While many were exploring the secrets behind the mysterious stone door, Sylvia and her mother, Marfala, were walking in the central temple. The mother and daughter were not as passionate as Sylvia had imagined. It seemed that Marfala's actions had caused Sylvia's silence today. The moonlight illuminated the corridor with a silvery glow. The two high priests walking in the corridor gave off a feeling of holiness that could only be found in myths.
The ancient history of the elves was hard for humans to imagine. When the main inhabitants of the main road were the elves, the uncivilized species of humans were still living a life of eating raw meat and drinking blood.
"Our history seems to be ending here. The presence of the Tree of Life is getting weaker and weaker."
Marfala walked beside Sylvia. The solemn high priest had barely seen his own daughter ever since she gave birth to Sylvia. He had spent his entire life in this temple. He even knew how many bricks there were in the temple.
"So we gave up resisting and allowed ourselves to disappear in the river of history?"
Sylvia was no longer the helpless little girl she used to be. Too many things had made her grow up quickly. Reaching out to comb her long hair, Sylvia's expression was cold with a hint of pity. "Are we going to stand still when faced with the demands of humans and wait for the enemy to destroy us one by one?"
Although Flora did not personally confirm it, the elves' discussions along the way had clearly expressed the current opinion of the elves. To the elves, the opinion of the commoners represented the opinion of the council. Sylvia knew this very well, so her judgment was not wrong.
"The Tree of Life also understands this. That is why she is sad."
Marfala turned around and gently reached out to hold Sylvia's hand. Their palms were similar, but they had different fingerprints. The inheritance of life showed its wonders in this constant change, but it also showed its cruelty. "Our demise is not because of the enemy's power. We have only ourselves to blame."
Sylvia had never heard her mother speak in such a tone. She could not help but raise her head.
"The elves have been immersed in the glory of the past for too long. It is time for them to wake up. This process is inevitable. No one can stop it."
"But …"
"Even if it's him, he still can't do it. If he gives water to someone who doesn't want to drink it, he will eventually die of thirst."
Marfala seemed to have already known the final decision of the Elven Council and did not care about the impact of his words at all. He seemed to be lamenting, but also seemed to have already known the outcome.
Sylvia remained silent and stared blankly at the ground. As an elf, she understood the stubbornness and stubbornness of this race. Even if the final choice they made was destruction, they would still walk down this path of no return.
"Just because of the betrayal in the past, you still haven't forgiven me?"
After a long while, Sylvia asked. She knew a little about Shawei and knew that the powerful priestess had died due to the betrayal of the human allied army. However, she did not know the details. When Shawei, the elder of the Undead Council, came to look for Sylvia, she still could not believe that the legend was true — that the former High Priestess had become like this.
"That's just a microcosm of war."
With his back to Sylvia, Marfala's voice was low, like the ending notes of a play.
* * *
When Many looked around again, the quiet library was still as quiet as when they first stood. However, Many's eyes flickered as if the scene they had just seen had not disappeared before their eyes.
Shock, regret, and lament.
Many people didn't know what kind of expression to use to face the scene they had just seen. The most mysterious area of the library didn't have any words to record the period of history. The scenes that actually existed at that time made many people truly feel the shock brought about by those scenes that couldn't be described with words.
Why did a race that occupied almost the entire continent decline to less than ten percent in just a few hundred years? Why were these elves unwilling to be overly friendly to humans even today? From the formation of the alliance to the collapse, Many witnessed tragedies that should not have happened.
His mind could not help but recall a sentence he had once read in an antique book — "The general trend of the world, divided for a long time, united for a long time, divided for a long time."
Sighing softly, Many slowly took a step back and gently bowed to the stone door.
This was not just a genuine respect for this period of history, but also a respect for this race that they had never really understood.
Walking out of the library lightly, Many saw the librarian in the corner who had never raised her head. The librarian raised her head slightly the moment Many looked at her and revealed a calm smile.
"Thank you."
Many bowed their heads and prepared to turn and walk out of the library.
"Only an elf can make the elves change their minds. Although it is difficult, the chances of success are better than a foreign race."
The librarian whose name was unknown smiled and looked at Many. After saying this, she lowered her head and continued to read the book in front of her, as if she had never raised her head.
