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Repenhardt raised his fist and struck the air. Boom! A golden aura surged up his forearm and pierced the sky. Within this magnificent pillar of brilliant light splitting the heavens, Repenhardt reaffirmed his resolve.

Things will change.

I will definitely change the world.

For this woman who has chosen me!

Hummmmm!

The majestic aura of light penetrated the sky and gradually faded away. This demonstration of Gym Unbreakable’s unique way of expressing his emotions through the exalted realm of martial arts was undoubtedly a grand spectacle. The problem was, the only ones who really understood it in this world were the followers of Gym Unbreakable.

“Kyaaak! What are you doing, Lord Repenhardt!”

Siris covered her ears, shocked. Why would he suddenly strike at the innocent sky? The whole village was already stirring, watching his eccentric behavior. She scowled and questioned him again.

“Seriously, what are you doing?”

Only then did Repenhardt click his tongue and lower his hand.

“Well, I guess? I felt so good that I just did it without thinking…”

“Why would you hit the sky if you’re feeling good?”

“That, that’s a good question?”

As he retracted his aura, Repenhardt looked puzzled. He couldn’t quite figure out why he had done it.

‘Gee, why did I do that?’

Shrugging off his confusion, Repenhardt decided there were more pressing matters at hand.

“Siris.”

He grabbed her shoulders and looked directly into her eyes with a solemn expression.

“I’ll show you. The changing future of our clan. Right now!”

* * *

Half a day later, Repenhardt and Siris stood at the entrance of a massive canyon—the very gorge that the Dahnhaim clan used as a hideout in times of crisis.

Behind them, Relhard, unable to comprehend the situation, asked with a puzzled expression, “Benefactor, what business brings us here?”

He had been busy with various tasks for the reconstruction of the village when suddenly Repenhardt had burst in, dragging him out without any explanation. Since it was a request from their benefactor, he had to prioritize it over his busy schedule and had quietly followed out of the village. He had kept his silence even as they crossed the desert.

But now that they were here, he could no longer contain his curiosity, and it seemed Siris felt the same.

“Why have we returned to this place, Lord Repenhardt?”

Repenhardt turned to Relhard with a slight smile toward Siris and declared, “From now on, this place will become the village of the Dahnhaim clan.”

Relhard furrowed his brow slightly. Had they really wasted half a day for such a pointless endeavor?

“It’s futile. There is no water here.”

The Dahnhaim clansmen knew well enough not to settle here permanently over their current village due to its geographic disadvantages, using it only as a hideout. The essential water was nowhere to be found, which is why, with no choice left, they couldn’t abandon Delru Eldel after its location had been compromised.

Just as Relhard was about to explain this, Repenhardt raised his hand.

“No more,” he said.

“What?” Relhard replied, perplexed.

Leaving a bewildered Relhard behind, Repenhardt continued walking deeper into the canyon. Relhard and Siris followed, their eyes wide with confusion.

Relhard wondered, ‘What’s this? Could there be an undiscovered water vein?’

That seemed unlikely. The Dahnhaim clan had lived in the Spelrat Desert for centuries. Although Repenhardt was known to be a powerful aura user and an accomplished mage, the clan knew far more about the desert. They had thoroughly explored this hideout many times. There were no water veins.

‘Or perhaps he intends to create a well through magic?’

Relhard knew well that such a feat was impossible. The three miracles forbidden to humans—direct intervention in space, time, and matter. No magic could turn rock directly into water. Perhaps guiding a water vein to produce water could be feasible, but even a mage couldn’t create water from nothing.

As Repenhardt moved forward without hesitation deep into the canyon, passing the secret shelters made by the elves, he led them even further into the dry, black-sanded heart of the gorge. It was there that Repenhardt finally stopped.

“Lord Repenhardt?”

Siris squinted around, seeing nothing but barren land devoid of any sign of a well, growing more puzzled by the moment. Suddenly, Repenhardt turned to her with an apologetic look.

“Siris, may I have the Nihillen you received from me?”

“What?”

Siris looked up at Repenhardt, perplexed. Why would he ask for a gift back, especially when the magical bow, Nihillen, was particularly cherished by her? Was he regretting the gift?

However, the solemnity in Repenhardt’s expression made it clear that it was not for any petty reason. Dumbfounded, Siris nodded slowly and carefully handed over the Nihillen from her waist—it was just a small wooden rod when its power was not invoked. Taking Nihillen, Repenhardt suddenly asked,

“Siris, you awakened to the spirit affinity in just three days, did you not?”

“Yes? Oh, yes.”

“Weren’t you curious how that was possible?”

Indeed, she was curious. According to Shailen, it took other elves at least a year to become sensitive to such energies. It was only natural to assume there was something beyond mere talent when she had managed what took others years, in just days.

“It’s because you were the rightful owner of Nihillen. You were the master of the covenant, recognized to call upon its name and wield its power.”

“…?”

At Repenhardt’s cryptic words, Siris blinked in confusion. Repenhardt then turned and planted Nihillen into the black sand. The humble wooden stick stood upright on the sand. He then brought his hands together and began chanting a spell.

“El Sereti Daunt Patrad Sel…”

The incantation was incredibly long, and Repenhardt continued with intense focus, chanting in the ancient runic language. Siris and Relhard watched silently, holding their breaths.

Suddenly, Repenhardt’s chant shifted.

