Tashan obtained the "treasure map."
The last Oak Guardian had passed away, and the ravens who knew the route had changed countless generations. The Druids' records were lost between the passage of time and the ravages of war, and the location of the previous sacred site had long been forgotten. Now, the Heart of Nature marked the former homeland—the place where the Sacred Tree and Oak Grove once stood, the last resting place of the Archdruid and the Wood Elves before their long journey. A small point shone brightly on the map within Tasha's mind. She suddenly knew the path to the natural relic, as if the magnet in a pigeon's brain guided its way home.
A vision flickered in Tasha's mind, vanishing before she could fully grasp it. Only the colors lingered on her retina—a raven-gray sky, a pale yellow full moon, silhouettes of people and trees cut against it like paper cutouts. Was this the scene at the treasure map's destination?
The meaning of the vision could only be understood upon reaching the location.
The former sanctuary lay deep within the empire's heartland, north of Tasmalin Province—neither too near nor too far from here. Flying there on demon wings would be convenient, but Tasha couldn't travel light this time; she had companions to bring along.
Marion, descendant of the Wolf God; Mavis, bearing elven blood; Eugene, inheritor of the Druid's legacy—these three individuals bound by the previous clues were not targets for clue extraction, but rather key figures for this journey. Tasha sensed the hint from the House of True Knowledge: to uncover the latter half of the secret concerning the "journey," these three could prove useful—though to what extent remained unknown. For this treasure hunt, Tasha would take three companions.
Marion was overjoyed at the rare chance to journey far with Tasha, acting like a schoolgirl excited for a spring outing. The moment Tasha finished speaking, she dashed off to pack her belongings without a single extra question. This left Tasha oddly guilty, feeling like a parent who'd never taken their daughter to an amusement park.
Druid Eugenson was astonished to be chosen. "Are you certain it's me?" he cautiously confirmed. "My abilities rank far below most druids—I'm merely a bureaucrat." After Tashar confirmed, he went to gather his notebooks. Though Druids regarded the sacred tree's rebirth and the holy site's migration as natural cycles, they still approached the journey to the previous sanctuary with keen curiosity, as if visiting ancient capitals of past dynasties.
"The place where Grandfather vanished?" Mavis brushed flour from her hands and slid the last apple pie into the oven. Removing her apron, she suddenly smiled. "Living long enough really does let you witness everything."
This expedition was registered as a "Homecoming Delegation."
Cooperation between the Empire and Tasmarin Province was progressing steadily. To avoid unnecessary complications, the authorities were informed of this journey to the Sacred Site. Some truths were disclosed—such as the destination being a former Druid sanctuary and the participants including Druids and Elves—while others remained concealed. These included the fact that Archon Tasha herself would join the expedition and the true purpose of the pilgrimage. The stated reason for the visit was "returning to one's roots," which, in a sense, wasn't entirely inaccurate.
Tashar himself hadn't personally negotiated with the Empire on this matter. The application had been submitted by a subordinate department of a subordinate department, ensuring the visit by this small four-person team would be viewed as a private initiative, drawing minimal attention. The peace faction held sway among the empire's upper echelons, but if the radicals misinterpreted this and reacted with hypersensitivity, it could still become a troublesome affair.
Mavis's rolling pin cast a transformation spell on Tasha, making her appear as an ordinary woman in her thirties, registered as a druid. A team comprising a druid, a half-elf, and an orc was bound to draw more attention than a typical homecoming delegation. After weeks of bureaucratic wrangling, their application was approved. Accompanying them through customs was an Imperial guide.
"I'm Martin," the guide said, flashing a row of perfectly aligned white teeth. "The former druid sanctuary was located in the province of Tylintan. I know that area very well."
Familiarity was likely genuine, though whether guiding was his true profession was another matter.
His gait carried a faint military bearing, and his keen, observing gaze reminded Tasha of certain spies under her command. Calluses from years of weapon handling marked the guide's hands. This imperial watcher, like the mechanical birds in the sky, offered little concealment—a gesture of goodwill in their current collaboration. Everyone understood: having him join the team and the bird follow along made things easier for both sides.
The railway network spanning the entire Erian Empire was still under construction, forcing them to rely on outdated transportation for now. Near major urban centers, special-supply automobiles could still serve as vehicles. But once they entered less developed areas, the narrow, bumpy roads meant everyone reverted to the age of horse-drawn carriages.
