Chapter 1038: A Fatal Mistake
Forest of Nature, The Stillness.
Ever since they learned of the coming war, Aerin had been leading the other Wood Elves in a constant ritual, moving along the camp’s walls and casting a Verdant Blessing on every arrow tower. It was a unique Wood Elf art, a prayer that infused structures with the resilience of ancient trees.
“In the battle to come, these towers will be our lifeline,” Caesar remarked, watching as a shimmering green aura sank into the timber of another tower. He stood beside Aerin; he had been present when the elves sought out Orion and had walked with them from the castle.
Aerin concluded the ritual and turned to him. “I am no warrior, brother, but I know that a fighter is only as good as their weapon. In a siege, these towers will be the most reliable weapons we have.”
Caesar nodded, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword as he stared south, toward the enemy. “If we can hold them off this time, our coalition will finally have a foothold in the Forest of Nature. Only then will your people truly begin to see this camp as their home, a place where they can finally feel safe.”
While Caesar was a brilliant fighter, strategy and administration were not his strong suits. But his time as a castellan had taught him a thing or two about the hearts of men—and elves. Having been part of the rescue missions from the start, he understood the Wood Elves’ plight. He saw no sense of belonging in their eyes yet. Compared to the Shield Warriors he had brought with him, the elves were always on edge, perpetually braced for the next disaster.
“Don’t worry,” Aerin said with a gentle smile. “I have faith in you, brother, and in Tangere. And most of all, I have faith in my lord.”
She and Caesar got along well. It wasn’t a romantic connection, but a simple harmony between the aura of nature inherent in the Wood Elves and the sense of righteous order that burned within Caesar. It made their companionship easy and comfortable.
You are all the chosen ones. And so am I.
The final thought resonated deep in her soul. From the moment Orion had descended with Tangere and Caesar, her life of desperate, terrified flight had ended. She had never felt such a profound sense of security. Sometimes, when she thought about who—and what—they were, she wondered if she hadn’t stumbled into a game world, and the powerful figures around her were simply Player One, Two, and Three.
As they spoke, a Shield Warrior approached from the camp.
“Commander, Elder Aerin,” the soldier said with a salute. “My lord requests your presence in the castle conference hall.”
Caesar nodded and gestured for Aerin to join him. If Orion was summoning them now, it meant the plan for the defense was finally ready.
Godforsaken Land.
The battle was a merciless grinder for both sides. Every second, more lives were extinguished, and in this endless war, both factions were desperate for victory.
The undead were like ghouls, the skeletons like demons. The more necrotic energy saturated the battlefield, the more terrifying the undead armies became. They had gradually seized the advantage, their battle lines pushing inexorably toward the heart of the Gnasher Race’s territory. This unfavorable turn of events only drove the Gnasher lords and their beasts into a greater frenzy. They charged the undead lines with suicidal abandon, a hysterical effort to delay the inevitable until their Matriarch could destroy her foe and return to save them.
They didn’t know that their Matriarch was in the exact same state of hysteria.
“Kill!”
Seeing the Deathly Soul-Reaper rematerialize outside her Voidlock, Jynara teleported and unleashed another furious storm of blows. Once again, Orion was trapped, paralyzed.
This time, however, he was ready.
Squelch. Squelch. Squelch.
The wet, tearing sound of flesh being pierced echoed eight times in quick succession. The eight heads Jynara had positioned to maintain her trap were each impaled by thick, shadowy tendrils—the very substance that made up the Deathly Soul-Reaper’s body. Orion hadn’t just been passively taking the hits; with every “death,” he had secretly left behind fragments of his shattered form, hidden in the void. Now, with those tendrils outside the Voidlock, he could command them with a mere thought.
Aaargh!
A chorus of agonizing screams erupted—eight distinct cries of pain from a single being. With her heads impaled, the Voidlock destabilized.
The Deathly Soul-Reaper broke free. A phantom scythe bloomed into existence, sweeping toward Jynara. The eight heads tried to retreat, but the tendrils coiled around them, binding them tightly until they were eight grotesque, fleshy spheres cocooned in shadow.
CRACK!
Jynara sacrificed two of her own arms to block Orion’s scythe, buying a precious second to forcibly retract her eight heads. In her desperation, she pulled back everything—even the tendrils that were still latched onto them—into the cavity of her chest.
“A fatal mistake,” Orion’s voice hissed.
The tendrils on the Deathly Soul-Reaper’s body began to writhe and pulse, creating a violent resonance with the ones now trapped inside Jynara. She let out a choked, agonized howl as her chest cavity was forced open from within. The eight heads shot back out, hurtling toward Orion as he teleported beside her.
“Reap!”
Orion was waiting. With a single swing of his scythe, he lopped four of the heads clean off.
The pain was unimaginable. Jynara let out a feral, tiger-like roar, shaking from the grievous wound. She immediately pulled back her four remaining heads and teleported away an instant before Orion could press his attack.
His offensive rhythm broken, Orion halted his advance and watched her from a distance. Her chest heaved violently, her face contorted in a mask of agony as if she were fighting something internally. He was about to move in for the kill when the writhing in her chest suddenly stopped. It split open once more.
Eight heads flew out.
Orion instinctively froze. The eight heads were back. Four were dripping with blood, and four were covered in a viscous, amniotic slime, as if freshly born. The black tendrils that had infested them had been bitten off and spat out onto the ground.
Even with Jynara seemingly restored, Orion did not hesitate.
Did she just sacrifice four of her heads to purge my tendrils? The thought flashed through his mind as he urged the Deathly Soul-Reaper forward again. This time, he closed the distance, unafraid of her Voidlock.
His aggression, however, only ignited Jynara’s primal fury. Her body convulsed and warped, transforming into a monstrous broodmother dozens of feet long, her maw lined with enormous, jagged teeth. She snapped at him with a deafening roar, and Orion was forced to parry with his scythe.
But in the next moment, eight enormous heads launched from behind her, unleashing a coordinated assault of six different abilities: a Sonic Cage, her signature Voidlock, a Pyre Burst, a Gravity Well, an Acid Torrent, and a storm of razor-sharp Wind Blades.