“Awaken. You who are destined to be the guardian, the seed of the great tree that sustains the world…”

At that moment, both Siris and Relhard felt chills as they stared into the air. An eerie energy, invisible yet distinctly palpable, was emanating from Nihillen and spreading in all directions. It enveloped their heads, filled the canyon, stretched into the sky, and burrowed deep into the earth with a transcendent vibration.

“What is this?”

“This is?”

The world around them was blanketed by the energy emanating from Nihillen. Siris rubbed her eyes in disbelief as she watched the form of Nihillen transform.

“…Has it sprouted?”

On this parched land devoid of moisture, the object that was merely a stick was now sprouting green shoots. The sprout grew rapidly into branches as Nihillen itself expanded in size. It thickened and lengthened, sprouting shoots and extending branches in all directions.

“This can’t be…”

Siris gasped. What stood before them was no longer Nihillen. It had become a robust tree, rooting into the earth and fluttering green leaves, albeit small compared to Repenhardt’s height, the transformation was undeniably astounding. But the astonishments didn’t end there.

At the base of Nihillen, the ground began to moisten. Gradually becoming wetter, it soon burst into a stream of water. The water gushed out and flowed over the sand.

It was a spring. A spring had sprung.

“Good heavens…”

Relhard was aghast, witnessing this ‘miracle’. So astonished was he that his pointed ears stood on end, quivering. Repenhardt, this enigmatic human, had evidently cultivated verdure on this barren land. This was no mere magic. It was truly a divine feat!

As astonishing as that was, what shocked Relhard even more was the sensation emanating from the small tree.

Repenhardt turned to a trembling Relhard and gave a slight smile.

“Relhard, you can feel it, can’t you?”

“This is unbelievable… How can this be…”

The comforting sensation enveloping them, the amazing sense of connection down to every cell, the intense feeling awakening their souls—all emanated from this small tree.

There was no room for doubt.

There could be no doubt.

A sensation known only in legends, but an undeniable truth for any elf.

“Elvenheim!”

Relhard cried out with tears streaming down his face.

“The World Tree, Elvenheim!”

* * *

‘Ah, I’ve barely managed to succeed,’ Repenhardt sighed in relief inwardly. He was overjoyed that Siris had chosen him, and in his enthusiasm, he had attempted something quite daring, thankfully without failing.

He awakened the dormant life force within Nihillen, enabling it to take root in the earth. Then, to supply the necessary energy, he amplified the mana-gathering power that dwelled within Nihillen.

Decoding complex magical junk codes and rearranging their patterns to recalibrate them was indeed a challenging task for him. Siris and Relhard might not know it, but Repenhardt had cast the spell while internally fraught with tension. The task was so complex that he even resorted to using artificial phantasms along the way.

‘After all, the research has finally finished, and it’s only because of that I could barely manage to succeed,’ he mused to himself.

Manipulating the Tidaen Daiman Portal at the completed Daiman ruins was similar; resurrecting the World Tree also did not require high-level magic if one simply had the information. The magic itself was sufficiently controlled with the World Tree’s inherent mana-gathering power.

‘Of course, that doesn’t mean another 6th circle mage could resurrect the World Tree just by knowing this information…’

The most crucial aspect of resurrecting the World Tree involved precise magical manipulation and the control of the ever-changing mana currents. This required a sense of finesse and intuition more than sheer magical power or computational ability; a feat only possible for a grand sorcerer of at least the 9th circle.

The magic itself didn’t require high circles, but the control needed a kind of enlightenment. Repenhardt, who had already surpassed the 10th circle in a previous life, managed this with his current, lesser capabilities, something that would be impossible for other mages even with the answers laid out before them.

‘Well, the technique itself is something I’m already familiar with from previous lives.’

The Elvenheim branch, the lost World Tree of Elvenheim, once researched by Repenhardt in his past life.

Unlike the dwarves, orcs, or trolls, the elves heavily relied on the spiritual essence of the World Tree. Without resurrecting it, it was impossible to restore their former glory. Repenhardt had once succeeded in finding the remnants of Elvenheim scattered around the world and reviving them through his research.

In his previous life, he had revived a total of seven World Trees, each as colossal as a human city. Yet, none matched the majesty of the legendary true World Tree of Elvenheim, which was said to tower over mountain ranges. Although these trees didn’t measure up in quality, their quantity was sufficient to somewhat restore the lost spirituality of the elves.

‘Yet, all but one were eventually consumed by fire again.’

Reflecting on the past brought a bitter taste to his thoughts. Repenhardt shook his head, trying to dispel the memories. This time around, gazing at the first World Tree he had revived, a smile of satisfaction spread across his face.

The wind whistled, weaving through the leaves of the World Tree. Nihillen, distinctly tree-like, now gathered the surrounding mana, transforming its very nature. Into the once fire-engulfed ravine flowed air so crisp and moist that it felt refreshing.

“Ahhh…”

Tears of joy streamed down Relhard’s face. The miracle before him wasn’t merely about providing the Danhaim clan a new sanctuary; it was the embodiment of hope bestowed upon the entire elven race.

The World Tree sprouted anew.

Although now just a small sprout…

One day, it would sink its roots deep into the earth and spread its branches wide…

This area would become a verdant forest.

And the elves would regain their lost spirituality, truly becoming guardians of the forest!

“Who are you? Are you the savior sent by Eldia to deliver us?”

The elf goddess, Eldia. The legend of a savior sent to rescue the oppressed elves had been passed down among the Danhaim clan for ages. Yet, it had been considered nothing more than a fairy tale even among them, not truly believed by any but the children.

“I am your friend. Repaying friendship is a friend’s duty.”