"Thank you all for your help." A smile finally appeared on the face of the Elven King. The overwhelming pressure of an invading army over the past few days had nearly suffocated him, but now the crisis had been resolved.
The battlefield of Alfheim was littered with corpses. The undead army was dissipating back into the void through the reverse summoning array, and the alchemically created undead constructs had returned to the floating city in the sky.
An elder elf approached and asked, "Your Majesty, may we begin the ritual now?"
"Proceed." The land lay broken and tainted with death. Such an environment was intolerable for the elves, even for a moment longer.
The Elven King turned to the gathered heroes. "My apologies, but we need to restore the land before we can arrange your rest."
"It's fine." The assembled superheroes were intrigued; they were curious to see how the Elven King would repair a continent so thoroughly shattered.
The surviving elves formed several circles, each closing their eyes and raising their hands high.
A brilliant green radiance emanated from their bodies, converging into the towering phantom of an immense tree.
A low hum resonated through the air. From the ethereal tree, countless verdant branches stretched outward, extending into the void and linking the broken fragments of land.
"Incredible..." Gasps of amazement echoed among the onlookers.
J.A.R.V.I.S. was actively analyzing the unfolding event, but the sheer complexity and magnitude of the data nearly overwhelmed his processing capabilities.
Regardless of size, every fragment of the shattered land slowly reassembled. Wisps of white—souls of the fallen elves—were drawn into the phantom tree, absorbed into its vast essence.
Meanwhile, Spider-Man grew increasingly restless. A deep unease gnawed at him, an instinctual warning from his Spider-Sense. Something was wrong—his family was in danger. And his Spider-Sense had never been wrong before.
After much hesitation, he turned to Garus. "Mr. Garus, shouldn't we head back soon?"
"No rush. We'll return shortly." Garus could clearly sense it—the power of this World Tree far surpassed Azeroth's Teldrassil by several magnitudes.
Before long, Alfheim had been fully restored to its original size. Although devoid of life, nature's resilience would soon reclaim it.
Thor, eyes alight with hope, turned to the Elven King. "Your Majesty, could Asgard be restored in the same way?"
The Elven King doused his hopes like cold water on a flame. "I'm afraid that's impossible. Only Alfheim can be rejuvenated through the World Tree's power, and even then, it requires the life force of our people. This ritual can only be performed once every several millennia."
Attempting it again would be tantamount to sentencing the elves to death.
"I see..." Thor sighed.
Exhausted from their efforts, the elves collapsed onto the ground, visibly aged from the ordeal.
"Everyone, you must be weary. Rest for now; accommodations will be prepared shortly."
...
At dawn the next day, the Elven King visited Garus's chambers.
"Garus, my mother has invited you to see her."
"Your mother?" Garus was puzzled.
"The World Tree is our mother. She awaits you." The Elven King gestured invitingly.
So, at last, he would meet the World Tree.
Through a heavily guarded underground passage, they arrived at an ancient stone door. The Elven King murmured an incantation, causing the door to glow with white light. Beyond it lay a realm of endless radiance.
"Mother is within. I cannot accompany you."
Stepping through the door, Garus felt the familiar sensation of spatial displacement. He now stood within another dimension—a small yet incomprehensibly stable space. Around him, nine gateways formed a circle. Two were shattered, their fragments drifting aimlessly in the void.
Behind him, the gateway closed, and the Elven King was gone.
"Herald of Death, welcome." A gentle, feminine voice spoke from the luminous mist.
As the haze receded, an unfathomably vast tree came into view, its canopy stretching beyond sight. Beneath its boughs stood a woman.
Garus scrutinized her carefully. She was not an illusion—she was real.
Her presence radiated numerous energies: frost, fire, life, death, light, darkness, the power of the sea, the might of the earth, and the force of order. The essence of the Nine Realms flowed within her.
"You wonder why I did not intervene when the Brood invaded?"
"Yes."
"It is the same reason Dormammu cannot freely traverse the Dark Dimension, Cytorrak remains bound to the Crimson Cosmos, and Mephisto is confined to the Netherworld. Beings of immense power cannot easily manifest in the Prime Material Plane. We influence through avatars, disciples, and echoes."
She hesitated before adding, "The Transcendent Gods have woven barriers around your universe, treating it as a proving ground for their progeny."
Garus's eyes narrowed. This was monumental. He had always believed the five Cosmic Entities—along with the Living Tribunal—were the ultimate arbiters of reality.
"Well, that's none of my concern. One day, my power will surpass even the gods."
"Then, Herald of Death, why have you sought me?"
"I need a means to grow stronger beyond simply devouring souls." Garus had reached a bottleneck. This universe held too few worthy souls to consume—too weak to matter, too powerful to face.
As things stood, his raw strength rivaled Thanos—if both fought without artifacts or external aids.
"That is beyond my ability to grant. But know this—sometimes, artifacts and weapons are as much a part of one's strength as personal power."
"I have two more questions. Do you know of Azeroth?" Garus asked. Legends held that the World Tree's roots extended across the multiverse. If true, it was among the greatest repositories of knowledge. He longed to return—to see his old mentor, Tirion Fordring, once more.
"Azeroth?" The World Tree fell silent, seemingly grasping at a faint memory—one that should have been impossible to forget.
"G'Hanir..." she whispered a name.
"Yes, G'Hanir—the first World Tree of Azeroth." Garus had long suspected a connection between the two universes. His ability to summon Sindragosa, liches, crypt fiends, and ghouls in this realm reinforced the theory.
Suddenly, the World Tree shuddered, clutching herself in pain. Moments later, she gasped for breath.
"A great presence is interfering with my mind. My memory... it has been erased."
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TN: This fanfic has been fully translated and is available on my Patreon —— PATREON.COM / PRIMALDEMON