Game of the World Tree

【 YOU DON’TUNDERSTAND THE CHOSEN ONES AT ALL 】

Tiberia’s spirit stirred.

Finally, the dragon hatchlings she brought along with her were about to break out of their eggs.

Being a chromatic dragon accustomed to a life of solitude, she had never placed much importance upon her own draconic heritage. Yet, transporting these dragon eggs and ensuring the hatchlings’ safe birth had been a task assigned to her by the elders of Dragon Island. Even though she didn’t particularly have much attachments to these eggs, the sight of them finally hatching gave Tiberia some relief.

Well… not quite.

Her task wasn’t truly complete. Not yet.

These hatchlings still needed to choose their partners from among the elves.

At that thought, Tiberia abruptly stood up.

Her gaze swept across the surrounding elves, who had been drawn to the square by the news of the dragon eggs hatching.

She wasn’t deliberately looking down on them.

But these elves… were simply too weak.

Not only that but they were also quite disorganized as well.

But the thing about them that she hated the most was that they are utterly devoid of pride.

During her days in Florence, Tiberia had taken the opportunity to observe these long-eared creatures.

She had heard stories about elves beforehand, of which spoke of a race that was beautiful and elegant, kind yet aloof, with a strong sense of pride.

Such a race might appeal to metallic dragons, but to a chromatic dragon like her?

They were of little interest.

For only the strong and ruthless could earn their recognition.

Still, while uninterested, Tiberia had at least expected these elves to possess a pride akin to that of dragons…

Something she could begrudgingly acknowledge.

But after arriving in Florence, Tiberia realized that expectation was completely misplaced.

Weakness was one thing.

By the standards of humanoid races, these elves were indeed visually appealing. Yet in Tiberia’s eyes, they were nothing more than pretty shells—hollow and repulsive inside, no better than filthy goblins.

They had no sense of posture when standing, no discipline when sitting.

More importantly, they were nothing like the legends described them.

Bluntly speaking, they had no dignity at all.

For a mere drop of her saliva or for a single dragon scale, they would endure any insult with a smile and gladly do whatever was asked of them.

Such servility might make them suitable as minions.

But as potential partners in a draconic pact?

Tiberia found the idea outright insulting.

Only those with pride could command respect.

And a race that so readily discarded its dignity could never earn the recognition of the dragons.

Of course, Miss Zero was an exception to this as she was strong, mysterious, and as proud as she was beautiful.

Tiberia thought for a moment.

“Hmm? The eggs are hatching? I wonder which lucky Chosen Ones will catch the little ones’ interest this time.”

Watching the cracks spread across the eggs, the black dragon Meryer muttered to himself, clearly excited.

Hearing this, Tiberia’s eyes flashed with scorn.

“Meryer, looks like you’ve been completely tainted by these pathetic insects.”

The red dragon cast a mocking glance at the nearby players, who were buzzing with excitement.

“I have no idea what the elders were thinking, allowing these weak, undignified ants to form pacts with us noble dragons. At best, they’re only fit to serve as our lackeys.”

“Weak? No dignity? Heh…”

Meryer smacked his lips as if he had just heard a ridiculous joke.

“What? Am I wrong?”

Tiberia frowned.

“No. You’re completely wrong. You don’t understand the Chosen Ones at all.”

Meryer shook his head repeatedly.

Then, a knowing smile crept across his face as he looked at the red dragon.

“Tiberia, before coming here from Dragon Island, you didn’t bother learning about recent events on the continent, did you?”

“The events on the continent? What, do you mean the resurgence of mana or the return of some ancient beings? What of it?”

Tiberia was puzzled.

Meryer let out a sigh and shook his head.

“Clearly, you’ve paid no attention to what’s happened in the Elven Forest.”

He glanced at the surrounding players, then exhaled softly.

“If you knew them, you’d realize how terrifying they are. If you interacted with them, you’d understand just how proud they truly are.”

“They’re weak? Ha! Don’t assume what you see here is the full picture. Most of the Chosen Ones here in Florence are just newcomers or those uninterested in combat. As they put it, the city of Florence is nothing more than a ‘starter village’ for crafting and daily life. And besides, one’s individual strength isn’t even the scariest thing about them.”

“They have no dignity? Hah… If the Chosen Ones lacked dignity, if they weren’t proud then in my eyes, there would be no beings in this world more arrogant or more insane than them.”

Upon hearing Meryer’s words, Tiberia felt utterly confused.

Arrogant?

Insane?

Her gaze swept over the elves once more. Those very same creatures who would fight each other over a single drop of her saliva, who shamelessly grovelled and would do anything she asked.

