The brief interlude concluded, and the collapse of the environment continued.
The causal threads weaving the illusion were being pulled apart, like unraveling an embroidered tapestry from a single thread—unstoppable, relentless, accelerating until it became imperceptible to the naked eye. Tasha felt her body grow incredibly light as the gravitational pull that had drawn her into the illusion vanished.
The sudden sensation of floating upward made her instinctively spread her arms for balance. Wings flared behind her, their sharp edges slicing through her back clothing as they unfurled with a sharp swish through the air. The demonic wings stood starkly against the pure white bookshelves. Tasha flapped them, gasping sharply.
In an instant, she stood once more within the Hall of True Knowledge, as abruptly as when she had fallen into this environment. The disorientation felt like surfacing abruptly from a deep dive. Tasha looked around in confusion, the centuries-old illusion still lingering in her mind. The portal to the Astral Plane still whirled overhead, the hum of arrows drawn to their full tension still buzzing in her ears. That forest and its inhabitants had been so vividly alive—who could have imagined they had vanished centuries ago? Tashar landed, her feet firmly on solid ground, realizing she might never have truly left.
The fragment materialized in the library outside, this time not as a scroll but as a large, bound volume. Its cover was made of aged leather, adorned with a feather-appliquéd owl. The bird's eyes were wide and alert, gazing directly at whoever looked upon the cover.
Alas, the book was only half complete.
The key was only half filled. The answers Tasha saw were incomplete, the secrets slipping through her fingers. The appearance of the Astral Portal was significant information, but it was far from the final answer.
Tasha pondered for a moment, repeating, "Where did the Archdruid and the Wood Elves go?"
The forging process did not repeat. The large key—half emerald green, half transparent—appeared directly, its proportions identical to before, crafted from the same materials. To be precise, it was the very same key from earlier.
Feeling the subtle fluctuations of the House of True Knowledge, Tasha realized the materials used to fill this key could not be decomposed for now. They couldn't be used to create a new key—at least not yet.
To describe it in simpler, more Earth-like terms: the Hall of True Knowledge operates thus: the various clues gathered by Tasha increase the event's resolvability. Visibly, this manifests as the Hall forging keys using knowledge and cognition as materials; different clues complete different answers to questions, equivalent to different keys opening different doors. These clues appear single-use only—once a key is forged, they cannot be decomposed. Thus, posing questions requires caution. Keys, however, can be reused repeatedly, like a duplicated videotape ready for endless replays.
Beyond this, all events are connected by "causal threads," which can be interpreted as "connections between things." Thus, Tashan can glimpse other related events from a solved mystery. Earlier, seeing Victor suddenly appear in the Druid and Elf scene was the causal thread at work. Like related searches in a search engine, they reveal events connected to your question—even those you never imagined.
Tasha gained much new insight about the Far Journey from this.
Nearly all the forest elves had once gathered with the sixteen Great Druids before the Sacred Druid Tree. Within the last Druid sanctuary, the Great Druids had prematurely initiated the tree's cycle of decay and rebirth. They entrusted the Heart of Nature to the young Oak Guardian (later known as the Old Oak). At that time, the Old Oak stood as the farthest tree from the center of the Sacred Grove. While many knew of the "Long Journey," no one within the Sacred Grove seemed to witness it—including the numerous Druids and Druid apprentices who should have resided there.
The eastern continent of Eriyon was then afflicted by the corruption of the Abyss, prompting the Archdruid and the Wood Elves to organize the Far Journey. Most, including the participants themselves, believed the journeyers would return someday—perhaps even soon. Only these Children of Nature could save the polluted Eriyon. Did they purify the corruption? Did they sever the tainted lands? Regardless, no traces of the Abyss's corruption could be discerned in present-day Eryan.
The Elf King had opened a portal from the Material Plane to the Astral Plane with a single arrow. The destination of the Far Journey likely lay somewhere within the Astral Plane. Tasha strained her memory, unable to recall if tiny shadows existed within that vast expanse. Her own survival in the Astral Plane had relied entirely on forbidden spells recorded in the Dungeon Lore. The preparations made by the Archfiend were daunting enough for one person; Tasha couldn't fathom how a large group of ordinary elves could survive in the Astral Plane.
The thread of causality also drew Tasha into witnessing a conversation between Victor and a certain Abyssal visitor. That she could see this meant the dialogue was also connected to the "Far Journey."
The Abyss harbored a conspiracy to divide the Material Plane. A great demon named Rashidja had reached a separate agreement with Victor at the time, favoring the corruption of the Material Plane. Victor, however, seemed displeased with this plan, yet had no choice.
