Volume One: The Hell-Level Lord World Chapter 45: Chen Gu's Thoughts

“Elven nobles, after death, turn into motes of light and enter the Sacred Tree. There, they become the fruit on the World Tree,” Allen said.

He glanced once more at the distant World Tree.

Chen Gu was momentarily stunned. At first, he didn’t quite grasp Allen’s meaning. But in the next instant, realization struck him completely.

Where were the fruits?

Now, on the World Tree’s crown, apart from water plants, mussels, and barnacles, there was nothing else. No leaves, no flowers, not a single fruit. Where had all the fruits that should have adorned the World Tree gone?

Chen Gu and Allen’s gazes shifted at the same time toward the water beneath the tree’s crown.

“Allen, you’re familiar with the elven nobility. Do you know if any among them wield water element or water-related powers? Or perhaps there are families skilled in diving? If you know of any, try to find them. I need to step out for a moment.”

“Understood,” Allen replied at once to Chen Gu’s order. But then he immediately realized something.

“My lord, where are you going?”

“I’m going outside to find a serviceable boat to tow back here. I have an idea I’d like to try. Whether or not it works depends on whether you can find any water-related items.”

As he spoke, Chen Gu directed the Mars toward the island where the World Tree stood.

His Firefinch had already set off automatically to meet him. Chen Gu, however, wanted to hurry, since his plan’s success was far from certain—it was just a trial.

Although Allen could guess parts of Chen Gu’s plan, he was well aware that time was short. When Chen Gu leapt onto the Firefinch, Allen turned the Mars about, pondering where to search for suitable elven nobles.

By now, Allen already understood the sacred lake’s situation. The water was of an extremely high concentration of holy water; no undead could enter it even a single step. Thus, there were no conditions for undead to appear on the islands. Most of the islands were quite safe—as long as they hadn’t been struck by the giant tree, most noble residences and estates should have remained largely intact.

Therefore, searching the islands nearest the Sacred Tree at the lake’s center was likely to yield the best finds.

Yet what Chen Gu wanted Allen to look for was something related to the water element. That meant searching based on the family crests.

Allen had once been a commander under the Fafnir Legion. He was well-versed in the composition of the ten great elven legions. At the time of his death, the elves maintained three Alpha and seven Beta legions.

Of these, the three Alpha legions had been unchanged for many years. They were: the Sacred City Legion, responsible for guarding this very city, the strongest city defense force, boasting the most powerful mage corps, the best siege weapons, and an exclusive fleet. The Queen’s Guard, tasked with protecting the queen herself, the smallest of the Alpha legions, but the most formidable—each of its members started at level seven, with some soldiers reaching level nine. And finally, the First Legion, also called the World Tree Legion, the largest of the Alpha legions and the strongest field force—at their peak, they could fight on three fronts, each against a Beta legion.

Within these three legions, every captain-level commander was an elven noble. Their residences were all on the islands nearest the Sacred Tree. To use a modern term, they all lived between the second and third rings of islands. Those who lived together with them were typically the rulers of each elven city or the commanders of the Beta legions.

Allen remembered there was a dedicated fleet among the seven Beta legions. That legion was called the Golden Creek Tree Legion. Its commander, too, should have resided in this area.

Allen decided to follow this line of thought, prioritizing the residences of the Sacred City Legion’s fleet commanders and the Golden Creek Tree Legion’s commander’s family. If those didn’t yield results, he would move on to the fleet’s captains, and failing that, seek out mages who had specialized in water magic.

However, that last option would be difficult, as there was no way to determine what kind of magic a mage had studied—certainly, no one would engrave their magical expertise on their family crest.

Thus, Allen pinned his hopes on the fleet commanders and captains, trusting they would provide a satisfactory answer.

Fortunately, Allen’s luck held. Passing the third island, he spotted a crest bearing the symbol of an iron anchor. He didn’t know which family lived there, but the anchor surely signified a connection to ships.

He had the Mars draw alongside the island, preparing to search.

As the boat pulled up to the small island’s dock, Allen heard a voice.

“Outsider, state your name.”

Allen immediately fixed his gaze in the direction of the voice. For a moment, he thought there was someone alive on the island. But when he looked, he saw it was not a living being, but a pile of mechanical parts strewn across the ground. The voice came from within.

Allen recognized it at once: a magical construct—another branch of elven technology. Such constructs were exceedingly difficult to make, each one as costly as raising a gold dragon. Yet their combat ability was feeble; compared to the overwhelming might of a gold dragon, these magical constructs were but rubbish.

Still, despite their flaws, magical constructs remained beloved by elven nobility, who delighted in leaving such devices in their estates as a display of wealth.

The heap of broken parts before Allen was the remnant of such a construct, left behind by a noble family. After all these years, even reduced to components, it still lay scattered on the dock, waiting for its master’s return.

Allen had half a mind to simply barge in. But after a moment’s thought, he raised his bow and spoke:

“From the Elven Realm, Fafnir—no, Elven Hero Allen. I have come to save the Sacred City. We seek water element or water-related abilities, records, magic, books, or constructs—anything of the sort. This is the only chance to save the Sacred City. Please, grant us guidance or assistance.”

“Allen. That name is unfamiliar. Leave immediately, or I will sound the alarm.”

Seeing the magical construct’s stubbornness, Allen sighed. He raised his hand, and a green arrow flew, striking with precision the core of the heap, ending the construct’s last spark of life.

Allen sighed again, helplessly muttering, “What a pity.”