Chapter 187: Leaving

**Chapter 187: Departure**

Eluvier was gravely wounded. He curled up inside the cocoon and quickly fell into a deep sleep.

66: "..."

The small system floated to the edge of the barrier, plopped onto the floor, and gazed into the distance with concern.

The host was asleep—so boring.

It was already late at night. The elves, early risers who retired at dusk, had left the river valley woods deserted. Even the birds and crickets had fallen silent, leaving only a full moon hanging high in the sky.

66 gazed absently at the moon for a while before crawling back into the little nest Eluvier had prepared for it.

The nest was also cocoon-shaped, padded with soft cloth. 66 sprawled across it and shut down for the night.

While the deity would sleep for decades, 66 only needed one night’s rest. When the morning sun pierced through the clouds and flooded the land with light, it yawned and woke up.

Eluvier was still asleep, without having moved a muscle. 66 flew out of the barrier and made its way toward the elves’ river valley.

Had Percy seen the letter yet? What would his reaction be? Had he given it to the council? How were the other elves responding? Had all hell broken loose yet?

It was a drama-loving little system.

But when 66 landed on Percy’s roof and peeked down below, something seemed wrong.

The elves were eerily quiet.

Nobody was talking about the Mother Tree’s injuries, nor did anyone seem to care about the Elven King’s injustice. The archers kept watch as always, and the rangers patrolled their routes—everything was orderly, as if nothing had changed.

Only muted arguing could be heard from the distant spire.

That was the council chamber.

66 drifted closer.

Inside, a heated argument was underway. Two elders were flushed and fuming. As 66 arrived, one pounded the table angrily: "With Percy gone, who among us has the prestige to take the throne of the elves? Tell me, what should we do?"

66: "!"

The other retorted indignantly: "He incurred the Mother's displeasure—of course he should be exiled. At least he left voluntarily. Otherwise, if the Mother still refused to appear, what would we have done?"

66: "..."

It pressed up against the glass, eavesdropping on the entire conversation and putting the pieces together.

Percy had left.

After the banquet, the Elven King had secluded himself, refusing all visitors. He had tendered his resignation to the council overnight, hardly taking any possessions with him before vanishing from the tribe—his location a mystery.

At the center of the meeting table lay his resignation letter.

Written in ornate, cursive handwriting, the final strokes curling like twisted branches of an ancient tree, 66 took a quick snapshot and stored it in its memory before flying off.

It returned to the bedroom atop the canopy and clung to the surface of the cocoon, staring blankly at the sleeping deity’s face.

In the original plot, the Elven King would also leave.

The difference was that in the story, Percy endured for a long time. He faced disappointment again and again during each Festival, until despair settled in, until the Withering spread and the tribe could no longer suppress their hostility—that was when they finally exiled him.

Now, the plot had clearly deviated slightly.

66 stopped two feet from Elu's face, hesitating whether to wake him up.

Though there was a slight deviation, the subsequent events should remain largely unchanged. But if Elu were awakened, the plot would completely collapse.

…Should it wake him?

It pulled up the photo of Percy's handwritten letter, displayed it on the screen, and began zoning out again.

When the Elven King wrote this letter, he was in utter despair.

66 couldn't understand calligraphy, much less appreciate fancy script. But this letter was filled with paused strokes and sharp bends, some nearly tearing through the paper. 66 could imagine how Percy's hand trembled as he held the quill—and how hard he tried to steady it.

Since the birth of the elf race, no elf had ever been exiled for being disliked by the Mother Tree. Percy was the first.

In the original plot, after leaving his kin, Percy wandered the lands alone.

He concealed his identity, donning a heavy hood and a pure silver mask to hide his face. He became a drifter on the fringes of the continent, making a living by taking bounties. His exceptional skills and quiet nature quickly earned him renown, making him a favorite among nobles.

Percy never cared for his life. No matter how perilous the task, he fought without regard for his life, caring even less about contracting the Withering. Eventually, an excess of Withering accumulated in his body, turning even his soul ashen. By the time recovery became impossible, he died a stranger in a foreign land.

Until his last breath, he never returned to Pine Mountain for one last look.

Living perpetually on the edge of life and death, Percy had no friends or old acquaintances. After his passing, his employers couldn’t even find someone to entrust with his remains. His body was hastily cremated, and the ashes were buried where he died.

Thus, the most beautiful elf of Pine Mountain was laid to rest in a forgotten mound, unremembered by all.

Elves are naturally attuned to nature. The graves of their kind are always adorned with blooming flowers and lush grass, buttercups and daisies thriving atop them. But Percy's body was so saturated with Withering that even weeds struggled to grow where he was buried.