"Most of Tilintan Province is like this," the guide remarked, gazing out the window. "The terrain is too mountainous, the soil isn't particularly fertile, and many areas lack notable local products. The economy is pretty poor. My grandparents told me that back when Erian was under military rule, Tilintan had the highest number of recruits. Staying here meant struggling to survive. Now that things have improved and tourists are starting to come, it's actually supporting quite a few innkeepers."
They sat in a long, narrow carriage that could seat five people. Martin, being quite the chatterbox, found things to talk about and ended up having a pleasant conversation with Mavis throughout the journey.
"Ah, I've heard of that," Mavis mused, a mischievous smile spreading across her face. "'Experience the truest harvest, feel the most natural dwelling—Old Johnny's Farm Stay lets you indulge to your heart's content!' Then twenty-odd tourists shell out a fortune to help that farmer gather his crops. Was that in Tylintan?"
"Yes indeed!" " Martin chuckled. "They don't call it a farm stay anymore—it's 'Druid Eco-Tour' now. Please don't take offense, esteemed Druids, but it's just a gimmick. Those farmers haven't a clue what Druids truly are. Hey, what a coincidence—who knew the Druids' former sacred site was actually right here?"
"The Druids themselves have nearly forgotten it," Eugene said. If it weren't for that location being rediscovered in ancient scrolls, even the oldest druids wouldn't remember where the sanctuary was."
"Just like the places the elves dwell," Mavis chimed in. "Legend says my ancestors once lived in many forests, yet now there's not a trace left. To trace their footsteps, I'll just have to borrow a little from our neighbors and visit the old druid settlement!"
"How unfortunate," Martin sighed. "And Miss Marion?"
Marion glanced at him, seemingly uninterested in engaging. The wolf girl was calmer than before, no longer glaring at the imperial watcher forced upon them, though one shouldn't expect her to be particularly welcoming either. She'd treated Martin as invisible throughout the journey, likely annoyed he'd disrupted their travels.
"She's my sister," Tashar said.
Martin looked surprised, but wisely refrained from asking more.
"I've heard that some children of beastmen and humans take after their mothers more, while others resemble their fathers," he remarked. "Only in recent years, mind you. Back in the day, who would've thought we'd learn such things?"
Marion withdrew her scrutinizing gaze from him, likely satisfied with his discretion—pleased not to hear remarks like "your sisters don't look alike at all."
Marion wore no disguise. Her bare feet pressed against the carriage floor, furry ears stood erect atop her head, and a fluffy tail emerged from beneath her skirt, resting across her knees. Her beastman traits were unhidden. An elf joining the druid homecoming party was understandable—legends spoke of their longstanding friendship—but a beastman's inclusion felt odd. Especially given the still-tense relationship between beastmen and the Empire.
Disguising herself as a druid wouldn't be hard, but Tashar had promised Marion she could walk tall anywhere in the Empire. He meant it.
"You once said you were my mother," Marion said through the link.
After all these years, she'd finally mastered conversing with Tasha through the link, and it proved remarkably convenient now. A hint of disappointment tinged her voice, making Tasha want to laugh.
"You were my mother before, now you're my sister," Marion said, sounding earnestly confused. "What will you be to me in a few more years?"
"Family," Tasha replied, squeezing the hand that tugged at her tail.
The wolf girl visibly brightened.
"Besides, it's just a change in outward titles," Tasha continued in the private channel. "Each year, you grow one year older and I grow one year older. You fool, no matter how many years pass, you'll never be older than me. As long as you wish it, you'll always be my child."
Marion chuckled, revealing two sharp canine teeth, startling Martin who was still talking nonstop. Mavis, who also shared a private channel with Tasha, quickly grasped the situation and tactfully took over the conversation, chatting idly with the guide.
"But I'll look older than you," Marion said. "I'll grow old, develop wrinkles, and appear older than you. Then you'll have to call me your daughter!"
At this point, she was less demanding an explanation and more just being playful, so Tasha obliged by stroking her tail. Marion's tail swished twice, then flopped sideways, the large broom lying across Tasha's lap.
Tasha asked, "Do you want eternal youth?"
