Tree Demon

Anastasia's pale golden hair reached her earlobes, like a Golden Apple.

Her amber eyes were clear and transparent, as intoxicating as brownish wine.

The girl's height barely reached Iver's chest—about the same as Yulia's.

Compared to the average height of the elven race, she was noticeably shorter... Iver had almost never seen an elf shorter than Isabel, but he had seen one today.

In a daze, Iver realized why the timid Yunus had suddenly become brave and even saved Anastasia from the bandits. Iver didn't know if Isabel had this kind of short bob when she was a child, but her hair color was exactly the same as Isabel's.

Her height appears to be about the same as when Isabel was nine years old.

Clearly, Anastasia's height has not increased since she was sent to the Fairy Kingdom.

And that age of Isabel... was the Isabel that Yunus remembered when he left Glass Island.

... He must have been stressed.

Perhaps he only realized it wasn't Isabel after he made his move; or perhaps it was merely a resemblance that caused him heartache.

Anastasia scurried over to Grace, opened her arms, and with a practiced little leap, was about to jump into Grace's embrace.

If they were outside, Grace could easily have pulled the girl into her arms. But now that Grace had shrunk, she could only awkwardly flap her Dryleaf Butterfly -like wings and fly back two steps before she could barely manage to hold Anastasia in her embrace.

"Aya ..."

Grace affectionately called Anastasia by her nickname, lovingly stroking her hair. With the same hair color but different lengths, the two looked like sisters.

As her hair swayed, Iver could clearly smell the delicate fragrance emanating from it. It was a fresh scent of pine mixed with orange peel.

This is the smell of the shampoo at Grace's house.

... What's going on? Iver hesitated slightly.

As he focused his mind on resonating with the path, the power of dedication flowed within him—his right eye, which had been sacrificed by Iver and turned amber-yellow, began to glow with a reddish light, like a lit hearth.

This is an unknown ability similar to "True Sight".

Under his gaze, he saw Anastasia's edges begin to blur.

A thought struck Iver, and he closed his left eye.

There was no darkness at all—his vision remained bright.

Completely different from the outside world, when Iver was in the Fairy Country, the vision in his right eye seemed to have fully recovered. Or rather, the world he saw with his right eye, which could see the power of the Dao, was exactly the same as what Iver saw with his naked eye.

Perhaps this entire world is an illusory world formed by the Path Power.

Only two things changed.

Grace's body was covered in runes—mysterious patterns that resembled tattoos or totems, radiating a yellowish-green glow. Most of them were light and dark green, with only a small patch of hazy yellow swirling within.

It looks like a large piece of jade covered with an elf's skin, with patterns carved into the skin to reveal its inner radiance.

Anastasia, on the other hand, gradually became illusory before Iver's eyes.

Her figure became strangely blurry, like a person with severe myopia not wearing glasses, or like ink spreading in water. But only Anastasia was blurred... nothing else was affected. Iver stared strangely at the blurry mass of color lying in the arms of the tattooed Grace, unable to make out her expression at all.

Iver looked back again and found that the "small tree" was still in the same place.

—It wasn't even in Grace's arms.

As if sensing Iver's gaze, the sapling shyly turned its head away and its back, preventing Iver from seeing its face.

Hearing the conversation around him abruptly stop, Iver opened his left eye.

It was as if she had put on glasses— Anastasia's outline in her Maiden Form instantly became clear, while the tree vanished without a trace, disappearing into the bright midday sunlight.

"... May I call you Mr. Iver?"

The little girl's soft, sweet voice came through.

Her gaze toward Iver was wary and somewhat reluctant. If Grace hadn't reached out and encouraged her by placing her hand on her shoulder and holding her down, she might have turned and run away.

... I see, it sensed my gaze.

Iver suddenly realized.

That makes sense.

After all, she is skilled in illusions, so she must know whether her illusions have been broken... However, Anastasia's illusions are so good that even Fourth Level Iver cannot see through them without using his True Sight. Her talent is truly astonishing.

This means that she has reached at least the Fourth Level —or even the Fifth Level.

Although he inherited the legacy, the most important thing was the awakening of his bloodline. He was practically like a legendary dragon.

Unlike condensation, which is essentially a psychological problem, dendrite formation is a special phenomenon that flows in the blood and occurs randomly. There is no possibility of a cure, because it is not a disease at all... but a sublimation.

It's like a caterpillar transforming into a butterfly, a fundamental advancement in life form. However, the price is that the caterpillar's flesh and blood melt away, becoming nourishment for the new form.

From a certain perspective, this could be considered a kind of abnormal development—from an elf with hands, feet, and a lifespan to an immortal tree-shaped phantom.

"Hello, I'm Iver."

Iver smiled gently, his voice softening. "No need to call me 'sir.' Just call me 'brother.'"

He knelt down and gently shook hands with Anastasia.

Those were soft, warm, and slightly damp hands. The smooth skin had no hint of bark, and the palms were sweaty from nervousness.

"Iver, are you here to burn me?"

Anastasia spoke softly.

"... Why would you think that?"

Iver was somewhat surprised.

He instinctively turned to look at Grace: "Do you elves have any other... methods of Burning at the Stake at the stake for heretics?"

"How could that be... I think those Joy Spirit said something to her."

Grace shook her head. "They have short lifespans and don't really understand many things, but they just like to talk nonsense. And when fairies talk, Children believe them... After all, the Fairy Kingdom is essentially a world built from their collective imagination. In a sense, their nonsense can come true, making it even harder to distinguish between truth and falsehood."

"But Mom said that too."

Anastasia argued, "They said they would burn me once I had completely turned into a tree."

"That's to ensure you can ascend to the Dream Realm correctly, Aya."

Grace said in a serious and gentle voice, "Otherwise, you might be stuck in the Material Realm."

"But I just want to stay and be with my mom."

"... I want to stay with you too, Aya."

Grace smiled wryly and said softly, "But that won't work. You... can't stand noise anymore, can you? Once you've transformed further... even if we planted you in the yard, the surrounding noise would probably wake you up from time to time."

"Those Joy Spirit voices must be starting to sound noisy to you by now."

Upon hearing this, Iver suddenly realized that both Anastasia and Grace were speaking very softly, like the volume of someone telling a bedtime story to a child.

He wasn't a noisy person, and the surrounding environment was quiet. So he hadn't noticed anything before.

But looking at it now...

"Tree spirits are very annoying... or rather, very afraid of noise."

Grace turned her head and whispered to Iver, "A sound that can wake a person is unbearable even for a treant. A treant can be considered 'always asleep,' and even when awake, it can be 'wake up even more.'"

"Remember to keep your voice down, Mr. Iver."