Ch 101 - The Immu Tribe

Luc stood on guard, and I stayed just behind him, tense as a drawn bowstring. His hand rested on the hilt of his short sword, eyes darting through the misty forest, scanning every rustling leaf and swaying branch.

The fog clung tightly to the forest floor, and for a moment, the only sounds were the whisper of wind and the occasional rustle above.

Then—movement.

At first, I thought it was animals, but then I caught a glimpse of humanoid silhouettes, flitting through the treetops like squirrels. In mere seconds, we were completely surrounded.

Then came the sound that made my stomach twist—the creak of taut rope, dozens of them, strained and ready to snap.

I looked up.

Figures perched in the canopy, bows drawn, arrows aimed directly at us. Their expressions were unreadable, but their posture screamed one thing: lethal intent.

“Hey, it seems you guys are as vigilant as ever,” Luc said casually, raising one hand and stepping forward. “Calm down, it’s just ol’ me—”

He froze mid-step.

Three arrows struck the earth exactly where his foot had hovered a second before, each with a force that cratered the ground and sent dirt scattering.

If even one of those had hit flesh… there wouldn’t be anything left to bury.

Luc arched an eyebrow. “Now, is that any way to treat a guest?” His tone was amused, but his eyes were cold and calculating.

The mist began to thin, revealing more of our would-be ambushers.

And what I saw left me stunned.

Their skin was pale and flawless, their features sharp and regal. Every one of them carried themselves with silent pride. Their bows glimmered with mana as elemental energy danced along the arrowheads.

And then I saw the ears—long, pointed.

Elves.

The real thing. Not drawings in books, not stories from dusty scrolls.

I’d heard about them all my life, but none of those stories prepared me for this.

Their welcome, however, was as warm as a blizzard.

A wave of déjà vu hit me like a slap. Hostility was becoming a theme in my travels.

Luc, meanwhile, looked utterly unfazed. Probably because this kind of reception was all too familiar to him.

Raising his hands in mock surrender, he called out, “Greetings getting more hostile every year, huh? After everything I’ve done, this is still the treatment I get?”

The elves didn’t so much as flinch. If anything, the crackling of mana intensified. They weren’t aiming to scare us. They were ready to kill.

“Oi, Luc,” I muttered under my breath. “You might actually get us killed this time.”

Luc sighed dramatically. “Relax! I’m not here to collect heads today. No bounty hunting. Can’t we lower the bows just a little?”

The standoff held.

Then, finally, one of the elves lowered his bow and stepped off the branch.

He leapt with practiced grace, kicking off the tree trunks as he descended until he landed before Luc, silent as snowfall.

He was tall and lean, a single eyepatch covering one eye, a scar cutting across his cheek. Everything about him—from his poise to his steely stare—spoke of battles survived and blood spilled.

Sliding his bow onto his back, he addressed Luc with cool disdain.

“We didn’t call for your services, bounty hunter. Or should I say, Grim Reaper? If you’re not here for blood, then why have you come?”

Luc rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, I know. The ‘Grim Reaper’ title again. How flattering. But no, I’m not here for blood today. I do other work too—bodyguard jobs, herbal runs, escorting rare cargo... which brings me to my current errand.”

The elf’s brow lifted. “What errand brings you here, exactly?”

Luc grinned and with a dramatic flourish, shoved me forward by the shoulder.

“A special delivery from the Zephinya Kingdom. Highly valuable cargo… for the Immu Tribe.”

The elf’s eye snapped to me.

His stare was piercing, calculating—judging.

I stiffened, unsure what to say.

Were they the Immu Tribe?

I forced a smile and extended a hand. “Hi! I’m Benjamin Almond. Nice to mee—”

He didn’t even look at my hand.

Instead, he turned to Luc with a flat stare. “I don’t remember anyone in my village ordering a human brat. Take it back where you found it.”

Luc’s eye twitched.

“First, this cargo was prepaid—one-way delivery only. No refunds. Second, please stop calling me Grim Reaper. I’m trying out the title ‘Humble Merchant’ Luc. Got a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

The elf ignored the sarcasm. “On whose request have you brought him here, and why?”

