After a rather unusual bathing ritual—guided more by tradition than comfort—Leo was given fresh clothing while his own garments were being laundered by the elves. The new outfit fit him well and had a distinct elven elegance: a loose, cream-colored shirt with wide sleeves rolled just below the elbows, the fabric soft and breathable. It was tucked neatly into a pair of fitted forest-green trousers made of fine, flexible material. A wide leather belt wrapped around his waist, holding his magic bag at his side, and a single strap crossed diagonally over his chest, anchoring a satchel that rested comfortably at his hip. His new boots were sturdy, brown, and laced up to mid-calf—quiet on wooden floors and soft underbrush alike.
A guard soon arrived and silently gestured for him to follow. They descended through a series of staircases and walked along smooth wooden corridors etched into the heart of the massive tree. Eventually, Leo was led into a broad chamber carved deep into the roots, where Arthur was already waiting. He, too, wore freshly laundered elven garments—simpler than his usual attire but tailored to carry his commanding presence.
Leo took a quick glance around the room and noticed the absence of their crew.
"Where are the others?" he asked as he sat beside Arthur.
"They're at the beach," Arthur replied, his arms crossed.
Across the table sat several elven figures: The imposing leader from the night before, his daughter with her bow slung casually across her back, the elder Medawa, and two older elves with stern, lined faces that spoke of long lives and deep wisdom. Beside them was a regal elven woman with poised posture and a beauty both dignified and commanding.
The leader placed a hand to his chest and offered a respectful nod. "Let me properly introduce myself. I am Carian, the leader of this elven settlement."
Arthur nodded back. "Arthur Avalon, captain of the Avalon Pirates."
That last word drew whispers from the others present.
"Pirates?" one of the elders echoed in confusion. The term clearly had no place in their ancient vocabulary.
Carian's gaze moved to Leo. "And you?"
"Victor Black. Just a member of the crew," Leo said, almost too casually.
Carian returned to Arthur. "As the captain, I will direct my questions to you."
Arthur gave a small nod of assent.
"What is your purpose here, Arthur Avalon?"
Arthur leaned forward slightly. "We're searching for any information related to the sea beast known as Osara."
A beat of silence fell over the room, heavy as a stone sinking in water. Several elves exchanged looks. Eyes widened. The name was clearly known.
"You know that creature?" one of the older men asked in a hushed voice.
"We fought it once," Arthur said flatly.
A sharp intake of breath followed. "You faced that creature and lived?"
Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Yes."
Carian exhaled slowly, the memory clearly painful. "When our people first came in this sea, Osara ambushed us. My father—the previous leader—sacrificed himself to buy us time to escape. Many lives were lost."
He looked Arthur in the eye. "If your aim is to defeat that creature… then we will assist however we can."
He stood, his expression solemn. "Come with me."
They left the chamber—Carian, his daughter, the elder Medawa, the quiet elven woman, Arthur, and Leo—while the two elder men remained behind. The group made their way to another massive tree, this one broader than the last, its bark wrapped in vines and shimmering softly in the morning light.
Inside was a vast circular library hollowed into the tree's core. Shelves of books curved along the walls in perfect symmetry, stretching upward through multiple levels like a spiral galaxy of knowledge. A wooden walkway curled around the perimeter, winding up to allow access to the higher shelves. The scent of parchment, dried flowers, and ancient wood filled the air like incense.
Leo's eyes widened with childlike wonder. "This place is amazing…"
"There are over ten thousand books here," said the elven woman, her voice calm and clear—the first she had spoken since they met.
"Ten thousand?" Leo repeated. "How long would it take to read all of them?"
She smiled faintly. "I've been reading for more than a century. And I've only scratched the surface."
Leo blinked, then gave her a curious glance. Just how old were these elves?
"Can I read them?" he asked.
Carian gestured toward the shelves. "Be our guest."
Without hesitation, Leo began scanning the spines of nearby volumes, eager to dive in.
Meanwhile, Carian turned back to Arthur. "Now, let us discuss the terms of your stay."
Arthur followed him, along with the chieftain's daughter, leaving Leo with Medawa and the elven woman—both of whom now observed him with quiet, thoughtful eyes.
There were countless books stacked before Leo, each one tempting him with the promise of lost knowledge and ancient secrets. Though his curiosity tugged him in every direction, he knew he had to be selective. Time was limited. He focused on the subjects most important to him. Any mention of the Shadow Lands, records from before the mysterious four-hundred-year gap in history, and—perhaps most urgently—anything that could explain the pulsing orb or the Goddess of Nature.
After an hour of careful searching, Leo selected two books. The first was The Four Hundred Years' Journey, which he found with the elder's help. The second was titled The Nature Goddess.
He settled into his seat and opened the first book. Its pages began with an account of a group of elves fleeing from a massive wave of darkness that threatened to swallow their city. In the chaos, the city's elder entrusted the Orb to their mightiest warrior, charging him with protecting it until the destined time arrived.
He had just begun to immerse himself in the story when the leader's daughter returned to the library.
"It's breakfast time," she said with a cheerful smile.
Leo glanced at the elder. "May I take these with me?"
"So long as you remain within our forest," the elder replied.
Leo smiled back, gathered the two books, and followed the others out.
