Pain was the first thing that greeted his returning consciousness.
It wasn't the sharp sting of a blade, but a dull, bone-crushing ache, as if a giant had just squeezed his entire body. A chill pierced through to his marrow, making his teeth chatter uncontrollably before he even opened his eyes.
Slowly, his heavy eyelids fluttered open.
The world around him was a blur. The sky above was not the blue of day nor the orange of dusk; it was obscured by a canopy of giant purple and dark green leaves, so dense they were nearly impenetrable to light. Particles of pure light—mana—floated in the air like dust motes.
Elian tried to move, but his body refused to obey. He lay on a rocky riverbank, half his body still submerged in water as cold as ice.
"Cough..." Elian vomited river water mixed with blood.
The memories hit him like a tidal wave. His father fighting alone. Elara's scream. The betrayal of the Bishop and the Viscount. The fall from the cliff.
"Father... Elara..." his voice was hoarse, barely audible, cracking with suppressed sobs.
Hot tears streamed down his cold cheeks, mingling with the river water. He was alone. Truly alone in this vast, cruel world.
By all medical logic, Elian should be dead. Falling from the height of the Vane castle cliffs into a raging river with a body that frail was an instant death sentence. His ribs were likely broken, and his cracked Core should have shattered completely from the shock.
Yet, as he tried to take a deep breath, he realized something odd. He didn't feel the pain that should be there.
Elian looked down at his body. His dark blue silk tunic was in tatters, revealing pale white skin covered in bruises and scratches. But something was moving over his skin.
Moss.
Glowing green moss was creeping over the river rocks, covering the wounds on his arms and legs. Small vines wrapped around his sprained ankle like natural bandages, holding the joint in place to prevent further injury.
And the most shocking part was the sensation.
Usually, for Elian and his damaged Mana Core, the presence of wild mana felt suffocating, like heavy atmospheric pressure. But here, in this strange place, the mana did not crush him.
It caressed him.
Elian could feel it. Particles of natural energy seeped in through his pores—not heading toward the Core in his heart, but spreading into his flesh, bones, and blood. Merging with his very cells.
Your pain is my pain, a whisper echoed in his head. It was not a human voice, but the rustling of leaves translated directly by his soul. Rest, Child. We will close your wounds.
"Who...?" Elian whispered in confusion.
He was in the Azure Mist Forest. A forbidden territory located on the border between the ruins of the Vane Dukedom and the unmapped wild mountains. A place where high-level beasts and monsters left over from the Void War roamed.
A place where an ordinary human would not survive an hour.
Yet, the wild beasts did not attack.
From behind the bushes, a pair of glowing yellow eyes appeared. A Shadow Panther—a Tier 3 monster capable of shredding an armored knight—stepped out.
Elian froze, his breath hitching. He had no weapon. He couldn't run.
The panther approached, sniffing the air. Its wet snout came close to Elian's face. Elian closed his eyes, waiting for fangs to pierce his neck.
But what he felt was a rough tongue licking his cheek, cleaning away the dried blood there. The beast purred softly, curling its massive body beside Elian, sharing its warmth with the boy's freezing frame.
This world was insane.
Elian lay there, staring up at the gaps in the foliage, protected by a predator and healed by wild plants. Amidst the despair of losing his family, a new reality began to form in his mind: This world does not hate me.
It is humans who hate me.
***
Hours—or perhaps days—passed. Elian drifted in and out of a fever.
When he opened his eyes again, he sensed another presence. Something different from animals or plants. Something sharp, cold, and intelligent.
Elian turned his head with great effort.
Standing on the branch of a giant tree, about ten meters away, was a figure so breathtaking she made Elian forget to breathe for a moment.
A woman. Or rather, a Goddess of the Forest.
She had long silver hair that flowed like liquid moonlight, shimmering in the forest shadows. Her ears were long and pointed—the mark of an Elf. Her skin was milky white, contrasting with her skimpy yet elegant combat gear made of white monster leather and silver silk that clung tightly to her slender but beautifully curved body.
Her eyes were amethyst purple, staring at Elian with cold caution and a faint killing intent.
In her hands, a transparent crystal bow was already drawn, a magic energy arrow aimed directly at Elian's heart. This was no ordinary Elf. The aura radiating from her was equal to, or perhaps even stronger than, his Father's.
"Human," her voice was melodious but piercingly cold, like a winter wind. "How did you enter this Sanctuary without triggering the Barrier?"
Elian tried to speak, but his throat was parched. "Wa... water..."
The Elf woman narrowed her eyes. "You are a noble. I smell the stench of human greed on your clothes. Has the Empire finally found this place?"
Her fingers loosened on the bowstring. She intended to release the arrow. To her race, humans were enemies.
Whoosh!
The energy arrow flew.