Luc sighed heavily. “You’re one stubborn bastard. Fine.”

He reached into his coat.

That’s when everything erupted.

The elves’ bows raised in unison, mana surging at the tips.

“Move and die!” someone hissed.

Luc froze mid-motion and raised an eyebrow toward the treetops.

“Easy now,” he said calmly. “It’s just a letter. No need to start spilling blood over paperwork.”

The tension was razor-sharp—I could feel it in my bones.

The eyepatch elf raised a hand, signaling the others to lower their bows.

Luc slowly withdrew a black envelope from his coat, sealed with a crimson wax emblem.

The elf took it, his expression shifting to one of mild concern as he examined the seal. With a small dagger, he sliced it open and began reading.

Luc, meanwhile, yawned and stretched lazily. “Take your time,” he said, completely unbothered.

Meanwhile, I stayed tense, scanning the treetops. By my count, at least twenty—maybe thirty—elves had surrounded us, each perched high above with bows drawn. Their arrows shimmered with mana, brimming with deadly intent. If that letter didn’t appease them… we weren’t walking away unscathed.

I still couldn’t wrap my head around it. The Immu Tribe—elves? I had asked Luc before, but he only grumbled something vague about them being an "annoying bunch." Not once did he mention they were elves—let alone how to deal with them. I could’ve prepared, mentally at least.

Now that I think about it… elves were said to possess an innate talent for Life affinity magic—healing, plant growth, regeneration. The kind of magic I was supposedly born to wield. If anyone could teach me to use it properly, it would be them.

But… elves were also notoriously prideful. Reclusive. Distant. Everything I’d read or heard painted them as a race that saw the rest of us as beneath them. Could they even accept a human as a disciple? Would they take me seriously—or simply tolerate me until I failed?

As I wrestled with those doubts, the eyepatch elf finished reading the letter. His brow furrowed slightly, unreadable. Then, slowly, he exhaled and folded the letter shut. He raised a single hand and curled his fingers into a fist.

The archers obeyed at once. The bows lowered. The tension bled from the air like a popped balloon.

I let out a slow breath, my chest finally loosening. We were safe—for now.

The eyepatch elf turned to me, eyes narrowing, scanning me again from head to toe like I was some puzzle missing half the pieces.

“This brat is the vessel of the Eternal Dendrite?” he asked, voice laced with skepticism.

Luc smiled, that easy, merchant’s grin he wore so well. “He might not look like much at first glance, but yes. He escaped the curse. And now, he stands before you, whole and alive.”

That got a reaction. The elves in the trees murmured, exchanging looks. I couldn’t tell if it was awe or disbelief. Maybe both. Then, as expected, some of those stares sharpened into scorn.

Luc caught their expressions, too. “Disappointed the vessel turned out to be human?” he asked with a chuckle. “You can’t be picky, can you? Well, deal’s a deal. Now train him, he’ll fight in your stead, just as promised.”

He shrugged and continued. “If you don’t, well, that’s none of my business. I was told to say the words and deliver the letter. I’ve done my part. Whether the old bat accepts him or not—that’s on you.”

I stepped forward, frustrated. “Hey! Luc, could you explain what the hell is going on?”

Luc sighed. “Your shady guild has ties with this tribe. Using those connections, we’re trying to get you accepted as a disciple. If all goes well, the old man will train you, beat you into shape, and mold you into a warrior like the rest of your guildmates. If not—” he gave a shrug, “—you head back to the kingdom, and deal with your lovely fate there.”

“...Huh,” I muttered, not sure how else to respond.

The eyepatch elf stepped away and conferred with the others. They spoke in hushed tones, passing the letter between them. Their posture remained tense, but they treated the document with visible respect.

After several minutes, he returned and addressed us.

“We will present this matter to the chieftain. I cannot make a decision on this alone—not even with this letter. Please accompany us to the village.”

