He pointed at Prichka.
“Come with me,” he said, grabbing Prichka and dragging him off in chains. If they nailed him to the pillar now, he’d bleed out before the potion extraction even began.
So, for now, they took him elsewhere. Later that night, the group in charge of the Healing Potion would drag him back, bind him to the pillar, and drive the nails in—only then would they use the World Tree Fruit to patch him up.
‘Well, this is better,’ Pinaka thought, watching Prichka being led away. In the few seconds he had, he studied the Elf’s appearance. ‘It’s possible. I can take his place.’
The Elves returned to their cells, calling it a day. No one put up much of a fight.
‘As long as it’s not me.’
‘Prichka stood out. That’s on him.’
‘If he’d worked harder, he might have survived.’
Thoughts like these drifted through the minds of the older Elves as they sat in the corners of their cells, eyes shut. None of them were asleep—they couldn’t afford to miss dinner—but they rested, conserving energy. It was something they’d trained themselves to do over the years. Not much, but it kept them going. A little trick to survive.
There wasn’t much talking. Most of the Elves didn’t even bother anymore. A few scattered groups still clung to hope, mostly younger ones. They still whispered, still schemed.
Pinaka strained to listen.
“I’ve managed to dig down about forty meters now. The hole’s just wide enough for someone thin to squeeze through. I covered the entrance with some rice stalks.”
From a distant cell, two Elves whispered—just barely audible to Pinaka. He barely caught a muffled whisper. Curious, he slipped out of his cell, stepping carefully. His steps were soft—feline silent, even to Elf ears.
‘I’m not starving anymore, so my heightened senses have dulled. I’ll have to get closer to hear anything useful.’
The prison was dark, which helped. No one saw him move. And since he was silent, he crept closer to the cell where the plan was unfolding.
It was on the third floor. Inside, three figures huddled together. Only up close did Pinaka notice a third figure—silent the entire time. Pinaka only noticed him because of the faint scent of tree sap emanating from him.
“Forty meters? That’s solid,” said the second Elf. “With my grafting skills, we can fuse the wooden pieces into one structure. Once we reinforce the inside of the tunnel with this wood, we won’t have to crawl—we’ll be able to slide right through.”
‘Slide?’ Pinaka’s ears twitched. One word—and everything changed. He leaned in, listening even more closely.
“The biggest issue is timing,” the first Elf said, his voice low and tight with frustration. “I need time to dig underground, but if I’m gone too long from the farm, the soldiers will catch on.”
“You’ve been digging during their lunch break, right?” the second Elf asked.
“Obviously,” the first muttered.
“We don’t have a choice,” the second Elf said with a sigh. “The older Elves might even rat us out just to save their own skins. We can’t trust them. It’s just the three of us now—we work with what we’ve got.”
“No. It’s just the two of you,” said the third Elf, speaking for the first time. His voice was calm but heavy, like someone who’d already accepted the end. “I’ll pray that you both succeed.”
“What? Why?” The first Elf turned on him, frustration flaring. “You were in this with us! You’re giving up now?”
“No, I never gave up,” the third Elf said, his tone soft and almost mournful. “I’ve been cursed with the World Tree’s blessing—worse than either of you can imagine.”
“What are you even saying?” the first Elf snapped. Anger and confusion tangled in his voice.
“Talent,” He was Raepekka. “Every three days, my Weight Factor increases by one, no matter what I do to slow it down. And today, at noon, my Control Factor hit two.”
“I’ll be killed tomorrow.”
The words hit like a stone. The second Elf recoiled, his breath catching. The first took a step back, his jaw clenched tight, eyes wide with disbelief. The silence wasn’t just stunned—it was hollow, like the air had been sucked out of the cell. In that moment, their plans didn’t just falter. They died.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
‘If his Stats are rising that fast, he’s one of the most gifted Elves alive,’ Pinaka thought. He crept a few steps closer. A gust of air passed by as Raepekka moved along the prison wall, feeling his way back to his cell.
On Gangnea, talent wasn’t just some vague idea—it meant being in tune with the elements. Understanding how Spells worked. How Authority flowed. The deep mechanics behind it all. The more talent you had, the faster you grew.
This Elf—Raepekka—simply understood things others didn’t. His connection to Wood was sharper, deeper. So even when doing the same work as everyone else, he advanced faster. Too fast.
‘Even his thumb probably looks better than mine,’ Pinaka mused darkly, trailing Raepekka back to his cell. ‘If he’s marked for death tomorrow, maybe I can help him.’
Raepekka was born four months ago. Not once in those four months did he know joy. Every time his Weight Factor ticked up, it was just another countdown to execution.