It wasn't entirely impossible. Necromancer research projects kept advancing, and a spell that caused partial skin necrosis unexpectedly proved effective at removing wrinkles, becoming wildly popular among brave beauty enthusiasts. With Marion's soul in his possession, transferring the werewolf girl to a new body wasn't beyond the realm of possibility. Despite numerous limitations and some side effects, Tashu was confident that if Marion agreed, he could extract her soul from her aging frame in her twilight years and place it into a healthy, youthful vessel.
Through this method, not only eternal youth, but even immortality itself might not be beyond reach.
"No," Marion said.
The wolf girl didn't hesitate, responding as instinctively as she had when Tarsha declared they were kin. "I want to know what I look like when I'm old."
"You said it yourself—ugly and frail," Tarsha replied.
"But I haven't lived it," Marion said earnestly. "I know what it feels like to be an infant, I know what it feels like to be young. I want to experience middle age and old age too. I've lived, and I want to know what dying feels like."
What a peculiar reason to refuse.
"Everyone lives only once, dies only once. Because those who die cannot return to tell us what comes after, we fear it—doesn't that make experiencing it all the more necessary?" " said the Wolf Girl. "No one can describe the world beyond death—you have to taste it for yourself. Though it's a pity you can't return... but if you live fully while you're alive, you'll have no regrets."
It sounded astonishing, but Tash thought, That's a typical Marion answer.
The Wolf Girl chattered on: "I want to live openly and honestly with everyone. I'll eat the fruits of every season and pick the flowers of each. I'll defeat every invader. I'll play with my friends, make many new ones, help everyone, and see them all happy. If I meet someone I love, I'll have a child with them and teach that child many things. If I don't, it's fine—I have many friends, and I can teach their children. I'll teach them how to climb trees, how to fight. I'll let them ride on my back as we race through the forest—no horse is faster than me, not even wolves. Last time Rubia turned into a coyote and raced me, she lost again..."
Marion's thoughts in the mental link were even more chaotic than her spoken words—jumping from topic to topic like scattered raindrops, yet somehow soothing and delightful to listen to.
When it came to children, Tasha had no real interest in raising one. What was the point?
To carry on the bloodline? Tasha had already died once. Her current body was like clothing. She'd never been attached to blood ties in her past life, and now, on this wondrous continent, she found clinging to lineage even more meaningless. To pass on her spirit? In present-day Erian, Tasha could boldly say her spiritual heirs were scattered across the entire world.
All who embraced her ideals were her heirs—without needing to know her, or even like her. Some who once poured baseless malice upon other races now walked alongside them, tolerating these different beings in their lives. She champions civilization, advocates coexistence and mutual benefit. Peace is a monumental task, yet it is no pipe dream. Even if her efforts crumble in the future, even if the light illuminating the darkness proves fleeting, this flame will smolder quietly beneath the ashes, waiting for the day it reignites and sweeps across the land.
Consider this: one person's spirit can influence thousands upon thousands of diverse tribes—regardless of gender, age, friend or foe, human or not. And most brilliantly, those who carry on her legacy are not brainwashed puppets. They themselves shine as brightly and colorfully as the stars—an achievement narrow-minded racists could never attain, the romanticism of the ambitious.
The most loving and capable parent may be remembered by three or four generations, but Tasha—her influence will be etched into the memory of the entire world, enduring through the ages, for all eternity.
"...When I die," Marion's murmurs reached their conclusion, "after I am gone, please set my tombstone upon the earth and bury me within your cemetery. Those who loved me may come to see me at the stone when they miss me. As for my body—it belongs to you. I shall be your warrior forever, fighting until every bone is shattered into dust."
Tasha embraced Marion.
Those final words were not a pious offering, not the speech of a martyr, but the declaration of one who loved life intensely. The Wolf Girl spoke of death with the same tone she used for life—both brimming with hopeful anticipation and joyful expectation. She sincerely desired to embrace Tashar in death, becoming an eternal guardian of their home. It would take a heart harder than the dungeon core itself to remain unmoved by Marion's pure love and loyalty.
"After you've experienced every facet of life and passed away peacefully in your twilight years," Tarsha blessed her, "I will fulfill your wish."
She hoped she could do the same.
If not destroyed, Tashar was destined to live a very long time—nearly immortal by mortal standards. Terrifying? Not at all.
Some embraced fate, some dreaded death, and some immortal beings in stories felt emptiness and loathing toward eternal life. Tashar belonged to none of those categories. She planned her lifespan with cool precision, like scheduling work tasks.
