Chapter 1189: Beltila’s Suspicion

Bard had long since grown accustomed to the increasingly eccentric personality of Lady Beltila—the former Dark High Priestess—ever since she had become a plant. Considering the upheavals everyone on this land had endured over the past two years, these small quirks seemed trivial by comparison. Ever since that legendary hero, who had stepped out of epic tales, rose from the grave, everything in the world had been changing at a dizzying pace. No one was exempt.

Beltila was simply one of the most dramatically changed.

“Life needs a bit of ceremony, huh…” Bard chuckled softly, feeling an unexpected lightness settle over him. “Sounds like something she’d say these days… Alright, I’ll go find her as soon as I can.”

General Margarita nodded, but before turning away, she kindly reminded him, “Mr. Bard—wipe your eyes first.”

“My eyes…” Bard blinked in surprise, then belatedly realized what she meant. Slightly embarrassed, he wiped the cold, dried water streaks from his face with the back of his hand. “Thank you, General.”

…

Passing through the dense branches at the edge of the canopy, weaving through layers of broad leaves that formed a natural curtain and green wall, Bard didn’t need to use the external walkways around the giant tree. Instead, he traveled directly through the intricate network of tubular transit systems built within the canopy itself. Sitting inside a translucent, pod-like “container” that resembled some kind of seed pod, he glided along the semi-open wooden tracks toward Beltila’s biochemical laboratory.

Peering out, Bard found himself passing through a wide clearing inside the canopy, revealing a scene only accessible to those with special clearance.

He saw an astonishing wooden “skeleton” structure supporting one elliptical chamber after another. Though made of wood, these beams were tougher than steel. Reinforced twigs and metallic-glossed leaves stretched between the beams, forming domes and walls. Glowing vines and enormous, chandelier-like fruits hung from the ceilings, bathing these “caverns within the canopy” in bright light. Despite being enclosed by hundreds of meters of wood and foliage, the spaces felt open and alive.

Inside each chamber, countless pods were neatly affixed to the wooden walls. Fiber conduits and neural structures extended from the pods, converging on the smooth, metallic-glossed leaf floors before connecting to “ponds” on the ground below. These pools were covered by tough, transparent shells, their biomass solutions gently rippling within.

These “pools” were cross-biomass fission tanks personally designed by Beltila, supplying nutrients to the biochemical factories here. The pods contained thousands of embryos and biological matrices—most were experimental projects of the Imperial Druid Association, while others were orders from various domestic institutions. These included units of artificial neural cords, versatile servo-brains, and plasma prototypes.

With the formation of the Alliance, international cooperation had increased, and some foreign orders were now assigned to the biochemical factories inside the Sorin Giant Tree. However, these were still few and mostly in the “primitive cell adjustment” phase, not yet ready for the “evolution chambers.”

The tubular tracks soared above this space, and Bard’s container sped along. He noticed several other tubes extending from different chambers, each carrying containers moving at varying speeds. Colleagues from other departments spotted him and waved; Bard returned the greeting just as their containers whisked away.

“Working late again…” Bard shook his head with a hint of sympathy. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a newly grown pipeline slowly moving along the chamber’s dome, attempting to dock with a transit interface on the opposite side. A large warning message projected above a nearby magic network terminal read: “Transit pipe growing—do not use.”

In the Sorin region, many knew that this giant tree, which sheltered the plains, had an incredibly vast and complex internal structure. Countless factories, laboratories, living quarters, and other chambers were hidden within her trunk and branches, even deep in her roots. Every day, these structures changed—differentiating, growing, and evolving into ever more incredible forms. Yet almost no one could fully map or understand the tree’s internal layout, nor did anyone know what her next growth phase would look like.

Even within the Empire, only a handful of people knew these secrets—among them, the highest-ranking official here, General Margarita; the president of the Imperial Druid Association, Pittman; several grand magistrates; and the Empire’s supreme ruler. But the one who understood the first-hand situation best, without question, was the tree herself—Lady Beltila.

Relaxed and letting his thoughts wander, Bard watched as the light outside dimmed. The pod entered a sealed “tunnel,” and after a brief delay, the internal lights automatically came on. The glow from bioluminescent cells illuminated his faintly smiling face. Soon after, the pod emerged into a brightly lit indoor space. He had arrived at Lady Beltila’s laboratory.

The pod opened silently, and Bard stepped out, moving confidently toward the back of the lab. Passing through a “leaf door,” he saw the lab’s owner sitting at a round table not far away. Her root-vines were spread out in a relaxed manner beneath her. On the table before her was a delicate tea set, the white porcelain cups rimmed with gold. Steam rose from one cup, carrying the fresh scent of tea that drifted into Bard’s nose.

Beltila studied the liquid in her cup intently, apparently having done so for some time before Bard arrived. Then she nodded slightly, as if approving the aroma. Without hesitation, she lifted the cup and deliberately poured the tea over her own head.

Bard, once a wolf general, was stunned and blurted out, “Lady Beltila?”

She had sensed his presence long before he spoke. Calmly turning her head, she gave him a slight nod. “You arrived earlier than I expected. I heard you had a letter from home—I thought you’d be at least half an hour late because of it.”

“Uh… I’ve already received the letter… but that’s not important,” Bard stammered, then pointed at her head. “What exactly are you doing?”

“Can’t you tell?” Beltila gently shook the now-empty cup. “I’m drinking tea.”

Bard was dumbfounded. “Pouring it on your head?”