He’d learned to count his life in days. Now, there were none left.
‘I wanted to believe I had time... but that was just a lie. They’re too slow. And I have none left..’
As he reached for the cell gate to close it behind him, he felt a slight resistance.
‘Is someone... holding it?’
A cold breath brushed his face, sending a chill down his spine. Not a single footstep, not even the faintest shift in the air—nothing escaped his sharp hearing. Yet his instincts were blaring.
‘D-Do ghosts exist in this world?’
His body froze. Then something warm pressed against his chest—a smooth wooden block, five centimeters long, three wide, and one thick.
The moment it touched him, Raepekka’s Authority flared to life on its own. Words flared to life on the wood’s surface—clear to his senses.
[I can save you.]
‘What?’ Raepekka blinked, stunned. His instincts screamed caution, but he was already a dead man walking. That gave him just enough courage to be reckless.
‘Let’s see what this person wants.’
He had no idea who it was. The darkness cloaked everything, and the stranger hadn’t spoken a word.
‘So, they want to stay hidden.’
Fine by him. He had nothing to lose. Raepekka used his Authority to reshape the block’s internal grain, changing the message. The technique worked well because both of them could sense wood on a deeper level through their Authority. It was a silent, efficient way to communicate.
[How?]
This was why the Elves were locked in stone cells, cut off from wood. It forced them to rely on spoken words, slowly dulling their instinctual connection to their Authority. A quiet form of oppression—one they all were forced to adopt.
[Wait on the ground floor after dinner. I’ll explain everything.]
The wood block slipped away as quietly as it had come. Pinaka melted into the dark, his footsteps softer than a breeze. Raepekka never got a glimpse of him.
‘By tomorrow morning,’ Pinaka thought, ‘everyone will believe I’m dead.’
But he wasn’t one to take risks lightly. Even when helping someone, he moved with precision. This wasn’t an act of kindness—it was strategy.
If Raepekka truly was that talented, then with time and freedom, he could become a force to reckon with. And Pinaka needed that. He wanted to build something in the shadows—an army of Elves, hidden beneath the Humans’ noses.
All he had to do was touch Raepekka. Just once. That would be enough to form a corpse copy—an exact replica, right down to the scent. Not a true clone, but convincing enough to pass as suicide.
That would keep suspicions low. Meanwhile, he’d also use his abilities to modify Prichka—turn him into a corpse that looked like Pinaka.
Then he’d walk into the potion factory—disguised as Prichka.
“I failed…”
Pinaka caught Mahnaka’s defeated voice as he made his way back. He tiptoed quietly to his cell, ears tuned to any noise from Zetaka’s direction.
Mahnaka sat in front of Zetaka, worry etched into his face. “I figured out what the Dwarf wants—we can’t win him over.”
“If begging fails, we threaten him,” Zetaka said after hearing him out. “If I’m determined, I can sneak into his quarters.”
“The Dwarf’s at Level 3,” Mahnaka muttered, defeated. “Even if every Elf here jumped him, we couldn’t lay a finger on him.”
“I only need to touch him once,” Zetaka replied. “One touch, and we win.”
“That guy—Pronto, right?” Zetaka muttered, thinking aloud. “If he’s someone important, we just need him to trigger Rachad. That hothead will overreact, and in the chaos, I’ll move in on the Dwarf.”
“It’s too risky,” Mahnaka said with a sigh. “Give me some time. I’ll figure something out. Don’t forget your identity stays hidden, no matter what.” With that, he turned—but paused in front of Pinaka’s cell.
‘I heard him leave earlier. If he’s back and overheard us…’
But the cell was empty. Mahnaka let out a quiet breath and returned to his own.
Pinaka, meanwhile, had already made his way to the staircase, tiptoeing down step by step until he reached the ground floor.
‘Before I help that Elf, I need to get a proper feel for the layout.’
—Thump. Thump.
He forced a growl from his stomach—loud and real. Hunger sharpened his senses, sending a slow wave of adrenaline through him. Every movement sharpened. Every breath around him, more noticeable.
He crept toward the tunnel that led to his assigned farmland.
‘If I can map the guards and posts, I’ll know how to move.’
He needed to find a hiding spot for Raepekka. Somewhere close, secure, and invisible. If he found one, the plan would move forward.
‘If not, I’ll call it off—and apologize.’
He wouldn’t show up after dinner. Raepekka would meet his fate when dawn came.
‘I won’t gamble with everything.’
‘I’m no hero.’
....
Dear Readers, thank you for your comments of encouragement! Today's chapter was shorter than I expected.
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I am planning on something, and I will need your help with it. Will announce tomorrow.