While Arwen awaited Isaac in Elodia, a strange feeling coursed through her.

Walking the streets of Alvenheim was an entirely different experience than traversing the Academy grounds. Back then, the attention Isaac received was akin to curiosity toward a celebrity. But here, the atmosphere was that of a triumphant hero’s parade.

Cheers filled the air as white petals scattered down from the sky, creating an ethereal scene. Voices sang his praises, their words blending into a symphony of admiration.

Despite his initial discomfort, Isaac couldn’t help but feel the weight of what he had achieved. A confluence of improbable events had led to this moment, where he stood as a savior, having thwarted the dark designs of demon worshippers and averting potential tragedies for numerous nations.

His deeds—accidental or not—had made him a hero. Even so, this overwhelming attention didn’t sit well with him.

'Helium will be an even bigger spectacle than this,' he thought.

If Alvenheim could muster such grandeur, Helium, a realm that regarded him as a savior even before his rise to prominence, would surely put on an even more fervent display. The demons viewed him not just as a benefactor but as a saint, revered across their entire race.

As Isaac contemplated this, the procession came to a halt at Elodia’s gates, guarded by Alvenheim’s elite warriors.

"For the hero who saved the world! Salute!"

Clank!

The warriors, clad in pristine armor adorned with intricate crests, saluted in perfect unison, their posture exuding discipline.

"These are the Guardians of Alvenheim," Beatrice explained. "Only the most skilled and honorable warriors may join their ranks."

Isaac nodded, though he couldn’t suppress a faint laugh at the sheer grandeur of it all. Even his nation’s Imperial Knights wouldn’t have sent such an honor guard to greet him.

"Thank you for your warm welcome," Isaac said, bowing politely to the guardians.

Their response came in a thunderous shout that nearly deafened him, forcing him to wince as their collective gratitude echoed through the gates.

As they passed through the gates, Elodia, Alvenheim’s seat of governance, revealed itself in all its glory. Unlike traditional palaces, Elodia resembled a sacred temple, blending the architectural styles of Olympus and ancient Rome.

Towering trees surrounded the structure, their presence lending an air of harmony between civilization and nature. Looming in the background was the World Tree, its colossal form dominating the skyline.

Isaac marveled at the sight, his awe momentarily interrupted by a familiar voice.

"So, you’ve finally arrived."

Turning toward the source, his gaze fell upon Arwen, standing gracefully at the entrance to Elodia.

Dressed in a form-fitting white dress that accentuated her every feature, she exuded a delicate balance of elegance and allure. A thigh-high slit revealed her porcelain leg, while the subtle scent of an ethereal fragrance wafted toward him.

"…Arwen?" Isaac muttered, stunned by her transformed appearance.

Arwen, noticing his gaze, fidgeted slightly, brushing her silver hair behind her ear as her cheeks flushed pink.

"You look beautiful," Isaac said earnestly, stepping closer. "You’ve always been beautiful, but this…"

His words trailed off as Arwen’s face reddened further, her hands nervously gripping the fabric of her dress.

The moment grew more intimate as Beatrice and Haas tactfully withdrew, leaving the two alone. Isaac, now inches away, gently placed a hand on Arwen’s cheek, eliciting a slight tremor from her.

Her silvery eyes, shimmering with affection, met his gaze. For a moment, the world seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of them.

But Isaac, sensing the weight of the moment, chose to lighten the atmosphere.

"So," he began, lowering his hand, "what’s this gift you mentioned?"

Arwen’s composure shattered instantly. Flustered, she stammered, "Ah, y-yes! The gift! It’s… inside Elodia. If you’d like, I can—"

Her voice faltered, and her face burned an even deeper shade of red. It didn’t take much for Isaac to piece together the nature of this “gift,” and he chuckled softly.

"There’s no rush," he said gently. "Let’s take our time."

Relieved, Arwen nodded, her expression softening. But before they could decide their next steps, an unexpected gust of wind swept through Elodia.

The wind carried a flurry of leaves and petals, swirling toward the towering World Tree. Birds took flight in unison, their wings cutting through the air as they soared toward the sacred site.

Isaac and Arwen exchanged glances, the natural phenomena leaving them momentarily speechless.

"It seems… we have permission," Isaac said, breaking the silence with a wry smile.

Arwen, still dazed, muttered under her breath, "Nature itself… granting approval directly…"

In all of Alvenheim’s history, there had never been a case where the World Tree responded without ritual or invocation. Yet, here it was, seemingly welcoming Isaac.