Ch.290The Eve (3)

Time continued to flow.

Everyone knew a great battle was approaching, and knowing they couldn’t prevent it, people focused on preparing as best they could while enjoying their time.

Llewellyn felt the same way. Since what was coming was inevitable, he wanted to focus on doing what needed to be done while enjoying himself as much as possible.

In reality, Llewellyn didn’t have much to do.

So he was just lazing around in bed. His lovers, including Isla, were too busy to show their faces properly.

That was understandable.

While Llewellyn was simply a decision-maker with little to do outside of fighting, his lovers were each leaders responsible for their own domains.

Isla was an excellent hunter who had begun the journey with Llewellyn, and she was particularly skilled in the maintenance and management of large settlements.

Determining ambush locations and selecting hunters to wait at those spots was also her responsibility. The same went for food supply.

Though there was an excellent financial manager like Lie Hezedia, it wasn’t long ago that she had pushed to secure farmland and begin agriculture. Currently, only a few garden plots in the three clans’ residential areas functioned as farmland.

So they still relied heavily on hunting for food.

There was gathering too, but Ulrich, who mainly did the gathering, was dead.

Llewellyn felt gloomy thinking about that, so he changed his train of thought.

There were many other busy people as well.

Melody was managing the overall Pantheon and providing answers to those seeking advice, while Lucilla, despite appearances, was the leader of the Inquisition and was in charge of training and policies.

Ortemilia was always busy as usual, and Lorian was also rarely busy performing various duties as a Blood Knight.

Llewellyn was practically the only one with free time. In truth, everyone in the Pantheon seemed busy.

Llewellyn was the exception. That’s why he often spent his time idly.

Sparring or training required partners; doing it alone was meaningless. Especially considering Llewellyn’s current state.

[Name: Llewellyn]

[Race: Immortal]

[Class: Warrior – Mourner 19]

[Reputation: King of the Pantheon]

[Strength: 24(+7)][Dexterity: 24(+7)][Constitution: 24(+8)]

[Magic: □][Inspiration: □][Charisma: □]

Llewellyn had gained a level after defeating Nerilmaeus. Though at the time, he was too busy mourning Ulrich to properly notice.

Now he was on the verge of completion.

[Proficiency]

[Proficiency Bonus: +6]

[Weapon Proficiency: Simple Weapons, Martial Weapons, Small Shields, Medium Shields, Large Shields]

[Armor Proficiency: Light Armor, Medium Armor, Heavy Armor]

His proficiency had already reached the ultimate realm. Llewellyn knew that the skills engraved in his mind could be considered at a master level.

[Extra Attack(3)]

Now able to weave four strikes into a single attack, Llewellyn could cut, crush, and tear through four enemies in an instant as he advanced.

And that wasn’t all.

[Endless Lamentation]

[Removes the activation limit of Repeated Commemoration.]

He had also acquired Endless Lamentation, which synergized with Interment and brought the Mourner build close to perfection.

All that remained was Burier. Even that would surely be acquired in the midst of battle.

All preparations were nearing completion. Yet somehow, an uneasiness remained.

Considering that Llewellyn’s intuition had been honed by divinity to reach the realm of foresight, it was certain that something needed to be done…

‘I need to know what’s coming to prepare for it.’

Had there ever been a time when such intuition was simply resolved by force?

It wasn’t that it never happened, but proportionally, those cases were rare.

While Llewellyn was immune to ambushes, others weren’t.

Yet he couldn’t tell everyone to stop hunting and stay inside just because he felt uneasy. As someone had pointed out, there was no guarantee that the great battle starting in a week would end in just a day or two.

Whether the fight would last a month, or two months.

Perhaps even a year—Llewellyn didn’t know.

In such circumstances, telling people preparing for a battle of unknown duration to be careful and stop their preparations would be an irrational response.

So Llewellyn could only remain still with that uneasiness.

The only difference was that he focused his mind as sharply as possible to immediately detect if anything happened.

Llewellyn was quietly lying down, concentrating on this when—

“My lord.”

He suddenly opened his eyes at the presence he sensed.

What he saw was long golden hair, hanging like ripe wheat.

Tied in a single braid and draped over her shoulder, it gave the beautiful woman a mature impression. Her eyes were amber-red like garnets, and her long eyelashes framing them were the same gold as her hair, giving the impression of a halo.

Overall, she was a woman of bright colors. What was unique was that a darkness beyond that brightness resided in her expression and eyes, erasing that bright atmosphere.

Add to that her long ears. Llewellyn looked at the elf.

“…Why am I ‘my lord’?”

The elf tilted her head, seemingly not expecting that question.

“Because my lord is my lord.”

Offering this self-evident answer, the elf rested her arms on the bed and placed her cheek on them.

Llewellyn stared blankly at the elf, Eshatherna.

