Tree of Aeons (an Isekai Story)

283. Reclamation Process

Year 273

The Emperor had aged, when I sent Lumoof to see him. The Holy Emperor’s hair had turned white, even though his power and class should have kept him a lot more youthful. “It’s been a while since we last met, Emperor Erranuel. I hope you’ve been well.”

“As well as I could be.” He waved his hand. His aides and guards left the room. There really was no point to have them here. 

“Really?” Lumoof nodded, and decided to joke. It was inappropriate, but no one dared correct him. “Your hair seems whiter.”

“Age and the weight of managing an empire, Lord Lumoof. In time my hair will soon fall off.” The Emperor relaxed. 

“It’s certainly too soon for hair to start falling off.” Lumoof countered. The Emperor wasn’t that old, was he? He was perhaps eighty, or ninety. He ascended to his Imperial Throne around forty years ago.

He laughed. “If I lived a leisurely life without worries, I’m fairly certain my hair would still be beautifully golden. But alas, I struggle to understand how an empire actually manages to stick together, with all the bickering nobles and lords.”

Lumoof chuckled, and sat on a chair next to him. A tea set was already prepared. The Emperor was more of a coffee person, a relic of the earlier parasite years, but diplomatic channels had data on Lumoof, and indicated he was a tea person. “Would you like me to find some ointments and potions for your hair, then? It should be a fairly easy issue to solve.”

The Emperor smiled at Lumoof’s offer. “That would not be necessary, my whitened hair is quite useful. It’s a good reminder to my nobles that I am an aging man. My mortality helps bring out the schemers amongst the ducal families, and misleads them into thinking that I am a frail, weakened man.”

“Oh?” Lumoof laughed. To feign weakness when one is strong, and lure out the schemers is a common tactic. Somehow nobles still fall for it. Their greed and desire for power often overwhelms the warning signs. 

“So, are you here to just taste my tea?”

“Nothing like that. We met Hawa. Twice, actually.”

Emperor Erranuel sagged. “I heard rumors from my informants. It felt so implausible that I’m certain it’s an intentional leak.”

“It is.” Lumoof chuckled. “It’s good to see how news travels. It helps us know who’s talking to who.”

Erranuel looked in the distance. All of us play the game. His throne room was necessarily grand, the act of being invited to this room was a spectacle, a ceremony. Something for mere mortals to remember. But to the Holy Emperor, this is no more than a ritual meant to enhance his mysticism.

The priests said the regular citizens must be reminded that they stand before the representative of god. A Holy Emperor. 

So the throne room was filled with enchantment. For regular soldiers and citizens, they would feel a tremendous weight as they entered. A set of spells and items, meant to enhance the Holy Emperor’s presence. 

It was exhausting, and Lumoof could see it. He had a role to play, as a symbol of sorts for his Empire.

His powers as an Emperor were strong. It is for this reason his lesser nobles have not tried to assassinate him. The empire would collapse without his presence, and lesser nobles were not prepared to deal with the aftermath and power vacuum. 

He was not the only Holy Emperor, and the relationship with the other Holy Empires were cordial at best, and outright hostile in less pleasant times. Not just that, the threat of the guilds still remained in the background. Though the era of merchant warfare was mostly over, there were still small skirmishes and battles. Little reminders that there are greedy guilds waiting to pounce.

So the nobles, despite their greed, dared not shatter the Emperor’s presence that supported their empire’s strength. His skills, and his blessings, endowed his people with strength. It is a country-wide blessing, and worked in some ways, similar to those of my own priests and trees. Harvests are bountiful, mines are more productive, people are healthier, and levels increase a little bit faster.

Erranuel sipped the tea. He wasn’t a big fan, and Lumoof could tell. “Would you like to visit the world where we met Hawa?”

“Yes. Though I suppose my nobles will curse my absence. My blessings fade over time. But I want to go. To see the God I claim to represent.” 

We’ve known this since the Emperor’s visit to the Lavaworld, and later on, a week-long tour through the Threeworlds and Mountainworld. The other Emperors were not so keen on visiting, they bought their church’s propaganda to a stronger degree than we ever did.

A missing King is therefore bad for the country, even if the effects are not felt immediately. That said, there are [assassin], [spy] and [conspirator] abilities that could mess with a King’s abilities. It is often said that it is better for a King to die in battle, than to die assassinated in his sleep, because the [assassin] class passively erodes the King’s country-wide blessing, while an honorable death in battle is often rewarded by some other form of blessings.

Lumoof thought about showing the divine item, but we decided we would keep it. Not now. We didn’t want to ruin his first experience of divinity. 

“I will make the arrangements and let you know.”

