"Ah, I'm stuffed," Icariel sighed, leaning back with a satisfied groan as he patted his stomach. Warmth pulsed from his core like a dying ember, his limbs heavy with calm. "Thanks for the food," he said, offering a small smile to Elena, who was gathering the empty plates with the grace of falling leaves.
"I'm glad you liked it," she replied warmly, her voice soft like wind threading through silk. "So, how's the training going?"
"Oh, I finally mastered it—Vital Surge," Icariel said, a flicker of pride rising behind his eyes like the glint of sun off steel.
Elena's hands froze for a breath. Her eyes widened slightly as the thought crossed her mind: "He learned it? In just one month?" Then she smiled gently, smoothing over the shock with maternal poise. "I expect Aelar to be a great teacher, right?"
"Except the part where he beat me senseless almost every day," Icariel muttered, grinning despite the phantom bruises.
Just then, the door creaked open, and Aelar stepped inside.
"Who's talking behind my back?" he asked with mock suspicion, though his eyes twitched with amusement.
"We're only saying good things," Elena said with a teasing smile, brushing her hair behind one pointed ear.
"Sorry, teacher," Icariel added quickly. "I ate before you came. I couldn't wait. My stomach was eating itself."
Aelar laughed, a low, echoing sound like a blade humming in its sheath. "I didn't expect you to wait anyway."
He turned to Elena. "Where's Elif?"
"She's in her room, getting ready. She and I are going out."
Elif's voice rang from the hallway like bells behind a veil. "Icariel, do you want to come with us? If you're done with training for today, that is."
"Sure, why not?" Icariel replied, thinking to himself, "I should enjoy a little free time before the superhuman awakening training starts tomorrow…"
"Then wash up and wear the clothes I got for you," Elena said, pointing to a neatly folded outfit on the nearby bench.
"All right, I'll be quick," he said.
He made his way to the small bathroom on the first floor. Steam clung to the air like a phantom's breath. Built into the ground was a natural hot spring—its stone edges blackened by time, its waters whispering warmth. He slid in, feeling the heat wrap around his body like invisible arms. Tension melted from his muscles, his heartbeat slowing, becoming quiet thunder in his chest.
When he finished, he dressed in the new clothes Elena had given him—elven-made, smooth as mist, tailored like the bark of an ancient tree that grew to fit the wind. His longer hair now flowed around his shoulders, dark and damp like shadows slipping across marble. Dressed like this, he looked sharp—almost noble. A boy sculpted from silence, walking like the aftermath of rain.
"I'm ready," he said, stepping out.
"You really took your time," Elif called from the front door, arms crossed, though the corners of her lips curved. She wore a silver dress that shimmered like moonlight caught in water, highlighting her refined features. Beside her, Elena stood draped in a black gown patterned with golden threads that shimmered like embers. She looked radiant—like a queen disguised as a memory.
"Dear," Elena said to Aelar, who lounged like a resting blade, sipping something from a carved wooden cup, "we're heading out. Since you didn't want to join us, enjoy your rest."
"I will," he said with a chuckle, eyes still watching over them. "Go have fun."
The three stepped out into the sunlit village. The sky above was soft with clouds, and the cobbled paths wound through homes shaped by magic and time. As they walked, stalls came into view—overflowing with fruits that shimmered, herbs that breathed mist, fabrics spun from light, and blades that hummed with memory.
Elves greeted them with warmth, their voices lilting like birdsong laced with poetry.
Elena picked up several fruits Icariel had never seen before—oversized apples with glimmering skins that smelled like distant forests.
"Do you want anything?" Elena asked, her arms now full with two large bags.
"I haven't really found anything that caught my eye," Icariel replied.
"All right, but if something does, tell me," she said with a smile.
"Here, give me the bags," he offered. "You're still picking things anyway."
"Oh, what a gentleman!" Elena said, surprised but pleased. "Thank you."
"See, Mother?" Elif teased. "He's not completely useless."
"Elif!" Elena scolded through laughter.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Elif replied with zero remorse and a wicked grin.
Time passed quickly. The sun dipped low, casting molten light through the forest canopy. Icariel now carried six bags, each heavier than the last, his arms burning.
They returned home. Aelar still lounged calmly in the living room.
Icariel dropped the bags near the half-moon-shaped table and exhaled like a collapsing tent.
Aelar laughed but said nothing.
"Now I get it," Icariel groaned. "That's why you didn't come with us. You knew they'd take forever picking things."
"I didn't send you," Aelar said, sipping again. "You volunteered, remember?"
