents. ¡®Looks alien¡­ but I can read it just fine.¡¯


    The documents detailed crop yields, daily production, individual Elf stats, shipment quotas ¡ª a full breakdown of prison operations.


    ¡°Oh, great. They were about to kill me in a few days,¡± Pinaka muttered, flipping through a report listing six Elves marked for disposal. Nunaka was at the top. Raepekka was fifth. He himself was at the bottom.


    There was an overwhelming amount of info ¡ª grain quality reports, proposals for prison expansion, and more. ¡®They don¡¯t mess around. This is way too much to take in.¡¯


    But the key thing he was looking for ¡ª any clues about the World Tree Fruits storage, or a map of the facility ¡ª was nowhere to be found.


    He rifled through a few more stacks before his attention shifted to the door leading out of the office. An Ogre stood there, grunting as it pulled a heavy cart into a tunnel. Behind it, dozens more loaded carriages waited in line.


    ¡®Just one Ogre?¡¯


    The Ogre was shackled in thick steel chains, each about two meters long. The chains were connected to an anchor built into a sliding mechanism embedded in a metal groove running along the tunnel walls. The mechanism let the Ogre move back and forth, but the chains kept it from wandering or escaping.


    It had clearly been broken ¡ª whipped until compliant, and pumped full of drugs to keep it in a trance. A perfect labor machine, barely aware of its own suffering.


    Pinaka scanned the area. ¡®No Humans in sight.¡¯ He broke into a sprint, rushed up behind the Ogre, and pressed his palm to its back. ¡®Good.¡¯


    Then he slipped back into the office.


    Now, he could replicate Ogre skin, bones, and flesh. That thick, heat-resistant hide would be invaluable. ¡®It¡¯ll handle flames better than any wood could. This¡¯ll be useful later.¡¯


    Judging by how long the soldiers had been gone, lunch would wrap up soon. Time was running short.


    He crept toward Rachad¡¯s cabin and slowly pushed the door open. The space was simple ¡ª a desk, some shelves filled with scrolls, nothing fancy. A small stack of papers sat on the table, mostly letters.


    Pinaka picked up the top one, opened, and scanned it. ¡®An army of Ogres is attacking the Ogre Gate. The sender wants Rachad to join the reinforcements.¡¯


    ¡°My, oh my,¡± he whispered, grinning wide. ¡°Isn¡¯t that just perfect?¡±


    ¡®That¡¯s the kind of chaos I need to make my escape.¡¯


    His grin only grew as his gaze swept across the scrolls and papers. Whether they were inked on leather or parchment, he had a feeling all of them were vulnerable to his Authority.


    ¡°Oh¡­ hoho.¡±


    ¡®I can capitalize on this!¡¯ Pinaka thought, twisted excitement bubbling in his chest as he slipped out and made his way back.


    ¡­


    Gangnea Daily Article #29


    All plant-based products fall under the Authority of Wood. But what if another Authority was used to create the produce? Does ash fall under the Authority of Wood, Fire, or none at all?


    ¡ª Musings of a Human Scholar


    ...


    imgur is not working for me, not able to put these notes in image format :[