Tasha didn't believe she'd ever grow weary of life—at least not for a very, very long time. So many things to do, new experiences constantly emerging, and time for planning only dwindling. Besides...
"Look! This is the most spectacular part of the journey!" Martin pulled back the curtains excitedly. "From here, you can see Lake Betas!"
The setting sun streamed through the window.
As they spoke, the carriage had already reached the stretch of road he had described. In the gap where two hills failed to meet, they could see the vast lake in the distance and the setting sun, as if about to plunge into the water.
The carriage had been traveling along the shaded side of the mountains until now, when the landscape suddenly opened up before them, as if they had stumbled into a painting. The sky blazed with fiery reds and yellows, while billowing clouds resembled brushstrokes in an oil painting—like vast swathes of paint smeared across the canvas, or perhaps colorful cotton candy torn apart by the wind. The crimson sun was about to be swallowed by the lake. As if weary from its shift, it hung lazily, its deep red glow gentle enough to gaze at directly—like staring at a giant salted duck egg yolk.
The lake's surface was as still as a mirror, perfectly reflecting the sky. If one were to invert heaven and earth, the difference would be hard to discern without careful observation. Waterfowl flew across the lake, setting off long trails of ripples like elongated ellipses. A few flat-bottomed boats glided over the surface, and faintly visible were fishermen using long poles to steer their small craft from the lake's center toward the shore.
"What a pity you're in such a hurry," Martin murmured to himself. "If you weren't pressed for time, I'd love to take you for a tour of Lake Betas. It's prime season for lake crabs now—their shells are so plump with meat that you just have to bend them slightly and the flesh pops right out. The males are packed with roe, the females with rich yolk. One crab fills you up, yet leaves you craving more. As a kid, I'd wade in to catch them, competing with water birds—those beasts were fierce. I never won a fight until I turned nine..."
Though not an official guide, this Mr. Martin clearly knew Tylintan Province intimately. He'd grown up here.
Tasha suddenly felt a deep affection welling up inside her.
Was it the guide's love for his homeland that touched her? Or had Marion's earlier story opened a door in Tasha's usually unruffled heart? As she gazed upon this world and its creatures, Tasha felt pure joy fill her. The ceaseless calculations within her heart stilled, like perpetually turning gears pausing momentarily. The clamor fell silent for a breath, allowing her to hear the chirping of birds.
Tasha realized she could never be a purely rational ruler—or rather, before she even recognized it, she was no longer an aloof outsider.
She protected the tribe that trusted her, and in turn, they cherished and remembered her. She read the history of this world, sought answers to its secrets, observed its inhabitants' fervent loves and hates, their brilliant births and deaths... and inevitably became drawn in, investing her energy and time, her emotions and soul. She had become an integral part of this world, inseparable from it. At this point, Tasha found it difficult to casually abandon all this.
She cherished this responsibility; she cherished this world.
What was it like to go from having no attachments to having something to hold onto? It sounded like falling from a lofty god to a mortal, but it didn't feel as bad as Tashar had feared—not nearly as terrible as she had imagined. Ever since she began engaging with everything on the land of Erian, she had exercised extreme caution over her emotions, subconsciously worried that personal likes and dislikes might cloud her objectivity and distort her judgment. The fog of indifference had lifted, the barriers she'd built around herself dissolved. Her spirit felt lighter, the air around her more vibrant. It was as if, in accepting this world, she had also been accepted by it.
Wait—perhaps it wasn't an illusion.
[Dungeon - Tasha]
Merging and restructuring in progress: 60/100
Wasn't the progress still at 56 before?
Tasha was puzzled. This time, the progress bar had increased without warning—lightly, silently, climbing four percent. Did contemplating life while watching the sunset also boost progress? What did this have to do with the world's resolution?
Tasha tried pondering life again. This time, no matter how much she racked her brain, the progress bar remained stubbornly still. This unexplained growth was truly unsettling—neither scientific nor magical. Only a witch would find it natural. For someone like Tasha, whose mindset leaned closer to a mage, such unexpected delights were downright unwelcome, completely wiping away her rare moment of sentimentality.
Progress bars, Tasha mused helplessly, must be classified as mysticism when information is scarce.
...
After weeks of travel, Tasha and her companions reached the Druid's former sacred site.
In that barren wilderness, there was nothing.