Merin sighs in comfort as he returns to his main body.
He speaks in his sea of consciousness, "How much merit did I get?"
A voice answers, calm and familiar.
"Three thousand fifty-six."
Merin whistles. "Wow. Did you take your cut?"
"I always do."
"So this time, I earned four times the merit."
No reply. He chuckles.
He opens his eyes and shifts his gaze upward.
Above him, dozens of crows perch on his branches, still and silent.
Their aura flickers like broken talismans—no power, no will.
These are his eyes, the crows he sent to scout this world.
He has been gone for six years.
Only sixty per cent returned.
"Let's see how this world is."
The crows begin to melt, their feathers curling like burning leaves.
Their bodies drip down into his bark like candle wax, vanishing into his trunk.
The flood begins—memories, sounds, sights, pain, death, fear.
He pieces them together, one by one, like shattered glass forming a mirror.
A new world takes shape.
World – Dracois
Year – 891 New Era
Status – Enslaved
Nine hundred years ago, the world was normal.
No magic. No beasts. No energy.
Just people. Cities. Machines.
Then, without warning, a mysterious energy spreads.
It moves unseen.
At first, no one notices.
Only the deep forests change.
Trees twist. Beasts mutate. Plants awaken.
Some die. Some evolve.
The forests begin to breathe.
Then, they move.
Mutated beasts crawl out from the roots.
Some walk on two legs. Some command storms. Some melt stone with a roar.
Humans fight back—but they are not ready.
In one week, 30% of the human population dies.
In a year, only 35% remain.
The rest rot in the ground or vanish into the wilds.
Survivors run into the forests, deep and dark, hiding in the roots of the world they once ruled.
Panic grows.
Nations turn to the last resort.
Nuclear fire rains down.
Forests burn. Cities vanish. Skies turn black.
Beasts fall—but so do humans.
Radiation fuses with energy.
Something worse is born.
Half of the remaining population dies again.
And then, the energy mutates humans, too.
Some scream. Some explode. Some bend fire or ice.
The survivors begin to adapt.
A new age begins.
Then, the culprit appears—the Nalvuri.
An ancient race with elephantine heads, scaled skin, and humanoid bodies.
They walk upright, with six elongated fingers and four broad toes.
Their massive ears unfold like wings, lifting them into the air with slow, deliberate grace.
Their eyes hold memories older than civilisation.
They speak in harmonic pulses, warping reality with intent alone.
When they appear, the world bends to their rhythm.
All human base cities fall—taken without resistance.
Survivors are driven out like insects from their own nests.
To live in a base city, a human must trade resources gathered from the wilds, offered in tribute.
Any new city humans build is soon seized.
Without war. Without warning.
This is how the Nalvuri enslave the human race.
Humans fight back.
They lose—every time.
Now, they live in small settlements scattered around each base city.
Or they pay tribute to stay inside.
Another path exists—become a Saint Elementalist.
After the energy mutated humans, they began to control elements—fire, water, stone, air, and more.
At first, there is no system.
No ranks.
Only chaos and survival.
Then, one human rises.
They gain such mastery over their element that their lifespan extends to 500 years.
A miracle.
A turning point.
From then on, all humans chase the same goal—long life through elemental control.
To measure the path, they create a system.
They call it Elementalist.
It judges one's control over their element.
Nine ranks form the core—Ninth to First.
Above that, the Saint Rank.
Only Saints live for five centuries.
The rest—those within Ranks Nine to One—live up to 150 years, depending on how far they've climbed.
But reaching Saint Elementalist changes everything.
Those who become Saints face a choice.
Remain in the wild.
Or surrender to the Nalvuri.
Most choose to surrender.
In return, the Saint Elementalist is allowed to bring their family into a base city.
A rare luxury.
Safety. Food. Shelter.
But there is a cost.
After five years, the Saint disappears.
No one sees them leave.
No one knows where they go.
Only the Nalvuri do.
They never speak of it.
The family is given three generations to live in the city.
If a new Saint Elementalist is born among them during that time, the family stays.
If not, they are driven out.
Merin, after organising the information, stays silent for a moment.
He begins to wonder what to do next.