Luc sauntered beside the eyepatch-wearing elf, hands tucked casually into his pockets as if they were just out for a stroll. I trailed a few steps behind, doing my best to ignore the heavy stares pressing in from all sides.

Every few paces, an elf would narrow their eyes at me. I'd meet their gaze—calm, steady—until they huffed and looked away. It was clear. Distrust. Maybe even outright resentment. I was an outsider, and worse, human.

“So, who’s running the show these days?” Luc asked, tone light and teasing. He glanced sideways at the elf beside him.

The eyepatch elf didn’t bother hiding his scowl. His voice was clipped, controlled. “Madam Murmiel is our current chieftain.”

Luc raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. “Murmiel? Still holding the reins? I figured she’d have retired by now. Hardworking as ever, I take it?”

“She is,” the elf replied, and for the first time, there was a flicker of pride in his voice. “Her leadership has kept the village safe. Without her talents, the forest would’ve fallen to the savages long ago.”

Luc gave a small nod. “Yeah, maintaining a barrier like that isn’t child’s play. Gotta hand it to her—she’s no slouch.” Then, with a smirk, he added, “Speaking of which, on my way here, I ran into some beastfolk. Said something about you guys taking down a bridge. Cost me a hefty bribe to get across the river.”

The elf shot him a sharp glare. “We had no choice. Their leader has grown ambitious. They’ve been expanding into our lands, ignoring every warning. With that unruly chieftain of theirs, their raids grew bolder. Destroying the bridge and reinforcing the mist barrier was necessary.”

Luc let out a low whistle. “Sounds like things have escalated. That tribe—Bonick, right? They’ve been spreading like wildfire.”

The elf’s lips curled into a dark smirk. “Those savages have been a thorn in our side for years. Now their recklessness has caught up with them. Their scouts still try to sneak into our territory, but the mist takes care of them. Drives them mad before they even realize they’re lost.”

He paused for a beat.

“They’ve gone quiet lately. Probably licking their wounds after losing too many of their own.” the eyepatch elf scoffed.

The beastfolk—often referred to as “savages” by the other races—had long been relegated to the bottom of the social order. It wasn’t just prejudice; it was cultural doctrine. Unlike the more refined mana systems of humans, elves, and dwarves, beastfolk wielded mana in a way more akin to wild mana beasts—raw, instinctual, and untamed.

And for that, they were feared… and despised.

Discrimination had followed them for centuries.

The elves led us deeper into the forest, weaving through twisted roots and towering trunks. Eventually, we came to a stop before a particular tree.

At first glance, it looked like nothing special—old, weathered, gnarled by age. I glanced around, confused. The rest of the trees were just as ancient. So why had we stopped?

Then my eyes found the base of the trunk.

The roots had split, curling apart to form a natural arch. The gap in the trunk was wide enough for two people to pass through side by side. A strange, subtle hum pulsed in the air around it.

“We’re here,” the eyepatch elf muttered.

Without another word, he stepped through the arch formed by the tree’s trunk.

There was a slight buzz, like static humming in the back of my skull.

Luc followed him casually, hands still in his pockets, not a hint of concern on his face.

I hesitated. The arch pulsed faintly, and the elves surrounding me weren’t exactly offering reassurance. Their eyes narrowed, silently urging me forward. I swallowed hard and stepped through the opening.

The moment I passed through, the world shifted.

There was a buzz—soft but resonant. Then light bent, space warped, and suddenly I was… elsewhere.

The forest on the other side was different. The trees stood more spaced out, their trunks smoother, taller, more refined in shape. Open spaces stretched between them, with soft grass underfoot instead of dense roots. The air smelled cleaner—fresher somehow—and the atmosphere was calm, peaceful… almost sacred.

The sunlight filtering through the leaves felt warmer. Even the breeze carried a sense of tranquility. It was as if I’d stepped into a separate dimension, one carefully preserved and hidden from the outside world.

A barrier didn’t just protect the village of the Immu Tribe, it was cloaked in a world of its own.

