Chapter 73: Return (Part 1)

From the high sky, the sprawling Turaleone Forest appeared as a vast green ocean. Even from this altitude, the enormous ancient elven tree at the center stood like a solitary mountain amidst the sea—majestic and awe-inspiring.

Two gargoyles circled above the ancient elven tree, each carrying a mage with a silver skull mask on their face.

The two mages seemed ordinary in attire, with the exception of the silver masks, which alone were more than enough to set them apart. The masks were symbols of legends—feared as devils by most and recognized as marks of unparalleled status, power, and mystery on the continent.

Yet, at this moment, these legendary and terrifying mages wore expressions of surprise, as though they had just witnessed a myth come to life.

Indeed, in their eyes, the presence of the ancient elven tree was far more imposing than what ordinary people could perceive. Its abundant vitality and magical force were so overwhelming that they felt their nerves tighten with every pulse of its energy. Their own magic, which once allowed them to look down upon the continent, now felt like nothing more than a mouse in comparison.

One of the mages began murmuring an incantation. He extended his hands downward, palms facing the forest below. Two deafening explosions followed, and towering flames spread outward, forming two small mushroom clouds of fire.

The spell "Infernal Blaze" was not the most advanced attack magic, but it was close. In smaller-scale battles, a mage capable of casting such a spell could often turn the tide of war. Yet this mage unleashed two casts simultaneously with no visible sign of strain. Such a feat, if seen by the magical community, would have likely deterred many from ever attempting to master the spell again.

But the mage who cast the spells showed neither joy nor pride; instead, he sighed heavily and shook his head. Both infernal blasts had failed to hit the ancient elven tree or the Turaleone Forest below. A faint shimmer of light had flickered above the tree, causing the two high-level spells to explode in midair. In a tone mixed with admiration and regret, he remarked, "It seems this must be the Ancient War Tree of Elven Empire that Archibald mentioned in his writings. I never thought there would still be one left in Turaleone. Those elves have truly been patient—waiting until now to activate it using the World Tree Leaf. And I could never have imagined that, as the core of the War Tree, the World Tree Leaf could produce such an effect, even withstanding our full-power attacks."

The other mage frowned, gazing at the forest below. "I still have a Blazing Fireball scroll and an Ice Storm scroll. Should we combine them with our own power and try again?" His voice carried frustration, and his face revealed undeniable fatigue. He had already cast several high-level spells earlier, yet apart from creating dazzling explosions above the forest, they had achieved nothing.

"It's useless," the first mage replied, shaking his head. "Unless we break the barrier in one strike, the World Tree Leaf's boundless vitality will instantly restore it. Our magic reserves aren't enough for that anymore." He paused, tilting his head in thought before continuing, "Perhaps a forbidden curse could work, or if we had two more mages and combined our top-level spells to focus on a single point. This isn't like the Whispering Forest's absolute magic-nullifying barrier..."

"Should we try? I'd hate to waste a forbidden curse scroll—they're ridiculously hard to make. I'll call for reinforcements. For something as valuable as the World Tree Leaf below, I'm sure even Master Shante would be interested..."

A voice suddenly echoed from the war tree below. Though not loud, it enveloped the skies above the forest.

"Guardians of the Dark Will, or should I call you by your human-world title: esteemed necromancers. Please leave. We do not wish to become your enemies, but neither will we allow you to take what you desire."

One of the necromancers sneered, his laugh cold and mocking. "Do you think hiding inside that turtle shell will make us back off? I'd like to see if they dare step out of their nest."

Just then, a beam of green light shot out from the war tree, heading straight for the gargoyle carrying one of the necromancers.

The gargoyle reacted instantly, shifting position ever so slightly at the necromancer's command. However, its massive body wasn't agile enough to fully evade the attack. With a sharp crack, its obsidian frame shattered like glass. Half its shoulder and arm disintegrated into shards under the green beam.

The gargoyle made no sound, incapable of feeling pain, but the necromancer on its back paled visibly. He understood all too well what would have happened if that beam had struck him directly. Yet he also realized that the beam's trajectory wasn't aimed at him but at the gargoyle's head.

"Esteemed necromancers," the voice echoed again, its tone unchanged. "I've told you—we do not wish to become your enemies. However, I assure you that we have sufficient strength to dissuade you. Theodorus of Orford and General Grutt can both receive our messages instantly. They each have Turaleone teleportation scrolls and can arrive here at any moment. I doubt you'd want to encounter them..."