He cannot be truly safe until the Nalvuri are driven out of this world.
But that would be difficult—if not nearly impossible.
He needs more information about the Nalvuri.
For that, he needs to become human.
Becoming a Nalvuri would be best, but it is impossible.
Races like the Nalvuri have locked their genes to prevent copying.
For them, genes carry more than blood—they carry secrets.
Merin can transform from his tree form into a humanoid.
But by doing so, he may discover by the Nalvuri when he stands in front of them.
And he does not want their attention.
Then, he decides—he needs to form a human clone.
Plan format.
From one of his branches, black mucus drips.
The mucus shifts—elongates—forms jet-black wings.
Then, the rest of the body.
The mucus moulds into the shape of a crow.
The crow flaps its wings and soars into the sky, flying over the mountains toward the nearest human settlement.
Its mission: bring back human genetic material.
Meanwhile, Merin needs a place to grow the clone.
He thinks of a way.
His body begins to shake.
Inside his trunk, a hollow space opens.
It expands—warm, soft—until it resembles a human female's womb.
Inside it, a small embryo begins to form.
Soon, the crow returns, carrying a piece of human flesh.
Merin's trunk parts, revealing the embryo.
The crow dives, crashes into the womb, and the flesh merges with the embryo.
His trunk closes again.
While the embryo grows into a baby, Merin shifts his attention to his cultivation.
He has already reached Rank 10—the next step is Rank 11.
But he cannot advance as easily as he did in the Origin World.
Now, he is inside his main body.
Every choice matters.
This next one will define his future.
To advance, he must select a law—one that will become his foundation.
He can still comprehend other laws later, but the one chosen now will shape everything that follows.
It will bind to his true spirit.
In the Origin World, he advanced without worry.
The Law of Magic and Karst Energy never merged with his true self because of the Mirror.
They couldn't become his foundation.
But here, in his real body, there's no such filter.
This law will become the root of his path, the axis on which all future understanding must turn.
He plans to travel through hundreds, even thousands of worlds, to comprehend many laws.
So, he needs one that can carry all other laws without conflict.
The best choice would be the Law of the World.
But he hasn't comprehended it yet.
Not even a fragment.
But he can use merit to comprehend.
So he does.
His merit begins to burn.
His true spirit detaches and enters an ethereal place.
All around him, visions unfold.
A single element forms a world.
Dual elements give birth to another.
Then, multiple elements converge—shaping entire realms.
Each world pulses with rhythm, law, and balance.
He watches. Learns. Feels.
Inside this space, he begins to comprehend the Law of the World.
But before he can go deeper, he is thrown out.
His eyes open. His bark stiffens.
He frowns.
His comprehension of the World Law is not enough to advance to Rank 11.
Then a thought rises—
What if he combines the World Law with another law?
Difficult.
But it would strengthen his foundation.
He searches through his understanding.
Laws that can be used to advance to Rank 11.
Strength, Transformation, Magic, Karst, and Vitality.
Each powerful. Each familiar.
But none draw out the full potential of the World Law.
Then, another thought.
What about combining more than one law?
He dives deeper into his memory.
Checks every law he's touched.
Four of them glow—faint, compatible, promising.
Illusion. Dream. Rune. Formation.
Any of the four laws, when combined with the World Law, wouldn't narrow his path.
Combining with the Law of Illusion won't stop him from comprehending other laws—except the Law of Realism.
But isn't the ultimate goal of illusion to become real?
The Dream Law is the same.
Dreams and illusions both seek to cross into reality.
As for Rune and Formation, they need no justification.
They are structure, system, logic—foundations of creation itself.
Then a thought rises—
What if he combines all four laws with the World Law?
The foundation would become even stronger.
But combining two laws is already difficult.
Five?
He cannot even fathom the difficulty.
There's only one way to make it possible—merit.
Looks like he needs another journey.
He closes his eyes and sinks into his sea of consciousness.
There, the mirror waits—another crack healed.
He stares at it.
"Let's start another journey."
The mirror buzzes in response.
A golden light falls into his soul.
Runes bloom across his spirit.
His mind begins to fade.
A portal opens in the mirror's surface.
It pulls his soul inward.
Merin disappears.