Chapter 100 The Reopened Door to Promotion
Perhaps it was because of Arthur's identity as a Forest Speaker, the treant readily agreed:
"You worry too much. Treants never aim their arrows at each other. However, I will protect her; after all, she is much more capable than a squirrel."
"Once we find a suitable settlement, I will try to catalyze some low-tier treants. That way, it will be foolproof."
(Faive)Fauve's mouth formed a perfect circle:
"You can also catalyze low-tier treants?"
"Of course."
The treant chuckled and pointed a finger at a fir tree. A moment later, amidst a magical glow, a fir treant appeared, holding a wooden spear.
Compared to the oak treant, its limbs and face were more vivid, and its trunk was much leaner and more agile, making it look more like a large human.
Arthur estimated in his mind that the fir treant was about six meters tall, only slightly shorter than the treant Morien had in the Forest of Giant Trees' memory.
But compared to the over twenty-meter-tall oak treant, it immediately looked like a toddler who had just learned to walk.
"I put a little more thought into this one, giving it a face that's easier to accept."
The oak treant squatted down and patted the fir treant's head, but the other treant swatted its hand away.
"Eh, its personality doesn't seem very good?"
Arthur was a little worried. If this fir treant had such a fiery temper, would it not exacerbate conflicts instead?
His intention in having Fauve establish a new settlement was actually to differentiate the treant community and ultimately find a way for them to coexist with humans.
If the treants started fighting among themselves because of this treant's bad temper, it would not be his original intention.
The oak treant chuckled, insisting on keeping its hand on the fir treant's head, not letting go even as the other treant furiously hammered it with its fists:
"You don't have to worry; this fellow's temper is actually quite good. It's just annoyed with me."
The fir treant struggled and complained:
"Forest Speaker, you are so biased! You promoted this old scoundrel to a high-tier treant, but made me its subordinate!"
The oak treant slapped it on the back of its head:
"Don't be disrespectful to the Forest Speaker! This is the fastest way to strengthen the treant race!"
Arthur only half-understood, so he simply asked for clarification:
"So, what tier of treant you can become is decided by me?"
A hint of human-like awkwardness appeared on the oak treant's abstract face:
"That's right. In the distant ancient times, we could absorb magic from the environment ourselves and gradually advance to become treants."
"Then why…"
Fauve was even more anxious than Arthur. The news that treants could appear on their own was too impactful for the dryads.
The oak treant sighed and pointed to the fir treant beside it:
"I'm not good with words; you tell him."
The fir treant did not decline. It sat cross-legged on the ground and began to tell the story passed down through generations of trees.
In an era ancient even for trees, at least a thousand years before the Conjunction of Spheres, the magic of Brokilon changed.
What permeated the surroundings was no longer pure magic particles but larger, harder-to-absorb magic molecules — later trees referred to this as the Magic Cataclysm.
Initially, the trees did not pay attention to this change, thinking it was merely an effect of environmental fluctuations.
A slight decrease in absorption efficiency was negligible for the long lifespan of trees; it was just a matter of spending more time refining.
But when they had endured long years and finally completed the refinement of their bodies, they discovered that these magic molecules were not only difficult to absorb but also possessed their own will!
For those trees filled with magic molecules, it was fine to honestly maintain their tree form, but once they forcibly advanced, their minds would be erased the moment they transformed into treants, becoming hollow shells, dazed and confused.
This situation continued for thousands of years. Every now and then, unresigned brave ones would try to advance, but without exception, their minds were erased.
Arthur's brows furrowed. Having one's mind destroyed during the strengthening process sounded so similar to the effects of the water of brokilon.
He asked, "Since magic molecules always exist, how do dryads create treants?"
The fir treant said:
"Among the dryads, there are beings called Forest Speakers. They can refine the magic molecules in the air, which we call Forest Speaker magic."
"Treants who advance by absorbing this magic can retain their minds but will forever be controlled by the Forest Speaker."
At this point, it pointed enviously at the oak treant:
"This fellow, I don't know what kind of luck it had, to actually get the purest magic particles from you, and in such a large quantity! That's why it directly advanced to a high-tier treant."
Arthur nodded, then turned to the oak treant and asked:
"So, you used the magic I gave you to advance this fellow just now?"
The oak treant nodded sheepishly:
"I've been hungry ever since I gained consciousness, so I was really afraid of hunger and asked for a bit more from you."
Arthur almost laughed in anger at it. This fellow, who looked simple and honest, actually took a cut!
But he wasn't concerned about that:
"If you don't use the magic I gave you, can you still advance treants?"
The oak treant quickly said, "Yes, yes!"
It kicked the fir treant, who reluctantly opened its mouth to help explain:
"This is a special ability of high-tier treants. As beings closest to the tree god, they can transform magic into the most suitable form for trees to absorb."
"This was originally just a means of assistance, but now it has become our only hope."
Arthur: "How long does it take to advance a treant using transformed magic?"
The oak treant was silent for a moment before replying:
"Fifty years. Mainly because the time required to transform the magic is too long."
"If it were unrestricted magic particles, I could advance any tree of sufficient age into a low-tier treant within five years."
Arthur clapped his hands excitedly: "That's great!"
Others didn't know, but he was very clear that the 'magic molecules' the treants spoke of were mostly the doing of the elven wraiths of Duén Canell. Otherwise, why would it require killing so many living beings just to transform a few dryads?
Now, with the wraiths completely annihilated by him, the magic particles of Brokilon would likely gradually return to normal, and treants would slowly reappear.
But he didn't intend to reveal it. What Fauve was doing, no matter how you looked at it, was encroaching on Eithné's foundation, and it had to develop discreetly in the early stages.
Led by the treant, the thick fog rolled back to both sides, revealing a clear path before them. They didn't even take an hour before the Forest of Giant Trees appeared before them again.
"Let's part ways here. Take care, all three of you."
Arthur was about to leave when he heard a strange sound.
He turned around and found it was the treants making awkward swaying movements:
"What's wrong?"
The fir treant scratched its cheek:
"Forest Speaker, you haven't given us names yet."
.......
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