“I can’t tell you much about the future. I can only say it’s calm as a still lake—unless you go courting death. Then the river can change course,” Anna said, brows pinched like two inked strokes.

“That serious?” Eli asked, his brow creasing like gathering stormclouds.

“Mm.” Anna nodded, a small bob like a floating leaf.

Eli tucked his hair behind his ear with a crescent‑moon smile. “Hey, you came back to this era; you’ve got to do something, right? Don’t tell me you just popped in dry as sand. Future me won’t let you off.”

Anna scratched her head, sheepish as a cat caught on a sill. “Ugh, you’re so annoying. Dad, you’re the worst.”

Eli held the smile, eyes warm as lantern light on a winter lane.

“Fine. It has to be like this,” Anna shrugged, shoulders lifting like sparrows. “According to Dad’s intel, he met me at this exact time once. So me showing up in front of you now is the proper thread.”

“But right now, I don’t know what happens after, because he—uh, future you—won’t tell me,” Anna said, mouth a hesitant line. “He only says, leave words alive, and the future stays misty and unknown.”

Eli smiled at her, the smile thin as paper. Whatever else, Anna’s appearance carved one line clear in his heart.

He had a real chance to beat Birand; the horizon wasn’t all iron.

Because Anna’s surname was Ostor, not Aster.

“Emmm, so I kind of… took the thing,” Anna muttered, scratching at her temple, and fished out a crystal that caught light like frozen sea glass.

“…” Eli’s face went stiff as stone; words clotted like wet ash.

He still took the blue‑glowing “crystal” by reflex—their target all along, the seed of the Tree of Life.

“When did you get it?” Eli asked, the question sharp as a tap on glass.

“Uh. Right when I showed up,” Anna said, tone light as a skipping pebble.

“Right when you showed up? Weren’t you standing here the whole time?” Eli frowned, lines neat as blade cuts.

“Ahaha, I hopped back to the future for dinner and came right back,” Anna laughed, bright as chimes.

Eli raised a brow. “Huh? Time travel’s that casual? You can detour for a meal? Well, damn, that’s a thing.”

“Ah, no, it’s just—Dad prepped extra energy for me,” Anna said, neck shrinking like a turtle. “I figured letting it sit was a waste, so I just…”

She suddenly felt the young version of her father staring at her, gaze heavy as a mountain.

In her memories, whenever Dad wore that look, it meant her backside would meet a storm.

“Do I look like someone who wastes power?” Eli pressed fingers to his brow, the headache throbbing like drums.

“Uh… not really,” Anna mumbled, shoulders folding like paper. Now she knew she’d probably kicked the beehive. Future him would have to send this mad girl on more errands. But now… those errands might have vanished like dew.

Somewhere in the future.

Eli sat with a newspaper, tea steaming like morning mist, posture easy as a willow in wind.

Alice came with hesitant steps, nerves fluttering like moth wings. “Um, Dad.”

“Mm? Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” Eli smiled, the paper rustling like leaves as he set it aside.

“It’s… Anna,” Alice twisted her fingers at her hem, knuckles pale as porcelain. “After she went back, she used the second charge of power.” Dad had told her to watch Anna like a guard dog. Anna had snuck back saying she’d finished, grabbed a meal, then jumped again. It took her breath like a plunge into cold river.

Eli lifted a brow, mind drifting like smoke through old corridors. Then he just gave a bitter smile and shook his head. “Forget it. Everything’s set on its rails. No need to gnaw at it.”

“Father… I’m sorry,” Alice whispered, grief trickling like rain. She’d never seen him wear that faint shade of disappointment.

Eli drew her into his arms, voice warm as a quilt. “Hey, hey, hey, my little tyrant, why the tears? I didn’t even scold you.”

“But… but…”

“It’s fine. I believe it’ll all run smooth as silk.”

“Oh…” Alice hugged him tight, her small chin resting on his neck like a perched bird, breath hitching in soft sobs.

Eli sighed, gaze drifting to the far wall like a boat in fog.

Alice blinked. “Ah… looks like Dad signed off. Sis, the mess you made—your little sister covered for you. I even played the good girl, tiny princess. How are you paying me back?”

Far in the past, Anna let out a sneeze—achoo—and glanced around, puzzled as a deer in snow.