Based on the above clues, a rough deduction could be made.
After the Planar War, the creatures of the Material Plane drove out the Abyss, but the fiends within plotted to corrupt the plane. Anomalies began appearing across Eryan, starting from the Eastern Continent, likely spreading elsewhere. To save the world, the Archdruid and the elves were compelled to journey into the Planes. They ultimately achieved their goal but encountered an accident within the Planes, never to return. Over the following centuries, the magical environment deteriorated, the races of Eryan descended into chaos, and knowledge of the Astral Plane gradually faded from memory. Amidst these multiple influences, the truth of the "Far Journey" was buried.
It all sounds plausible enough. Hand this to the Eryan production team, and they could easily pass it off to audiences as a heartrending epic tale. But upon closer inspection, a glaring flaw emerges.
The timeline is off.
The Planar War is the collective term for decades of conflict between the creatures of the Planes of Existence united under the Erian Declaration and the forces of the Abyss and the Celestial Realm. Comprising countless brutal battles and campaigns, it can be divided into the "Abyssal War" and the "Celestial War." Mavis, the quarter-elf, had a mother who lived through that era. Her half-elf parents fought in the Planar War against the Abyss. Their accounts confirm that the Abyssal War preceded the Celestial War, with a clear temporal gap between them.
The anomalies on the Eastern Continent emerged after the Celestial Realm had been expelled. Long before that, the Abyss had already been driven out, and its influence largely eradicated—the creatures of the Material Plane began targeting the Celestial Realm, an action that clearly signaled they had vanquished their previous enemy.
The mortal realms did not confront both gods and demons simultaneously.
The Erian Empire's propaganda consistently targeted the Abyss. Centuries after their disappearance, demons remained the imagined enemy of the masses—a powerful tool for uniting the populace. Celestial beings never enjoyed such prominence. Classic battles against the Abyss endure as timeless dramatic material, perpetually studied in military academy textbooks as exemplary case studies. In contrast, conflicts against the Celestials are scarce, almost nonexistent. While the Abyss's presence is repeatedly amplified, the Celestials—its equal in power—are deliberately downplayed.
Even through the heavily sanitized accounts, Tasha could discern faint traces.
Major battles against the Abyss were glossed over, their absence glaring amidst the lavishly detailed narratives. In Tasmarin Province, beyond the reach of Imperial prohibitions, historians had concluded over the years: when the Mainland battled the Abyss, it drew upon the power of the Celestial Realm.
This was a conservative view; many scholars leaned toward the notion that creatures of the Material Plane had united with the Celestial Realm to expel the Abyss.
Tashan found this unsurprising.
The alliance forged by the Eryan Declaration was indeed heroic, yet love cannot generate electricity, and courage alone cannot serve as a weapon. For so many years before, Eryan had been used as a chessboard by both the Abyss and the Celestial Realm. While the lack of unity among the creatures of the Material Plane was certainly one factor, their sheer strength was undoubtedly a decisive issue.
During the Demon Scourge, hordes of lesser demons poured forth endlessly, while the dungeons served as forward outposts, pressing forward relentlessly. Victor's angelic legions moved with military precision, like a swarm of wasps controlled by a queen—even the finest human armies couldn't hope to match them. As for elite combatants, the demon lord Victor could crush a legendary monk's skull with a single punch. Records spoke of a divine-empowered holy son who fought a great demon's earthly form to a standstill... Could creatures of the Material Plane truly wage war against both gods and demons simultaneously?
An alliance fueled by courage alone could never prevail. To overcome overwhelming odds, one must play to their strengths, avoid weaknesses, and employ every available means. Tasha saw no shame in this. Celestial beings revere order, raising the banner of virtue even when hypocritical; Abyssal demons are utterly unreasonable, most chaotic beyond prediction. Choosing to ally with the former to destroy the latter is perfectly logical.
At its core, it's an alliance of convenience. Exploiting allies before turning on them isn't honorable, but it works—merely a year or two after expelling the Abyss, the Celestials followed their ancient foe's path. And since the creatures of the Material Plane had chosen this path, they were even less likely to rashly confront a second enemy before eliminating the threat of the first.
So then, what of the Abyssal corruption?
They wouldn't fight the Celestials until the Abyss was purged, yet after banishing the Celestials, they encountered Abyssal corruption—a contradiction. Was it some demon's hidden contingency? Much like the Abyssal portal Victor left behind... Yet if such a lesson had been learned, people should have realized the Abyssal portal wasn't fully severed back then. At that time, the Material Plane still had many mages, and magical civilization was at its peak. Continuing to sever the portal or uncover Victor's hidden move would have been far easier than it is now. At the very least, some warning should have been left behind.