Tiberia’s frown deepened.

Where was the supposed dignity in that?

As the two dragons conversed, the five dragon eggs finally hatched.

Five small heads cautiously peeked out from their shells—one black dragon, one blue dragon, and three green dragons.

But the moment they emerged, a hazy, ethereal light suddenly descended upon them.

Then… the five hatchlings were enveloped in a strange force, their forms obscured within the glow.

“Hmm…? This sensation…A Mindscape?”

Feeling the ripples of energy emanating from the hatchlings, Meryer’s eyes lit up.

A Mindscape?

Tiberia blinked in surprise.

She, too, could sense the waves of spiritual energy radiating from the eggs, which was elusive yet profound force. And now that she thought about it, Tiberia had encountered similar fluctuations before.

Occasionally, she had sensed the same peculiar energy from these wretched insects.

Whenever such an aura appeared, it was usually shared among multiple elves at once. And when it did, those affected would freeze in place, standing motionless until the energy dissipated, only then returning to normal.

Meryer, however, seemed quite familiar with the phenomenon. Casting a smug glance at the bewildered Tiberia, he sneered:

“Heh, don’t tell me you’ve never heard of a Mindscape? And you call yourself a knowledgeable dragon?”

Due to their long lifespans and ancestral wisdom, both metallic and chromatic dragons were often revered as enlightened beings.

For a red dragon that had lived at least five centuries, Meryer’s words were an undeniable insult.

“Humph! You wretched thing, raised to be soft by these elves! I do know what a mindscape is!”

Tiberia bared her teeth.

A Mindscape was a special space crafted by powerful beings who could manipulate reality with their mental energy. Such space allowed them to pull weaker spirits inside, a technique often used in advanced mental magic.

But as soon as she spoke, Tiberia turned toward the hatchlings again, her expression growing serious.

From those energy waves, she could feel something vast and unfathomable akin to an overwhelming force, deep as an abyss and vast as an ocean.

That terrifying power carried an aura of absolute destruction.

Even Tiberia, a mighty red dragon, felt a primal fear creeping up from the depths of her soul.

This…

What kind of being had forged such a mindscape?

Unless…

Tiberia shifted her gaze toward the Temple of Life at the edge of the city plaza, now nearly fully restored.

Her eyes darkened.

“That’s right, this mindscape was crafted by the great So—ahem, by Her Grace the Goddess Eve.”

Meryer coughed awkwardly before responding, pride evident in his voice.

So it was…

Tiberia finally understood.

A mental space powerful enough to threaten even a dragon.

Only a true god could have created such a thing.

“Tch. So this time, the pacts will be decided within the mental space… I was wondering how they’d select from so many Chosen Ones. Turns out, Her Grace Eve had it all planned out.”

Meryer murmured thoughtfully.

Then, turning back to Tiberia, his eyes gleamed with challenge.

“Hey, you overgrown roasted lizard.”

“What was that, mongrel?”

“Don’t you want to know what makes these Chosen Ones so special? Her Grace Eve left a gateway into the mental space through those hatchlings. If you’ve got the guts, why don’t you step inside and see for yourself?”

Meryer lifted his head arrogantly.

Enter the mindscape?

Tiberia hesitated.

A mindscape wasn’t something one could just waltz into.

The moment she entered one, her fate would be in the hands of its creator…

And as a proud red dragon, Tiberia instinctively resisted such an idea.

“Heh, scared, aren’t you? Typical coward.”

Meryer sneered, his body trembling slightly as he activated the same mental energy.

He was already stepping into Eve’s crafted mental space.

As a devout follower of Eve and one connected to the game system, Meryer could enter the virtual space at will, as long as Eve permitted him access.

Seeing Meryer’s form flicker, Tiberia hesitated.

But in the end, her pride won out.

“The old man said that the Goddess of Life is already an ally of the dragons… so there shouldn’t be any danger!”

Tiberia muttered to herself, trying to find reassurance. Then, taking a deep breath, she stepped toward the glowing light and extended her mental energy.

The moment her mental energy touched the light, a powerful force immediately pulled her in. In the blink of an eye, the world around her spun wildly, and Tiberia’s vision shifted.

When the dizziness subsided, Tiberia found itself standing atop a towering cliff. Below, a vast forest stretched endlessly.

But she knew—none of this was real.

It was merely an illusion, a mental world crafted by a true god. Only a fraction of her main consciousness had been drawn inside.

“Well, well, you actually came in. I might have to adjust my opinion of you just a little bit.”