But then, something impossible happened again.
Just before the arrow struck Elian's chest, a massive tree root suddenly burst from the earth with lightning speed, forming a thick wooden shield.
BOOM!
The arrow exploded against the root, sending wood splinters flying.
The Elf woman's eyes went wide. Her composure shattered. "What?!"
This forest... Her ancestral forest... was protecting this human? Against her, the Guardian Queen?
"Impossible..." she murmured. She leaped down gracefully, landing soundlessly near Elian.
She approached cautiously, no longer aiming her weapon. She knelt beside Elian, staring intently at the boy's face.
When she saw Elian's face up close, her breath caught in her throat.
This child... was too beautiful. Elian's androgenous face, though dirty and bruised, possessed a transcendent quality that was hard to describe. His black hair was spread over the moss like ink on a green canvas.
And those black eyes... when Elian looked at her, the Elf woman felt her soul shiver. There was a depth in those eyes that reminded her of the Abyss, but not one of evil—rather, the Abyss where all life began.
"You are no ordinary human," she whispered. She reached out, her slender fingertips touching Elian's forehead.
Elian flinched slightly, but her touch was cool and comforting.
"What is... your name...?" the woman asked, her tone softening, her desire to kill vanishing, replaced by a burning curiosity.
"Elian..." he answered weakly. His consciousness began to fade again. "Please... don't hurt... the forest..."
That sentence froze the Elf woman. This dying human child—the first thing he worried about was not his own life, but the forest protecting him?
She smiled faintly. A smile rarely seen in her hundreds of years of exile. A smile that radiated a deadly charm.
"Interesting. Very interesting," she murmured. She slipped her arms under Elian's neck and knees, lifting the boy effortlessly.
His body was so light, so fragile.
"My name is Lunaria. Queen of the forgotten Moon Elves," she whispered into Elian's ear as he began to lose consciousness. "Sleep, Elian. The forest has chosen you, so I have no choice but to accept you. Starting today, you belong to me."
Elian didn't hear the last sentence. He had already drowned in warm darkness, carried in the arms of one of the strongest beings on the continent.
***
Elian woke in a different place.
He was lying on a bed made of soft woven vines, lined with fine fur. The room was inside the naturally carved hollow of a giant tree. Soft light glowed from crystal mushrooms on the walls.
The pain in his body had diminished drastically. He looked down at himself. He was naked, covered only by a thin blanket up to his waist. His wounds had been dressed with a fragrant green herbal paste.
"You're awake?"
Elian turned his head. Lunaria sat by an arched window, polishing her crystal bow. She wore a thin, slightly transparent silk robe, revealing her perfect curves in the dim light.
Elian, though only ten years old, felt his face heat up. He immediately pulled the blanket up to cover his chest—a strange reflex considering he was a boy, but his slender frame often made him feel exposed.
"Thank you... Lady Lunaria," Elian said politely. His noble etiquette still held strong.
"Call me Master," Lunaria said without turning. "Or Luna, if you're feeling spoiled."
"Master?" Elian was confused.
Lunaria set down her bow and walked over. She sat on the edge of the bed, staring at Elian intensely. The scent of night flowers and rain wafted from her.
"I examined your body while you slept," Lunaria said bluntly. "Your Mana Core is destroyed. Defective. Trash in the eyes of human mages."
Elian looked down, his hands gripping the blanket tightly. "I know."
"But," Lunaria lifted Elian's chin with her finger, forcing the boy to meet her purple eyes. "Your entire meridian system and body cells... they are thirsty. They passively absorb mana endlessly. You don't need a Core to store mana, Elian. Your body is the Core itself."
Elian's eyes went wide. "What do you mean?"
"You are an anomaly. Or perhaps... a miracle," Lunaria smirked, her eyes glinting with mischief yet seriousness. "Humans threw you away because they are fools. But I... I will teach you. I will train you. Not stiff human magic, but the Ancient Arts of the Moon Elves and Druidic Arts."
Lunaria leaned in close, their noses almost touching. Elian could feel her warm breath.
"But there is a price, Human Child," Lunaria whispered. "You must stay here with me. Keep me company in this eternal loneliness until you are strong enough not to die foolishly out there. Five years. Ten years. Can you handle that?"
Elian remembered his father's bloody face. He remembered Elara being pulled away. The feeling of helplessness. He needed power. He didn't care where it came from; he would take it.
Elian's black eyes stared sharply into Lunaria's purple ones. The fear in his gaze vanished, replaced by a cold, steely determination.
"Teach me," Elian said firmly. "I will do anything. Make me strong."
Lunaria grinned in satisfaction. She stroked Elian's smooth cheek, her finger tracing down the boy's slender neck.
"Smart boy. Prepare yourself, Elian. My training... is far more painful than falling off a cliff."