The Victor drawn forth by the threads of causality offered a sliver of insight into the Abyssal corruption, yet only served to make the matter more perplexing.
Question: At what precise moment did that tiny illusion manifest?
Victor had no memory of his "death" or how he transformed from a demon lord into a dungeon tome. He only recalled being isolated in a ruined dungeon for four or five centuries. He had no concept of the Abyss's expulsion; in his mind, the War of the Worlds hadn't begun yet, and creatures of the Material Plane were just starting to eye each other warily.
In the illusion, Victor remained the intact, cunning demon lord. That dialogue could only have occurred before the war began. Though his words were relatively restrained, his tone still suggested the fall of the Material Plane was merely a matter of time—inevitable.
It was the tone of the dominant party, the aggressor.
Perhaps it was premature to be so certain. Tasha still struggled to fully comprehend souls that could be casually divided among archdevils. Was it possible Victor had actually participated in the war, only to suffer severe wounds upon death that erased his memories of it? The likelihood was slim. None of the existing records mentioned Victor, the Serpent of Lies.
Mages and scholars uphold a tradition: never utter the names of fallen Archdevils, whether their true names or recognized aliases. One must use various unacknowledged pseudonyms, lest it become a summons that grants the demon lord a chance to return to the mortal realm. Thus, during the War of Heaven and Earth—a period of high exposure for demon lords—Victor was likely already considered dead.
Before entering the Hall of True Knowledge, Miranda's investigative report yielded another unexpected discovery. She compiled a "List of Mages Highly Likely Connected to the Astral Plane," cataloging all mages whose career records contained large, unnatural gaps—serving as one piece of evidence for the "forced loss of astral concepts." Among those listed, White Lightning Sophia stood out prominently.
As a spatial mage and prominent figure within the White Tower, later generations knew only that she researched spatial magic and participated in drafting the Erian Declaration in her later years. Sophia the White Lightning's records were severely fragmented. Her personal research likely involved the Aetheric Realm, leading to significant gaps in her studies. She reportedly died from a recurrence of an old illness, not living to a particularly advanced age.
Victor's memory fragments colliding with hers could be narrowed down to the period around the Erian Declaration.
Yet the scope remained too vast. So many uncertain variables were truly headache-inducing. What role did Victor play in the War of Heaven and Earth as a demon lord? Why did he feel compelled to corrupt the Material Plane or divide it?
The latter question was even more troubling.
Victor was not a loyal demon.
The very notion of loyalty in a demon sounds rather laughable. Yet the demons Tashar understood did possess a modicum of loyalty—not to any individual, but to the Abyss itself.
They possess an instinctive loyalty to the Abyss, spending their lives slaughtering, invading, and ceaselessly fighting to allow the Abyss to devour other planes—they won't shout battle cries for the Abyss, yet even the most mindless fiends act in the same way. They are loyal to the Abyss, loyal to instinct, born of destruction, existing for chaos. Among such archetypal demons, Victor was almost a rebel.
Tasha had entered his soul, read his memories, experienced his emotions.
He too harbored an endless thirst for blood and souls, having slaughtered countless victims. Yet Tasha had never witnessed him actively killing for the sheer joy of it on the surface. Victor's activities on the Material Plane were remarkably low-key. True to what he told Sophia and the others, he seldom got his hands dirty.
While other Archdevils descended to slaughter entire kingdoms, Victor hummed tunes in basements dissecting souls. While others deceived kings into sacrificing nations in blood rituals, Victor offered ten hands to a wandering minstrel whose own had been severed—in exchange for his soul... This fellow calls himself a diligent employee of the Abyss, but compared to other Archdevils who unleash carnage the moment they appear, he might as well be on vacation.
Not that I'm trying to prove some ridiculous pseudo-premise like "Victor is a good guy," but despite his endless stream of wicked schemes, his penchant for stirring trouble, his history of misdeeds, and his mouth full of provoking remarks—he's not your typical demon.
The more Tashar learned about the Abyss and its demons, the more he realized Victor was a rebel among demons.
He'd told Tasha that after finally evolving from a mindless monster that only knew how to burn, kill, and devour into his current form as a great demon, he certainly wasn't going to do the same thing over again.
From that perspective, it was entirely possible that one day the Abyss suddenly discovered he was slacking off and decided to banish him. Perhaps influenced by a bit of personal sentiment, Tasha didn't believe Victor would be happy to see the Prime Material Plane turn into another Abyss.
