Immortal Druid

We entered the staircase leading downward, leaving the library behind us as the stone door slowly groaned shut. The sound echoed through the narrow passageway before fading into silence. Dust drifted from the ceiling with each step we took, and the ancient stairs spiraled so deeply underground that even my spiritual senses struggled to gauge how far they extended.

I glanced toward Mab while descending beside her. “Did you know this place existed?”

Mab frowned slightly as she brushed her fingers along the damp stone wall. “I have no idea,” she admitted. “When you reach my age, memory becomes... complicated. There are things I know happened, things I think happened, and things that might simply be dreams I repeated too many times.”

She let out a soft breath before continuing.

“So I might’ve known about this place. Or I might not have. Honestly, I’m not even certain if I’ve entered this city before.”

“That’s not reassuring at all.”

“It isn’t meant to be.”

We continued downward in silence afterward. The deeper we descended, the colder the air became. The darkness thickened unnaturally around us until even my enhanced eyesight could barely make out the stairs beneath my feet.

Eventually, the shadows became absolute.

I raised my hand and gathered mana around the head of my staff.

“Sunlight Orb.”

A warm sphere of golden light bloomed above the wood, illuminating the staircase with controlled radiance. Unlike ordinary light spells, the orb carried a faint touch of solar energy, causing the darkness around us to recoil slightly.

Mab immediately stopped walking.

“We shouldn’t continue,” she said quietly.

I turned toward her. “What’s the problem?”

For the first time since I’d met her, Mab looked genuinely afraid. Her face had gone pale, and there was tension in her shoulders I’d never seen before. Even her breathing seemed uneven.

“What’s wrong?” I asked again.

Mab stared into the darkness below us. “I don’t remember this place,” she whispered. “But for some reason, I’m very scared of it.”

That answer unsettled me more than I cared to admit.

An immortal like Mab had survived countless eras, monsters, wars, and probably disasters beyond imagination. Seeing her frightened made the staircase ahead feel infinitely more dangerous.

I sighed softly. “You can wait outside if you want. I can just explore alone.”

Mab immediately looked at me with worry in her eyes.

“No,” she said firmly. “I’ll come with you.”

“You don’t have to force yourself.”

“I know.”

She lowered her gaze briefly before speaking in a quieter voice.

“But... I wish to remain by your side.”

I studied her expression carefully.

She was struggling badly.

I honestly didn’t think immortals could sweat, yet droplets had already formed along her forehead. Her hand trembled faintly as she gripped her sleeve. At that moment, I decided I’d simply return another time alone. There was no reason to drag her through whatever nightmare this place represented to her.

I turned around casually. “Actually, we should leave. There’s no need for you to force yourself.”

Mab’s eyes widened before narrowing in irritation.

“If you want to go, then just go,” she snapped. “Don’t stop because of my feelings.”

“You’re clearly terrified.”

“And?”

“And normal people don’t willingly walk into places that terrify them.”

“I’m not normal.”

“That’s exactly the problem.”

Mab clicked her tongue before stepping past me and continuing downward.

“Stop being stubborn,” I called after her.

“You’re the stubborn one,” she replied without turning back. “If we came here, then we’re finishing this.”

I watched her descend for a few seconds before sighing helplessly.

...Yeah.

My acting skills were terrible. She’d noticed immediately that I’d only suggested retreating because I was worried about her. I rubbed the bridge of my nose before following after her.

“At least let me lead the way,” I muttered. “I’ve got the light.”

Without waiting for a response, I activated Wild Shape: Tiger. My body expanded instantly as fur burst across my skin. Muscles coiled with explosive strength while my senses sharpened dramatically. Maintaining the Sunlight Orb my head was awkward, but manageable.

Slowly, I accelerated.

The staircase blurred beneath me as I rushed downward at tremendous speed, the orb casting streaks of golden light across the ancient walls. Behind me, Mab followed effortlessly despite my pace, her robes fluttering wildly through the tunnel.

