KWAANG! KWAANG! KWA-AAANG! With every explosive clash, the forest split apart. The ten elven elders—spirit magi who had reached the level of Transcendents—had summoned powerful greater spirits to clash against the priests steeped in darkness. Before battle began, the elders had believed victory would be theirs. Even if the Salvation Order's priests were Transcendents too, they were outnumbered two to one. But as the battle wore on, their faces hardened in disbelief. “This can’t be... The Salvation Order’s power is this overwhelming?” “When did they grow so strong?” “At this rate, we’ll be overrun!” Despite having twice the numbers, the elders were steadily being pushed back. Had their numbers been even, they would’ve lost far sooner. Panic spread among the elders. “We’re at a disadvantage.” “The longer this drags on, the more damage we’ll take.” “We need to eliminate them quickly...” The orc horde and dark mages were rampaging unchecked. The elves fighting them were also being driven back. Unless the elder Transcendents intervened, they couldn’t turn the tide. But here they were—locked in a struggle they couldn’t break from. Realizing they had no room to conserve energy, the elders pushed their power to the limit. BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! Each impact sent the earth shuddering and ancient trees shrieking as they were torn apart. Two elders were teaming up to fight a single priest. Even while unleashing their full power, the priest stood unfazed. One elder—who had previously encountered Ghislain—broke out in cold sweat as a terrifying realization struck. “That human... fought all five of these alone?!” He had thought the man was just “fairly strong” after witnessing his escape. But now, facing the priests himself, he realized just how wrong he had been. To face these monsters alone? “Fairly strong” didn’t begin to describe it. In fact, Ereneth had had better judgment than any of them. “We made a mistake. We threw away a blessing sent by the heavens. We shouldn’t have left him behind.” They had assumed he was a scheming intruder, and left him to die. Even if the ambush had cost them a few lives, they should’ve brought him back. If that man had been here, if he’d taken on the priests, the elders could’ve supported the front line. The losses would’ve been far smaller. As the elders continued to fall back, the priests of the Salvation Order surged forward, emboldened. Munareff, leading at the front, grinned cruelly. “That human was exceptionally powerful... Our assessments weren’t wrong.” He had feared that the strength of humanity had risen as a whole, but now saw that the elven elders’ power remained within predicted levels. Relieved, Munareff smiled. This was enough. They would trample the forest and fulfill one of the Order’s long-standing goals. “Heh heh... You’ll pay for your centuries of comfort.” While they had suffered endless torment in the Demonic Realm, clinging only to divine purpose, the elves had lived in peace. They had never starved. Never been robbed. Never suffered. Their blessed forest had given them everything. The world itself seemed to favor them. Now, the price had come due. The rage of those who had endured eternal agony would now tear this peaceful forest to pieces. “You’ll never understand how long we waited for this day.” Munareff unleashed even greater force, relentlessly pressuring the elders. There was no need to conserve energy. As long as they kept the elders locked down, the rest would fall like dominoes. BOOM! BOOM! KWA-AANG! The other priests did the same, surging with power. The elven elders were barely managing to hold the line. KUWAAAAAH! KRAAAAAAH! The war cry of Grakkash, chieftain of the Crimson Fang tribe, echoed—and every orc answered it with a roar. True to their nature, the orcs charged forward with brutal, reckless ferocity. They were cut down by arrows, torn apart by spirits—but they never stopped. “Loose! Keep firing!” The elves unleashed wave after wave of spirit-infused arrows. Spirits erupted from the ground, shattering orc ranks. But the orcs attacked like a tide, endlessly crashing forward. CRACK! KWAANG! A Bruthur—a massive horned boar mount—slammed into a tree, shattering its thick trunk. Elves on the branches were thrown violently through the air. Every elf that hit the ground was swarmed by orcs, axes swinging mercilessly. Relying on sheer numbers, the orcs charged like mad beasts. Even with spirit allies, the elves couldn’t fully stop the onslaught. CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! All around, elves fell, spraying blood. The earth turned red, and the forest spirits wailed in grief. But the elves did not retreat. As guardians of the forest, they stood their ground. Not that the orcs were faring much better. Brute force had its cost—and they were taking heavy losses. BOOOOM! Every time an Ent swung its massive arms, orcs were sent flying. Its branches were like clubs, its roots like whips that coiled and snared. OOOOOOOOHH... KWAANG! KWA-AANG! KWAANG! Dozens of orcs swarmed each Ent, howling and hacking away with axes—but they couldn’t