By the time they arrived at the Wishing Tree, Haman's task as guide had come to an end.
Though he was still curiously puzzled by some of Angel's actions, this was not the time to ask. He could only nod lightly to Angel in farewell before turning and leaving.
Only after Haman vanished around the end of the street did Angel raise his eyes toward the enormous Wishing Tree in the distance.
It was a unique Wishing Tree carved from crystal.
It was exceptionally tall. Compared to a building, it stood at least five or six stories high.
In Eighth Town, the Wishing Tree might not have been the tallest, but it was certainly the most distinctive. Any other structure of such height would inevitably be covered in neon signs and projected advertisements, saturated with light pollution. Yet this Wishing Tree bore not a trace of neon color, illuminated only by the faint glow cast upward from the incandescent streetlamps below.
Yet even though the light was so weak, when it fell upon the vast and magnificent Wishing Tree, it still shimmered with radiant brilliance, bringing a wisp of pure, flourishing vitality to this underground district filled with light pollution.
The crystal Wishing Tree's branches twisted and interlaced, like the hands of elves growing up from beneath the earth.
They were draped in drifting lights like fireflies.
It was breathtakingly beautiful, and utterly dreamlike.
Beside the Wishing Tree stood the headquarters of the Wandering House.
Unlike the Wishing Tree, the Wandering House headquarters displayed a rough yet mysterious hybrid style. It resembled a theater as a whole, its walls built from battered metal and heavy rock, inlaid with flickering electronic screens and ancient magical runes.
Angel had seen these magical runes on the streets of Eighth Town before.
According to