Looking around, I realized we weren’t in just another patch of forest—we were in a passageway, one leading deeper into something more. Elven guards stood watch along the sides, their presence subtle but firm. I turned to glance back and saw a second tree behind us—old, gnarled, and twisted like the one we had just walked through.

Not the same tree, but its arched trunk mirrored the portal we had entered from.

A two-way portal? Maybe it wasn’t just a magical entrance… maybe it was a gateway—a forest-crafted threshold hiding an entire realm within.

The rest of the elves from our escort began stepping through the arch after us.

The eyepatch elf took the lead, guiding us along a path that opened directly into the village. The portal had been placed just outside the entrance—we were already inside the heart of the Immu Tribe’s sanctuary.

And what a place it was.

The village didn’t sit on the forest floor—it rose with the trees.

Elves moved gracefully along the trunks and branches, their homes shaped into the wood rather than built from it. Bridges, rooftops, ladders, balconies—none of it looked manufactured. The trees had been molded, not cut. Grown into form, like the forest had willingly shaped itself to suit its people.

All around, I could feel eyes on me.

Elves peered down from the treetops, their expressions unreadable. Even those nearby paused mid-task to whisper and murmur, their gazes flitting between me and Luc. Their clothes were elegant—woven with threads that shimmered faintly under the sun—and their bearing was graceful, distant, even regal.

Men, women, even the children... all of them were slender, ethereal, and strikingly beautiful.

The complete opposite of the dwarves I’d once met—where dwarves were rugged, grounded, and loud, the elves were poised, graceful, and quiet as mist.

I took a moment to take in the full view of the village. It stretched far across the forest, woven seamlessly into the natural landscape. In the distance, I caught the glimmer of a river curling around the edge of the village. The trees stretched overhead like living towers, and woven bridges and vines linked them in an elegant, living network.

It was… beautiful.

Then we were brought before the largest tree I’d ever seen. It stood at the village’s center like a sentinel—its thick trunk rising high, its massive branches spreading in every direction like arms reaching for the sky. The trunk had been carved inward, rooms and balconies emerging naturally from its surface.

It reminded me of home—my real home.

The tree I grew up in was smaller, less grand, but carved inside a tree nonetheless. Was this what homesickness felt like? A small, nostalgic smile tugged at the corner of my mouth.

We ascended a stairway spiraling around the tree’s base and entered its interior. Elven guards flanked the entrance, their expressions as cold and unmoving as stone. Their eyes flicked to us but never relaxed. I kept close behind Luc.

Inside, the space opened into a long, wooden hallway lit by soft natural light. We followed it in silence until two elves opened a tall set of doors.

What lay beyond stunned me.

A massive chamber, flooded with golden sunlight streaming through stained-glass windows. The entire room was carved within the tree’s trunk, and yet it felt cathedral-like in size. Every inch was alive with detail—from the wooden walls to the carved patterns of leaves and vines curling along the interior.

But it was the ceiling that truly caught my eye.

Above us, the wooden roots of the tree curled and twisted like the strands of a giant’s tangled hair. They spiraled downward, fusing into a massive cone-shaped structure that descended from the ceiling and narrowed toward the center of the room.

The roots weren’t just decorative—they pulsed faintly with life.

They looked like the sacred core of the tree, grown down into this central chamber like a heart suspended in wood. The room didn’t feel like just a council hall or a meeting space.

It felt like a shrine.

We were led up another staircase spiraling into the heart of the great central tree. Luc and I followed the eyepatch elf in silence. This was where the roots descended—thick, ancient things that had spiraled into a massive formation above.

“Chieftain, we’re here,” the eyepatch elf announced.

I blinked. My attention was pulled to the tangled mass of roots that formed a towering, cylindrical shape, hanging like a suspended column. It wasn’t just a knot of bark and wood—it pulsed faintly with life. The roots didn’t reach the ground. They hung in the air, still connected to the tree, but what caught my breath was what was within them.

A face.

The gnarled vines parted just enough to reveal the head of an old elf woman, half-embedded in the roots. Her body was completely engulfed—only her head peeked out, framed by the twisted strands like a seed growing from wood.