penetrate the bark. The Ents themselves were living shields, immovable sentinels of the forest. With each swing, they crushed scores of orcs. KRAAAAAGH! “AAAGGGHH!” The battlefield was consumed by madness. Elves screamed, bled, and fought like beasts, their noble countenances warped by rage and desperation. Among them, one elf stood out—fighting with unmatched ferocity. FOOOOOM! A fire spirit summoned by Ereneth tore through the orcs like a gale. Wherever the flames touched, the earth ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ sizzled red. Blazing infernos painted the battlefield crimson. Her eyes blazed with fury—and tears streamed constantly from them. “So this is war.” For the first time, Ereneth tasted the true horror of battle. She now realized how foolish her past longing for glory had been. And she finally understood why elves fought only to protect, never to invade. KWAANG! KWAANG! KWAANG! “AAAGGGHH!” Her kin were being torn apart, their bodies ripped and broken before her eyes. Hell wasn’t somewhere else—it was right here, right now. War should not exist. But the world didn’t care about her wishes. She wasn’t strong enough to stop it. That weakness filled her with frustration and self-loathing. More and more fire spirits gathered around her. Her breath was ragged, but she didn’t stop. Instead, she drew in even more energy, hurling herself deeper into the flames of war. “O eternal flames! Devour the ones who defiled this forest!” With a sweeping motion, a spirit transformed into a massive blaze and surged toward the orcs. KWA-AAAAAAANG! Dozens of orcs turned to ash in an instant. Ereneth was holding nothing back. But she had lost control. She was no longer managing her power—just pouring it all out, driven by rage. Her energy flow turned wild, unstable. The fire spirits responded to her emotions and began to spiral out of control. As her power and emotions reached their limits— “Uaaaaargh!” With a scream soaked in tears of blood, Ereneth summoned a greater spirit of fire. Pwoooosh! What appeared in midair was a massive lizard wreathed in flame. At Ereneth’s will, it opened its mouth toward the orcs. KWAHAAAAAH! A storm of blazing fire was launched toward them. In the blink of an eye, hundreds of orcs were consumed in flame and turned to ash. Ereneth struck at the orcs more violently and mercilessly than anyone else. She poured out her power without restraint, as if she no longer cared whether she died here. At this moment, Ereneth was neither an elf nor a spirit mage. She was nothing but an incarnation of fire, consumed by rage. KWAHAAANG! The earth split open, and heat surged up, dyeing the sky crimson. Around Ereneth was a scene straight from hell. Nothing remained. Seeing this, Iralniel wore a sorrowful expression. ‘Ereneth...’ She could clearly feel the things Ereneth was losing. Her harmony with nature was broken, and her soul was being devoured by flame-like rage. An elf was meant to exist in harmony with nature. Emotions had to be kept calm, and power needed to be restrained. Communion with spirits was a sacred ritual that occurred only within such balance. But Ereneth was destroying that harmony herself. She had exceeded her limits by surrendering to rage, but in return, her spirit would crumble all the faster. ‘This isn’t your fault.’ Iralniel didn’t blame her. Because not just Ereneth, but every elf here was changing in similar ways. After all, who could remain composed while watching their forest be trampled and their friends bleed and fall? Even for elves, it was pain too great to endure. Iralniel turned her head and looked around. ‘Are we going to fall like this?’ The elders were tied down by the Salvation Order priests, and the orcs kept surging in. But that alone could have still been handled. The real problem lay elsewhere. Ssssss... The scent of death rose like smoke, and the air of rot spread across the decaying ground. The vile dark mages hid behind the orcs, constantly unleashing curses and sickening the forest. The forest’s life was withering. The cursed energy spread further, devouring both elves and orcs without distinction. Elves struck down by dark magic began collapsing across the battlefield. With no one to stop the curses, the damage only grew. “Khhkhk... What wonderfully pure air.” The dark mages were thrilled. This battlefield seemed made for them. So many deaths! With each breath, their lungs filled with the magical power of death. They fed off that power, slowly painting the entire forest with death. And finally— Guoooooooo... Corpses that had lain still on the dead earth began to twitch. Orc corpses rose. Elf corpses rose. And they began shambling toward the still-living elves. Their combat abilities were weak—but it didn’t matter. “Aaaaah...” Elves wept. What they saw was a friend they’d once hunted with. What they saw was a friend they’d once sung songs with. And now those friends... were cursed undead, reaching out with withered hands. When an elf dies, their soul is meant to return to the embrace of the World Tree. But these undead were trapped in an eternal cycle of curses. The tears