It felt utterly surreal for Ketal. From the outside, the change in scenery looked minor. At best, the area that had transformed was no larger than a small park. But what stretched out before Ketal was a vast, sprawling plain that defied any sense of scale. It was as though the entire sacred ground had been compressed into a tiny space, only to unfold itself into a grand, hidden realm the moment he stepped inside. Ketal stood in awe, his mind blank for a moment as he tried to comprehend the scene before him. At the center of it all stood an enormous golden tree—so tall that it seemed to reach the sky itself, and with a trunk as thick as a mountain. This was the World Tree, the legendary axis around which the sacred ground was built. The village here was not laid out like any ordinary settlement. Instead of houses on the ground, homes were constructed along the vast trunk of the World Tree, their walls and roofs woven from enormous leaves and sturdy branches. Ladders and natural-looking steps connected the different levels, allowing elves to travel up and down with ease. All around the tree, blossoms were in full bloom, creating a vivid ring of color and fragrance. The air was thick with the pure, almost overwhelming scent of nature. Every breath Ketal took seemed to fill him with a deep, almost primal sense of peace. With a kind of quiet shock, he realized that this was it—the sacred sanctuary of the elves, Elfo Sagrado. It was a place that felt less like something from the real world, and more like a dream conjured into reality. Ketal trembled involuntarily, moved beyond words. The urge to weep nearly overtook him. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to steady his heart. The elven queen smiled gently at him and motioned for him to follow. “Come. Let’s go.” Ketal nodded, still dazed. “Yeah...” Read complete version only at novel~fire~net It took effort to compose himself, but he managed it. Together, they started toward the World Tree. As they walked, Ketal noticed that the sacred ground was protected by an immense wall, built to keep out intruders and shield the heart of the elves’ realm. A guarded gate stood at its entrance, manned by an elven sentry. The sentry’s eyes widened as he recognized the queen. “Wait—aren’t you the Queen of the Blooming Petals Tribe? Why have you come to the sacred ground, and with the children?” The queen’s expression was heavy with grief. She replied quietly, “Our village was attacked by dark mages.” She explained the situation. The dark mages had launched a brutal assault on her people’s village, killing many elves in the process. The children she had brought were the only survivors. “I see... How could they...?” The guard was horrified. His voice trembled with rage and sorrow. “Of course, you are welcome to remain in the sacred ground until those cursed dark mages are driven away. Please, come inside.” He gritted his teeth, barely suppressing his anger, and ushered the children in. The little elves slipped through the gates, eyes wide and bodies tense with uncertainty. “Thank you,” the queen said quietly. “It’s nothing,” the guard replied. “We can discuss the details later. For now—oh. That man—who is he?” The sentry’s gaze shifted to Ketal, his eyes narrowing as though he were seeing something out of place. Ketal smiled warmly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” “Wait... Is he a guest you brought, Your Majesty?” the guard asked the queen, his suspicion turning to confusion. In the elven sacred ground, only the tribe queens had the right to grant invitations. Those invitations took the form of a rare red gemstone—one or two per queen, given only to the most trusted outsiders. The guard clearly assumed that Ketal was here at the queen’s behest. However, the queen shook her head. “No, he’s not here on my invitation. He was summoned by another elf.” The guard blinked, taken aback. “Excuse me?” Ketal stepped forward, meeting the elf’s eyes directly. “I was invited here by Marseria Haciane Carusia, the Queen of the Autumn Leaf Tribe.” “Marseria...?” The name seemed to shock the guard. His surprise was obvious, but Ketal continued, his tone measured. “And, in addition, the High Elf—Arkemis—personally invited me as well.” “Arkemis?” Now the guard was truly startled. He stared at Ketal as if seeing him for the first time. “You mean the Arkemis?” “That’s right. So, is it all right if I enter your sacred ground?” Soon after, Ketal found himself seated on a chair in a small