"These long-eared rats," muttered the necromancer whose gargoyle had been struck, his eyes burning with anger. "One day, I'll turn you all into test subjects on my operating table."

Winged pegasi carrying elven warriors circled the war tree's canopy. Though they dared not leave the magical barrier, the archers atop them kept their bows trained.

The other necromancer, however, showed no visible anger or agitation. A glint of coldness flashed in his eyes before he quietly said, "Let's go."

The two gargoyles spun in midair and reluctantly flew eastward.

On the war tree below, at the center of its dense branches, was a platform formed by interwoven boughs. An elderly elf and two younger elves stood watching the retreating gargoyles. The wrinkled elder finally exhaled deeply in relief.

"Elder Lloyd, why didn't you let me aim for that necromancer?" asked the female elf, holding a massive black bow. Her brow furrowed as she continued, "For such vile and dark beings, killing even one would be worth it. Why warn them and let them leave instead?"

Elder Lloyd shook his head and sighed. "Even at this range, it's not guaranteed you could kill one in a single strike. And even if you did, you don't have the strength to fire a second shot to take down the other. These people are arrogant and prideful. If we truly provoked them, I'm certain tomorrow we'd see far more than just two of them here, and their magic would be far worse than what we faced today."

He glanced at the center of the platform, his face clouded with worry. "Elder Ruya has also reached her limit. Those two could have broken through with just a little more effort."

At the platform's center sat a young elf girl with closed eyes, her face pale as snow. In the center of a magical formation lay a radiant green leaf, its glow spreading throughout the formation. The girl's hands hovered over the leaf, directing its power to sustain the barrier against the necromancers' bombardments.

Slowly, she opened her eyes, her sickly white complexion tinged with a faint blush. Though the hue was unnaturally rosy, it lent her an aura of vitality and beauty. While the World Tree Leaf's energy was boundless, she was not. Maintaining the war tree's barrier against two powerful mages had long pushed her to her limits.

Several Elven elders stepped forward from beneath the ancient trees, their faces filled with deep worry. Every magical explosion in the sky just now had left every elf below trembling with fear. If the defensive barrier of the War Trees were to fail, it would mean utter annihilation for them. One elder wiped the sweat from his brow and said, "Elder Lloyd, it seems your suggestion to activate the War Trees in time was indeed correct."

Elder Lloyd, however, shook his head, his expression even more grim than the other elders. He said, "This is merely a stopgap measure. Those enemies will not give up. Even if Theodorus and General Grutt manage to arrive, it will only deter them temporarily. The next time they attack, it will be an assault we cannot withstand."

"What can we do to counter them? Turaleone's flying steeds are few, with only about a dozen capable of carrying archers. That's far from enough to deal with those gargoyles and necromancers."

"Then let the flying steeds carry all the mages."

"But we elves specialize in natural magic, which is not strong in direct attacks. As for elemental magic, none of us are proficient enough to rival the necromancers' spells…"

"There's no choice. Those necromancers won't enter the range of our bows and arrows until they've leveled this place with their magic. Our ten thousand elven archers in Turaleone have no chance to show their strength…"

"Every War Tree stores three mutated War Mantis eggs. If Elder Ruya uses the power of the World Tree's leaves to hatch them, we might gain enough combat power to face the necromancers."

"No! When Queen Isabel left the Whispering Forest to collect these things and established Turaleone Forest, it was specifically to ensure that the legacy of the ancient elves would not be used for slaughter and war. The activation of the War Trees this time is already an act of desperation…"

"Whether it's the prophecy of Fahma or the Queen's intentions, we must never pursue power for the sake of conflict and ambition, which will ultimately lead to the loss of control over that power."

"But this conflict was not of our making! The source of greed lies in the hearts of those humans. Are we to just sit here and await our destruction?"

The debate seemed to lead nowhere. In the end, all the elven elders turned their eyes to Elder Lloyd.

Lloyd frowned as he gazed at the World Tree's leaves on the stage, the wrinkles on his face bunching together. This artifact was indeed a troublesome matter, and the most troublesome part was that there was no definitive solution. After all, it was a sacred relic of the elven race, and no amount of sacrifice would justify handing it over to others or destroying it.

