Chapter 67: The Secret of the Script 1

“Heh, little fellow.”

Keta’s deep voice carried a hint of amusement.

“The very first time I met you, I sensed something unusually familiar about you.”

“There was an aura around you that reminded me of nature itself.”

“For one of our treant kind, that was quite surprising.”

He paused before continuing.

“There are only two kinds of people capable of giving us that feeling of natural affinity.”

“One is the elven race.”

“The other is someone who possesses the aura of either light-element or wood-element magic.”

Keta’s tone became teasing.

“And yet your known affinity is fire.”

“So the answer is rather obvious, isn’t it?”

I’m also a water-element mage, damn it.

Kent cursed inwardly.

Why does it have to be wood?

But outwardly, he refused to admit anything.

“Grandpa Keta, you must be joking.”

“How could I possibly possess two elemental affinities?”

Kent smiled innocently.

“Maybe you feel close to me simply because I’m naturally kindhearted.”

“Heh.”

Keta was clearly unmoved by Kent’s shameless explanation.

“Little fellow, there is no need to deny it.”

“I mean you no harm.”

“And I have no intention of forcing you to reveal anything.”

He spoke slowly.

“What I am suggesting is merely an exchange.”

“One secret for another.”

“And what I know...”

“Is no ordinary secret.”

“It is an enormous one.”

Keta’s voice became deeper.

“When one lives long enough, one inevitably learns things that others have forgotten.”

“So?”

“What do you think?”

Kent had no intention of exposing his own secrets so easily.

“Grandpa Keta...”

“Could you perhaps let me leave first?”

“I still need to find Daphne and ask her something.”

Kent was already eager to get out of the place.

Although a faint, hazy light illuminated the chamber, the enclosed space inside the tree trunk made him deeply uncomfortable.

“Then ask me first.”

Keta did not give up.

“Perhaps I know the answer.”

It was obvious that Keta had taken an unusual interest in Kent’s possible light-element affinity.

And judging from his persistence...

The matter was probably far more important than he was willing to say.

Kent decided not to stand on ceremony.

He immediately took out a sheet of paper he carried with him.

Then he drew several of the strange kobold symbols onto it.

He held the paper up.

“Do you recognize these?”

Keta fell silent.

For a long moment, he said nothing.

Then a deep sigh echoed through the chamber.

“So many years...”

“And at last, someone has noticed what is hidden within these symbols.”

His voice was no longer teasing.

It had become solemn.

“Little fellow, you are very clever.”

“But what I am about to tell you must remain with you alone.”

“Do not reveal it.”

“Not to anyone.”

What Kent heard next...

Was a secret vast enough to shake the foundations of history itself.

These symbols had possessed many names throughout the ages.

Divine Script.

Demonic Script.

Primordial Script.

Forbidden Script.

And many others besides.

But regardless of the name...

They had once been the common written language of the continent ten thousand years ago.

The script had been passed down by an intelligent race known as the Demon Race.

As for where the Demon Race itself had originally come from...

Even Keta did not know.

But one thing was certain.

It was the Demon Race that had ultimately triggered the legendary War of Gods and Demons.

Ten thousand years ago...

The Demon Race had ruled this entire continent.

Not merely the land beneath their feet.

Even the Eastern Star and Western Star in the heavens had once fallen under their dominion.

In that ancient age...

Humans were little more than serfs beneath the Demon Race.

Elves existed as singers and entertainers reserved for their pleasure.

Dwarves were used as tools to mine the depths of the earth.

Gnomes were tasked with constructing all manner of intricate machinery and precision devices.

And even dragons...

Those mighty creatures feared by nearly every race in the present age...

Had once served as mounts and means of transportation for the demons.

In short...

The Demon Race had stood above all others.

They were the masters not only of the continent...

But of the very heavens beyond it.

Their power had reached a level almost impossible for the races of the present age to imagine.

They possessed gigantic engines of destruction capable of annihilating a city from thousands of miles away.

And from the distant reaches of the heavens, they could command beams of devastation to strike down any enemy who dared challenge them.

Their civilization had once stood at the absolute summit of the world.

Yet none of that had been the true cause of their destruction.

After conquering nearly the entire known world...

The Demon Race became dissatisfied.

Dominion over mortals was no longer enough.

They began attempting something forbidden.

They wanted to create a god.

And that...

Was what finally drew the attention of the gods themselves.

Conflict erupted.

Then war.

A war so vast that it eventually became known to later generations as—

The War of Gods and Demons.

After that catastrophe, the Demon Race vanished from the stage of history.

Their knowledge was erased.

Their legacy was suppressed.

And their written language was declared forbidden by the gods.

From then on, the ancient script gradually disappeared from the world.

Only fragments remained.

Forgotten.

Scattered.

Misunderstood.

Keta looked at the symbols Kent had drawn.

“These markings you discovered...”

“They are part of that language.”

“The language of the Demon Race.”

Kent stared at the paper in his hands.

For the first time, the strange tattoos on the kobold mages no longer seemed primitive.

They seemed ancient.

Terrifyingly ancient.

Then Keta revealed one final detail.

“And according to certain old records...”

“The kobolds themselves were once creatures raised by the Demon Race.”

“Pets.”

“Creatures kept for amusement.”

Kent said nothing.

He simply stared at the strange symbols before him.