“Alright. Your task’s over. Head back,” Eli said, helplessness pooling like dusk. “If you linger in this era, too many threads will shift.”

“Future me said the future’s full of uncertainty. So the longer you stay in the past—meaning now—the bigger the ripples,” Eli added, tone steady as a riverbank. “Before things roll beyond our grip, we can still nudge the small stones.”

“Okay… then I’ll go,” Anna nodded, edges softening like fog, and her figure began to thin like smoke.

“Hey, wait,” Eli called, a palm raised like a stop sign. “How did you tie up those old codgers from the Elf Race?”

“Ah—about that. It’s a long story,” Anna said, eyes sparking like fireflies.

“Give me the short one,” Eli cut in, brow arched like a bow.

“…” Anna pressed her lips, silence heavy as ink.

“Speak,” Eli urged, voice cool as a blade.

“Uh… it’s tied to future you,” Anna said, solemn as stone.

“…That’s it?”

“Mm… that’s it.”

“Nice summary,” Eli muttered, hand to his forehead, the headache back like thunder.

“Then go. You should be able to finish them now,” Eli said, voice firm as a command flag.

“Mm‑hmm. Don’t worry, once I’m back, the bindings will drop soon,” Anna chirped, confidence bright as noon.

“Alright, alright. Move,” Eli said, waving like a fan. “Don’t waste time.”

He thought, quiet as a closed room: leave it to future me to discipline this silly girl.

Anna sidled up to him, a whisper at his side like a breeze. “So, Dad, I’m your first daughter. Later, there’s a younger brother and a younger sister. Ahem—just so you know.”

She blinked, a sly wink like a star, then pinched his left cheek, light as a berry. Eli’s expression twisted, and she vanished without a ripple, gone like a candle snuffed.

“This silly girl,” Eli murmured, head shaking like a pendulum. He raised the seed of the Tree of Life, magic flowing from his hand like a blue spring. The glow seeped back into the Tree’s body, a river returning to its source.

“I only need a guide. This wellspring’s power belongs to you,” Eli said with a thin smile, words gentle as falling snow.

Outside the forests of Nofir, roughly a thousand miles out.

The Beastkin legions spread over the forest’s far flank like a black tide, pressure heavy as iron clouds.

“Marching straight in like this doesn’t feel wise,” Kait Osborne said, mouth twitching like a snagged thread, watching the brainless brute lead his troops with pounding steps.

“Please. The Elf Race is weak as dry reeds to us,” the Beastkin leader grinned, teeth sharp as knives. “Us stirring up a fuss at all is us giving them face. Who needs all that messy intrigue?”

This human sure loved sticking his nose where it didn’t belong, his eyes said, flat as cold steel.

Any Elf patrol near them got spotted, then crushed like ants—no time to send word, no space for schemes.

Kait paced, thoughts clicking like beads. “Commander, I need to contact my insider within the Elf Race. Permit me to head back?”

“Oh?” The Beastkin commander frowned, lines cutting like claw marks. “Insider? Funny, I never heard that from above. You’re not slipping off to warn them, are you?”

Kait kept a mild smile, polite as tea steam. “No way. You can ping the higher‑ups yourself. I wouldn’t dare lie.”

In his chest, curses boiled like tar. Damn you, useless mutt. I am heading back to warn them, idiot. If I get away, I’ll repay every ‘favor’—you had me pulling horses and sleeping in a stable. I’ll return that a hundredfold.

“Fine. I’ll confirm, then let you go,” the Beastkin commander said, stroking his chin like a cat, then stalked off.

“All units, hold position! If you spot any Elf, Elf‑related creature, supply, or outpost—cut them down. No survivors!” His bark rolled like thunder.

Soon, word came down from above that Kait’s claim was legit, and the commander let him leave Beastkin lines.

Kait’s face was a stone mask as he walked out of their camp, steps measured as chess.

Before he left, the commander had squinted and said, If I let you go just like this, what if you run? Then, in his ‘genius,’ he had one of Kait’s legs broken, so he limped away like a wounded wolf, bound back toward the Elf Race.

They stayed, waiting for his report like vultures on a ridge.

Kait ground his teeth, rage burning like wildfire. “Damn bastards. I’ll see you die ugly. Just wait. I’m your tool, and you still dared hit me? Unforgivable.”