After several more minutes of descent, the staircase finally ended.

I slowed to a stop.

Before us stood a vast underground chamber.

A single beam of daylight shone from high above through an elaborate mirror mechanism embedded into the ceiling, reflecting sunlight downward through countless polished surfaces until it illuminated the center of the cavern.

There stood a tree.

Or rather, the remains of one.

Its bark had withered black, its branches brittle and hollow. No leaves remained upon it. The roots spread across the stone floor like skeletal fingers grasping desperately at dead earth. I dismissed the Sunlight Orb and my Wild Shape. The natural light filling the chamber felt strangely sacred.

Using Druidic Insight, I examined the tree carefully and found it completely dead.

Just a hollow husk stood before us.

I heard a quiet sound beside me. Mab was crying. I immediately turned toward her in surprise. She stood before the tree with one hand covering her mouth while tears streamed silently down her face.

“What’s the problem?” I asked softly.

Mab shakily reached toward the bark.

“I... don’t know,” she whispered. “But this tree feels very important to me.”

The moment her fingers touched the trunk, golden light erupted from the withered bark.

I took an instinctive step backward.

“What’s happening?” I asked, unable to hide the panic in my voice.

The dead tree began to crack apart.

Golden motes of light spilled from the fractures like fireflies escaping into the air. The hollow trunk split open slowly while ancient spiritual energy flooded the chamber with overwhelming pressure.

Then a figure emerged from within the light.

An old woman with leafy green hair stepped forward calmly while carrying a wooden staff intertwined with living vines. Her eyes shone with endless wisdom, and despite her aged appearance, the very air bent gently around her presence.

Mab stared at her with trembling eyes.

“M-Master?”

The old woman blinked before looking at Mab in surprise.

“Oh?” she said lightly. “It seemed my disciple had succeeded.”

Her gaze shifted toward the surroundings.

“When is this?” she asked. “How’s the Willow Order?”

Mab swallowed hard before answering.

“The Third Era,” she replied softly. “The Willow Order’s still intact. It’s been a very long time, master.”

I immediately raised my hand.

“Hold on a second,” I interrupted. “Succeeded in what? And who exactly are you? A proper introduction would be nice.”

The old woman looked toward me with amusement dancing in her eyes as she lightly tapped her staff against the ground. 

In the blink of an eye, her aged appearance vanished. Wrinkles disappeared. Her posture straightened. Her leafy green hair became vibrant and radiant as overwhelming vitality surged from her body like an endless forest awakening to spring.

The woman before us smiled faintly.

“I am Yggdra,” she declared. “Founder of the Willow Order.”

There were two things troubling me. First, my Druidic Insight couldn’t see through Yggdra at all. I was neither blocked nor obscured. She was not even hidden behind some powerful concealment art. Just... nothing.

Whenever I used Druidic Insight on a living being, I could normally perceive something. Life force, elemental affinity, emotional state, traces of corruption, spiritual composition? Something always appeared.

But when I looked at Yggdra, it felt like staring into an empty void wearing the shape of a person.

That alone was horrifying.

The second problem was the implication behind everything she’d said so far. 

Not to mention her name itself felt wildly out of place.

Yggdra.

That wasn’t remotely consistent with the naming conventions of this world. Honestly, it sounded suspiciously close to Yggdrasil from Norse mythology back on Earth, which immediately raised several deeply concerning questions.

I pointed at her. “Okay, no. Clarifications. Right now.”

Yggdra tilted her head slightly.

“You are the Avatar of the Source,” she said calmly, as though that explained anything. “Your appearance signaled the coming of the chaotic era.”

“That did not answer anything.”

“You will bring harmony between the three worlds.”

“How about no?”

“The prophecy states that—”

Mab abruptly cut her off.

“Master,” she said sharply. “If you continue revealing things to him, the dark sun of misfortune within him will grow.”