“Wasn’t big sis the lord? I thought I was the little lord.”

“These days, it seems like you’re the lord, and Lucilla is the great lord.”

Though at first glance it sounded like she still valued his sister more, Llewellyn intuitively understood.

That statement meant she regarded Llewellyn higher than Lucilla. While thinking about this, Llewellyn examined the elf’s face.

Eshatherna, perhaps finding his gaze curious, tilted her head but allowed Llewellyn to examine her carefully, giving him the opportunity to study her face in detail.

Eshatherna was very beautiful. Though she had a somewhat gloomy and ominous atmosphere, she possessed the beauty that elves were famous for.

Not as much as his sister, but her voluptuousness stemming from her large breasts was impressive, and her dark but attractive garnet eyes had considerable charm.

After all, despite her somewhat evil tendencies, she had been a popular character since the first game.

Her beauty would not lose to anyone. Though Llewellyn preferred good-aligned characters to evil ones, so he hadn’t had many opportunities to interact with her.

Looking at her now…

“You’re pretty.”

“I know.”

Eshatherna seemed well aware of her own appearance. She answered with a slight smile, as if pleased.

Even that shamelessness was charming. If someone only moderately pretty did it, it would be arrogant, but with someone as beautiful as Eshatherna, well.

Fair enough, one would just accept it.

So Llewellyn reached out and stroked Eshatherna’s head.

The fine hair scattering under his hand, one eye closing as his hand brushed her cheek, eyelashes sweeping with a soft sound.

Even the pointed ears that flushed red at the tips when touched. Eshatherna was pretty, and her behavior was also pleasantly cute, but.

Llewellyn knew she was an extremely dangerous person.

She and Llewellyn were similar. Especially in that fighting was all they were good at.

Of course, Eshatherna was more capable than Llewellyn in terms of stealth abilities, but then again, Llewellyn could do various things with his divine power.

“Do you want to, my lord?”

Eshatherna seemed to have interpreted Llewellyn’s touch differently.

“If you want to, shall we do what needs to be done first?”

The elf asked with a chuckle. Llewellyn wondered if his understanding of “do you want to” was correct.

“What needs to be done?”

“Yes.”

“What…”

“Shall you follow me first?”

Llewellyn didn’t finish his deliberation before being pulled up by Eshatherna.

Following her gentle guiding hand, he got up and left the room, walking.

On the way, he saw people. People moving busily, carrying things, discussing and preparing for the coming future.

Llewellyn observed these people while silently following Eshatherna.

Even though he had no idea where she was leading him.

Yet he trusted that she wouldn’t take him somewhere bad.

“By the way, where are we going?”

But he had to ask. When Llewellyn asked, Eshatherna smiled sweetly and said:

“My lord, don’t you want to become stronger?”

Words Llewellyn couldn’t ignore. As Llewellyn silently looked at her, Eshatherna smiled and led him to the lower level of the nest.

A space that was once crowded with people training or sparring, now empty because everyone was busy.

There, Llewellyn saw someone he wasn’t very familiar with.

“It’s been a while, Master of the Pantheon.”

He was an elf. Not an ordinary elf—like Eshatherna, he too had reached the pinnacle in a certain field.

His eyes swirled with dizzying energy, and his gentle gaze was softly relaxed, blending with an androgynous atmosphere.

Similarly androgynous voice, thin body, yet with muscles attached to firm limbs that proved his identity.

He was a martial artist. Before the Dragon King existed, he was called the continent’s finest, and now could be considered the second-best martial artist.

The pinnacle of elven martial arts built over a long time.

The Elven Monastery Master.

Llewellyn faced him, recalling rumors he had once heard about the elves’ progenitor, the World Tree.

A thought suddenly occurred to him. There was also evidence supporting that thought.

Elves are an immortal race. They live with the World Tree as their mother, do not contract diseases, and possess some regenerative abilities.

Llewellyn listened to his intuition that only arose after meeting the Monastery Master alone.

“…Netel.”

Netel created the Emperor. But was the Emperor his first complete attempt?

If he was a transcendent being existing beyond time and space, wouldn’t he have gone through some trial and error?

When the thought suddenly occurred that it might be on a racial level, Llewellyn could be certain.

“Were you also part of Netel’s arrangement?”

Netel’s image is close to that of a tree. While being the will of this planet, Llewellyn felt that Netel was particularly associated with trees.

Llewellyn understood why. He thought that the Emperor might not be the only medium existing in this world to act as the will of this world.

Llewellyn realized that the World Tree, already burned and gone, was Netel.

The Elven Monastery Master smiled brightly as if affirming. As if proving he hadn’t crossed the continent just because of his friendship with the Dragon King, he immediately got to the point.

“I will teach you the martial arts that Netel refined and arranged for you.”

As if certain this would be of great help to Llewellyn.