reception room near the sacred ground wall. He looked around, taking in every detail of the space. The furniture had clearly been crafted from the surrounding trees, but none of it felt forced or artificial. Instead, everything seemed naturally shaped—as if the trees themselves had agreed to become part of the elves’ home. The design was both elegant and organic, a blend of artistry and nature that Ketal found fascinating. The room reminded him of some of the strange, futuristic architecture he’d seen on Earth—except this place was much warmer, much more alive. A cup of tea sat before him, and Ketal took a careful sip. The aroma was rich and invigorating, unlike any tea he’d tasted in his own world. “This is remarkable tea,” he remarked, his eyes lighting up. The elf sitting across from him gave a slight nod. “The leaves were grown here on the sacred ground. Only elves are permitted to harvest and brew this tea.” “To be drinking something so rare... I’m honored,” Ketal said with a smile, savoring the taste. The elf watched him in silence, his expression curious, perhaps even a little wary. “My name is Ketal,” Ketal introduced himself, his tone friendly. “What should I call you?” “I am Ash. Captain of the Sacred Ground’s Guardian Corps,” the elf replied, his voice formal. Ketal grinned. “Nice to meet you, Ash.” It was clear that Ash remained on edge. He hesitated for a moment, then stood and excused himself. Soon after, a higher-ranking elf arrived—a tall figure with an air of authority—who brought Ketal to a proper reception room for honored guests. Only then did the conversation become more relaxed. “So, you say you received your invitation from Lady Marseria?” the elf asked him, watching Ketal closely. “That’s right. Is she doing well? Her tribe’s territory seemed rather precarious when I last heard about it.” “She’s fine. We’ve been in touch recently.” The elf looked genuinely relieved. Ketal’s expression softened. He had been a little worried about Marseria, given how close her domain was to the dangerous White Snowfield. However, it seemed she was safe for now. Ash studied Ketal for a long moment. “You claim to know Arkemis as well. Lady Arkemis told us you were once her student. Is that true?” “Oh? So you’re acquainted with Arkemis?” Ketal said, interest piqued. “She must confide in you often.” “Whenever she’s troubled, she’ll sometimes come to me and vent. She once mentioned a strange human she met... I suppose you’re that human,” Ash said as he nodded. He looked Ketal up and down, a bemused expression on his face. “So you’re the one she spoke about. Lady Arkemis always did have... unusual tastes.” Ketal tilted his head. “Tastes?” “It’s nothing,” Ash replied quickly, shaking his head. He examined Ketal a little longer, as if trying to see beneath the surface. He doesn’t look particularly strong..., Ash thought. As the captain of the guardians, Ash was no stranger to power—he possessed strength on par with a top-level Transcendent. However, when he looked at Ketal, all he saw was a faint sense of Myst, around the same level as a Novice warrior. At a glance, Ketal seemed no more dangerous than an average adventurer. But Arkemis said this man was powerful. The High Elf would never lie about something like that. Ash’s thoughts circled. Still, I do sense something... It’s like he gives off the aura of a predator. It’s not magical, but something more primal. If I weren’t so strong myself, it might even unsettle me. No wonder the weaker elves avoid looking at him. Despite his doubts, Ash could not ignore the intuition nagging at him. “Is something wrong?” Ketal asked him, smiling easily. “No, not at all,” Ash said quickly, shaking off his unease. “First, let me thank you for helping one of our tribes. You are more than qualified to enter the sacred ground. Possession of the red gemstone alone is proof of your status, but you’ve also been invited by a High Elf. There is no reason or precedent to deny you.” Still, not every guest who was invited to the elven sacred ground was automatically allowed entry. In history, there were a handful of outsiders who had been welcomed, but only the most exceptional were permitted to approach the World Tree itself. “There is one test you must pass first,” Ash explained. Ketal’s eyes glinted with curiosity. “A test, you say?” Marseria had mentioned something about a divine trial that all outsiders must undergo to be recognized by the sacred ground. Ketal nodded, having expected this much. “What sort of