The crude tattoos he had once treated as the primitive magic of kobolds...

Might actually be surviving fragments of a civilization that had once ruled the entire world.

Kent was stunned by what Keta had told him.

He had never imagined that those strange symbols could possess such an extraordinary history.

But the shock lasted only a moment.

Soon, his eyes began to shine.

A weapon capable of destroying a city from thousands of miles away...

Wasn’t that something similar to a long-range nuclear weapon?

And those destructive beams fired from the distant reaches of the stars...

Could they have been something like orbital weapons from Earth?

Kent suddenly realized that the civilization of this world ten thousand years ago might have been far more advanced than he had ever imagined.

If that were true...

Then perhaps some of the ideas he had once believed impossible could actually be realized here.

But another question immediately appeared in his mind.

Why had the gods tried to stop the advancement of that civilization?

Had the Demon Race become powerful enough to threaten the gods themselves?

And if that was the case...

Then what exactly were the gods?

Were they truly divine beings?

Or had the claim that gods could be reached through mortal cultivation been nothing more than a lie?

At first, Kent’s eyes had been filled with excitement.

But the deeper he thought about it, the more complicated the matter seemed.

If the Demon Race had developed such an advanced civilization...

Then there should have been countless powerful beings among them.

A civilization capable of ruling an entire continent and even extending its power into the heavens could not possibly have lacked supreme experts.

Yet that civilization had still been destroyed.

Which meant...

Something far greater must have happened ten thousand years ago.

And Kent could not help wondering whether the truth behind that ancient catastrophe might someday affect the things he planned to create himself.

Still, there was one matter he needed to clarify first.

He looked at Keta.

“Grandpa Keta.”

“You said earlier that someone had finally discovered the problem.”

“What exactly did you mean by that?”

“I already told you.”

Keta’s deep voice echoed through the chamber.

“The kobolds were once creatures raised by the Demon Race for amusement.”

“That is why they retained knowledge of many symbols from the Demon Race’s script.”

“As for this truth...”

“I am afraid there may be very few beings left in the world who still know it.”

Keta paused.

“Perhaps I am the only one.”

Kent frowned.

Then Keta spoke again.

“I am already twelve thousand years old.”

“When I came down into the Underdark, I was more than two thousand years old.”

“Back then, I had not yet awakened true intelligence.”

“But everything I experienced was preserved within me.”

Kent stared at the enormous face in the trunk.

A creature that had existed for twelve thousand years...

Even before awakening consciousness, it had been capable of preserving memories through instinct alone.

Keta was not merely old.

He was practically a living fossil from another age.

Then the old tree added,

“So now...”

“Can you finally tell me the truth?”

Kent did not answer immediately.

Instead, he asked,

“Grandpa Keta.”

“Why are you so determined to make me admit it?”

“Can you tell me the real reason?”

Kent had decided that before revealing anything about himself, he needed to understand exactly what Keta wanted.

Keta remained silent for a moment.

Then he finally spoke.

“You probably already know that Ancient Trees of War originally grew on the surface.”

Kent nodded.

“There were once nearly a hundred Ancient Trees of War in the Underdark.”

“More than half of them had lived for over six thousand years.”

Keta’s tone grew solemn.

“For our kind, six thousand years is the final limit for awakening.”

“If an Ancient Tree of War has still not awakened by that age...”

“It will gradually begin to wither.”

“And eventually...”

“It will die.”

“Over the centuries, we discovered something very strange.”

“The Ancient Trees of War that successfully awakened were almost always those transplanted here from the surface.”

“But the trees cultivated entirely within the Underdark...”

“Almost none of them awakened.”

Kent listened carefully.

Keta continued.

“Once one of us awakens, we naturally divide and produce a young sapling.”

“That is how our race reproduces.”

“And that is also why Ancient Trees of War are so rare.”

Kent’s expression changed slightly.

This was no ordinary secret.

Even the Mage Guild headquarters did not know how Ancient Trees of War reproduced.

Yet Keta was revealing it to him without hesitation.

“So...”

Keta continued.

“We have long suspected that something present on the surface is missing here in the Underdark.”

“And after sensing your aura...”

“I began to wonder whether light might be the answer.”

His voice became more serious.

“That is why we want you to cast an Illumination spell.”

“We want to test whether light-element magic can help the young Ancient Trees of War awaken.”

Kent fell silent.

He quickly weighed the risks and benefits.

Then he made his decision.

“Fine.”

“But I have one condition.”

“I want to know everything you know about this ancient script.”

He looked directly at Keta.

“Everything.”

“After all...”

“I still intend to return to the surface someday.”

By agreeing, Kent had effectively admitted what Keta had already guessed.

He possessed light-element magic.

For a long moment, Keta said nothing.

Then his deep voice finally echoed through the chamber.

“Very well.”

“But there is another condition.”

“We must establish a contract.”

Kent narrowed his eyes.

Keta continued slowly.

“If one day you truly find a way out of the Underdark...”

“Then you must help take our people back to the surface.”

His voice carried unusual weight.

“Not merely the Ancient Trees of War.”

“The dark elf race as well.”

Keta fell silent again.

Then he added,

“You must promise to bring us out.”

Kent looked at the ancient face before him.

Only then did he realize...

This was no longer a simple exchange of secrets.

Keta had been waiting thousands of years for someone who might one day open a path back to the world beneath the sun.