Chapter 219
It was a mysterious space.
Everything around me—even above—was covered in intertwined trees and leaves.
In other words, although it was completely cut off from outside view, the space was filled with bright light.
...And it was considerably warmer in here than outside.
No, it was positively hot.
But what stood out so overwhelmingly that I stopped caring about the heat was the enormous egg set in the center of the space.
As for its size, if there were three of me, and we stretched our arms out as far as we could and joined hands, we might or might not be able to encircle the egg.
I never would have expected this—no, this was considerably beyond what I'd expected.
Salix had certainly told me, when granting me permission to meet the immortal bird, that my wish might not be granted, but I'd assumed that meant there would be some kind of trial I had to undergo before meeting it.
True, even we high elves were counted among the immortal beings, yet physically we weren't all that different from ordinary living creatures.
What mattered was the immortality of the soul. If the immortal bird truly repeated a cycle as one continuous being—from adult to egg, hatching into a chick, and then back to adult—then it certainly qualified as immortal.
...I didn't know whether it actually repeated that cycle, but I couldn't think of any other explanation.
However, this was a problem.
There was no doubt this egg was the immortal bird.
But with things as they were, I couldn't have it carry me above the clouds, let alone meet it.
In a sense, the immortal bird was currently in a dormant period.
Yet one thing didn't add up.
At the time, Salix had said, 'I don't know whether your wish will be granted.'
Salix had known the immortal bird's current condition, yet hadn't denied that there was still a possibility.
High elves tended to speak in roundabout ways, but they still rarely lied.
They were creatures with no need to do so.
In other words, even in its current state, there must be some way to meet the immortal bird, at least.
And discovering that method—and whether I could put it into practice—was the trial set before me.
What an incredibly roundabout way of doing things.
Well, somehow, it did make me feel like I'd come home.
Enough to make me smile.
Well then, time to think.
I sat down heavily on the ground, then slowly looked around once more.
A careful observation revealed a few things.
First, there was the heat, far too intense for this deep forest.
I was used to the heat of a forge, so I could handle this much, but it would be a fairly harsh environment for other high elves.
Yes, the source of this heat wasn't the egg.
The heat warming this space was being emitted from the ground beneath where I'd sat down.
Therefore, it was probably safe to assume that this heat existed to warm the egg.
But if that was so, it raised another question.
Only high elf elders—or people like me who had obtained their permission—could enter this space.
But conversely, that meant some high elves could come and go.
Thinking it through further, wouldn't that mean those high elves had to come and go for some reason?
Then what could that reason be?
What reason could high elves have to deliberately place themselves in an environment where they found staying uncomfortable?
If I assumed the obvious reason, it would be to meet or care for the immortal bird.
But the immortal bird was an egg right now, so meeting it didn't seem to serve much purpose—and what exactly would caring for an egg involve?
...Hmm, my thoughts had hit a dead end.
Let's set that aside for now and move on.
Another thing I'd noticed was that the space was filled with such a powerful presence that it was hard to tell where it came from, but its source didn't seem to be the egg either.
This egg itself was supposed to be the immortal bird, yet the strong presence, just like the heat, was coming from the ground where I'd sat.
Ah, the ground emitted not only a presence but also some kind of power, and the egg seemed to be growing by feeding on that power and the heat.
That power was akin to magic power—or, no, to the power that had filled the Golden Dragon's space.
Though not nearly as much power was being emitted as in that place...
Hmm, but could this mean my assumptions had been wrong?
Until now, I'd believed it was the existence of the immortal bird that supported this deep forest and, beyond it, the Purha Great Forest.
Just as, in the Yellow Ancient Empire, the sleeping Golden Dragon had given rise to the elves' sanctuary and influenced the other unusual environments.
If the immortal bird in egg form was merely receiving power, then where did that power—and the life force filling the Purha Great Forest—come from?
The answer, once again, lay in this ground.
If I didn't want to abandon my theory, then this ground itself had to be the immortal bird... Ah, yes. That made sense.
