The Will Of The World Tree

Chapter 5 Mother Goddess

To any intelligent life in the Forest of Whispers and its surrounding territories, the weight of this legendary, divine being is unmistakable.

A thousand years ago, during the peak of the Elven Kingdom's Silver Civilization, the Great Goddess of the Elves looked down upon the world with undisputed authority. The Oak Guardians were her Chosen—beings whose status was equal to the Angels of the New Gods. In her prime, the Goddess commanded the Legion of Nature, a ten-thousand-strong army composed entirely of these formidable Treants. Even the weakest among them possessed the strength of the Silver-tier.

Staring at the behemoth before him—a creature whose scale rivaled that of a Great Dragon—Boulder's mind was in an uproar. Feeling the crushing weight of that magical pressure, his thoughts went blank.

How is this possible?

Weren't the Oak Guardians supposed to have perished alongside the Elven Goddess? Had he misidentified the creature? He rubbed his eyes, but the towering figure remained—a terrifying, living reality. Boulder's entire body began to convulse with tremors.

No... there was no mistake. He had seen this visage countless times on the ancient murals of his tribe. This was an Oak Guardian—a Chosen of the Mother of Nature!

Boulder's limited intellect struggled to process the impossibility of the situation. However, one thing was glaringly obvious: this creature hadn't appeared to offer them a friendly greeting.

It's going to kill us! An instinctive, primal alarm blared in his chest.

"Run..." he muttered, before snapping into a full-throated roar.

"RUN!"

Without even pausing to retrieve his spiked club, Boulder spun around and bolted. He wasn't a fool; he was no match for an Oak Guardian with Silver-tier strength—not even if he had ten of his own kind to help. Even if the High Priest of his tribe were here, he would be nothing more than a sacrificial lamb.

The other mercenaries, who had been standing frozen in shock, finally broke up. They turned as one, scattering like panicked animals in a desperate bid to survive. The hunt was forgotten; their only remaining thought was to cling to life.

As Boulder fled, his mind spiraled into a vortex of confusion and terror. Why is there an Oak Guardian? That Deity fell long ago—it's common knowledge across the Segas Continent! Without the grace of a True God, such a being cannot exist!

Suddenly, an unthinkable realization clawed its way up from the depths of his soul. His mind flashed back to that ancient, withered World Tree...

"No... it can't be..."

Boulder's throat went bone-dry, and a chill settled deep in his marrow. He had to reach the tribe. He had to report this to the Priest. If his suspicion was correct, the entire half-orc tribe was in mortal danger!

Basaka was consumed by fury.

Moments ago, he had received a divine oracle from the Great Mother Goddess. To offer his strength to Her Majesty filled the Oak Guardian with an overwhelming sense of exaltation. But when he arrived at the designated location, he found a pack of hideous, wretched half-orcs.

Worse yet, they were hunting the Mother Goddess's children. When he heard that vile creature dared to blaspheme the name of the Great Mother, Basaka's final shred of restraint snapped.

Simultaneously, the cold, majestic voice of the Goddess echoed in his mind once more:

"Eliminate them."

As if a final shackle had been shattered, the Oak Guardian descended into a total frenzy.

"ROAR—!"

A deafening bellow erupted, startling countless birds into flight across the forest.

"Blasphemers... DIE!"

A surge of massive magical power, laced with threads of divine radiance, exploded from Basaka. His thirty-meter frame seemed to swell even further. With eyes glowing a predatory red, he swung his massive, branch-woven arms and roared:

"WAR RITE!"

A rhythmic, chanting hum vibrated through the air. His arms transformed into a blur of rapidly growing vines and creepers, lashing out like sentient whips toward the fleeing half-orcs.

The vines were impossibly fast. Before the mercenaries could cover more than a few yards, they were ensnared.

"What is this?! Let me go!"

"Help! Boss Boulder, save me!"

"Monster! It's a monster! It's sucking my life... AAAUGH!"

Hearing the chorus of agonizing screams behind him, Boulder's scalp tingled with dread. Suddenly, a premonition of death washed over him. He threw himself to the side just as a thick vine impaled the spot where he had stood a second before.

Before he could catch his breath, the vine lunged again. He bared his teeth and swung his scimitar with everything he had.

CLANG!

The blade snapped in two. The vine was unscathed. Boulder watched in paralyzed horror as the plant coiled around him, pinning him fast. A terrifying suction force emanated from the vine. He watched his muscular limbs wither; his strength evaporated; his vitality was siphoned away. In a matter of seconds, he aged decades.

"War Rite..." he wheezed, his voice dry and thick with terror.

War Rite. A mid-tier Druid ability. It allowed the user to manifest vines that absorbed the target's life force, sacrificing a portion of that stolen energy to the Mother of Nature. In his final moments of consciousness, Boulder finally recognized the signature skill of a Frenzied Druid.

Within moments, the twenty-man hunting party was annihilated. The entire turn of events had taken less than ten seconds.

Alice, slumped on the ground, was speechless. "An Oak Guardian... the War Rite..." she murmured, watching the half-orcs crumble into ash and bone beneath Basaka's vines.

Then, a sudden realization struck her. Crystal tears began to track down her fair cheeks. She looked toward the World Tree with a mix of joy, trepidation, and a heart-wrenching sense of shame.

"Mother Goddess... is that... You?"

A gentle breeze swept through the clearing. Countless motes of pale green light descended from the heavens, sacred and solemn. Carrying a soothing warmth, the light acted upon a divine command, surging into the bodies of Alice and Samir.

The internal injuries Alice had sustained from her attempted self-sacrifice vanished instantly. Samir's shattered body began to knit back together at a visible rate as his consciousness slowly clawed its way back to the surface.

It was a miracle.

The old priest stood up unsteadily, staring in disbelief at the majestic Oak Guardian and then at his own healed wounds. Overwhelmed, he sank back onto the ground. His lips trembled; he looked desperate to believe, yet terrified that he was trapped in a beautiful, cruel dream.

Is this real? Dare I believe?

Suddenly, a grand, divine voice resonated within their very souls...

"My name is—Eve Iggdrasil."

The two elves shuddered. They looked at each other, their eyes wide with shock and awe, which rapidly transformed into boundless ecstasy.

It was Her! It was truly the Mother Goddess!

She had returned.

In an instant, the strength seemed to leave Alice's limbs. Her body swayed, and she collapsed into a prostrate position, weeping uncontrollably. Samir's mouth hung open, his deep wrinkles quivering as clouded tears fell like rain. The man who was once a dignified elder of his race now wailed like a child.

"Mother... Mother Goddess... is it really you?" "Mother! You've come back to us!" "You've truly returned?!"

The guttered flame of faith was reignited, soaring toward the heavens in a brilliant blaze.