The Adventures of an Overpowered Knight in Another World Chapter 553- High Elves

"They disappeared over time, swallowed up in the great exodus. Or even worse, captured by the demons. Nothing is left—no records of those two artifacts, no leads whatsoever. We’ve been searching for them through countless generations."

His statement lingered thickly in the atmosphere.

The fragile spark of optimism that had ignited in every heart was cruelly extinguished.

Could there truly be no chance for them?

Might they never regain the territories of their forebears?

Exists there truly no path to vanquish the demons?

Reinhardt, absorbing the words in quiet attention, inclined his head.

"That’s precisely why I’ve journeyed here." He delved into his coat and withdrew an object.

"This is..."

Nestled in his hand lay a seed, scarcely bigger than a knuckle, sleek and translucent, marked by subtle, vein-resembling etchings.

The seed appeared utterly plain and commonplace from every angle. But upon revealing it, Reinhardt grinned with radiant assurance.

"Could this seed suffice?"

The knights alongside the demi-human fighters creased their foreheads in bewilderment. To their eyes, it seemed odd yet merely a regular seed.

Yet the pair of elves in the chamber pierced the illusion instantly. The instant his gaze fell upon the seed, his reality flipped entirely.

Eldrin stumbled backward one pace. Elina, meanwhile, swiftly pressed a hand to her lips, inhaling sharply.

They perceived it—the seed aglow with intensity.

An immense, surging life force erupted from within, timeless and infinite; its purity shook their very spirits.

Undeniably, this seed bore the essence recounted in their ancient ballads, the identical life force of the World Tree inherited from Elfenheim.

"How is this possible..."

Eldrin fluttered his eyelids. Still, the seed proved no mirage. No counterfeit or trickery could mimic such an aura.

Overwhelmed with emotion, tears welling, he lurched toward Reinhardt and dropped to his knees.

"This is undoubtedly a genuine Origin Seed."

Elina mirrored his profound reaction. To them, the World Tree equated to divinity itself.

"The World Tree endures. No— it can rise anew."

The surrounding knights and tribal elite fighters remained rooted in place, dumbfounded and wordless.

The elves’ confirmation verified the seed as a legitimate World Tree seed.

Reinhardt exhaled in quiet relief too. Naturally, the seed he held was the one he’d obtained from Spirit King Asterius during his prior visit to the Spirit Realm.

Though this was a World Tree seed from Yggdrasil—the ancestor of all World Trees—it differed from the local World Tree and its origin seed in this realm.

Reinhardt had fretted that, being from another World Tree, the elves here might fail to identify it, or worse, lack the knowledge to cultivate it.

Fortunately, the elves’ dramatic responses assured him that this seed could indeed take root in this world to grow a fresh World Tree.

The chamber hummed with wonder at the Origin Seed’s abrupt emergence when Reinhardt addressed them once more.

"One crucial matter remains unresolved. Are you able to plant it?"

His steady inquiry acted like a splash of cold water, rousing all from their blissful reverie.

Every gaze fixed upon one individual.

Through his Divine Trait [Heaven’s Memory], he understood the World Tree demanded more than any ordinary cultivator; it wasn’t a simple plant to sow in earth and nourish with water.

Far from it—it required a unique nurturing ritual and a resonance with its bloodline.

No human could manage it. Not even him.

Thus, though he’d held the Origin Seed for a while, he’d never entertained planting it on his own.

His [Heaven’s Memory] indicated the elves’ assistance was essential.

Therefore, facing the survivors of Elfenheim, he posed the vital query.

"Can you cultivate it into a World Tree?"

For an instant, Eldrin hesitated in responding.

Moments earlier, the Origin Seed’s revelation had filled him with profound elation and a glimmer of possibility that restoring Elfenheim, their homeland, wasn’t unattainable.

Now, composure returning, he grasped the issue.

The gleam in his eyes wavered, then faded. The budding optimism in his soul crumbled, yielding to anguish.

Elina showed a matching demeanor; her posture grew rigid, her hands gripping her robe’s cloth tightly.

Sensing trouble, Reinhardt inquired. "What’s the matter?"

Eldrin breathed out deliberately and elaborated, his tone laced with resentment and futility.

"The technique for raising the World Tree was transmitted via songs across ages, ensuring its survival even if Elfenheim crumbled."

He shut his eyes and confessed.

"I possess the knowledge."

At this, the others released relieved breaths, save for Reinhardt.

He’d sensed foreboding from the elves’ crestfallen faces, and the following instant validated it.

Eldrin went on, his stare hollow with sheer hopelessness.

"Yet mere knowledge isn’t sufficient. Awakening an Origin Seed demands a priestess capable of linking with the World Tree. A profound tie allowing communion with the tree’s essence directly. I lack the worth."

"What are you saying?"

Reinhardt urged, glancing toward Elina.

If a priestess was needed, surely Elina, as a female elf, qualified?

She, catching his look, clarified.

"In all of Elfenheim’s storied past, only a few such priestesses emerged, each bearing the hallmark of our purest descent. The High Elves."

A heavy quiet fell, leaving none able to utter a word—not even Reinhardt.

"To clarify, solely a High Elf holds the eligibility to serve as priestess and foster the Origin Seed into a World Tree. Absent that lineage, the seed stays inert, locked in slumber eternally."

Evidently, only a High Elf woman could assume the priestess role; thus, Elina, a common elf, fell short.

Collective sighs echoed, the space thick with oppressive hush. Just before, relief and anticipation had surged with the Origin Seed’s arrival. Now, despair engulfed them.

Reinhardt knitted his brows; while [Heaven’s Memory] had hinted at a required bloodline for the World Tree, he’d presumed it meant elves generally, not High Elves specifically.

High Elves, indeed.

Refusing to abandon his scheme prematurely, he probed further.

"Do any High Elves linger anywhere in the world?"

Though Elfenheim had collapsed, not every elf had perished.

Similar to Solaris, numerous elves had escaped and found sanctuary in foreign realms. Thus, a High Elf could yet arise among them.

Yet Eldrin shattered that prospect with further grim tidings.

"High Elves can never emerge in this realm again. They arise solely from the Elfenheim royal house, bearers of the untainted bloodline"...

"During the Great Catastrophe, demons targeted and eradicated Elfenheim’s royal lineage first. Those like the king who survived fought the infernal legions to grant our forebears escape, meeting their end."

Yet another strike, the chamber’s air weighed down unbearably.

Sighs rippled once more; without the royal house capable of producing High Elves, the Origin Seed amounted to nothing.

Revival of the World Tree necessitated the ritual, the seed, and the priestess.

As the rest wallowed in fate’s harshness, Reinhardt pondered intensely for a way forward.

The demons’ purge of the elven royals signified their awareness of the priestess and dread of the World Tree’s return.

Considering the demons’ emphasis on thwarting it—exterminating the entire royal blood—he grew ever more convinced his course was correct.

Reviving the World Tree must proceed, come what may.

Thus, amid the others’ distraction, he discreetly entered the Spirit Realm.

Unique Skill- [Divine Animus: Spirit World]

.

His surroundings warped, as though traversing a cosmic passage with stars and nebulae whizzing past.

In the blink of an eye, he stood within the Spirit Realm, awestruck by its splendor.

Far off loomed the grand, towering Divine Tree Yggdrasil.

Gazing upon the Spirit Realm’s vista, Reinhardt let out a breath.

It hadn’t been long since his last visit, but the spectacle here always captivated him anew.

Shortly, a limb of the Divine Tree stirred, and Spirit King Asterius descended to welcome him, retaining his charming diminutive shape.