Her hair was tied neatly into a bun atop her head. Wrinkles creased her face, and her long, elven ears drooped slightly with age. Then, her eyes opened—pale grey, lacking pupils, yet somehow sharp and aware.

“I smell the stench of death qi invading my abode,” she spoke, her voice rough but steady. “So it is you, after all… Lucian. Harbinger of death. Reaper of souls. The one who hunts for coin. What brings you to my old village?”

Luc gave a crooked smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Hey, Granny. Still looking radiant. I’m here for a special delivery. And for the love of the forest, just call me Luc.”

The eyepatch elf leaned down to her, murmured something, then held up the black-lettered envelope. Her cloudy eyes drifted over the seal.

“Well,” she said after a moment, “this is a surprising turn of events.”

Her gaze shifted to me, piercing and still. “The boy bears the spirit of the Eternal Dendrite.”

Suddenly, one of the massive root tendrils snaked forward. I instinctively stepped back, but Luc gently pressed a hand against my back.

“Hold still.”

The tendril hovered near my chest, glowing faintly as it scanned my mana core. A flicker of energy passed between us.

The chieftain’s brow furrowed. “Hmm… I sense the Eternal Dendrite—but also something else. A malicious spirit… Ah, I see. What an ugly but bold method to patch the curse. Crude. Dangerous. But effective.”

The root withdrew.

She smiled slightly. “In all my years, I’ve never seen anything like this. You’re quite the unique seedling, boy. What’s your name?”

I stepped forward, bowing respectfully. “Benjamin Almond. It’s an honor, elder.”

She nodded. “I welcome you, young Benjamin. If you seek the path of healing arts and plant magic, our people will gladly teach you.”

I nodded quickly. “Thank you.”

“But,” she continued, her tone shifting, “if you aim to become the disciple of the Old Demon, that… may be troublesome.”

“Old Demon?” I echoed, frowning.

Luc straightened. “Wait—don’t tell me he’s dead.”

The chieftain snorted. “Hah. That old demon has the devil’s luck. Still breathing, as far as I know. I’d welcome his funeral with celebration, but unfortunately, he’s not that easy to kill.”

Luc raised an eyebrow. “Then what’s the issue?”

The old elf’s expression darkened slightly. “He’s been banished from this village for some time.”

Luc let out a long sigh. “So he finally crossed your line, huh?”

She nodded slowly. “He’s always been a thorn in our side. I tolerated his… unorthodox methods for a long time. But even my patience has its limits. In the end, for the safety and peace of the village, I exiled him.”

Luc rubbed the back of his neck. “So I take it you can’t order him to take a disciple, then?”

“I would not even if I could,” she said firmly. “It’s up to the boy to earn his approval. Even without his banishment, it would still be the demon’s choice.”

Her gaze settled on me once more. “Benjamin… if you wish to study healing and plant magic, we have many skilled teachers here. They will help you grow. There is no need to chase that old monster.”

She paused. “But if you seek to learn the kind of power that can turn the will of the heavens on their feet, then the Old Demon is your only path. His methods are brutal. Ruthless. Those who sought his training… many didn’t survive it.”

I swallowed hard.

A teacher who kills their students? What kind of training is that?

Her tone sharpened. “So… what will it be? The guidance of our skilled elves—wise, gentle, patient? Or the path of the Old Demon, the bringer of war, the one who’s never taken a disciple before?”

Silence fell.

Luc and the eyepatch elf turned to me, waiting.

I took a deep breath.

If I had wanted the easy way out, I would’ve stayed in the kingdom and studied safe spells. Learned polite magic. But my enemies were too strong for half-measures. If the Old Demon was truly the most powerful user of plant and healing magic… then I had to take the risk.

Even if it killed me.

Even if he was a real demon.

“Very well,” the chieftain prompted. “What will it be, young Ben?”

I straightened my shoulders. “If the Old Demon is the greatest, then he’s the one I need. I’ll find him—and I’ll make him take me as his disciple. I won’t die… not easily, at least.”

