[…Gwendolyn…]
The ethereal, distant voice jolted the witcher fully awake.
In a flash of lightning, all stray noise vanished.
The wind rustled softly. Before his eyes stood tall aspens and a golden carpet spread across the ground; at the far edge of his vision loomed a dense, contiguous expanse of deep, ink-dark green.
The sacred whisper at his ear seemed like nothing more than an illusion.
But the witcher knew—without a doubt—that it had not been a dream. He had truly heard a great existence.
That existence had been calling the deity of the Great Prophetess Ithlinne Aegli aep Aevenienn—the Spring Maiden Gwendolyn, one of the Four Seasonal Principal Gods who survived the Great Elven Cataclysm.
"Is it… the Mother of Nature?" Allen murmured to himself in a daze.
Autumn winds sighed through the Sacred Grove. No one answered.
Yet among all the great beings of the Sacred Grove, who else could it be if not the Mother of Nature?
"But why Gwendolyn?" Allen couldn't understand.
He knew, of course, that Lydia—the mother of Jerome Moreau—had lived for a long time within the Mayena Druid Circle, until Tomas Moreau arrived and caused her death.
He also knew that Lydia had been a priestess of the Spring Maiden Gwendolyn, and that Gwendolyn's Rebirth Soul had very likely been carried by Lydia all along.
But he had always believed that Lydia had come to the Mayena Druid Circle merely to seek refuge.
After all, decades ago—and even today—elves had been relentlessly persecuted by humans. The Druid Circles were among the very few friendly powers, aside from Free Elf camps, that were both willing and able to shelter elves.
Since Lydia possessed Gwendolyn's Rebirth Soul, she must have been planning Gwendolyn's revival. It made no sense for her to remain forever in a Free Elf camp; appearing in the Mayena Druid Circle was only natural.
So Allen had never thought much further about it.
But now…
Within the Sacred Grove of the Mayena Druid Circle, the Mother of Nature was calling out to the Spring Maiden Gwendolyn.
Did that mean Lydia's long residence here had not been merely to escape human persecution, but that the Mayena Druid Circle—especially the Sacred Grove—was indeed closely tied to Gwendolyn's revival?
And the reason the Mother of Nature had called to him—to a witcher…
Allen thought for a moment, then his mind stirred.
The ancient pages of the Witcher Journal unfolded before his eyes. His gaze quickly locked onto an irregular block of gneiss within the cluttered inventory—
Gwendolyn's Rebirth Soul.
He stared at the utterly unremarkable stone for a long while. After much hesitation, he ultimately chose not to take it out within the Sacred Grove.
He knew too little.
In a place as special as the Sacred Grove, caution was paramount.
Visenna of the Mayena Druid Circle had saved his life. Mentor Zebi Ortega, Simmons, and Olga had spared no effort in guiding him onto the Druid's path. He could not afford to endanger them through carelessness.
What if the revival of the Spring Maiden Gwendolyn required parasitizing the Mother of Nature—and reviving through Her?
Then wouldn't he be condemning the kind and venerable druids of the Mayena Druid Circle?
Though the likelihood seemed low—after all, Lydia had stayed in the Mayena Druid Circle for a long time. If Gwendolyn's revival were truly that simple, She would have revived long ago.
Still, one could never be too careful.
"Mentor Zebi Ortega said that before I leave—tomorrow, that is—he'll give me Lydia's belongings," Allen thought. "Once I sort through them, I should be able to find at least some clues about reviving the Spring Maiden Gwendolyn… right?"
He wasn't entirely sure.
If Lydia had truly left behind something of great importance, Mentor Zebi Ortega wouldn't have handed it over so casually. He would have grown wary, probing and confirming first.
Since Zebi Ortega had shown no unusual behavior these past days—no tests, no verification at all—it meant that, at least in his eyes, Lydia's belongings were truly just insignificant remnants.
"No need to overthink it. I'll know tomorrow," the witcher shook his head lightly. "Hopefully Lydia left behind something useful…"
He stopped dwelling on it and didn't rush to organize his gains. Instead, he gently raised his head.
The golden-leaf carpet of the aspen grove showed a clear boundary not far ahead.
Beyond it lay the Great Banyan Grove—the next region of the Sacred Grove, and the final realm attainable by exceptionally gifted druids: the realm of the Archdruid.
"Shasha Shasha"
Leaves crunched beneath his feet as the witcher walked forward, observing the scenery ahead.