wouldn’t stop. Elves, unaccustomed to such horrors, began to break down mentally. “Kheheheheh!” The dark mages burst into mocking laughter at the sight. On a battlefield defiled by blood and fire, even despair began to melt into death. Iralniel extended her hand. Vines twined around her arm, forming a massive bow. The Elven Serenade. A final weapon only the elven High Chief could wield had finally been revealed. There had been a reason why the most powerful elf among them had not yet joined the battle. In the far distance, something dark was watching her. That darkness paid no mind to the rest of the battlefield. Its eyes were fixed solely on her. That was why she could not move. If she spent even a little power, that darkness would immediately strike. They were both locked in place, aware of each other’s power. But... ‘I have no choice...’ That darkness wouldn’t care if all its allies died. As long as it could take her down, the war would be theirs. But Iralniel couldn’t allow that. She couldn’t just stand by while her people died. She couldn’t leave the spirits of her kin trapped in torment any longer. So she slowly drew back the invisible bowstring. Fwaaaaa... Brilliant emerald light gathered along the bowstring. Eight arrows of light began to form. There were eight dark mages. Each one was a formidable sorcerer at the level of the 6th Circle. ‘I must pierce and kill them all in one shot.’ Iralniel gathered immense energy with intense concentration. She knew the darkness was waiting for any opening—but there was no other way to strike down all eight at once. Just as she gathered her power, she suddenly paused and looked up at the sky. Until that moment, the dark mages had been laughing gleefully. “Khhkhkh... More, more! Die more!” “Are they elves? Their souls are so pure. Delicious.” “Be my eternal servants and writhe in agony! Hahahaha...” As the dark mages continued to spread their magic and cultivate the land of death— A voice suddenly rang out from the sky. “Doomed bastards.” “...?” “Take this. Divine punishment.” BOOM! The blackened sky split open, and a blinding flash of light struck the ground. One of the dark mages, hit dead on, exploded without even managing a scream. “Wha, wh-what the hell?!” The remaining dark mages hastily poured all their magic into their shields. But soon after— Countless bolts of lightning rained down upon the battlefield. KWA-KWA-KWA-KWA-KWA-KWA-KWA-KWA-KWA-KWAAANG! The lightning poured like a storm. At first glance, it seemed random—but the strikes were precise and deliberate. Dozens, hundreds of bolts rained down only on the orcs. KRAAAAGHH! BOOM! KWAANG! KWA-AANG! Explosions erupted all over the battlefield. One bolt tore the ground apart. Another incinerated an entire orc unit. Yet another swept through the undead, leaving nothing behind. And the largest bolt fell upon the center of the battlefield. KWA-AAAAANG! Silence fell over the field. Even the orcs, crazed with bloodlust, froze and backed away in shock from the sudden assault. The Salvation Order priests fighting the elders also recoiled in surprise. The few dark mages who had survived scrambled backward in panic. Everyone turned to the center of the battlefield. And there, standing amid the blue lightning, was Ghislain—resting his staff over his shoulder, grinning. “This badass has arrived.” “...” Everyone stared at him in stunned silence. Even the battle-hardened orcs. He had appeared out of nowhere and unleashed unbelievable devastation. It was no wonder they were shaken. While the others stood dazed, Ghislain looked around and took a deep breath. “...Hah, you really turned this place into a shitshow.” His mouth twisted into a crooked smirk. This was no longer a place for the living—it was a place for the dead. The air was thick with death. The dark mages had drained the forest’s life to create a domain of death. No normal life could exist here. Anyone alive had to fight off the invasive death energy just to stand. But the dark mages and undead could endlessly draw strength and continue fighting. That was how they had tried to corrupt the forest—turning it into a battlefield that favored them. A hell for the living, but a sanctuary and stage for the dead. “But who says only you bastards get to use this ground?” Ghislain snapped his fingers. Tak. With a short sound, black energy surged like a storm from beneath his feet. FWWOOOOOSH! A black mist erupted, forming shapes as it rose from the earth. THUD. THUD. THUD. Like the pounding of war drums from hell, footsteps echoed. Armor darker than iron, cloaked in rippling shadows. Flames like hellfire burned behind the slits of their helmets. Their cloaks billowed despite the still air, and the massive greatswords they carried trembled with ancient grudges. They stood in perfect formation, unmoving, eyes locked ahead. As if awaiting a command. Ghislain slowly raised his hand, then spoke coldly. “Let’s clean up this battlefield. Let’s show them who truly commands death.” The moment his words dropped— KWAHAAAAAH! From the blackened earth, one hundred Death Knights simultaneously raised their swords.