A familiar voice spoke beside her.

Tiberia turned to look. The speaker was a young elven boy, appearing no older than thirteen or fourteen.

He had black hair and striking crimson slit-pupiled eyes.

The moment Tiberia laid eyes on him, she immediately recognized his identity.

Raising an eyebrow slightly, the red dragon smirked.

“So, you do have a preference for elves. Even in this mental space, you chose an elven form.”

The black-haired elf—Meryer—clicked his tongue and gave Tiberia a once-over before remarking,

“And you didn’t surprise me at all. A half-dragon form, huh?”

Once dragons reached the Gold Rank, they gained the ability to shapeshift. Most chose a humanoid form as their alternate appearance.

Back in the day, Meryer’s human form had been, well, human. But after spending so much time among elves, it had long since adapted, changing his form accordingly.

As for Tiberia…

Her chosen humanoid form was that of a voluptuous half-dragon woman. Crimson hair, red slit pupils, and dragon scales adorning her forehead.

“Of course. Even in humanoid form, a dragon must carry its pride.”

Tiberia said smugly.

Meryer didn’t bother arguing the point. Instead, he turned his gaze toward the forest below.

“Take a good look. This is the true form of the Chosen Ones.”

Their true form?

Tiberia followed Meryer’s gaze toward the forest.

At the very center, five adorable hatchlings curiously explored their surroundings—clearly the same young dragons that had been pulled into the mental space along with them.

Like Tiberia, only a sliver of their primary consciousness had entered, but rather than paying attention to the hatchlings, Tiberia focused on something else instead…

All throughout the illusory forest, dazzling flashes of light flickered like stars appearing one after another.

And each time a light flashed, an elf materialized in the forest below.

One after another.

Tiberia narrowed her eyes.

From their movements, their habitual bouncing and skipping, she recognized them instantly.

No doubt about it. These were also Chosen Ones.

But what shocked Tiberia wasn’t just their presence.

It was the fact that she couldn’t sense even the faintest trace of soul energy from them.

They had entered the mental realm purely with their consciousness alone.

And as time passed, something even more astonishing happened.

At first, only a handful of Chosen Ones descended.

But within the span of three minutes, their numbers quickly exploded, spreading through the forest like an unstoppable tide.

In mere moments, Tiberia saw thousands upon thousands of elves, their varied clothing painting the land below with an uncountable array of colors.

There were more of them here than she had ever seen in Florence.

Tens of thousands.

No—hundreds of thousands.

“What… What is this? Wasn’t the elven race supposed to have low population?!”

Tiberia’s jaw nearly dropped in disbelief.

The number of elves in Florence had already surprised her.

But now?

The sheer magnitude of Chosen Ones currently present here had defied her comprehension.

She had never seen anything like this—except once, centuries ago, when she had passed by the battlefield of the Holy Maniya Empire’s war against the Aries Kingdom.

But even that battlefield was nothing compared to this.

And yet…

This wasn’t what shocked her the most.

No, the most unsettling thing was the killing intent radiating from nearly half of the Chosen Ones.

Killing intent was an enigmatic force—intangible, yet undeniably real.

In a mental space, such things were magnified, laid bare under the light.

As Tiberia observed the gathered elves, her expression turned grim.

Aside from the weakest ones, nearly every well-equipped Chosen Ones carried an unmistakable air of bloodshed.

And among them, a select few exuded killing intent so dense, so palpable, that it felt almost tangible.

Even hardened soldiers didn’t carry such an aura.

Nor did seasoned bounty hunters or even veteran mercenaries.

This was not the kind of aura that came from simply slaying a few beasts or humans.

Truth be told, most soldiers and mercenaries, even those with years of battlefield experience hadn’t actually killed that many.

But this?

This was different.

This was the mark of those who have truly lived by the blade.

Who breathed in the stench of blood, day in and day out.

Who had bathed in the slaughter of countless souls upon their wake.

The kind of killing intent that could only be forged by beings who danced at the edge of death every single day, who treated slaughter as a way of life.

The kind of aura one might expect from a demon that had crawled out of hell itself.

Of course, had Tiberia known the true source of this killing intent…

That it was forged through the deaths of tens of thousands of beastmen…

That it was built atop the destruction of hundreds of thousands of undead and goblins…

That it was carved from the slaughter of countless shadow creatures and demons…

That it was shaped by the utter extermination of every monster within a hundred-kilometer radius…

Then, she wouldn’t have found it so hard to believe.

After all, the Chosen Ones bearing the title ‘natural disaster’ wasn’t to be taken lightly.

— 489 —

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