Chapter 133 ‒ The Seeds of Power
Tyler followed the village elder through the battered streets, the temple’s silhouette rising in the distance like a sombre monunt. The cracked walls and broken paths were littered with splinters of past lives — each step felt like walking across buried confessions.
As they moved, sharp eyes burned into Tyler from every side. Whispers hissed past him like poison-tipped arrows. Then, without warning, a brick hurtled through the air, slamming into his shoulder with a harsh thud. He staggered but did not turn; a single tear slipped down his cheek. His fingers twitched at his side, aching to react, to defend — but he forced them still and pressed on.
Yes… I deserve this… After what I did, this is the leastI can bear. I’m sorry… I truly am…
The elder paused, glancing back over his shoulder, his bushy tail twitching with restrained irritation. “Enough,” he said firmly, his voice cutting through the noise like a blade. “Throwing bricks will not rebuild your hos. Please, return to your work.”
A younger villager called out, trembling with anger, “But Elder! Why are you leading that monster to the sacred temple?!”
The elder’s gaze settled on him, calm but steely. “Paragus. I understand your fear and your anger. But I am still the elder of this village. Trust that I act with everyone’s best interest at heart. Please — no more questions. Resu your duties.”
Reluctantly, the villagers began to disperse, though their eyes remained fixed on Tyler with raw, burning hatred. Tyler kept his head down, each breath heavier than the last.
At last, they arrived at the temple. Inside, the air was thick with incense, heavy enough to taste on the tongue. The walls were adorned with intricate carvings of wildflowers and moonlight patterns, a quiet testant to an older, more peaceful ti.
The elder stepped forward, turning to face Tyler with a tired, knowing smile. “Tell , [Player]… have you been to Ashborough yet?”
Tyler snapped to attention, the tension in his spine crackling like a pulled bowstring. “Yandeon… is he in Ashborough?! Then I need to—”
A low, warm chuckle rolled from the elder. “Always so quick to jump to conclusions. No… Yandeon has not visited Ashborough. At least… not yet.”
Tyler’s chest heaved with relief, a shaking exhale slipping through clenched teeth. His hand drifted to the wooden dallion at his chest, gripping it like a lifeline. Anne… Frank… they’re safe… for now…
The elder watched him quietly before continuing, his tone asured and patient. “What did Yandeon tell you… about the corruption of the World Tree?”
Tyler fumbled over his words, fragnts of Yandeon’s voice echoing in his mind. “He said… Jumo Raccoon had co here… and disappeared afterward. That… maybe the black liquid had sothing to do with Ivory Glen…”
The elder shook his head with a soft, almost pitying laugh. “So, he tried to lay the bla at our feet… Just as I suspected. [Player], tell — did you truly believe his words back then?”
Tyler’s shoulders hunched, his eyes downcast. “Back then… maybe I did. But now… now I know he lied.”
The elder’s eyes softened further, a flicker of understanding in his gaze. “That’s good. Since you’ve been to Ashborough and seen the human settlents yourself, I believe you’ll understand what I’m about to tell you.”
Tyler looked up sharply, every nerve focused on the elder’s next words.
The elder began to pace slowly, his hands clasped behind his back, tail swaying with each step. “Long ago, when humans pushed our ancestors to the edge of the continent, we were powerless. Though our kind excelled in individual strength, humans wielded sothing far more dangerous: technology. Their inventions allowed them to overpower us despite their physical weakness.”
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He paused, gazing at the temple wall as though seeing the ghosts of ancient battles. “But the world demands balance. It is a fundantal law. When one force grows too strong, the Creator God intervenes to restore equilibrium. And so… He did.”
Tyler’s brow creased. “Intervene? You an… the Creator God ca here Himself?”
The elder nodded solemnly. “Yes. When our ancestors stood on the brink of annihilation, the Creator God descended upon this very place. Here, in this temple, He offered us His grace. A gift — not of technology, but of nature’s raw, boundless power.”
Tyler’s gaze swept over the temple’s carvings again, piecing together the story. “The Chrysopteryxiella Umbrosynth… That’s what you an, isn’t it?”
A surprised, gentle laugh escaped the elder. “Oh? You pronounce it so well now. Miho would be proud indeed. Yes — that flower was His divine gift. Its essence carried the power to rival human inventions.”