But to protect something, power is essential. And for the elves, who followed Fahma's teachings and refrained from seeking power, they were undoubtedly no match for the necromancers' guild. While they could rely on the help of Theodorus and Grutt at any time, this was clearly not a long-term solution. Thankfully, their hidden ally, Orford, had managed to divert the church and the necromancers' guild, drawing much of their attention and strength; otherwise, the situation would be even more dire.

"It seems we have no choice but to relocate… We'll still need allies," Elder Lloyd said with a bitter smile and a sigh.

Orford, midnight.

Asa jumped off the bed, stretched out his arms, and twisted his neck. The movement of his muscles pulled at his bones and joints, producing a series of crisp cracking sounds from his cervical spine to his knuckles. Then, he walked straight to the door.

"What are you doing?" Jessica asked. She was lying nude on the edge of the bed, her smooth, dark skin and slender, yet powerfully harmonious body making her look more like a black panther in the night than a woman just waking from a frenzy-induced slumber.

"Get dressed. Something seems to be happening," Asa said, but before he finished, Jessica also heard the sound of approaching footsteps.

Asa opened the door just as the half-orc appeared at the entrance. The half-orc showed no sign of panic, seemingly used to this kind of abrupt greeting. Panting heavily, he said to Asa, "Master Theodorus requests your presence at the city hall immediately."

"What's happening? Has the allied army attacked?" Asa asked. He could hear not just the footsteps of the half-orc but also the commotion outside on the streets—the shouting of orc soldiers, the sounds of running, and the clanging of weapons.

The half-orc was still catching his breath. Even with his physique, far superior to that of humans, he was clearly exhausted, indicating that he must have run at top speed. His green, unattractive face was drenched in sweat, like a bitter melon soaked through, but his excitement and exhilaration were evident. "No, the allied army has retreated. Master Theodorus is summoning all forces to prepare for pursuit."

The square in front of the city hall was already packed with people and beasts. Virtually all the orcs in Orford had gathered. Towering orcs and ogres wielded massive war hammers and axes, while smaller lizardfolk carried their respective weapons. They stood in dense, orderly formations under the leadership of various tribal chiefs and warriors. Half-orc beastmasters herded a dozen wyverns and over a hundred war bulls to the outskirts of the gathering.

Although this grand scene, resembling a military parade, was orderly and not chaotic, the heavy breathing of thousands of orcs combined into a strange, resonant sound wave. The thick tension in the air emanated from the excited orcs, a palpable representation of their wild and impulsive nature. This restrained calm hinted at an imminent storm.

Only the city hall entrance was illuminated by torches. All the orcs' eyes and attention were focused there, on the figure of the elder standing in the firelight, illuminated like a deity worshipped by the orcish people.

Theodorus' voice was calm yet loud, transmitted to every orc's ears through a hastily drawn magical array beneath his feet. "First, I want to share some good news with the people of Orford: the allied army of the Church has finally retreated."

As soon as Theodorus finished speaking, countless roars and howls erupted from the throats of thousands of orcs, forming a thunderous cacophony.

Though the deafening sound rivaled the roar of a Behemoth beast, Theodorus merely pressed his hands down in the air, and the orcs quickly quieted. He continued, "This is our victory, the victory of everyone here who fights for freedom and survival. But this victory is not complete; the battle is far from over. The Church's army has retreated this time, but they will return soon with more soldiers."

"We bear no hatred or desire for conflict. However, for any enemy that dares to invade our homeland, we will not cower or falter, nor will we hold back our weapons and blood. We will not allow these enemies, who seek to tread upon Orford, to leave unscathed…" Theodorus paused, then raised his voice to a booming level that could shake the soul of every orc: "For our homeland, for our freedom, for our survival, we must fight!"

The ground-shaking roars erupted again, shaking the stone buildings around them. Even the massive wyverns and war bulls struggled in fear under the oppressive atmosphere. Every orc unleashed the flames and wildness in their hearts, raising their weapons high to form a steel forest poised to reap countless lives.

"The allied army is retreating, their morale low and their formation scattered. This is the perfect opportunity to weaken their forces, crush their spirit, and boost our morale," said Lord Borugan, yelling over the deafening noise to make himself heard by Asa, who stood in the shadows behind Theodorus. "This pursuit could cut down at least ten thousand of their soldiers, easing the pressure on us in the future."

Asa nodded absentmindedly. The waves of sound were making his ears ache, and an inexplicable sense of irritation crept over him. This roar reminded him of something he had heard before—though slightly different, the underlying meaning was unmistakably the same.