…
Leo and Arthur spent the next week in the elven village. When the secret meeting took place, they quietly excused themselves and returned to their rooms. The meeting itself proceeded without incident—Arthur didn't say a word about the hidden city or the orb.
Leo used the peaceful days to dive deeper into the books he had chosen, especially The Four Hundred Years' Journey, which he had nearly finished. The book revealed much. The elves had always held a strong connection with nature, and through the grace of the Goddess of Nature, their lands once thrived—lush forests, fields of wildflowers, and towering trees. Each city had been entrusted with a divine orb, glowing with the goddess's blessing. But as the shadow began spreading across the world, those orbs slowly lost their light. Eventually, only one remained—the one protected in this secluded city.
The warrior who carried the last orb to safety had been Carian's father. He died fighting the sea beast Osara, and since then, Carian had carried on his legacy. The elder who had given them the orb also shared a prophecy. It claimed that one day the goddess would rise again, and the world would be green once more.
One word haunted Leo's thoughts—rise. Had she fallen?
The second book delved into the essence of the goddess herself—her sacred domains, the extent of her powers, and the wondrous forms of life she was believed to have created. The pages described her as a divine mother of harmony and splendor, whose touch birthed only beauty: fields of wildflowers that never wilted, forests that whispered with ancient wisdom, and gentle creatures that lived in perfect balance. Yet as Leo read on, a quiet dissonance began to stir in his mind—if she was truly the source of all that was pure, then where had the monsters come from? The werewolves, the twisted beasts—what god had shaped them?
He asked the elder, but she looked confused. She had never even heard of them. So Leo kept reading. The deeper he dug, the more a theory formed. Either the goddess had been corrupted, driven mad and turned into something dark, or someone or something, had replaced her. Now what ever is up there is hidden behind the old name of this goddess.
To find out more, Leo knew he'd need to somehow connect with the orb.
That afternoon, as he sat on a wooden bench beneath the trees, his thoughts were interrupted by a sudden crash. Someone had been thrown from the tree house across from him and hit the ground hard.
Leo looked up. It was Briva—Carian's daughter. Now that he knew her better, he understood her strength. She was not only a gifted archer, but also a druid with command over nature.
She sprang to her feet, her face flushed with anger. "Why not?" she shouted back toward the tree house.
Carian stepped outside, his expression hard. "The world beyond these trees is dangerous. I will not let you go."
"I can protect myself."
"You are not strong enough."
The two stared at each other in silence, the tension thick in the air—until another voice broke through.
"We can protect her."
All eyes turned. Arthur stood nearby, his tone calm but clear.
Carian raised an eyebrow. "You think you can keep my daughter safe out there?" A faint smile tugged at his lips. "Then prove it. If you win, I'll allow her to go."
Arthur nodded. "I accept. But from what I've read, leaders don't fight in these rituals." He held up a book slightly, referencing the tradition.
Carian gave a short nod. "Then choose your champion."
"I choose Victor."
Leo was caught off guard. "Huh? What? Why me?"
"You're one of the strongest in my crew," Arthur replied without hesitation.
"What about Laid?"
"He's not here, is he?"
Carian turned to Leo. "Will you accept?"
Leo sighed, stood up, and tucked his book under one arm. "It's captain's order." He stepped forward. "So, who am I fighting?"
Carian gestured toward Briva. "First, you fight her. If you win, we'll present our champion—as tradition dictates." He cast a brief glance at Arthur as he said the last part, and Arthur returned it with a slow, deliberate nod. Then Carian turned and began walking away. "Come with me."
"We're fighting now?" Leo asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Of course. Why waste time?" Carian replied without turning his head.
Leo let out a sigh and followed him, Arthur walking beside him. Around them, dozens of elves emerged from homes and paths, moving in the same direction, their faces alight with anticipation.
"What was that about?" Leo asked Arthur, keeping his voice low.
"She's strong. We could use someone like her."
Leo eyed him for a second, unconvinced. "Is that the only reason?"
Arthur didn't answer right away. "What other reason is there?" he said evenly, though his tone betrayed a slight edge.
Leo smirked and covered his face with a palm. 'Damn, he likes her,' he thought, amused.
After several minutes of walking, they arrived at a vast field nestled inside the hollow of a massive dead tree. It was easily the largest Leo had seen in the forest. The tree had long since opened at the top, allowing beams of golden sunlight to pour in, casting a warm glow across the ground. Around the edges were smooth wooden platforms, shaped like terraces, where elves were now gathering and taking their seats to watch.
As the crowd settled, Leo and Briva stepped into the field.
"In the first round, no magic is allowed," Carian announced from the edge. "You may use any weapon you choose—even more than one."
Leo muttered to himself, "Great, no magic."
He made his way toward the weapon racks and scanned the options before selecting a long, single-handed sword. Its edge was slightly curved and well-balanced—perfect for speed and control. With the blade in hand, he returned to the center of the field.
Briva joined him soon after, carrying two curved daggers strapped to her belt and a bow slung across her back. Her expression was serious now, focused, her usual cheer gone. She slid into a graceful fighting stance.
"I won't go easy on you," she said, her voice steady.
Leo raised his sword with a grin. "I wouldn't expect you to."