“Do you not fear your long absence?” Erranuel asked abruptly.

“What do you mean?” Lumoof paused. The tea was perfectly warm. The cup was some kind of enchanted cup, that emitted a soft, gentle heat that kept the tea warm. 

“You travel to other worlds, on long missions. Do you not fear for the safety of your homes when you are away?”

Lumoof found the question amusing. “Why? I trust my fellow warriors to keep things safe.” 

Erranuel sighed. “I admire that. I can’t trust my nobles, well, except two, but they have their plates full keeping the empire together. It would’ve been easier if we had a structure that’s so immensely loyal.”

“It’s something you must build, Emperor.” Lumoof advised. “This structure was constructed over centuries, layers by layers, built on the backs of many veterans.”

“Only for it to collapse when I die.”

“Then don’t.” Lumoof smiled. 

Emperor Erranuel stared at Lumoof as if it was the most ridiculous thing ever. After a while he laughed. “I sometimes forget I’m speaking with an avatar.”

“You just need to gain levels. There are worlds out there where you can gain levels.”

Erranuel paused and looked at Lumoof. “Are you suggesting I expand the Empire to other worlds?”

For others it is as close to impossible. The Valtrian Order has complete monopoly over void mages. Void mages is a class that dabbles in the void mana, and for younger void mages in training, accidental void mana corruption and curses still occur somewhat regularly, and so most void mages still need to get ‘treated’ for curses. Even void archmages experience mishaps, though their souls are so well attuned to void mana that the mishaps are usually minor. 

So, a senior level void archmage wouldn’t even think of working for others, due to the sheer gap in resources. Perhaps the Angels could entice some of my void archmages, but we keep a thorough inventory of who and where each of my void mages are. Well, except those that vanished into the void during the Demon’s Comet.

My avatar looked at Erranuel, and knew that deploying him on other worlds would be a good way to use his talents. His talents were stagnant here. His powers were used to fight and resist my influence. Here, we were competitors, even if it isn’t much of a competition. I would prefer to have his abilities used against the demons or other forces in the peripheral worlds. 

It’d be a good time to also use my [anointed king] class, and see its’ effects on the peripheral worlds.

So Lumoof doubled down. “Yes. I’d be happy to facilitate your move, and even provide you with a suitable protective force. We will help get your new Empire in the faraway worlds up and running.”

Erranuel stared at Lumoof as if it was totally ridiculous. “You’re asking an Emperor to leave his Empire, and start a new one somewhere else in what’s likely to be a war-torn, demon infested world.”

Lumoof grinned. “Absolutely. It’s exciting, don’t you think so?”

Erranuel closed his eyes. It felt like minutes. 

His lips curled into a mischievous grin. 

“Well, can’t say I’m not swayed. When do we start? And I’d like to see the look on my nobles when I’m appointing an Imperial Regent.” 

“I’ll have scribes, painters and mages for the moment.” Lumoof laughed.

***

All of them were in full suits of armor, as they prepared for the rift gate. It was a small group, only about six of them, mainly just to protect Stella as we made the journey to the peripheral worlds. Stella, Edna, Ezar, a druid warhealer, a ranger, and an elemental mage. 

The peripheral worlds required six hops, mostly through Hawa’s regional worlds. It was likely to be safe, since these were Hawa controlled worlds, but Edna was with her, just in case. 

We were not allowed to linger, and though it was a bit of a pity, I understood Hawa’s reasoning, and accepted it. 

So, the goal was to keep moving until we reached one of the peripheral worlds, and because the peripheral worlds were all relatively close to each other, I would then deploy either a clone or a node tree. From there, we’d use that clone and node tree as the ‘base’ to make further travel, skipping the Hawa’s outer worlds entirely. 

These peripheral worlds were pretty much a cluster of unloved worlds. Worlds too far from the gods, not that far they are out of reach, but far enough that it wasn’t sustainable. Still, the pact forced them to protect it. 

“Well, let’s start hopping.” 

The first Hawa world was similar to Satrya, the presence of divine energies was strong. Just as we arrived we could feel the strands of divine energy trying to exert itself over us. This was another Outer Core World.

But the five worlds after the first world only had a faint, divine presence. There were no ‘laws’ like the Outer Core Worlds, and per the data shared by Hawa, these were the Regional Worlds of Hawa. 

Then, we were finally at the frontier of Hawa’s power bubble. The peripheral worlds. 

*** 

The First Peripheral World - Landas

Stella landed first, and we were immediately assaulted by the presence of demons. The astral space of the peripheral world glowed with the demon king’s path, and when we looked to the skies, we saw were filled with flying demons.