"Thank you again."
Many's footsteps paused and walked out of the library.
* * *
"Thank you for the key."
Many gently raised his hands and returned the badge to Marfala. The latter raised his eyebrows as if he did not expect Many's attitude to be so respectful. But then he seemed to have thought of something, sighed softly, and reached out to take it.
"Your decision?"
Marfala opened his arms elegantly. This was a sign of friendliness. It seemed that the prejudice against Many had vanished at this moment.
Many looked up at the ancient stone roof above their heads. The exquisite patterns on it had not disappeared with the passage of time, but seemed to have a different meaning because of the moonlight. Their eyes involuntarily looked at Sylvia. Many raised their right hands, and Krillin's Blade appeared in the air. Its shape seemed to have an indescribable similarity with this temple.
"I place my hopes on you."
Many did not speak to Marfala. Instead, he said this to Sylvia, who was standing not far from his mother.
Before they had time to be shocked, Many's Krillin's Blade emitted an unimaginable blue light. The violent elemental turbulence seemed to be about to collapse the not-so-wide hall. The blade faintly exuded a bit of incandescence, dazzling and powerful.
Without hesitation, he swung the blade at the empty space beside him. It was as if this holy sword had sliced an oval crack in the hall — a crack that tore through space.
Many's energy was many times stronger than before. Compared to the last time he faced Xia Wei, he could still destroy the not-so-powerful undead priest with a wave of his hand even without Nairíos's help. But he would not choose to do so. Instead, he remembered what the administrator had said.
There was no other reason. Many had inadvertently sensed the other's power … It was definitely a character similar to the sweeping monk in the Sutra Depository in the wuxia novels he had read. Although he looked like a passerby, he was far from being as simple as he seemed.
And the most important thing that made Many believe her words was that Many's perception saw a trace of a sign on her that could not belong to any other faction.
The portal was completed in a split second. Dou Dou took a step back, and the Krillin's Blade in his hand disappeared. Sylner, however, was still staring at the portal. After a while, she nodded slightly, and stepped into the shining portal without any hesitation.
On the other side of the door was a seemingly dark and barren forest.
"Thank you for your trust."
Many looked at Sylvia's back and sighed softly. Although they did not make an overly pretentious salute, they still lowered their heads. In front of them, Sylvia's figure disappeared through the door without a trace.
"Perhaps, there is still hope."
For the first time, Marfala showed an expression of disbelief. Then, he seemed to be talking to himself.
※ ※ ※
Sylvia looked around. The weeds and fallen leaves all over the ground gave her a sense of endless desolation.
A cold aura enveloped her, and there was a faint, strange smell in the air. It was the smell of rotting leaves mixed with a strange stench, but it wasn't pungent.
Ancient.
This was Sylvia's first impression when she saw the forest in front of her. As a former Ranger, she immediately determined the age and characteristics of the forest in front of her. This was a forest that almost no elves or other intelligent species had ever set foot in. The surrounding atmosphere was always quiet and strange.
Sylvia, who was wearing a priest's robe, was not afraid of the cold. Her heart was abnormally firm at the moment. As a strong person who already had the strength of a high priest, fear was a threshold that must be overcome.
Sylvia did not hesitate to agree to Many's requests. This trust was built on a long period of life and death together. Absolute trust brought absolute decisiveness. And until she came to this unknown forest, Sylvia still did not know why she was here. Or rather, why Many asked her to come here.
It sounded absurd, but from another perspective, it was this absolute trust that allowed her to reach where she was. She understood that if Duo had anything to say, he would definitely tell her at once. On the other hand, if he did not say anything, it meant that she would rely on herself to find the path she should find.
But there seemed to be no path in front of her.
The robe hung on the ground. There was no flat stone pavement like in the temple. Weeds and dead branches gently scraped against Sylvia's priest's robe, as if there were countless hands stopping her from moving forward.
Sylvia narrowed her eyes and looked at the ground. Although the stars could be seen in the sky here, they never seemed as clear and bright as when she was in Dashiell. It was as if there was a layer of miasma blocking them. Even the moon seemed a little hazy.
The soil on the ground occasionally revealed a dark color through the sparse grass. It was not fertile, but there was a black and smelly sense of decay.