The eyepatch elf frowned. The chieftain raised a single brow, then smiled.

“A bold response. I like you, boy. Very well… I welcome you to our village.” She turned to the eyepatch elf. “Beilhem, assign a dorm to the young lad and see to his needs. He has a long road ahead—earning the Old Demon’s approval will be his first hurdle. The real challenge begins after that. Let him be comfortable while he still can.”

Beilhem’s brows furrowed, but he gave a curt nod. “Yes, chieftain.” He turned to us. “I’ll show the way.”

Luc and I trailed Beilhem out of the root-woven hall, the air cooling as we stepped into the open village. The trees here stood wide apart, their branches framing patches of sky that shimmered faintly, like a dream caught in glass. I was still processing the chieftain’s words when a soft glow flickered beside Luc.

An ethereal bird, its feathers pulsing with light, materialized on his shoulder, a letter clamped in its beak.

“Ah, about time one of these showed up,” Luc muttered, plucking the scroll with practiced ease.

I blinked. “Is that… a dwarven speed post?”

“It is,” Luc replied. “One of Techtonia’s marvels. Top-of-the-line courier system.”

“Wait, I thought you said it was dwarven tech?” I asked, confused.

“Huh? Yeah, it’s dwarven. A dwarven clan from the Techtonia Nation. You hear about Techtonia for sure, right?” Luc mumbled.

“Of course I have heard…” I paused, thoughts stirring, “So if I used that, could I send a letter… ”

Luc’s expression dimmed.
“Sorry, lad. Not just anyone can use this. You need a premium membership and verified access through Techtonia’s system to get through.”

He added, “Even if I sent something for you, your folks would need the same tech on their end. And considering Isle is cut off from Zephinya, it's… kind of impossible. Access across other nations is restricted.”

I sighed, shoulders sagging. “I see…”

Luc gave my shoulder a pat. “Don’t worry too much. You can still use the Adventurer’s Guild line—not exactly reliable, but messages can get through. Still, I’d advise waiting. Zephinya’s dogs are still sniffing around. Don’t give them a trail to follow.”

He looked at me with a rare softness. “Focus on staying alive. Survive the Old Demon’s hellish training regimen. You’ve got enough on your plate.”

Beilhem, waiting at the path’s edge, cleared his throat, his frown deepening. “If you’re done bonding, I’ve got a dorm to show you. And other duties to handle.”

Luc chuckled. “Right, right.”

He glanced at the scroll in his hand and nodded. “Looks like my next quest is in. Guess this is where we part ways.”

I blinked. “Already? I thought you’d stay a day or two.”

Luc shook his head. “My job was to get you here in one piece. That’s done. I’ve got other debts and jobs stacking up.” He tucked the letter into his sleeve. “Don’t worry. If you stay alive long enough, I’m sure we’ll cross paths again.”

I nodded, quietly.

Luc turned to leave, waving without looking back. “Just don’t let me find you in such a pitiful state next time.”

“Of course!” I called after him.

Beilhem shifted impatiently, gesturing down the path. I took one last look at the portal’s fading light, then followed.

And just like that—Luc and I parted ways.

Now I was alone, left in the hands of the Immu Tribe, surrounded by elves in a hidden sanctuary of nature and mana.

This was where my true journey began—the beginning of my training, the honing of my skills, and the next step toward understanding the world of mana arts.

My parents were still out there, lost in the chaos I’d fled. My grandfather wanted me dead, his shadow a constant threat. And the looming confrontation with the Heavenly Virtues—thanks to joining some shady guild for the power that I didn’t ask for.

Beilhem took me to the treetops as I stared at the blue sky, lost in thought.

I hadn’t even scratched the surface of my real goals.

Fate had thrown me into a storm and then sat back to laugh. And yet… here I was.

A healer and plant mage with regeneration ability like the undead. An undead anomaly in a world of living magic.

Whatever came next, it wouldn’t be easy. But I wasn’t planning to back down.
Not now or ever.