A bead of sweat rolled down Alcyone’s cheek. For the first time since ascending the throne, he felt tense.0

How could he not? The very power that had elevated him to become a sovereign—its essence—stood before him, ready to strip it all away in an instant. 0

The benevolence that had once defined his father’s expression wasn’t there. Instead, there was only ruthlessness and unrelenting chill. 0

It reminded him of the last moments of his father that only he had witnessed.0

Alcyone closed his eyes briefly, steadying his turbulent thoughts. At this rate, his resurrected father’s judgment was inevitable.0

Despite having endured countless eons, the prospect of death still terrified him. He loathed the thought of never seeing the world he had built—but above all, a certain emotion surged within him.0

I didn’t stop it. No... I chose not to.0

As a result, his father died, and the World Tree withered. Its decay, coupled with the depravity of his siblings, had plunged countless worlds into ruin. Even the realm of elves and spirits—a world Alcyone had painstakingly nurtured—wasn’t spared.2

Regret was a foreign concept to his former self, who...0