66 flipped through the plot repeatedly and scrunched its screen.

It didn’t like this ending.

Percy was clearly the most outstanding among the elves, a kind and gorgeous beauty. 66 didn’t want him to meet such a fate—it would upset 66.

Moreover, if the god woke up only to find his beloved elf buried beneath the earth, Elu would surely be devastated.

Yet, this was also the only chance to complete the mission.

66 darted around the bedroom like a headless fly, clearly worked up. Finally, it flopped into the little nest Elu had prepared for it and petulantly poked the pillow with its pointed corner. “…Hmph!”

Did he think a pillow would be enough to bribe it?

...Well, it *had* worked.

Grabbing the edge of the cocoon, it poked the host with its screen, working to wake him.

Elu had only just fallen asleep and hadn’t yet sunk into deep slumber. Under the system's "tireless" harassment, he drowsily opened his eyes, his silver eyes bleary with sleep.

Then, as his vision sharpened on the system, the god sat up in the cocoon. Rubbing his throbbing temples with one hand, he reached out and pulled 66 back. “Did something happen? How long have I slept?”

For gods, dreams often last years.

66’s screen froze. “…One day.”

Elu: “.”

“One day?” Elu’s headache worsened. “What could have happened in just one day?”

66 threw up its hands. "See? I can't explain it clearly."

It displayed the Elven King's letter on the screen.

The god lowered his gaze to read, his finely arched brows knitting together.

Percy said: "Since inheriting the throne of the Elven King, whispers have spread like wildfire and unrest has stirred among our people—for this I bear guilt."

He said: "Withering spreads through Pine Mountain, and despite years of governance, I've achieved nothing—for this I bear guilt."

He said: "The god remains secluded, bringing suffering to our entire race and the millions of creatures in Pine Mountain—for this I also bear guilt."

One after another, he listed numerous faults, each seemingly a burden for him alone to carry.

Elu pressed his lips together.

The spreading rumors were beyond his control; the Withering plagued the entire continent, and the god’s seclusion had nothing to do with him—but Percy, that thick-headed fool, insisted on taking all blame upon himself.

And sought to atone for it.

He slid from his silken cocoon-bed, bare feet making no sound on the ancient wood as he made to storm out.

66: "Wait, wait, Host, where are we going?"

Elu: "To find Percy."

Having read the novel's ending, as the Mother God of the entire elf race, Elu had personally guided every soul to reincarnation. He still remembered Percy nuzzling against his fingers affectionately—a bashful little glow, like dandelion fluff, radiating devotion and admiration for the Mother God. When Elu gently squeezed him, Percy would bury himself among his glowing kin for ages, too shy to emerge. To stand by and watch such a soul fade away—he couldn’t bear it.

66 zipped after him: "But you can't leave, can you? You're trapped inside the barrier you yourself set!"

The god was too weak to undo the barrier he had created.

Elu: "I'll use a fabricated body."

66: "But Percy has been gone over a day now. At his speed, and with yours..."

Percy was the most revered elf in the entire race, a reputation reflected in every way—including his martial prowess. Though he appeared as a gentle, beautiful figure, Percy could behead a mammoth with one stroke. He moved through dense forests with the ease of a bird returning to its nest, swift and graceful. As for Elu...

66 gave the god’s legs a subtle glance. Given Elu’s drunken staggers and erratic gait, unless they strapped a jet engine to his back, they might as well try to catch moonlight.

The god flicked 66’s projection, irritation flashing in his eyes: "I know what you're thinking."

He retrieved a yellowed scroll of parchment from the desk, spreading it out: "This was a gift from a traveler who once wandered into Pine Mountain. Lost deep in the forest, I guided him out, and in return, he gave me this map—detailing the entire continent's mountains and rivers."

Elu tapped a spot on the plains south of Pine Mountain: "I read the novel. After leaving Pine Mountain, he'll settle in the human territory of Southlake Town, taking on bounty missions and becoming a renowned lone operative. If we place a commission there, we can contact him."

66 nodded thoughtfully: "That sounds like a reasonable plan."

So Elu secured the map, gathered a few simple belongings, and sent them down via the Mother Tree's vines. Then, as before, under the cover of night, the Mother Tree's fruit split open once more, and the radiant youth with moonlight hair stepped out.

He unfolded the map, squinting to make out the direction to Southlake Town, then perched the Mini System on his shoulder: "Let's go."

And so, the god who hadn’t left his home in thousands of years, accompanied by a wide-eyed system utterly out of its depth, embarked on his quest into human society.