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B8 - Chapter 9: Ancient Feud
🕑 Added 2025-10-03 13:15:01 +0000 UTC“This is going to feel strange. Are you prepared?”
Maya’s expression was priceless. Excitement shone in her eyes, almost radiant with joy in light of their destination—yet the pale cast on her face betrayed the effect of so much foreign Mana pressing down on her.
Space Magic unsettled most people, or so Zeke had been told. To him, however, it felt comfortably familiar, like an old friend calling his name.
“I am,” the girl replied bravely.
Zeke doubted the truth of that, but she would endure it regardless.
The first time traveling through the void was harsh on anyone. There was no softening the blow. At least, with the official teleportation staff at the gate, Maya was in the care of seasoned professionals. They could likely make the jump to Yggdrasil smoother than he himself could manage over a short distance.
Comfort, after all, was one of the few things his mastery of Magic had never been optimized for.
The familiar cocoon of spatial Mana wrapped around him, fitting like a second skin. Before his senses dimmed, he felt the same energy enveloping Maya.
He would have held her hand, but that would have disrupted the protective layers. He had to settle for watching from a distance.
The journey ended in the blink of an eye. Familiar surroundings vanished, replaced for an instant by the void. With the efficiency of the teleportation staff, the voyage lasted only a fraction of a second.
Almost before the mind could register it, solid ground returned beneath his feet.
Zeke’s hand shot out, holding Maya’s hair back as she lurched forward. The contents of her stomach splattered across the polished wooden floorboards.
Probably not the best first impression—vomiting on the sacred World Tree of the elves mere seconds after arrival, he thought with some amusement.
“You call this… strange?” his sister managed between breaths. “That was the most awful feeling I’ve ever experienced.”
Zeke shrugged. “It gets better.”
Maya grimaced. “I surely hope so. Otherwise, Mom can forget about me coming home once a month…”
Zeke grinned. “Go ahead and try. She’ll give you an ass whooping that’ll make this little trip feel like a joy ride.”
Maya snapped her mouth shut, clearly recognizing the truth in his words. Zeke might have gotten away with not returning home, but Maya would be given no such lenience—not when their mother knew full well the option to return existed.
“Greetings, Lord von Hohenheim,” a familiar voice called. “Welcome to Yggdrasil.”
Zeke didn’t need long to find the speaker. Among the portal staff—predictably all human—three familiar elves approached.
He inclined his head. “Good to see you again, Lyriel.”
The woman nodded gracefully. It was painfully clear she was far more at ease now, meeting on her home ground rather than in a foreign human city. Rattling her here would be far more difficult than on his own turf.
Fortunately, their negotiations were already concluded. He no longer needed to press for a psychological advantage. His visit carried no diplomatic or strategic goals. He had come only to meet Maya’s teacher and witness the Oath of Matriarch Goldleaf.
His expression was suitably amiable as he stepped forward to properly greet the trio who had come to receive him. Or so he had planned. He hadn’t taken more than a single step before the floor trembled beneath him. What began as a faint vibration swelled into something closer to an earthquake within moments.
Once again, Zeke’s hand shot out to steady his sister. His gaze flicked toward the open archway—branches, leaves, and sky beyond. They had indeed arrived at the World Tree.
Which made this disturbance all the stranger.
As far as he knew, nothing short of a cataclysm should have been able to shake the greatest tree in existence. If such a force did exist, it would have rattled the entire continent.
His questioning eyes turned to their welcoming committee, searching for an explanation. Yet instead of calm professionalism, he found only shock written plainly across their faces.
Clearly, this was no ordinary occurrence for them either.
Even after the tremors subsided, the three elves struggled to compose themselves, their open-mouthed astonishment betraying them.
Zeke waited in silence for Lyriel to recover, quietly retracting his earlier thought. Perhaps rattling her here wasn’t all that difficult after all.
“What was that?” he asked at last.
To her credit, Lady Goldleaf’s right hand was the first to regain composure. Her expression shifted into one of forced surprise. “The… wind… is quite strong today, it seems.”
Zeke tried to hide it, but he couldn’t fully mask the pity he felt at such a terrible excuse. The wind? Of all the explanations, she had chosen the least believable. It was hard to even pretend he accepted the obvious lie.
Instead, he gave a small nod—not in agreement, but as a signal to let the matter drop. If his hosts didn’t want to discuss it, he wouldn’t press. Still, curiosity gnawed at him. What could have caused such a phenomenon?
“It is because of you.”
A voice echoed from the depths of his subconscious.
Zeke couldn’t stop a smile from tugging at his lips as he heard his draconic companion for the first time in what felt like years.
“Had a good nap?”
“…Far too short for my liking,” Khai’zar replied in his usual languid tone. “But you just had to stir up trouble again.”