The Great Banyan Grove was so green it verged on black. Countless massive aerial roots hung straight down, burrowing into the ground to take root and sprout anew, growing into yet more thick banyan trees.
It was hard to tell whether this was a forest formed by countless banyans growing together—or a single colossal banyan that monopolized the entire forest's living space.
The witcher narrowed his eyes.
The dangling aerial roots intertwined, weaving a dense net across the forest canopy. Mixed with dark green branches and leaves, they blocked nearly every ray of sunlight from reaching the ground, casting the grove into a gloomy stillness—one saturated with nature's almost greedy instinct for plunder.
This was nothing like the aspen groves, oak woods, or grasslands before it.
Yet no matter how ruthlessly the Great Banyan Grove deprived other life of living space, the forest ahead was still more vibrant, more alive, and more like a "true" forest than the aspen, oak, or grasslands where no other plants could grow.
Countless unidentifiable shrubs and weeds fought for every stray ray of sunlight that slipped past the banyans, growing upward in a frenzy. Many vicious, thorn-covered vines wrapped tightly around thick banyan trunks, stabbing their barbs into the bark to suck out nutrients.
He even spotted a massive banyan tree that had been strangled in half—rotted and bleached white, like skeletal remains in a graveyard.
At the same time, many dark silhouettes flickered in and out beneath the shadows of the trees.
Standing at the edge of the aspen grove, the witcher could faintly hear deer calling, wolves howling, and crows crying harshly…
Savage, crude, and cruel.
But Allen knew that beyond the feral plants, the beasts issuing those roars were Archdruids, standing at the very apex of the druidic ecological chain.
And not just Archdruids of the Mayena Druid Circle.
According to Mentor Zebi Ortega, when he encouraged Simmons and Olga, the Mayena Druid Circle, the Caed Dhu Druid Circle in Anderlin, and even the Caed Myrkvid Druid Circle near the Toussaint border all shared the very same "Banyan Grove."
[Ding! Detected a fluctuation of the Mother of Nature's will. Accept the Divine Art "Vine Armor"?]
-----------------------------------
[Name: Vine Armor]
[Type: Veteran Druid Prayer Art]
[Active Effect: You may use Wood Armor to summon resilient divine vines around a single target, forming Vine Armor that blocks physical and magical damage.]
-----------------------------------
The final system prompt sounded, and the witcher stood at the boundary between the aspen grove and the Great Banyan Grove.
He tried to step forward—but an invisible barrier suddenly rose out of nothingness. Dense white mist completely swallowed the savage banyan forest, blocking the path ahead. Even the cries of living creatures echoing from within the grove gradually faded away.
"So it really doesn't work…"
Allen let out a soft sigh and did not insist any further.
He didn't know how his past self had once crossed straight from the grassland, through oak, aspen, and banyan alike, directly reaching the Lake of Origin.
But according to Zebi Ortega, Simmons, and Olga, to cross this boundary—to become an Archdruid—one had to find their own Nature Spirit in order to enter.
So-called "finding a Nature Spirit" essentially meant choosing a non-magical beast more favored by nature than humans—such as a raven, wolf, bear, or deer—and through a specific ritual, achieving resonance on the level of the soul. By doing so, the druid's spiritual essence would grow closer to nature and be elevated.
A Nature Spirit could not be chosen casually. A druid could only ever find one compatible Nature Spirit, and even among creatures of the same kind, not every individual would suit a given druid.
This required long periods of searching—measured in decades.
So Allen had expected this outcome already, though he'd still harbored a bit of hope.
Since the grassland, oak grove, and aspen grove had posed no obstacle, perhaps the banyan grove would be the same?
Unfortunately, it clearly wasn't.
Oddly enough, that realization made Allen relax a little.
To be honest, he hadn't been prepared to reveal himself in the banyan grove, before so many Archdruids. Even if he could enter, he'd originally planned only to circle the outskirts and gather information.
Now that he couldn't enter at all, there was no need to worry about that.
"But as for my Nature Spirit… it's probably the King of Kanu…" Allen frowned slightly. "The Mayena Druid Circle hasn't even found ordinary Kanu beasts, let alone their king."
"I don't even know how a King of Kanu comes into existence."
"If it requires a Kanu population to reach a certain scale first… then my Archdruid path might really be doomed."
Allen sighed, but his mindset remained calm.
