The war in Arcfira was still raging on, and despite the odds now being heavily stacked against the heavily weakened Arcfiran Confederated Tribes, the resilience and fanatical devotion of the forces loyal to the Great Tree kept the fight going for far longer than one would have expected. While Nature had returned to its chaotic yet ordered roots, with non-sentient plants, animals, and fungi now behaving as the laws of nature intended, there were still some that, despite having their chains broken, stayed loyal to the one that had bound them in its service.

That said, the tide was going against the forces loyal to the Great Tree, and more and more land was now under the stewardship of the so-called ‘Fallen’ Tree. The ego of the elder tree demanded that he be the apex of all, and despite his ego being so immense, the fool could just barely hold on to power.

While the elder brother of the pair had claimed the name ‘Yggdrasil’ as his own, which a pure sign of his hubris, the younger had never borne the ambition, nor the excessive pride needed to give himself such a grandiose and utterly narcissistic name. No, the younger of the pair didn’t actually have a name, or at least he didn’t have a name that he identified as his own. He just let himself be called by whatever moniker people wanted to use, because, after all, what was the point of even having a set name when you existed solely to perpetuate the existence of a fundamental force of reality?

He needed no titles or names because, unlike his brother, he didn’t need an army of sycophants and brownnosers constantly praising him to know that he, himself, was a good thing for this world. That said, because he had no name he was constantly being assigned new ones, which he permitted because it wasn’t his place to force people to be something different from what they wanted to be. He, unlike his brother, was no slave driver and valued the infinite choice that all things had at their disposal.

With all that said, he was now, more than ever before, becoming something that could very well lead him down the same road his arrogant brother had taken. With more territory and more supporters, he also gained more responsibilities. Unlike some, he took his job very seriously, for to not do so would likely see him fall into the same rut that Yggdrasil had.

To top things off, he could easily have added his immense power to the forces fighting on his behalf, and he did do so, at least in a manner of speaking. However, this was not a battle purely to make himself the dominant force in Arcfira. No, this was a war for the very hearts, minds, and souls of all who lived here and beyond.

Those who had been freed from their hidden chains and chose to rebel ultimately needed to win on their own more than have him intervene. They needed the catharsis that came from beating their former slave master with their own two hands (or, in some cases, three or more hands), and if he stuck himself too intensely into their fight it would defeat the purpose of their revolt.

No, for better or for worse, he simply needed to take a back seat, giving a little help here and there when absolutely needed, and watch as those who once were unknowing slaves for generations reclaimed their honor, their pride, and their freedom. And once they did win, which they would, of course, do handily now that Darksol was backing them up, then he would let them decide the fate of his brother.

They had suffered more than he, so it was only fair that they be the ones to pass judgment, and once that choice was made, he would help them carry it out. Well, he would unless they didn’t want him to intercede. After all, as he had stated before, this was their war, and their time to shine.

For now, though, he had a continent to heal, bit by bit, piece by piece, and he would need to focus on that if he wanted to keep Nature from switching sides again. It would be a long, laborious task, but he would atone for the crimes of his brother, even if nobody wanted him to. His own sibling had fucked all this shit up, and his brother would almost certainly outright refuse to clean up his mess.

It was a long, painful, dirty job. But, hey, someone had to do it, right? But, he did have one thing he needed to do in order to make his job just a little bit easier.

It was time to give Kain another call.

…

Kain sat back in his chair. He had just finished hashing out a compromise with the nameless Tree that his mobile flying fortress city had forcibly awakened not too long ago, and while this agreement would slow the march of his soldiers down by a fair bit, it would allow him to have a much stronger reign over this continent after the war was over. Well, it would if the deal went through without a hitch.

He was going to roll the dice on this one, gambling that the names Tree would be able to keep Arcfira under its control and, as a result, under his control. He had already gained the allegiance of that second Tree, although it was not at all like the other oaths that had been sworn to him and his. Likewise, he felt no desire to fully invest in Arcfira at all and fully intended to let the nameless Tree and the people native to this area do what they wanted.

He had no desire to fight an endlessly grinding guerrilla war here, nor did he want to simply wipe the slate clean. While it would still be a puppet, the new version of the Arcfiran Confederated Tribes, or whatever its next iteration would be called, would be far more autonomous than any other state in his empire. After all, this place was fucking massive and would take decades, if not centuries to transform into a place more along the lines of the Europan lands, and he honestly didn’t want to waste the resources and time and manpower on that kind of thing.

Besides, the culture here was so radically different that it made no sense to try and force a conversion. This was no game, after all, so he couldn’t just click a button and watch people switch from one viewpoint to another and one identity to another overnight.

Oh, wait, his Throne might actually be able to do that if he tried to…

Well, he may have been a cruel, sadistic, callous bastard, and he may have been an Abominable King, but he wasn’t going to do to these lands what the western nations did to Africa in his old world. They deserved the chance to be whatever they wanted to be, and if they requested input, then he would be glad to give it. It wasn’t worth the hassle trying to make them change, and if they wanted to change then they would do so themselves. He didn't much like the idea of sticking around in Arcfira save for the northernmost and southernmost tips and a few places along the edges. It just didn't feel like a good choice to try and fully take the place over, and despite calling himself 'evil' he was not going to throw valuable lives at the continent until it became something more suited to his 'grand ambitions'.

Besides, there was no doubt in his mind that the war had already shaken up the status quo beyond the point of salvaging. The elves would either try and forget all that had happened, or they would willingly adapt, improvise, and overcome the new challenges that they would face.

But, once again, that was their choice to make, not his. The Great Tree and its forces, though, definitely needed to go; and that was, more than anything else, completely non-negotiable.