Tyler hesitated, his mind racing. “Then… was the flower not enough?”
The elder’s eyes closed briefly, his voice dropping to a low, rueful hum. “On the contrary… it was too much. Our ancestors, driven by desperation, consud the flower’s essence directly. The pain was unimaginable — their bodies burned from the inside, many perished outright. But so survived, and those who did… gained strength beyond comprehension.”
He opened his eyes, the flicker of old sorrow gleaming within. “Yet… they paid a terrible price. They lost their minds, their reason, their very selves. They beca nothing but beasts — powerful, yes, but hollow. You have fought so of them yourself, haven’t you?”
Tyler’s mind flashed with images — grotesque monsters, twisted roars, eyes long emptied of thought or rcy. A cold realization clawed up his spine. “Those… You an—”
The elder nodded slowly. “Yes. The beasts you’ve encountered beyond our forest — the Kraken, the Ant Queen, even our own guardian, the Monarch Butterfly… they were all once our people.”
Tyler staggered back, his hand flying to his helt. “I… I didn’t know… I…”
The elder watched him, his expression steady and kind, as though comforting a frightened cub. “Do not burden yourself with that guilt. The mont they transford, they were exiled. There was no way to save them — no cure, no hope of return. We abandoned all experints with the flower’s essence after that. We beca pacifists, turning inward, hiding from the world even after humanity’s downfall.”
Tyler stood silent for a long breath. Then he swallowed hard, lifting his gaze. “But… what does this have to do with Yandeon?”
The elder’s eyes turned sharp, the softness in them retreating like the tide. He stepped forward, his voice tightening. “Tell , [Player] — what do you think Yandeon desires above all else?”
Tyler’s answer ca instinctively. “Power.”
The elder tilted his head slightly, lips curling into a faint, knowing smile. “Not wrong. But there is sothing even deeper that drives him — knowledge. Yandeon is an insatiable seeker. He roams the edges of possibility, always digging, always craving secrets no one else dares uncover. His tireless search led him here, to us.”
He glanced at the temple’s altar, as though seeing echoes of the past. “When Yandeon found us, my father — the elder before — welcod him. My father believed in openness, in sharing our stories and magic with those who showed genuine curiosity. Yandeon seed harmless at first. He listened, he learned… and my father taught him everything: our ways, our magic, our understanding of the Creator God.”
Tyler listened, each heartbeat thundering in his ears.
The elder’s expression darkened. “But my father did not realize the depths of his ambition. Yandeon’s thirst for knowledge was boundless. The more he learned, the more he wanted. When he discovered the Chrysopteryxiella Umbrosynth, he demanded more — more flowers, more essence, more power.”
Tyler’s voice was almost a whisper. “But your father refused him… didn’t he?”
The elder nodded gravely. “Yes. At first, my father gave him small amounts, hoping it would sate him. But Yandeon was never satisfied. He demanded dozens, then hundreds of flowers. When my father refused further requests, Yandeon’s resentnt festered. He turned away from us… but his obsession only grew.”
Tyler’s fists clenched, the image of Yandeon’s cold, mocking smile burning in his mind.
The elder continued, his tone heavy as stone. “Denied his shortcut to power, he turned to forbidden magic — arts so dangerous that even we never dared explore them.”
Tyler swallowed, dread coiling in his gut. “Forbidden magic… you an…”
The elder’s eyes glead, reflecting the temple’s soft torchlight. “Reanimation. The manipulation of souls, the summoning and controlling of the dead.”
Tyler felt a shiver run from his skull to his boots. His mouth felt dry as dust.
A brittle silence fell. Tyler’s breath ca shallow and sharp, every revelation tightening around his chest like a vice.
Finally, the elder stepped closer, his voice dropping to a gentle murmur. “Now… you know the truth. You understand why he must be stopped.”
Tyler looked at his trembling hands, then up at the elder. The guilt, the fear, the endless weight of mistakes pressed down on him. But through the cracks, a faint light of resolve began to glow.
“I… I can’t run anymore. I have to face him. Whatever the cost.”
And for the first ti in a long while, Tyler felt the thin edge of a purpose sharper than any blade — a purpose that might finally set him free.
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