Pillar of Yita

Rainbow—no, it should be said that Alice is sitting quietly in the corner with another identity. The girl’s eyes, both clear and profound, watched the tip of the dagger dance, altering its angle in her slender hand—the spinning blade resembling her unease and vulnerability during a certain period.

But the blade stopped, turning cold, sharp, and gleaming with a chilling light.

She believed those people weren’t sheltering her; they were giving her a chance to atone for her sins. That’s all it was. It felt like a transaction, at least the buying and selling parties were equal.

The word ”equal” seemed to prick the girl, causing her slightly purple eyes to narrow.

She found it hard to say whether this was equality or dependency on charity. She felt her sensitivity and paranoia growing, becoming increasingly indifferent and acerbic.

She thought, let the memories of the past remain in the past.

”Sister is doing well with that person, perhaps these matters of mine need not disturb others.”

”Remember, this is your business, Alice.”

”In the name of Marlan.”

The dagger grazed her snow-white fingertip, and the pain pulled her from her reverie, the kind of true and just revenge she pursued.

In this world, only that Lady could grant it.

And so she sought her shelter.

Amatoran stepped forward, rubbing a line across his chest with his rough palm, making the wound automatically scab over, leaving only a shallow bloodstain. The Berserker faith granted them the ability to pursue pain, and their powerful healing stems from this, living towards death—a lifelong pursuit of the ancestor warriors, isn’t it?

In previous combats, they had lost two-thirds of their personnel, practically close to annihilation.

This situation had been reported back, though how long until support arrives was unknown. The supply camp remained silent, looking grim as well.

In the meantime, they would have to survive relying on themselves.

He looked at Alice and said:

”If you’re still upset about losing the mission target, perhaps think of something else. In those circumstances, anything could happen, it’s merely a difference between certain death and a slim chance of survival.”

But Alice shook her head and replied:

”I wasn’t thinking about that, Captain Sir.”

”That’s good, I don’t want anyone in the team distracted.”

Amatoran looked at the charming Miss Nightingale, who was sent by headquarters, but he held no resentment over this decision—because her professional skills were at least exemplary.

Alice seemed to perceive he wanted to say something, and proactively asked, ”Is there something, Captain Sir?”

”Yes, there are some tasks for you,” Amatoran hesitated, seemingly organizing how to express absurdities earnestly, ”I heard you speak the Wood Clan Language?”

”I know a little, why?”

Alice recalled her experience learning several languages, which wasn’t a pleasant journey, but also not too difficult. Drawing a line from her past self, it just sounded a bit stiff.

”That’s good.”

Amatoran repeated this phrase, letting out a breath, ”Have you seen Tree People? There are some trees looking for us; they’re just ahead, can you help us translate?”

”Grey Treants?”

After hearing his description, Alice was slightly startled.

...

Just as the parched land cracks over time—

And few can observe the gradually decaying breath beneath this vibrantly flourishing world.

Upon the earth, the human Kingdom is staging scene after scene of power struggles, from the Southern Region to the Northern Territory, from desert to rainforest, from the kingdom’s frontier to the heart of power.

People indulge in momentary prosperity, neglecting the unsettling messages conveyed from subtle, unnoticed realms.

But the species closely related had often already sensed the dangerous signs beneath the façade of prosperity.

The mine virtually had no bottom, one side of the canyon resembled an abyss, with jagged black rocks and mist enshrouding.

The shelter they found, though, was merely a platform excavated by miners over half a year, passing through the cold, swirling canyon, crossing the plaza—where crowds gathered, their silent gazes observing.

Two Tree People had come, in fact.

One tall, one short; the tall one was called Long Branch, and the short one was called Short Beard.

They shook their grey-white manes and approached Alice. It was hard for humans to discern features from their stolid faces, those sculpted-like countenances growing from tree trunks, with long eyebrows, tiny eyes, and long noses.

The tall Tree Person spoke first, its mouth opening and closing, emitting a buzzing sound, as though a blower existed within, deeply resonating and roaring.

”The Guardians from underground have gone mad, darkness is spreading, and this land is in jeopardy. She hunts everything she considers to be a target; it’s not safe for you to stay here, humans.”

”Who are you?” Alice asked in the Wood Clan Language.

”We are the caretakers of this forest.”

”This... forest?”

Alice’s tone carried a trace of peculiarity; this barren underground canyon didn’t resemble a forest in any way.

Long Branch’s tone was deep and slow: ”It’s below here, you’ll understand once you reach that place.”