"Tsk." Edlyn sat by the campfire, her cheek on one hand, displeasure sparking like fireflies from the coals.

"Ahem. Ed-chan, eaten yet?" Eli grinned, moonlight easy on his face.

"Cut the crap. Tell me straight—what are you doing?" Edlyn pointed at Eli, who hugged the Tree of Life’s trunk and climbed like a cat up an old pine.

"Nothing. I just noticed something before we left that stuck in my head." Eli smiled and kept stroking the great trunk like soothing a dozing beast.

Edlyn pulled her clothes tighter, a wary glance skimming the Tree of Life like frost along a leaf.

"Hurry. We—we feel this place isn’t right, like the air before rain."

"Huh? What now?" Confusion rose first in Eli’s chest, then his voice followed.

"There’s no threat here," he said, brows knotting like roots in hard earth.

"Tsk. We can’t tell, so don’t ask us. Move it." Edlyn flicked up a stone and snapped it at him like a sparrow from brush.

Eli plucked it from the air, smiled, and let it drop like a pebble through still water.

He reached the crown, left hand settling on a limb broad as a ridge.

He stood where the Life Seed had once rested, a pearl cupped in green.

"Life," he said, voice low as rain in pine, "tell me—has something forced itself onto you, making you ache like a burr under bark?"

The giant tree didn’t answer; the trunk shivered like a drum in wind, then a thick branch stretched to him like an old friend’s arm.

Eli’s eyes thinned, a knife-edge under his lashes. "So it’s here?"

Set into the wood lay the next Memory Crystal, a dark-red shard like congealed dusk.

It tugged from his soul’s depths, a tide dragging him to pour himself into it like wine into thirsty earth.

But a faint gold halo ringed it, a quiet sun hiding boundless might, barring any hand from wrenching it free.

"How do we play this?" Eli smiled, calm as a lake before thunder.

He could hack off that section of trunk, sap weeping like rain. Or gouge it out, leaving a knotted scar.

Or he could pull it straight into his soul and begin the fusion like embers kissing dry tinder.

"Cut down the Tree of Life? Hmmmmm... better think twice." Eli shook his head, helpless as a leaf in crosswind.

If it came to blows, he probably wouldn’t beat this tree, old as a mountain.

The Memory Crystal was fixed by force, sealed against brute hands like stone under frost. Unless he carved out the whole block, it wouldn’t budge like a star in its course.

He recalled Birand’s warning at the end of past fusions, and his gaze slimmed like the waning moon.

............................................

Birand was silent. "I’m only a strand of memory, far from the day I died, a lantern in old fog. I can’t read what my future self wants."

Then Birand turned solemn, steady as stone in rain. "But I can tell you this. We either fuse, or you fade like mist at noon. Either way, I take no backlash."

"Even if we fuse, I lead," he said, iron wrapped in silk.

....................................

Birand studied Eli’s careless look, hesitated, then warned, "Heir of later days, if my memory meshes perfectly, your current self may..."

Back then, I answered with a dry laugh.

"Save it. Once I find the truth I want, I’ll stop hunting your memories. That’s my line."

............................................

Birand spoke sternly, words like winter bells. "I can’t guess what my future self seeks, but out of pity, hear this. Some truths won’t please you."

"And the price of truth may be your life, like frost on a blossom."

Eli only shrugged, a gull riding wind. "Relax. I get it. Another shard of you said the same. I’ve got this."

Birand shrugged back. "I hope so." He waved, and grass and flowers bowed aside like a green tide, opening a path.

"Whether you take this memory is your choice," he said, watching Eli’s quiet like a still pond.

Eli raised a brow and smiled with easy pride. "Of course I take it."

....................................................

Edlyn had said it too: keep this up, and you might not be yourself.

Eli lifted his face to the sky, thoughts drifting like high clouds.

The Tree of Life felt this familiar man sink into low tide, and rustled, worried as a crane with a torn wing.

Was it because it was wounded now?

A leaf reached out, patting Eli’s shoulder like a cool palm in summer.

Eli opened his eyes and smiled at it, a thin sun through mist.

Yes, he thought, just like I told Edlyn.

He raised his head; old confidence flared like fire catching dry pine. "I don’t care for any so-called racial honor."

"I only know what I want, what I need to know, and who I like," he said, voice steady as a drum.

He turned and smiled. "I’m a Hero, but I’m not Birand. I have a name."