"Ugh… I'm going straight to sleep."
"You earned it," Aelar replied with a smirk.
Elena smiled, while Elif added mockingly, "He's really weak—all he does is complain."
"Ahhh," Icariel groaned again. "You spent two hours deciding between a dress with black dots and one with green ones!"
Then he gave up and sighed. "Never mind. I'm too tired for this. I need to sleep."
As he turned away, Aelar's voice stopped him.
"No training tomorrow."
"What?" Icariel blinked. "Why?"
"I've been summoned to a meeting at the castle," Aelar said. "Come with Elif and Elena. It'll be good for you—to see the capital, the court, and... observe."
"You can train after that."
"Alright," Icariel nodded, stretching as fatigue washed over him. "Good night."
The next morning came in soft golden silence. Sunlight filtered through the leaves like honeyed breath from the sky.
Icariel stepped from his room dressed in the same black clothes. In the living room, Aelar, Elena, and Elif were already prepared.
Aelar wore his polished silver armor, light clinging to its surface like water frozen in time. His long hair was tied in a low ponytail, his green eyes sharp with calm—like a dagger submerged in ice.
Elena wore another black gown, its golden embroidery arranged around a single strange symbol—a sword with no hilt, no edge.
Elif stood beside her, dressed in silver with the same mysterious emblem etched over her chest.
"Good morning," Aelar greeted.
"Good morning," Icariel replied, his eyes tracing the symbol.
"I've been curious…" he added. "What's that symbol on your clothes?"
"Oh, this?" Aelar glanced down. "It's part of the Tree of Life's history."
Icariel said nothing, sensing more beneath the surface.
"Long ago," Aelar began, "a piece of metal fell from the Tree itself. Straight. Edge-less. Without a handle. But it was a sword—make no mistake. The strongest one ever born."
Icariel felt the air shift, as if even the house remembered.
"The First Elf King wielded it first. Then gave it to a human—the strongest of his time. The sword carried not only strength, but meaning. It ended an era of evil."
"So... it's your symbol?" Icariel asked.
Aelar nodded. "It is our pride. Our legacy. It reminds us of what we once fought for... and what might come again."
"Where's the sword now?" Icariel glanced toward the forest beyond. "Is it still around?"
"It is," Aelar said quietly. "But no one knows where. When the hero disappeared, so did the blade. It remains hidden—waiting."
"I see…" Icariel whispered.
A knock echoed through the house like a note struck on old stone.
Aelar opened the door. Two tall elf warriors stood there in white and gold armor. Their golden hair gleamed, their faces stern but respectful.
"Warleader," they said in unison. "The carriage is ready."
"Good," Aelar said, then turned. "Let's go."
Aelar stepped out first, followed by Elena, Elif, and Icariel. As Icariel passed, the guards studied him with quiet interest.
"So you're the human our Warleader chose," one said. "An honor to meet you."
"Thanks," Icariel replied, slightly flustered. "Nice to meet you too."
Outside, the carriage waited—an elegant vessel of white and gold. Its sides were adorned with elven designs. Two unicorns stood at its head, towering and still. Their manes flowed like rivers of silver.
"Wow…" Icariel whispered. "What are those?"
"Unicorns," Elif said. "They carry only the honored."
"They're beautiful," Icariel said, half-breathless.
"They are more than horses," the voice inside murmured. "They are power cloaked in flesh."
"Yeah… they have a great amount of mana inside them. It's incredible," Icariel thought.
Aelar entered first, then Elena, Elif, and finally Icariel. The interior was luxurious—white seats, polished wood, and carvings that mimicked growing vines.
The carriage moved, gliding like a dream down the forest road.
The trees thinned. Pale granite houses shaped by magic emerged. Arched bridges crossed rivers. Statues stood like sentinels, watching.
"I didn't know these were out here," Icariel said. "I thought it was just the castle."
"They're farther from the portal," Elif said. "This district belongs to our generals and tribal leaders."
"Then why don't you live here, teacher?" Icariel asked.
Aelar smirked. "I prefer silence. Noise is the first enemy of peace."
"I understand," Icariel nodded. "I hate noise too."
Aelar smiled faintly.
And then, beyond all walls and roofs, it came into view.
The castle—white, towering, grown rather than built. Its towers curved like branches reaching for sky. Behind it stood the Tree fragment, its trunk wide as a mountain, its roots weaving through the land like veins, and its leaves glowing softly with ancient golden breath.
"Incredible…"
[End of Chapter 40]