“The welcoming party is here.” Stella quipped as the rest of the six arrived. Edna was just a short few seconds behind her.

“Exactly what I was expecting, though.” Edna smiled. The flying demons were not that powerful. Perhaps about level 30. She could take them on single handedly. “Node tree?”

“Too early.” Stella’s senses fanned out, and Edna’s own magical senses followed. “Divine presence here is minimal. Comparable to Treehome and Mountainworld.”

Of the first three worlds, I would rank Threeworld’s divine presence to be a little bit stronger. There is a pact of sorts that governs the three hegemons, and there must have been three gods that agreed to it, a long long time ago. Their presence may have faded due to the distance, but the pact sustains a certain level of divine presence in the world. 

Edna looked at the demons, and activated a small defensive, illusionary object. It immediately masked her presence. The rest of the crew followed. 

The first peripheral world seemed fairly war torn, the terrain around us was charred. There were burnt trees and burnt rocks. Corpses that had long rotten.

Bodies.

One of the Valthorns, a Level 140 [Warhealer], squatted down and examined the bones.

“Elven, or at least some kind of elven variant. Dead for at least four years. But these burn marks look younger.”

Stella glanced at Edna, and back. “Well, I suppose there should be some surviving civilizations here. Let’s go look for them.”

One of the Valthorns immediately wondered. “Maybe they’ll be like the Ularans. Cowered and hiding in their tunnels.”

The void mage nodded, but one of the [rangers] began using his scouting abilities. “There seems to be some kind of habited location further away. I detect new smoke and the faint smell of cooked food in that direction.”

Stella nodded. “Distance?”

The ranger immediately shared the distance, coordinates, and Stella opened a magical portal. The group stepped through, their presence hidden by their illusion items, and on the other side was a fortress that was under attack.

They were hidden. 

There was a group of flying demons above them, about two hundred demons and a single demonic champion among them. They attacked the fortress, but for now, their progress was hindered by a decently powerful protective barrier.

“Well.” Edna looked at her fellow teammates. “There are living people on the other side, and we have demons attacking it. What is there to do but stop it?”

The army of flying demons wasn’t very strong, and so Ezar stood. “Let me.”

He stretched, twisted briefly. Then, his fists glowed, and he began to punch the flying demons with his energy punches.

***

Native POV - Novorosk

Landas was not always a world infested with demons. But for survivors, like Novorosk, that sort of history didn’t matter. They fought the demons for decades, and a life of fighting demons was the only one they knew.

Ancient history claimed there was a time when the five different elven tribes, the blood elves, the high elves, the night elves, the white elves and the riverine elves, all had multiple empires, all incredibly powerful. It was a time when the five tribes fought each other for supremacy. 

It was ancient, and a dream told from the great matriarchs and lorekeepers to the young. 

There were demons, back then. But each of the five empires would have [heroes]. Elven champions, each of them, and they would fight the demons and destroy them. No lorekeeper remembered when, but there was a time, a few thousand years ago, or perhaps tens or hundreds of thousands of years ago, the [heroes] began to dwindle.

For five, to four. 

Some elves believed that this was divine punishment. The five sub-races, all those elven empires were all reckless. The demon’s supremacy and the loss of the heroes was due to the other empire’s foul behavior. It was an era where elves, already hostile to each other, blamed each other, instead of banding together as one. After all, it was the other empire and elves' fault that the gods abandoned them. 

The era of war came, and just as the wars between the elven tribes intensified, the heroes vanished. 

Four, to three. 

No matter what the elven tribes did. They fought. They made sacrifices to the gods. They offered worship and prayers. 

But it was all for naught. The world of Landas drifted further away, unknown to them all. Their gods, faraway and silent, did nothing to tell them of the truth. It costs them too much to even send a message. The Gods were stretched, and limited faith points were used to support more worlds. The gods supported thousands of worlds each, but to each of these worlds, they know only a single one.

Their own. 

Then three heroes became just two. 

The demons’ presence in the world of Landas became almost permanent. Somewhere along the way, the demons established a foothold in the world of Landas. They claim the vast sands as their home. A land hostile to the elven tribes, and what was once a vast ocean of sands became twisted by the demonic energies that took root. 

It transformed the sand oceans into the Landasian demonlands. The demon lands spawned demons forever, and what was once-in-a-decade incident became a never ending nightmare.

Then two heroes became only one. 

The world of Landas only received a single hero. 

A single hero to hold off against the powerful demons. A single hero who couldn’t be strong enough to kill the demon king and live to tell the tale. A single hero that didn’t benefit from the blessings of the [hero shards]. Because there were no other heroes to give him that shard.

And it felt like the gods took forever before they sent a hero. The world of Landas was now in an eternal war against the demons.

