The Demon of The North-Chapter 148 - 147. Tree of Life

Borgia Imperial Palace

"So, it’s done?" Roxanne asked, her voice calm as it carried through the communication orb.

The image within the crystal shimmered, resolving into Mara’s figure. Dust and blood still marked her armor, though her posture remained straight and composed.

"A few have fled. We’re still searching for those who escaped," Mara reported evenly. "But the rest are dead, Your Highness."

Roxanne nodded once, unsurprised. "They’ll be dead sooner or later. Just keep watch on any villages near Rothschild."

"Yes, Your Highness." Mara inclined her head, then closed the communication orb.

The glow faded, and with it the emperor’s voice. She turned her focus back to the hunt, eyes scanning the forest ahead as her knights spread out to track the last traces of grey orcs that stained the earth.

Roxanne, meanwhile, felt no unease.

A week had already passed since the orcs first arrived at the Rothschild port. If any of the strongest among them had survived the battle and the pursuit, their time would be running out regardless.

Because Kaelindor is never a land meant for outsiders like the Calonians.

The mana in its soil, in its air, and in the very water that flowed through its rivers is far denser than anything their bodies had been built to endure. Here, magic isn’t a tool or a weapon; it’s a living presence, woven into every breath and every heartbeat.

The Calonians aren’t made for that. They came from a continent despised by the spirits and cursed by their kings, a land where mana was nonexistent, corrupted, and starved.

Those grey orcs with intelligence had never known what it was like to feel pure mana running through their veins. When they finally do, it doesn’t strengthen them. It poisoned them.

Their bodies resisted at first, muscles tightening, hearts straining as they tried to force themselves to adapt. Pain followed, slow, grinding, and inescapable. Veins burned. Organs labored under a pressure they could not release. The strongest lasted longer, sheer will holding them upright even as their insides began to fail.

And there’s no escaping it, because Kaelindor didn’t reject them with violence. The land is already a death trap for them from the beginning. One by one, their hearts would give out, overwhelmed by mana they could not circulate, could not cleanse, and could not survive.

When the Mara arrived, having first arrived at Rothschild, followed by Leonhart a few hours later, it had already been the third day since the Calonians docked at the Rothschild port. They hadn’t died immediately, but the pain had been there from the start. 𝕗𝗿𝕖𝐞𝐰𝗲𝕓𝐧𝕠𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝐨𝚖

Mana pressure crushed from the inside; Mara and the knights had sensed it even then, a low, constant agony radiating from the invaders like a foul stench.

The orcs are strong, but they were never strong enough for the Kaelindor forces. They’re certainly not strong enough in their weakened state.

Roxanne had received no alarming reports from any other ports. Borough Viscounty remained quiet, its defenses untouched. There were no sightings of fleeing orcs, no signs of infiltration or raids, or another foreign fleet. Everything is as it should be.

Marvessa kept Vivianne informed through their spirit-bound communication, faster and far more efficient than any orb. Through that link, they could exchange thoughts, emotions, and, when necessary, even senses.

When Marvessa allowed it, Vivianne could see through her eyes, hear the sounds of the Borough port, feel the wind off the sea, and feel the pulse of mana flowing through the land.

No orc had slipped through unnoticed.

Roxanne leaned back slightly, her gaze distant yet assured. The battle had been brutal, the hunt relentless, but the outcome is exactly what she had expected, even as part of her had itched to join the war herself, to step onto the field and remind the world why her name is feared.

But she can’t be reckless, because she’s the emperor now. Even if she’s the strongest being on the entire continent, her strength is no longer something to be spent recklessly.

It isn’t needed, not when she commanded a full battalion of elite Borgia knights, the best of the werewolf shifters, the power of Fenclade’s beastmen warriors, and the greatest sage among the demon kin.

They’re enough, more than enough. Those forces existed for this very reason: to deal with uninvited guests, with those who crossed borders carrying malicious intentions instead of respect. Each played their role flawlessly, turning invasion into annihilation.

Roxanne closed her eyes briefly, exhaling slowly. Kaelindor doesn’t tolerate invaders. And it never would.

"What are we going to do with the Aerthysians?" Roxanne muttered, fingers resting against her temple. "We can’t leave them stranded on their ships forever."