"I’m Eli Aestor, not Birand Aste. I choose to fuse you because I want to know if my last life did something so vile it drew heaven’s wrath and the people’s hate."

"I am myself. I am not you." Eli looked into the empty air, as if Birand’s shadow stood there like a figure in rain.

"Since I’m the next life, this body is mine, as sure as spring owns the thaw. It’s not yours."

"How can you be so sure you’ll swallow me whole?"

"So then, the answer’s already clear," Eli said, a smile like a drawn blade.

A vast surge of soul power burst forth like a rising tide, blanketing the entire elven realm.

Edlyn stared his way, her brows knitting like stormclouds. "What is that guy doing?"

"Come on. We meet again, Birand. What story do you bring me this time? I can’t wait." Eli’s pupils began to shift, a storm opening its eye.

His left eye turned pure white, clear as new snow.

On that white, a tiny black dot circled the center like a swallow round a bell.

..........................................................

"Albert, you’re back." In the shadows, someone cradled a bark-bound book, smiling like a lamp behind a screen.

"Yeah. I’m back. How are you? Any better?" Albert sighed, worry hanging like rain.

"Nothing new. The old illness, centuries deep. Heh... cough, cough." The man laughed, then a fit of coughing shook him like wind through reeds.

"Sigh." Albert could only shake his head, a branch in breeze.

"Ascaraun, what realm are you at now?" Albert asked, pride gleaming like a polished blade.

"Oh? Sounds like this trip paid off. Advanced, did you?" the man chuckled, voice warm as tea.

"Of course. I’m about to step into Transcender! How’s that—badass or not?" Albert laughed, joy leaping like a spark.

"Badass, badass. That’s you all right." Ascaraun smiled helplessly, then coughed twice, tired as dusk.

"Hahaha. What, want to spar first?" Albert’s excitement drummed like hooves.

"...Cough, cough." Ascaraun rolled his eyes, exasperation like a wave that wouldn’t break.

"You sure?"

"Of course," Albert said, chest swelling like a sail.

"Ah, swollen with pride." Ascaraun’s smile turned odd, a knife under velvet. "Give you a few days unthrashed, and you’re on the roof kicking tiles. Cough."

"Tsk. Enough talk. Let’s start!" Albert’s grin vanished; a dense blast of mana roared for Ascaraun’s face like a tidal bore.

Ascaraun raised his left hand and caught it with ease, like pinching a candlewick. He sighed, half amused. "Still the same."

"I told you—pair that brute force with arrays, add elements and traits, and your power won’t just nudge up."

"Cough, cough." He still looked sickly, weariness clinging like fog.

"But you won’t listen. You just ram through. Alas."

Albert blinked, then stared. "Hey. Back when I was Sacred Rank, one blast, you blocked it like that."

"Now I’m about to be a Transcender. My output’s multiplied, and you still stop it the same. What monster are you?"

Ascaraun shook his head with a smile. "Cough. Enough talk. I told you—go a few days without a beating, and you climb roofs and pry tiles."

He waved his left hand, lifted his right, and drew a soft circle, like tracing yin and yang in air.

The impact turned, redirected like a river through a sluice, and surged back at Albert.

Albert blanched, power flaring like wildfire as he barely blocked it.

"Damn. That’s sick, old bro. Teach me that." Albert’s eyes shone like stars.

"Cough. Maybe later," Ascaraun said with a smile, shaking his head. "Tell me what you gained this time."

"Not much. Honestly, I was unlucky." Albert sighed, his breath like smoke.

"Oh? Cough, what happened?" Ascaraun asked, curiosity bright as a lamp.

"I found a pretty girl with sharp talent. She held a lot of sealed power inside, like deep water under ice."

"During an attack, I failed to protect her. She died," Albert said, grief pooling like night.

"Sigh. A pity indeed," Ascaraun echoed, a leaf drifting down.

Far away, in Eli’s avatar’s space, Yiyi sneezed, a petal trembling in wind.

"Then, on the way back, someone stole my clothes. What a dog’s day," Albert muttered, gloom falling like rain. "The rest was nothing."

"Oh—also heard the Beastkin and the Elf Race might have a problem."

Ascaraun ignored the clothes and smiled at those names, like a fox hearing hens. "Yes. My informants sent word."

"The Beastkin seem ready to seize the Elf Race."

"Huh? Why? Their strengths are about the same."

"Heh. That, well..."