So what compelled Victor to feel he "had no choice" but to act?
It certainly wasn't some superficial directive like, "The organization has decided to destroy the world—as one of the demon lords, Comrade Victor, you must fulfill your duty."
Long before the creatures of the Material Plane united in rebellion, the Abyss had already harbored ambitions to carve up Eryan in one fell swoop. Using this as the catalyst for mortal unity makes sense, but it raises an even greater question: What event compelled the chaotic, unrestrained Abyss itself to act? Could the disappearance of the Celestial Realm be connected?
The sole remaining clue lies with another Archfiend.
Lord Rashidja, another demon lord who had a strained relationship with Victor yet seemed poised to join forces with him, was renowned among the Archdemons for his cunning, much like Victor himself. The Wrath Demon Simon had mentioned this name—the "Unknowable One" Rashidja was still alive, and Victor's remains were now in the hands of this Lord of Magic.
Was this good news? In a few years, Tasha would likely face it.
Tasha rubbed her temples, feeling the newly unraveled answers hit another dead end.
Her thirst for answers was now more urgent than when she first posed this question—driven by far more than mere curiosity. The root cause of the past catastrophe remained unsolved, and Tasha harbored no illusions about avoiding its recurrence. The method to sever the Abyss and the reason for the failed expulsion both lay shrouded in the mists of history. Without unraveling these mysteries, the newly flourishing Eryan could not afford to repeat its mistakes.
"How does one seal the Abyss's passage?" Tasha asked.
The Mirror Door remained silent.
Many questions lingered, many could be asked, yet that half-key stuck in her mind like a fishbone lodged in her throat. After a moment's silence, she tentatively reached out once more.
"Tell me," Tasha said, "where should I go to find the other half of the key to unlocking 'The Whereabouts of the Archdruid and the Forest Elves'?"
For a moment, the Mirror Door remained silent. Tasha nearly thought such a clever question would go unanswered. Could a question about a key have a key as its answer? Just as she pondered this, a key flew toward her from afar.
Emerging from the starlit mist, Tasha suspected the phantom key existed only because she had asked—as if the question "How to close the Abyss Passage" wasn't unanswered, but lacked the materials to forge its solution. The new phantom key was also emerald green, oddly intriguing in its incompleteness, resembling the missing half of a two-toned key.
Tasha grasped it.
Nothing flew out from the mirror, and Tasha did not fall into the mirror's gate. As she grasped the key, four invisible threads suddenly rose, radiating outward from her like springs. Tasha's "vision" expanded accordingly, this strange sight compressed within a conduit—both narrow and elongated.
The first strand touched Mavis, coiling into a small ring in the elf-descendant's hair. Mavis's face grew rounder, her ears sharper, her mother's features emerging. Then the face shrank bit by bit—child, infant—vanishing abruptly only to flash back into view.
It was a man's face—Mavis's grandfather—smiling gently toward some distant point, his features both beautiful and joyful. Then came a multitude of figures: pointy-eared folk leaping through the woods, druids revering the steady, broad oak, while wood elves favored the freer mistletoe.
The second thread landed on Marion's spine. Her smooth back sprouted a patch of silvery-white down amidst the tangled invisible threads, like cattail fluff bursting forth. The wolf girl within the coil transformed into a giant wolf. This wolf's image opened enormous green eyes, stood up, and began to run.
Her form grew and shrank with each stride—no longer Marion, but countless giant wolves bound by blood. Generations of males and females, young and old, traced back through time. When it halted, the original wolf god turned its head, its gaze as vast as the wilderness itself.
The third encountered the druid, Eugene, the custodian tasked with compiling druidic lore and history. He sat bent over his desk, invisible threads coiling around the hand that wrote catalogues. The middle-aged man's face blurred, and beside that ceaselessly writing hand, countless tiny shadows appeared.
The druid whistled, and a golden eagle landed upon his shoulder. The druid stroked a tree, and a sick branch blossomed with leaves. The druid leapt into a torrent, and a dolphin rode the waves. The druid waved his staff, and the clear sky darkened with clouds. Countless phantom druids flickered into existence and vanished, from the newest to the oldest. The Great Druid Council, known as the Ring of Seasons, sat in a circle around the Sacred Tree.
The final line connected to the young Sacred Tree now growing in the dungeon's backyard.
The first three lines converged here, twisting together before shooting skyward. Like a brush visible only to Tassara, it sliced through Erian's skies, drawing a great circle over a focal point.
That was the location of the last Druid sanctuary, the precise spot where the Astral Portal had once opened.