“…So you’ve already recovered part of your memory?” Waynes set his scepter by the bark-veined table, his gaze sweeping Eli like a cold wind.

“Mm. The door you opened was too on point.” Eli shook his head, helpless, like a leaf caught in a light current.

“Heh-heh, young people do love to joke.” Waynes’ smile curled like an old cat basking.

Eli: “…”

“My story’s done. Elder, anything else?” Eli shrugged, casual as drifting smoke.

“Young man…” Waynes’ eyes crinkled, warmth pooling like tea.

“Go on.”

Eli set both hands on the stool. A scarlet energy welled up like a blood tide. The green tree-chair Waynes had summoned withered in an instant, leaves to ash, staining black-red.

“…Heavy killing intent, huh.” Waynes smiled, a thorn hidden in silk.

Eli smiled back, a polite ripple. Inside, his heart tightened like a drawn bow. He’d only meant to shift his seat—why did killing intent leak like steam from a cracked kettle? There were problems in his body, thorns under skin he hadn’t found. Looks like Waynes was right; his vessel was already bent out of shape.

“Right now, every faction rings the Nofir Great Forest. Powerhouses gather like storm clouds. I’m afraid my descendants can’t hold the city walls like sand. Join us. How about it?” Waynes’ tone was mild, the offer laid like a chess piece.

“Oh? Why? No benefit on the table—why would I join?” Eli arched a brow, a hawk’s feather twitching.

Waynes chuckled. “Heh, you took the seed of the Tree of Life, right?”

“…That was given to me by the Tree of Life. I didn’t steal it.” Eli’s words came awkward, like boots on wet stone.

“If you join our camp, the thing is yours. How about that?” Waynes’ smile was spring rain, soft but soaking.

“Ha? It’s on me already, which makes it mine. What’s with you ‘giving’ it to me? You joking, old man.” Eli’s disdain flicked like a whip.

“Relax. You absolutely can’t force this thing out of here,” Waynes said coolly, voice level as a still lake. “Unless you think you can walk past five Transcenders and the entire Elf Race’s net, and saunter away with the Tree of Life’s seed.”

Eli thought, silence pressing like fog, then sighed. “Fine, deal. I handle that bunch of orcs, then I take the thing. You don’t keep prying.”

“Of course. That’s my condition. No need to repeat it.” Waynes’ smile held like a warding charm.

“Alright. One question—why don’t you stir the pot yourselves?” Eli shrugged, palms open like empty sky.

“Heh, old codgers made an oath. Otherwise those Sacred Rank brats are a slap apiece—wouldn’t even need you.” Waynes’ gaze pricked, a little pained, at the seed of the Tree of Life hanging on Eli’s chest, strung as a necklace by Edlyn. He stared into the near distance and sighed, wind through pines.

“Ehh. But the orc camp has one of those Transcender old-timers. Why not mention that?” Eli’s words cut like a thin blade.

“That’s why we’re standing here. You think I’m this idle? I planned to meditate, still water in a clay bowl. Then this mess drops on me. I’m stuck too.” Waynes rubbed his temple, headache a knot in the wood.

“Fine.” Eli gripped the seed of the Tree of Life, brows knotted like tangled roots. What use did it have? He’d forgotten. But deep down, something beat like a drum: take it.

“Alright. Tell me what I need to do.” He shrugged, a reed bending. “Am I supposed to charge out and hack through orcs till they’re extinct? Call it a day?”

“…I think you should go to the Seafolk for two sponges, soak the water out of your brain, then we talk cooperation.” Waynes sighed, breath a pale plume. “You used to scheme for the Miter Empire’s prince, didn’t you? Do what you do.”

“Miter… oh. Seems there was such a thing.” Eli frowned, memory misting like dawn fog. That stretch was blurry, but what came after, he remembered: the Demon Race woke like a volcano, and Miter retreated like an ebbing tide.

“But you gotta give me, like, a token, right? Otherwise how do I help your Elf Race?” Eli lifted his hands, empty as winter branches.

“…” Waynes watched Eli. Or rather, he measured the face like a map. Then he sighed. “Just go straight to the Elf Queen. She’ll believe you.” His eyes narrowed, thoughts coiled like incense smoke.

Eli nodded, stood, and bowed, a reed by a riverbank. “Alright. Wait for good news.”

“…Mm.” Waynes’ expression wavered, half smile, half grief, a mask split by a hairline crack.

Eli turned and left, his shadow sliding like a fish through shade.

Not far from where he went, Waynes summoned his four old friends again. The five shared a look, then all sighed, leaves falling in unison.

Waynes said, “At first I figured he might be direct blood of the Hero. He carried Birand’s scent, iron and storm, yet held another aura wholly opposite to Birand. But once his power stabilized, only Birand’s scent remained.”

“…What’s he trying to do? Even Annihilation Dawn was unleashed, a sun that devours, and still he won’t fade.” One man frowned, a cliff line drawn tight.

“This little one might…” He glanced at Waynes and sighed, words swallowed like stones.

“Let fate decide. We’ve received no signal from the Celestial God, sky silent as glass. For now, better not act rashly—thin ice underfoot.”

“Mm…”