test?” Ketal asked him. Ash’s gaze grew solemn. “This is our most sacred place. It predates even the birth of our race. The sacred ground is our origin, our anchor. Since the dawn of time, nothing here has changed.” “For that reason, purity is essential. If the World Tree were ever to be tainted, our entire species could be in jeopardy. That’s why we are so careful about who we allow near the heart of our sanctuary. Not just your power, but your soul, your body, and your very nature must be pure,” Ash continued “Purity... What does that really mean, though?” Ketal pressed. “It is exactly as it sounds. Your power must be acquired by natural means, your soul must be unstained, and your body must be free of corruption. Even your personality must be upright and true.” “That sounds like a tall order,” Ketal remarked, amused. Ash nodded. “This is our sacred ground. Only those who prove themselves can remain. You must demonstrate the purity of your existence to the World Tree itself.” “How do I do that?” Ketal asked him. Ash produced a small flowerpot and placed it on the table. In its center was a single, unremarkable seed. “This seed is a gift from the Spirit God. Prick your finger and let a single drop of your blood fall upon it. If your essence is tainted, a withered, twisted plant will grow. But if you are pure, a healthy flower will bloom.” Ketal’s eyes sparkled with interest. “That’s an interesting test.” His demeanor seemed completely unbothered by the prospect. In fact, he looked genuinely excited. Ash found it unsettling—most people would be at least a little nervous about such a personal trial, but Ketal simply smiled. “I can give you something to prick your finger with—” “No need,” Ketal replied, cutting him off. “Your tool wouldn’t work on me, anyway. I’ll handle it myself.” Ash nodded, puzzled but accepting. He watched as Ketal pressed his fingertip with his nail, breaking the skin with almost unnatural ease. A bead of blood welled up, and Ketal let it fall onto the seed. The effect was immediate. The moment the drop of blood touched the seed, the flowerpot began to change. A pristine white flower blossomed, growing with remarkable speed. Ketal leaned in, watching the transformation with fascination. “It’s blooming... What kind of magic is this?” Ash frowned. “A white flower... That’s... unusual.” “Is something wrong?” Ketal asked him. “No, nothing’s wrong. It’s just... rare, that’s all.” Ash was struggling to hide his surprise. In truth, the trial was more complicated than he had explained. The purity of a person’s blood determined the color of the flower. Only the rarest, most noble elves—like the High Elf herself—could cause a white flower to bloom. For a human, it was unheard of. Normally, their blood would never produce such a result. However, before Ash could process his thoughts, something even stranger happened. Ketal tilted his head. “It looks like the flower is still growing.” “What?” Ash bent to look closer. The flower’s stem stretched upward, growing longer and longer. Soon, the blossom itself began to multiply, sprouting more flowers as the stem reached toward the ceiling. “That can’t be right,” Ash muttered. “Usually, the flower blooms and then stops. It’s supposed to grow just a bit more, but that’s all.” No sooner had he spoken than the growth accelerated. Petals swelled and more buds appeared, filling the room with white blossoms. The stems grew so long they pressed against the ceiling and spilled out the windows. Alarmed, Ash drew his dagger, its blade wreathed in wind magic. He slashed at the stems, trying to halt the runaway growth. Ash was sent flying backwards by the force of the flower’s defense. He crashed into a wall, barely catching himself. “What in the...?” This was impossible. The flower should have been ordinary—its only role was to reveal purity, not to fight back. However, Ketal’s blossom had just batted away a magical weapon like it was nothing. As Ash struggled to his feet, the flower continued to grow, now overtaking most of the room. “I’m assuming this is not normal,” Ketal observed, his voice calm as he pulled out his black axe. With one swing, he brought the enchanted blade down on the stem. The stem was cleaved instantly, the once-unstoppable growth coming to a sudden end. The flower wilted and collapsed, going limp and lifeless in moments. Ash stared at Ketal, at a loss for words. When he finally found his voice, he asked Ketal, “Are you... Are you sure you’re not a dragon in disguise?”