“Trouble?” Zeke echoed in his mind. “How did I do that?”
“The Tree,” Khai’zar said after a pause. “It can sense it.”
“Sense what?”
“Your blood. My blood. The blood of my forefathers.”
Zeke’s breath hitched. He recalled Khai’zar once mentioning he was a descendant of the Dragon King. But it had never occurred to him that such a lineage carried more than just a prestigious title.
“…And why does that matter?”
“It remembers the old days,” Khai’zar’s words carried a strange weight. “When the sky darkened beneath my father’s wings, when the earth rumbled with the steps of the Allfather, and when the sun paled before the Queen of Flames.”
Allfather? Queen of Flames?
Zeke’s mind went blank, and even Akasha had nothing to offer. These had to be figures from an age before human memory. From a time when mankind was not yet the dominant race. From the era when the Ancient Races ruled.
“How old is this Tree?”
“Who can say?” Khai’zar replied. “It was already here when the first of my kind spread its wings. And it will still be here when humanity breathes its last.”
Zeke’s estimation of Yggdrasil rose a few notches. Khai’zar rarely spoke of another being with even a trace of respect, yet even the Dragon seemed to hold the great Tree in high regard.
It must have been a considerable challenge for his people to contend with in ages past. And clearly, that respect was mutual—the Tree had reacted so strongly to even the faintest trace of the Dragon King’s blood.
Whatever feud they had once shared, it remained vivid in Yggdrasil’s memory. Was this like meeting an old rival after many years? Given what he knew of draconic temperament, that seemed more than likely.
That left only one pressing question.
“Am I in danger?”
“Not likely,” Khai’zar replied after a pause. “If it wished, it could have crushed you the moment you stepped into its domain.”
“Then what?”
Silence lingered before the dragon answered. “Toward the end, my people were on rather amicable terms with the Tree. Most likely, it continues to honor that treaty. Even if it turned hostile, it would not dare to harm my father’s blood.”
Zeke exhaled slowly, tension easing from his shoulders. He had been ready to spend every shred of his strength to drag himself and Maya to safety through Space Magic. But now it seemed that would not be necessary.
Better still, if the Tree truly recognized him and upheld some ancient pact, he might be far safer here than he had ever expected.
“Are you alright, Lord von Hohenheim?”
Zeke’s thoughts were interrupted by Lyriel, who was giving him a curious look. His exchange with Khai’zar had lasted only moments, yet it must have been strange to watch his expressions shift so quickly while he stood silent.
“…Don’t pay it any mind,” he said, smoothing his features. “I was a little rattled by what just happened.”
Lyriel’s face tightened, and Zeke couldn’t help but grin. How did it taste—the bitter pill of a terrible excuse? He had returned her earlier shamelessness with his own.
“…Understandable,” she forced out. “Now, if you would follow us—there are people awaiting our arrival.”
Zeke nodded easily, feeling strangely refreshed after his talk with Khai’zar.
Maya had also recovered from her first teleportation, some of her earlier spirit returning. “Where are we headed?”
“To my lady’s palace,” Lyriel explained kindly. “She is scheduled to swear an official Oath to guarantee your safety here.”
Maya nodded excitedly, oblivious to anything unusual in those words. But Zeke caught it at once.
…Scheduled to swear an official Oath…
That sounded suspiciously like a spectacle. And judging by the way the two accompanying elves frowned at the mention, it wasn’t something widely welcomed here.
Zeke was already preparing himself to face some measure of opposition. Yet, now that he knew the Tree itself would not act against him—and perhaps even favored him—there was little to fear, aside from interference from another Matriarch.
Highly unlikely. They had summoned him for aid. Pride might be asserted, maybe a few attempts at humiliation, but outright hostility? No.
That meant…
A slow smile spread across his face.
Perhaps, despite his intention to remain as unobtrusive as possible, this would be an opportunity to spread his fame among the elves. If he could make them respect or even fear him, that sentiment would translate into greater protection for Maya.
And judging by her carefree delight as she soaked in the surroundings, the girl would need all the protection she could get.
His sister had all the cunning and guile of a sheep.
Zeke couldn’t fault her for it. He had allowed Maya to grow up far from the dangers and schemes of the magical world, and he wanted her to remain that way for as long as possible.
But for a sheep to live in safety, there had to be a guardian strong enough to drive off the wolves. Maybe it was time he became such a presence in the minds of the elves.
Zeke flared his Core, releasing a trace of Blood Mana that trailed behind their party. The sharp odor clashed with the pure, natural air of Yggdrasil—like a drop of ink spreading through clear water.
The scent of a predator among sheep.
Comments
Sanctum
Looking forward to Monday's chapter!
Neva
Good chapter
Gwalmeich
Poor elves. Zeke's not even 20 feet in Yggdrasil and he is already devising ways to traumatise them.