She wasn’t speaking aloud in any hall or chamber. Her voice traveled through layered senses, passed from her to Vivianne, from Vivianne to Marvessa, and from Marvessa to Red Vossler.

The connection was seamless, carrying not only words but also fragments of intent and concern. Roxanne could faintly taste the salt of the sea through Marvessa’s shared senses and feel the slow, steady rocking of a ship beneath Red’s boots.

Red didn’t answer immediately. Roxanne sensed him thinking, "We found an empty island," Red said at last. "About twenty-five miles off the shore, between Borough and McKellen territory."

Roxanne straightened slightly. An island that close is no small thing—close enough to monitor, close enough to control, but far enough to isolate if needed.

"How big?" she asked, tilting her head, gaze sharpening despite the distance between them.

There is a pause, then Red’s tone shifted, becoming more thoughtful. "Almost as big as the previous Borgia."

That made her still. The old Borgia island had been more than land. It had been a fortress, a proving ground, a place that had once housed the mixed blood. The new Roderion territory, which is as large as the previous Borgia island, indicates that the island is sufficiently expansive.

Roxanne exhaled slowly, weighing possibilities. The Aerthysians aren’t enemies, hopefully. They can kill them if they turn into enemies. But they aren’t Kaelindorian either.

Refugees, survivors, remnants of a continent already scarred by war and greed. Letting them linger on their ships indefinitely would only breed desperation, disease, and resentment. But allowing them onto the mainland is out of the question.

"Check it first," Roxanne said finally, her voice firm. "Every inch of it."

Her thoughts raced ahead as she spoke. "Make sure it’s safe. The mana isn’t as pure as on our mainland; there are no monsters or anything that could turn into a problem later. Bring Marvessa to check."

"We’ll handle it, your highness," Red replied without hesitation.

"If it’s suitable," Roxanne continued, "then inform the Aerthysians they can stay there. Temporarily." She emphasized the word, even through the shared senses. "They’ll be under observation. Supplies will be regulated. No ships leave without permission."

Red hummed in acknowledgment. "Understood."

Roxanne leaned back once more, her shoulders finally easing as her gaze drifted toward the tall window. Beyond it, Kaelindor’s skyline stretched beneath a sky saturated with pure mana, threads of light shimmering faintly in the air, invisible to most, but clearly seen to her.

"They still need the Tree of Life to live well." Vivianne said quietly. The spirit-bound connection had just severed; Vivianne’s voice grounded the moment, pulling Roxanne back from her thoughts.

Roxanne turned slightly, brow furrowing. "How do we do it?" she asked her wife softly.

Vivianne doesn’t answer at once. Instead, she lifted her hand and gestured behind her. Four figures hovered nearby, the Spirit Kings, in their small figures. "They can do it," Vivianne said simply.

Roxanne followed Vivianne’s gaze, her expression shifting, not to surprise, but to understanding. The Tree of Life isn’t something that could be planted by mortal hands alone. Not when she lacked the knowledge herself, and not when such a thing stood beyond conquest, beyond command.

A Tree of Life isn’t made in the way cities are built or weapons forged. It should be invited.

First came balance. The land had to be willing, mana, soil with enough mana untouched by corruption, capable of sustaining a living convergence of power. The spirits listened to the earth, the water beneath it, and the air above it, ensuring no element dominated another.

Then came consent. The flow of mana itself had to be aligned, not forced into obedience. Roots could only take hold where energy moved freely, where life could circulate without tearing itself apart.

Finally came a blessing. The spirits who governed mana did not pour power into the tree; they wove it, water to carry life, wind to allow breath, fire to awaken growth, and nature to bind it all together. Each element existed in harmony, none overpowering the rest.

Only then would the seed awaken, rising as proof of equilibrium. "They need it to continue living," Undine said, her voice flowing gently through the shared hearing.

Roxanne closed her eyes briefly, absorbing the weight of those words. "So we need to go to the island, right?" she asked, her tone steady as Vivianne allowed her to hear the Spirit Kings directly.

"Yes," Terra Nova replied. Her voice is deep and resonant.

Roxanne inhaled slowly, then opened her eyes and nodded. "Then we’ll go," she said.