For him, being a witcher was his true profession.
Any achievement on the druidic path was an unexpected bonus. And even if he never became an Archdruid, his current realm was already something many druids could never reach in their entire lives.
And he had done it in just two days.
If word got out, even druids who valued inner peace would probably turn green with envy.
Besides, his Agility, Constitution, and Perception attributes were already maxed out here—and the future wasn't entirely without hope.
Thinking this way, Allen stopped dwelling on it. With a thought, he opened the Witcher Journal.
[Name: Allen]
[Health: 100%, Stamina: 990/990, Mana: 1500/1500]
[Attributes: Strength 99, Agility 99 (+5), Constitution 99, Perception 99 (+2), Mystery 150 (+13)]
[Affinities: Water 16 (Mana Source · Water 6%), Earth 19 (Mana Source · Earth 9%), Wind 11 (Mana Source · Wind 1%), Fire 24 (Mana Source · Fire 14%), Space 2, Nature 38 (+11)]
[Divine Arts (Nature):
Novice Druid Prayer Arts: Boiling Blood, Nature's Sight, Concealment Mark, Beast Befriending, Nature's Gift, Plague Curse
Veteran Druid Prayer Arts: Primal Calling, Healing Blessing, Thread of Life, Cloud Mist, Wind Calling, Entangling Vines, Vine Armor]
At this moment, aside from Mystery, all attributes had reached "Limit · Initial."
The surging power throughout his body, the clarity and sharpness of his perception, made the witcher feel almost godlike.
It could be said that aside from Sol and Jerome Moreau—both of whom had undergone secondary mutation—he was now the strongest witcher in the world.
Erland of Larvik from the Griffin School, Anahard of the Bear School, and Ivar Evil-Eye of the Viper School would not be stronger than him in his current state.
They might be able to unleash terrifying power in short bursts through Legacy Vessel.
But as Vera had said, Legacy Vessel was less a higher realm and more like an explosive ability akin to Beast Roar: Berserk—with fewer side effects, but still fueled by long-term accumulation.
In a normal state, no witcher could possess such a near-perfect physique.
At most, they might max out one or two attributes—but never Strength, Agility, Constitution, and Perception all at once.
And his Mystery attribute wasn't far from "Limit · Initial" either.
Mystery, after all, was tied to the essences and purified spirits of large monsters. It might be too late to gather them before the expedition to the Valley of Thousand Monsters—but afterward, he would certainly be able to complete it.
At the same time, however, that invisible boundary was clearer than ever—constantly stirring his blood, making his muscles tremble and his mind swell…
His body and soul were urging him onward—urging him to surpass the limits of the mortal world.
With that thought, the witcher lowered his gaze to the newly acquired Prayer Arts.
This batch of Divine Arts was extremely practical.
Healing Blessing, capable of curing light injuries and even fatal wounds, was a core ability that allowed druids to walk the world and earn respect from both common folk and ruling powers.
Cloud Mist and Wind Calling were invaluable against ranged threats such as arrows and magic.
Entangling Vines was especially meaningful for a close-combatant like Allen—used properly, it could elevate his combat effectiveness by an entire tier.
Moreover, whether it was Primal Calling, Healing Blessing, Thread of Life, Cloud Mist, Wind Calling, or Entangling Vines, all of them were highly supportive Divine Arts.
Enhancement, healing, weakening, hindrance…
They were perfectly suited for small-scale combat—or more precisely, for the Witcher Corps.
The downside, of course, was that they were too supportive.
In the oak grove stage, there had been offensive Divine Arts like Plague Curse. But in the aspen grove stage, everything was purely supportive.
That said, given Allen's attributes and mastery of the witcher's path, he lacked no means of attack. What he truly needed were abilities that could support the Witcher Corps in monster hunts.
"Maybe all the offensive Divine Arts are in the Great Banyan Grove…" Allen thought.
After all, just looking at that grove, it radiated aggression.
"But… the banyan grove…"
The witcher stared at the dense white mist before him.
His attributes were nearly maxed, he couldn't enter the banyan grove, and the King of Kanu was nowhere to be found. For his current stage, the Sacred Grove had little value left.
Still, he had a feeling.
Perhaps the next time he stood at the edge of the aspen grove, everything would be different.
"Time to go back," the witcher took one last look around, inhaled deeply, and closed his eyes. "I haven't even touched today's Eternal Ones's Memory Crystals yet…"
....
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