Chapter 94: The World Tree’s Mental Realm

“Dangerous, Dam Ion! No way! Absolutely not! Your mind’s too weak!” Baba protested, flapping wildly.

“I’ll go! I’ll bring Master back!” Sevi declared, stepping forward.

The World Tree, however, wore a regretful expression. “Sadly, if I let a young dragon in, they’d merge with me instantly, no digestion needed. Dragons are born from my power.”

“Then I’ll go! Dam Ion’s in danger. I’m strong-minded. I’ll earn my keep!” Baba insisted, trying to fly at the World Tree. Ion snatched the bat mid-air.

“What would you even talk about? I have to speak with him. And who says my mind’s weak?” Ion retorted.

“I can tell. It’s really dangerous. I’m worried. Anxious. Absolutely against it,” Baba said.

“Don’t worry. I have a plan,” Ion assured.

The moment he heard “mental realm,” a spell came to mind—one Teacher despised and he hadn’t used in years. It would nullify all mental attacks.

“What plan? I’m anxious. I don’t approve,” Baba said.

“Calm down and ask Sanse. Is Sanse worried?” Ion asked.

Baba stared at Sanse, conversing silently, then squirmed in frustration. When Ion let go, Baba plopped onto the pot. “Sanse is worried too. Says you’re in danger. But says to let you go. I don’t get it. Why?”

“Sanse knows my spell,” Ion explained.

“Sanse hates that spell,” Baba said.

“…”

“Hates it but says let you. Weird. Doesn’t make sense. I’m annoyed,” Baba grumbled, kicking the soil.

Ion patted the tiny dirt pile Baba made. “Protect Sanse, okay?”

“…Ugh! Fine,” Baba muttered.

Ion rubbed Baba’s small head with a finger and turned to Sevi, who was crying so much Ion worried their eyes would chafe. “Any message for your Master?”

“Is it really okay? Because of me…” Sevi sobbed.

“Not because of you. Your Master’s tied to someone I know. I’d have to find him anyway,” Ion said.

Relieved of some guilt, Sevi spoke somberly. “Tell him I miss him.”

“Okay. And?” Ion prompted.

“Thank him for loving a ‘residue’ like me… He was my only family. I’ll live hundreds of times longer, but I’ll remember our time forever. Tell him that.”

“Got it. Anything else?”

“That’s enough…” Sevi said, though clearly holding back more.

Sevi had come expecting a reunion, not a farewell. They’d imagined showing off gifts, asking for roasted corn, eating peanut ice cream together—not this eternal parting. Unprepared for such a goodbye, Sevi had so much left to say. But farewells are like letters never finished, and Sevi, knowing this, forced an end.

“…” Ion touched Sanse’s leaves one last time and stood.

The World Tree floated to eye level. “Ready?”

“Yes. But… are you okay, Elidivi?” Ion asked.

The World Tree tilted her head. “Call me Elidivi. Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

“I’m entering your mental realm. I might touch unwanted memories or emotions,” Ion said.

Her big eyes blinked. “No one’s ever asked that,” she said, laughing softly. “I have no reason to object. Honestly, your soul is the most delectable meal in my long life. Absorbing a Celestial’s soul would make me stronger.”

Ion tilted his head. “What’s good about getting stronger?”

“…”

The talkative World Tree fell silent. A breeze rustled her white dress. She turned, gazing at her branches—diverse trees, herbs, fungi; roots dominating the earth; towering canopies letting sunlight reach lower plants. Despite the grandeur, her expression was profoundly lonely, like standing alone in a snowy field, knowing she’d remain so forever.

After a long pause, she smiled faintly. “All plants have a wish.”

A plant’s wish? To Ion, it sounded as absurd as “Sansevieria flying in the sky.” Plants don’t have grand desires like “wishes”—they adapt and accept.

“What do you…” Ion began.

“Let’s go in.”

The World Tree vanished without a trace, as if she’d never existed. Her roots surged from the ground, wrapping Ion’s shoes and legs.

Ion cast his spell. Despite no natural mana inside the barrier, his digested mana sufficed. With a wave, a small, apricot-seed-like brown seed appeared. He swallowed it, and it sprouted instantly.

His consciousness and emotions distanced—not blurred, but separated by an uncrossable chasm, like cliffs between “self” and “mind.” A spell born from studying how to escape Teacher’s harsh training: Vegetable Consciousness, inspired by a vegetative state—existing only for breathing, digestion, and absorption.

Teacher hated it. “That spell proves your weak mind. How will you cope without mana if you rely on this? It’s banned. Endure with willpower, not <vegetable consciousness>.”

First time in ten years. As the spell activated, the World Tree’s roots enveloped Ion, rooting into his skin. Darkness engulfed him.

“A new soul!”

“A fresh, clean soul!”

“So young!”

“Back off! It’s mine!”

“Shut up! I’ll take it!”

In the pitch-black void, voices clamored. Half-digested souls in the World Tree’s stomach, excited by a pristine soul, rushed Ion. As he imagined them, forms materialized: a corpse with a melted upper body groaning, another with no lower half grabbing his ankle, a brain-exposed figure clinging to his shoulder.

This was the mental realm—his imagination made real.

“It’s mine! I’ll take this young soul!”

“Such a sweet scent… this soul’s fragrance is exquisite…”

“Give us your emotions, young soul… We’re so hungry…”

They opened maws to devour his emotions and will. But:

“Wait… this soul’s strange. Why isn’t it afraid?”

“No emotions are coming from it…”

“There’s no gap to slip into…”

Fear creates openings, but Vegetable Consciousness made Ion immune. The grotesque forms didn’t disgust or scare him. He thought objectively, “These are horrific, fear-inducing.” His emotions existed but were separated by an uncrossable gulf, like watching a fire from across a river.

No Breeder here. Ion was certain the Breeder, sharing Teacher’s mana, wouldn’t be a grotesque zombie begging for souls. In the vast, ancient mental realm, he used mana detection alongside Vegetable Consciousness. Mana drained quickly, but it worked—he traced a thin thread of familiar mana, clutching it like a lifeline.

Half-digested souls swarmed, fighting each other or uniting, whispering relentlessly:

“Your soul reeks of deep loneliness. You’ve always been alone and will be forever. This loneliness will never fade until death…”

“Poor child, blind to your abuse. Why must you suffer among countless others? Don’t you resent the world?”

“Take my hand. I’ll free you from your heavy fate.”

“Life is painful, horrific. As long as you live, fear, sadness, anger, and pain are inevitable.”

“Why fulfill your Teacher’s wish? Don’t you want freedom? To escape this headache and endless fate?”

They tried to crack his mind, but even without Vegetable Consciousness, Ion was unmoved. Why would being alone forever be painful? Even if he was abused or bore a heavy fate, why would that be horrific? No need to feel pain or dread—just accept it.

Like a seed sprouting in rain-soaked soil, only to find it’s a desert with rain once every century. Could it move its roots? Fly with its leaves? Plants don’t. They accept: “This is my environment.” With a plant’s mindset, Ion was unshaken.

But then:

“Because of you, many children died.”

Ion’s steps faltered.