Chapter 156: The Creator God

The exact instant Eleanor’s hand tightened around Ian’s neck, a burst of radiance erupted abruptly.

A wave of light swept horizontally across the chamber.

Eleanor was blasted away from Ian, hurtling straight through the entrance before slamming heavily against the rubble outside. His grip released. Ian dropped to the stone floor, hacking violently, yet his consciousness slipped away into darkness before he could even register what had transpired.

Sometime later, Ian stirred weakly. His throat burned with a searing agony, and his chest felt crushingly heavy. Forcing his eyes open, his blurred vision slowly steadied and regained focus.

He was still alive, he hadn’t been murdered by Eleanor.

Yet his entire body was currently dangling mid-air, hoisted effortlessly by a hand gripping the collar of his tunic.

Dazed, Ian lifted his gaze to look up at the man standing before him. It was an extraordinarily stunning man boasting waist-length black hair and ruby-red eyes. That very face instantly brought to mind a photograph Ian had once laid eyes on inside Kei’s home.

Julius, he is Kei’s father.

"Still kicking, are we?" Julius chuckled softly. "Good thing I made it in time, though some unexpected business delayed me."

He dropped Ian aside. Staggering, Ian braced his hands against the floor, coughing a few more times before he could draw breath properly. Julius ignored him entirely, striding straight up to the drained jade pedestal.

Kei remained motionless inside it.

Julius bent down, gently stroking his son’s warmed cheeks. His fingertips lingered against that warm skin. A very quiet sigh escaped his lips.

"Even downing an entire basin of the Sacred Spring of Life wasn’t enough..." Julius muttered. "As expected, there’s no other choice left... Fortunately, I anticipated this scenario early on."

Ian stared at him, desperately wanting to ask what was wrong with Kei, but his throat burned so fiercely he couldn’t form a single word.

Lying nearby and watching someone arrive to rescue Ian, Kael let out a quiet sigh of relief; so long as Ian didn’t die, everything else was secondary.

Outside, chunks of debris shifted before being blasted away in all directions.

Eleanor hauled himself up from the rubble. His cloak was shredded to pieces and blood stained his features, yet his emerald eyes still burned with lingering fury. Raising a hand, natural green mana condensed within his palm before launching straight toward Julius.

"How dare you sneak-up on me—! You lowly human!"

Julius didn’t even bother turning his head as he let out a soft sigh.

"Eleanor."

With that single, calm utterance, Julius knew Eleanor would halt his hand.

"Do you not recognize me?"

Eleanor froze dead in his tracks.

The mana within his palm dissolved instantly. His complexion drained to a sheet of white, and as though robbed of every ounce of strength in his limbs, he buckled straight down onto the stone floor. His disheveled locks spilled across his shoulders, while his wide eyes stared unblinkingly at the man standing beside the pedestal.

His lips twitched several times, yet no sound escaped.

"You... you are..."

Trembling violently, Eleanor bowed low, pressing his body flat against the ground.

"The Creator God!"

Those three words felt as though an ancient, dust-covered volume of history had been flung open once more.

Within the memories of an Elf who had lived for over a millennium, countless distant events had faded, buried so deeply beneath the sands of time that even he could no longer recall them clearly. Yet there was one singular, extraordinary day Eleanor had never forgotten.

*"You must mind your etiquette and decorum; do not disgrace me."*

The former Elf King had smiled gently, reaching out to ruffle Eleanor’s hair.

*"Lord Arion, who are we going to meet?"*

Eleanor had asked with youthful curiosity.

Arion had chuckled softly, adjusting Eleanor’s slightly crooked collar before replying: "You are exceptionally fortunate today, child. You are going to meet the Creator God, the supreme sovereign who forged our very world."

That was the day the previous Elf King had brought him, the designated heir to the throne, to pay respects to the Creator God when He visited the Tree of Life.

The Creator God back then had possessed golden locks and breathtaking golden eyes, radiating a majestic aura that was both pure and intimately approachable, entirely devoid of the haughty aloofness Eleanor had envisioned. He had gently stroked the glowing leaves encircling the trunk. Angels had fluttered gracefully amidst the branches, their white wings reflecting a soft radiance that blanketed the entire forest.

"Arion, is this child the next Elf King?"

"Your name is Eleanor, right?"

He had smiled down at Eleanor, much like eternity itself stamping its indelible mark upon the soul of the tiny Elven child.

That scene had remained so sacred that Eleanor remembered it as vividly as though it were yesterday, despite the passage of over a thousand years.

Right now, the man before his eyes bore an entirely different appearance, yet that aura... Eleanor could not possibly mistake it.

Ian sat slumped on the ground, one hand clutching his agonizingly sore throat, staring back and forth between Julius and the prostrate Eleanor. He hadn’t the faintest clue what had just occurred.

He only knew that the man who had arrived to save Kei wasn’t simply Kei’s father.

He was the Creator God Himself?!

Lying prone upon the ground and staring fixedly at Julius, Kael was equally dumbfounded. The boy couldn’t process the words registering in his ears, why on earth was the Elf King addressing a seemingly ordinary human man as the Creator God?

Within Kael’s memories, the visage of the Creator God had always been depicted with crystal clarity in basic lore classes:

The Creator God possessed the countenance of eternity; His eyes and golden hair forever blazed with a brilliant, sparkling light, ensuring that the mere day of His arrival banished the dark of night forever.

And yet... Why on earth did the Creator God of their Elven poetry look like this?