“Mr. Bard, have you never watered a plant before?”

Bard: “…Uh… I thought you’d at least use your mouth… You see, at least from the outside, that would look more normal… Well, your logic makes sense, at least from a watering perspective—but didn’t you say life needs some ceremony?”

“Ceremony is just decoration for life,” Beltila said flatly. “If I lived by ceremony alone, I’d be dropping leaves from malnutrition starting tomorrow.” She then picked up the teapot and poured half-filled cups for both of them. “Sit down and have some tea. This is freshly grown.”

Bard was about to approach the table when he suddenly stumbled, staring in disbelief at the former Dark High Priestess. “Wait—this tea is grown by you?! You brewed tea from leaves you grew yourself?!”

Beltila seemed a bit exasperated by his astonishment. She shook her head, picked up her cup, but this time didn’t pour it on her head. Instead, she dipped her finger into the liquid, which was absorbed visibly fast. Then she glanced at Bard and said matter-of-factly, “Leaves fall to their roots; autumn leaves return to the soil, becoming nourishment for the tree’s next year. I’m just adding a pot of hot water to that process. Mr. Bard, why are you so surprised?”

Bard sat down at the table with a strange expression. He had to admit that what this “tree lady” said made sense—at least logically, he couldn’t argue. But that didn’t stop him from feeling odd about the cup of tea before him, with a few tender leaves floating inside. Soon, though, he thought of the popular Sorin tree fruits and the local specialty candied preserves made from them, and his unease faded.

He lifted the cup and took a small sip. The unusual fragrance calmed his scattered thoughts. “Thank you. It tastes excellent, Lady Beltila.”

Beltila smiled faintly. “Good. Looks like the tea worked—you’re calm now, so we can get down to business.”

Bard inwardly wanted to laugh and cry. Without this blasted tea, he wouldn’t have needed to “calm down” at all—his mind was perfectly clear. But he kept that to himself, offering only a slightly awkward smile. “What did you want to see me about today?”

“Some… old matters from the Dark Cult days,” Beltila said, withdrawing her finger from the cup as the last traces of liquid disappeared. Her tone grew somber. “Among the High Priests back then, there was a pair of elven sisters… Do you remember them?”

“Relna and Filna?” Bard recalled quickly. “Of course. They were responsible for much of eastern and central Old Ansuth. I dealt with them quite a bit when I was active in those regions. Why bring them up now?”

Beltila didn’t answer directly but instead asked casually, “Do you know what happened to them after the cult was destroyed?”

“Well… I heard they tried to recruit Typhon but failed, then fled into the wasteland,” Bard said uncertainly. “You probably have better intel on that.”

“Yes, they fled into the wasteland,” Beltila nodded. “And there are clues suggesting they may have colluded with the End of All Things cultists entrenched there, scheming to seize the power buried beneath the ruins of Gondor’s old capital. His Majesty has been investigating this, and has gathered much information about the elven twins from me…”

“I’ve heard some of that too,” Bard said.

“So now, I want to hear your ‘impressions,’” Beltila said. “Did you ever sense something… particularly off about the Filna sisters?”

“Particularly jarring aspects?” Bard frowned. “That’s a pretty broad question… From my perspective, there were plenty of things that felt off about them. In fact, none of the upper echelons of the cult back then were exactly normal—not even me. Miss Beltira, you know how it was; it was hard to find anyone truly sane in the Cult of All Things’ End. Everyone had their quirks and odd habits. As for the elven twins… their way of speaking, how they interacted without any clear boundaries, their intertwined personalities and memories—it was all strange. Especially after seeing some of the documents leaked by the Theocratic Council and learning that they actually shared a single soul… that made it even more unsettling.”

“Alright, I suppose my question wasn’t specific enough,” Beltira shook her head. “What I mean is, did you ever sense something in them that was… inhuman? Whether it was the knowledge they possessed, the way they spoke and behaved, their perspective on the world, or the occasional glimpse of power—did you get that kind of otherworldly feeling?”

“Inhuman?” Bard paused, furrowing his brow slightly. “I mean, as elves, they were ‘not quite human’ by nature, but I’m guessing that’s not what you mean… Sorry, nothing comes to mind right now. My rank back then only went as high as withered priest, one step below the archpriest. My interactions with the Filna sisters were mostly limited to following their orders—I didn’t have many chances to observe them closely. By the way, why are you asking me about this? I don’t think I’m the best person to—”

“Because, aside from me, you’re the only surviving member of the Cult of All Things’ End still alive in this land,” Beltira interrupted before he could finish. “Sure, Pittman has some ties to the old cult… but he’s even less reliable as a source than you.”

Bard blinked, understanding the frustration behind Beltira’s words, and then he pondered for a moment. “Sounds like you’ve uncovered something recently? Or maybe you’ve come up with a new theory?”

“I’ve been working on… certain matters, and by coincidence, I stumbled upon some clues. I’m beginning to suspect that those elven twins deceived everyone from the very start—going all the way back to the Gondor era, a thousand years ago.”

Bard’s eyes widened. He had already guessed from Beltira’s tone that the elven twins were problematic during the Cult of All Things’ End period, but he never expected this issue to trace back so far—right to the ancient Gondor Empire a millennium ago. Clearly, this was far more complicated than he had imagined.

He looked at Beltira, his expression openly questioning. After a brief hesitation, she stood up from the round table. “Come with me. I’ll show you something, and then you’ll understand what clues I’ve uncovered.”

(End of chapter)