It’s been many many years since then

The old feuds for the elves gradually faded away, as their inter-tribal enemies paled before their existential threats. 

Novorosk prepared for battle. Their home, the Fortress of Roskor, was protected by old magics. There were relics left from the earlier era that still gave their Fortress City its shields and protections. 

Their people were ready to die. 

Novorosk, the leader of the defenders, prepared his bow, his spear, his harpoons. The flying demons were difficult enemies. He could kill a few single handedly, but there were hundreds in the skies above. 

It was hard to talk, each time the claws and fangs of the flying demons slammed into the magical shield, there was a loud humming sound.

A life of war meant Novorosk was already level 80. Many in his squad were level 60 to 80, and each of them could kill multiple flying demons. In full strength, this army of demons would not have been a problem for them.

But the demons were relentless. They had flying armies by the tens of thousands, and this was the sixth attack in the last week. His men were all injured, wounded by a thousand tiny cuts, poisoned by tiny droplets in each strike. 

Even Novorosk himself felt the demon’s foul poison in his left thigh. There was a blackened stain that was slowly fading. It would heal in a few days, but the demons didn’t give him the time. 

He’d have to fight without his full mobility. 

Novorosk, blood elven warleader, watched as a healer tried to soften the effects of the poison. The healers tried to patch up the defenders, as much as they could, but none of them will be at their best today. The shamans drew blood-colored lines, enchantments, on their skin. 

The leader of the demonic army was a flying demon with a large battleaxe. The blood elves referred to it as the Axe Leader. 

Novorosk beat it before. He killed three of them in the last year alone. But he wasn’t sure he could do it with the poison in his leg. 

He cursed. “Aturk. You’ll need to support me.” 

Aturk, his third-in-command, looked at what Novorosk was looking at and frowned. His face was one of fear. But he wasn’t going to let his leader down. “Yes, Warleader.”

Aturk was level 65, and in better times, he would’ve been a good warleader. 

The shield wobbled. Novorosk waved his hand, and signaled for the squad to be ready. There were about seventy warriors in his detachment, and another thirty would be supporting from the back.

If they could take down the Axe Leader, they should win this. It would be at great cost, and Novorosk himself may not survive it. But the Fortress of Roskor would live another day. 

“-Warleader Novorosk! There are civilians outside of the fortress!”

Novorosk stared at the shouting scout, absolutely baffled. He tried to run, but his poisoned leg made it painful. The shaman’s pain suppressing lines glowed, and suppressed the pain. But it still hurt. 

There was a group of six adults, and from a distance, Novorosk thought they looked like the white elves of the snowlands. 

“Where did they come from?” Novorosk shouted. “Didn’t our magical detectors spot them?”

THe scout looked embarrassed. “No, warleader. We did not notice them at all.”

“Is our equipment faulty? Who’s in charge of maintenance?” Novorosk frowned. 

The scout shook his head. “It shouldn’t be-”

“Something is wrong-”

The second in command walked to the scouting tower. The shields continued to wobble. It likely won’t hold for long. “Warleader, let’s deal with the civilians later. The defenders are ready. At your command.”

Novorosk sighed. “You’re right. Civilians who take such risks will have to be responsible for it.”

The blood elven warleader surveyed the fortress walls. His men were all in position. They were all deathly afraid, but they would not let it affect the fight. Novorosk looked at the second-in-command. He would be in charge if Novorosk fell in battle.

He’s a good man, and Roskor would be in good hands. Novorosk tapped the shoulders of the deputy warleader. “Take care of yourself.”

The deputy shook his head, he was armed to the teeth. “We’ll cover you.”

“Don’t be stupid.” Novorosk countered, and then stood on the battlements. “Get ready! Supporting fire-”

But they all felt it then. A sudden surge of power that wasn’t demonic. A pressure so intense that Novorosk felt the blood in his face drain away. 

“-what-”

They heard sounds. It sounded like a really loud punch. A single ‘swish’, and a ‘splat’. In the constant humming from the magical shields, and in the noise of demonic fangs and claws rattlings and attacking, they didn’t know why the punch sounded so loud.

It was as if the only sound that mattered, and all the other sounds were somehow silenced in its presence.

The demons exploded.

They watched the flying demons felt in the skies above. The Axe Leader of the demons turned, as if looking for its enemies. 

But it too, splattered into smithereens. 

Novorosk watched as the strongest of the demonic flying horde turned into mush. 

The demons were all gone, their bodies splattered all outside of the ground. The deputy turned to face Warleader Novorosk, unable to understand the changing tides. “Warleader, what just happened?”

[AN : I'm taking next week off]

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