Every Other Shore Flower elf took a full two thousand years to reach maturity.
The flower bloomed for a thousand years, and fell for a thousand years. Flower and leaf never met, bound by a fate of life and death. Thus, the Other Shore Flower World almost never waged wars of expansion, for every clansman was an exceedingly precious resource.
Across the vast continent, Other Shore Flowers were beyond count, yet those that endured two thousand years to become elves were as rare as phoenix feathers and qilin horns. A mere little flower could be easily crushed, plucked, or harmed by any creature in this world, yet through its tenacious reproductive power, it multiplied without end, never ceasing.
Only those Other Shore Flowers that grew upon sheer cliffs, precipitous peaks, cracks in mountain rock, and other rarely visited places could luckily survive the passage of two thousand years and transform into elves. Their numbers were scarce.
"Is what you said... true!?"
Piggerwolves filled the sky and covered the earth, spreading for hundreds of miles around Green as their center. They followed in Green's footsteps, exploring this remote little world steeped in mystery.
These uninvited visitors from another realm had no idea how many Other Shore Flowers they had inadvertently trampled to death, nor how many natural resources and treasures they had plundered from this world. Compared to the barren Evil God Paradise, this world was, in the greedy eyes of the Piggerwolves, almost everywhere filled with the abundant resources they had long craved.
"Chirp chirp chirp chirp..."
A herd of panicked white unicorns was surrounded by a pack of Piggerwolves.
These highly organized dark creatures slaughtered wantonly, baring cruel grins. Within mere moments, their terrifying, sky-obscuring numbers had captured those holy unicorns. They kept all the females and a single