It sounded absurd, but the answer was probably very simple: that was exactly how things were.
This was probably where the immortal bird had laid its egg and returned its body to the earth.
To protect its next self, the egg, and create an environment in which it could be guarded and raised.
Once I reached that conclusion, I could more or less see why the elders needed to enter this place.
When our time as high elves comes to an end, we shed our bodies and become spirits.
Yet high elf bodies themselves are also free of aging.
This was merely speculation, but perhaps we don't become spirits when our bodies' lifespans end.
Perhaps, once our souls are complete as spirits, they simply no longer need to remain in the body.
If so, what happens afterward to the body that remains—a body untouched by age and immune to decay?
Burying dead elves' remains beneath trees prevents them from becoming monsters and lets them serve as nourishment.
Then high elf bodies probably serve as nourishment in some way as well.
Yes—in other words, in this place, they must bury their bodies alongside the immortal bird's body to nurture the egg and support the environments of the deep forest and the Purha Great Forest.
Ah, that must be why only elders nearing the time to leave their bodies are allowed to enter this place.
Come to think of it, an elder who is no longer around once told me that if a high elf carrying a spirit tree seed laid their body to rest in the earth, it would sprout and a forest would be born, no matter where they were.
When I heard that, the common sense of my previous life still weighed heavily on me, so I assumed it was impossible and convinced myself it was merely an old man's tall tale—one of the high elves' boasts about their race—and didn't believe it.
But now that I thought back on it, that story had probably been the truth.
Perhaps the spirit trees growing here and there across the continent had sprouted from high elves who traveled to various places to restore the world turned to ash.
In that case, rather than spirit trees growing in great forests, it would mean that great forests arose afterward because spirit trees had grown first.
If so, I could vaguely understand why spirit tree fruits were known throughout the world.
But if that was true, why hadn't the spirit trees that didn't bear fruit grown to the same extent?
What about the immortal peach trees and the Fusang tree? I think those are also types of spirit trees, but...
Anyway, even if I couldn't resolve every question, knowing this much gave me a vague idea of what I needed to do.
No, I wasn't planning to follow the elders' example and bury myself here.
I stood up, brushed off my backside, approached the egg, and reached out.
As expected, when I touched the shell, I felt something being drawn out of me.
Ah, this sensation was similar to the feeling of having my magic power stirred and drawn out by fairy silver.
But the egg wasn't drawing out only magic power; it was drawing out something much greater that included it—something that could be called life force.
Of course, if I tried to hatch the egg by giving it all of mine, pouring in enough to dry me up still probably wouldn't be enough... But I didn't need to supply it all myself.
I stepped away for a moment and rummaged through my bag.
If I brought in a large quantity of Apua fruits, I could probably keep eating them while supplying the egg with power.
But I could think of other ways without resorting to such a forceful and laborious method.
Then I took a scale fragment from my bag, placed one hand against the egg, and rubbed the scale fragment against the mithril bracelet on that arm.
Yes, the scale fragment I'd received from the Golden Dragon.
When rubbed against mithril, the Golden Dragon's scale generated power of the same nature as that emitted by the Golden Dragon.
I still wasn't sure whether this was the result of the Golden Dragon's scale reacting to mithril, or whether the mithril, hard enough to rival the scale, scraped it down until the fine powder became power.
After all, I knew of no material besides mithril that was as strong as the Golden Dragon's scales.
Still, knowing even one way to generate that power was enough for now.
Using my hand as a conduit, an astonishing amount of power began pouring into the egg.
Through my palm, I could tell that the egg, which had been quiet moments ago, was pulsing as if it had awakened.
The emotion coming through... Was this joy?
It reacted like a hatchling delighted when its parent brought food to the nest and fed it, and I found it a little enjoyable myself.
Yet even after I poured in this much power, the egg didn't seem likely to hatch right away.
Well, I'd take it slowly... and, in the worst case, resign myself to spending years pouring power into the egg.
Of all the methods available to me, this one should accelerate the egg's hatching by an incomparable amount compared with simply doing nothing and waiting.