Yggdra merely smiled.

“It does not matter.”

Mab’s expression darkened.

“It absolutely matters.”

“The prophecy foretold that he would bring harmony to the three worlds when the dark sun of misfortune bloomed,” Yggdra replied. “If that is inevitable, then perhaps accelerating it is not necessarily bad.”

I stared at her in disbelief. Accelerate it? Why would anyone willingly accelerate something called the dark sun of misfortune? That sounded catastrophically evil.

Mab immediately stepped in front of me.

“No,” she said firmly. “I won’t let that happen.”

There was genuine anger in her voice now. At the same time, there was fear.

“I already lived through this once before,” Mab continued quietly. “And this time, I decided I would make him happy.”

Before I could even process what she meant, she grabbed my hand and pulled me away. The underground chamber vanished behind us in a blur as Mab practically dragged me up the staircase. Neither Yggdra nor her overwhelming presence followed.

Soon, we emerged back into the ancient library.

The familiar smell of old books and dust somehow felt unbelievably comforting after whatever the hell that underground meeting had been.

Mab finally stopped walking.

I stared at her silently for a moment.

“So,” I began carefully. “Not your first life.”

Mab hesitated before reluctantly nodding. Weirdly enough, it explained a lot, starting with how clingy she was. I scratched my cheek awkwardly.

“Hey,” I said, trying to lighten the mood. “It’s not my first life either.”

I thought that was a pretty solid icebreaker. Apparently not.

Mab remained completely silent.

Right.

Okay.

Time for Plan B.

“With my genre savvy and a bit of wild guessing,” I continued, “how about I offer my theory?”

She looked at me quietly.

“You lived this life once before,” I said. “In that life, we kind of had a thing going on. Then one day you died, somehow ended up back in the past, relived everything, and started changing events little by little.”

I paused briefly.

“Did I get that right?”

Mab slowly nodded. Her eyes looked painfully conflicted. Well, regression trope confirmed! It was a good start. I almost wanted to compliment myself for figuring it out so quickly. Instead, I rubbed the back of my neck awkwardly.

“So, how did you know about this place?” I asked. “Or that path underground?”

Mab lowered her gaze.

“I’ve been here before,” she admitted softly. “But my memories aren’t trustworthy anymore.”

She leaned against one of the shelves nearby.

“I lived for an extremely long time in my previous life,” she continued. “And I’ve lived a long time again in this one. Some memories overlap. Some contradict each other. Some feel more like dreams than reality.”

She closed her eyes briefly.

“I never intended for you to meet my master.”

I tried to smile.

“Hey, I have memory problems too.”

Nothing.

Not even the slightest reaction.

...Tough crowd.

“I’m sorry,” said Mab. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“It’s fine.”

“No,” she said immediately. “It isn’t.”

Her fingers tightened slightly around her sleeve.

“The dark sun of misfortune within you must’ve grown.”

My expression slowly stiffened. Right. That thing. I closed my eyes and activated Druidic Insight inwardly. The sensation was deeply unpleasant. Roots of spiritual perception extended through my body, probing the strange presence hidden within my soul.

When I opened my eyes again, I realized I was sweating.

Mab immediately noticed my expression.

“How bad is it?”

I swallowed.

“It’s twice the size from before.”

Silence filled the library.

Mab let out a slow, tired sigh.

“I see.”

She sounded strangely calm about it, which somehow worried me more.

“The best thing we can do now is prepare,” she said quietly. “That means more training.”

I frowned. “Prepare for what exactly?”

“For the day the misfortune blooms.”

That sentence sounded unbelievably ominous.

Mab looked directly into my eyes.

“I’ll teach you everything I know,” she declared. “Every technique. Every secret. Everything I learned across both lives.”

There was determination in her voice now as she stepped closer and gently held my hand again.

“And when the day finally comes,” she whispered, “I hope you’ll be strong enough to come out victorious.”

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