311 Romantic at Heart
“Although it may be premature to pose this question, if you eventually remedy the curse that has plagued the Forest Elves for millennia as planned, what will you do with the tens of millions of treeified Forest Elves that already exist?”

Upon reaching the Canopy Temple, where all the priests had evacuated, Nizemar abruptly queried the Presiding Judge, who was etching intricate rune spells onto the altar.

“We’ll discuss it when the time arrives. Individuals who daydream about their post-victory plans typically can’t triumph. Moreover, I’m not a deity. I can only resolve those problems that are visible and tangible…”

William wielded a bronze ceremonial knife to etch runes onto a branch. He extracted a small piece of Elementium Silver ingots from his inventory and employed Morph spells to stretch it into thin silver threads. Then, he inserted them into the rune grooves he had etched.

As he immersed himself in his work, he added, “However, if the treeified Forest Elves are genuinely deemed as a soul box, the earliest group of souls would likely have deteriorated to the point of dregs after thousands of years. The creation of the Forest Elves is intimately linked to the Lady of Starvation. This technique of trapping souls in a tree and allowing time to consume them like water has, to some extent, become the source of the Lady of Starvation’s power.”

William sensed that despite Camilla not converting this land into a Moon Realm domain, She wasn’t weaker than the other Void Sovereigns.

“So what are you suggesting?” Nizemar probed with caution.

“I’m certain you’ve deduced the answer. After breaking the curse the Lady of Starvation imposed on the Forest Elves, this race will also forfeit their distorted immortal life and become a fully mortal race. The treeified Forest Elf souls will no longer be subject to Camilla’s eternal torment. Naturally, those souls that are too aged will dissipate entirely into the wind and be reincarnated once more.”

William spoke without lifting his gaze.

In essence, regardless of triumph or defeat, the 40 million souls would eventually disintegrate, just like the other mortal races in Currere. When that occurred, he wouldn’t need to contemplate how to handle the tens of millions of Forest Elves after the war.

Upon hearing this, Nizemar’s expression kept oscillating, as if she was torn about what to say next.

After grappling internally for a prolonged period, she finally couldn’t help but voice her thoughts, “If that’s the case, why did you opt for this high-risk plan?”

Nizemar, who had a brief exchange with Sibylla from the past, couldn’t fathom why the Presiding Judge was willing to assume such a significant hazard and choose this plan that didn’t alter the outcome significantly.

William chortled self-deprecatingly and stated, “The reason why I’m willing to undertake risks that might exacerbate the situation and not employ the safest plan my former companion designed for me centuries ago is that I’m obstinate. You can also comprehend that I’m selfish and don’t aspire to be a butcher who slaughters over 40 million lives, particularly when there are alternative options.”

After a pause, he added, “Secondly, there’s a distinction between various types of death. Being abruptly incinerated into ashes by a conflagration or awaiting death that is destined to descend after the curse wanes…”

“They can’t differentiate between them…” Nizemar reasoned.

William heaved a sigh and assented with a slight nod.

Observing the Presiding Judge’s lack of response, Nizemar shifted her gaze towards the sun, which was gradually descending outside the entrance. As her heart sank like the setting sun, she appended the latter half of her remark, “It’s just death.”

“There’s a distinction for the living,” William retorted. As he inserted a silver thread into the final groove, he stood up and faced Nizemar.

“There’s a distinction for me, for Floral, and for the others who are still breathing on this land.”

Nizemar lowered her head slightly. “My apologies, Presiding Judge. I just thought…”

“There’s no need to apologize. In fact, your notion is sound. If you confront similar circumstances in the future, please bring them to my attention like you did today.”

William endeavored to sound gentle as he spoke.

Floral quivered slightly and bowed as soon as she caught sight of William’s stare. She wasn’t frightened, but moved.

Her voice brimmed with an unusual excitement as she exclaimed, “Presiding Judge, I extend my sincere gratitude once more…”

Upon William’s return from perusing the information and revealing the truth about the Forest Elf treeification, she couldn’t find a compelling reason to impede the Presiding Judge from incinerating Ravenwood.

Indeed, Ravenwood served as an array of soul boxes and a harvesting ground for the Lady of Starvation to embody the concept of wear and tear. Even now, it was continuously supplying power to the heartless Void Sovereign.

Furthermore, whether they won or lost, the outcome was identical. Their prosperity and misery originated from that sovereign. Even if they ultimately vanquished Her, she couldn’t save a solitary treeified Forest Elf. This was because the Forest Elves were fated not to be rescued as Forest Elves since Ravenwood Forest was predestined to wither in the future.

To the progenitors who were supposed to perish, what difference did it make if they died in the fire or dissipated after their demise? Their exhausted souls didn’t care about this. Regardless, it was just an eternal slumber.

But even so, she wasn’t willing to do it.

However, she couldn’t expect others to act recklessly with her.

Therefore, when the Presiding Judge asserted that he wasn’t willing to execute such an act either, she appeared to perceive a warm sunlight shining on her frigid and rigid body, causing her to quiver unaccustomedly.

What ensued was a query.
“Why?” she asked gravely.

William extracted the largest Soul Storage Crystal that anyone present had ever seen and deposited it in the center of the nexus he had fashioned. He coincidentally heard Floral’s question.

Yes, why?

Regardless, the 40 million treeified Forest Elves would ultimately perish. Incinerating Ravenwood now not only eradicated the possibility of the Lady of Starvation infiltrating Currere, but it could also considerably debilitate the opposing faction.

So, why didn’t he do it?

One reason was that he didn’t desire to soil his hands, but after comprehending the Forest Elves’ ultimate destiny, this rationale had been diluted.

The other reason was that he yearned to verify the existence of the timeline personally. However, the timeline could be confirmed by escorting the Eyes of God girl to various locations on the continent or toppling the Eighth Holy Spirit’s throne. It wasn’t worth taking such an enormous risk.

These musings only lingered in William’s mind for a moment before he immediately discerned the solution.

He aspired for the 40 million Forest Elves imprisoned in the tree soul boxes by the Lady of Starvation to witness personally the b*tch who had tormented their race for millennia perish before their eyes.

He didn’t want to continue playing this game according to the rules established by others.

This was what he wanted to do.

“Why?”

The reverberations of Floral’s words resonated in William’s ears. He raised his hand and aimed it at the center of the altar. A violent tempest surged towards his right hand.

“Because I’m a romantic at heart.”

William extended his hand into the altar. The tempest whisked away the potent soul concealed within and extracted a formidable tree spirit via the runic spell.

William gazed at the translucent apparition and gestured towards the Soul Storage Crystal before the bewilderment in the other party’s eyes vanished. He uttered, “Do you wish to dissipate or spend some time inside of it by your own accord? I’ll offer you a minute to ponder over it carefully.”

…

“He truly made such a decision… How foolish.”

A voice reverberated above the Lake of Entropy.

“Just like 1,008 years ago.”