Let's show it (2)
Kwaang! Kwaang! KWAANG!
With every explosive roar, the forest split apart.
The ten Elven Elders were spirit summoners who had reached the level of superhuman. The high-ranking spirits they had summoned clashed with the priests tainted by darkness.
Before the clash began, the Elders had anticipated victory. Even if the priests of the Salvation Church were superhumans, the Elves outnumbered them.
However, as the battle wore on, the expressions on the Elders' faces grew grim.
'This can't be! The Salvation Church is this powerful?!'
'When did they grow so strong?!'
'At this rate, we'll be defeated!'
Despite having twice the numbers, the Elders were gradually being pushed back. Had the numbers been equal, they would have been overwhelmed even faster.
The Elders grew desperate.
'We are at a disadvantage.'
'The longer this drags on, the greater the damage.'
'We must finish them off quickly…'
The Orc horde and the dark mages were running rampant. The Elves fighting them were also being steadily driven back.
The Elders, being superhuman, needed to join the fray to turn the tide. But they were already being overwhelmed by the Church's priests and couldn't afford to assist.
The Elders drew forth even more power. Knowing now how strong their enemies were, there was no room for holding back.
Kwaang! Kwaang! Kwaang!
With each collision, the ground shook, and massive trees split apart as if screaming.
Two Elders fought against one priest. Even as they unleashed their full power, the priest stood firm without flinching.
One Elder, who had once encountered Ghislain, suddenly broke into a cold sweat.
'That human… fought all five of these alone?!'
He had thought Ghislain was fairly strong, based on his escape skills. But now, facing the priests himself, he realized just how mistaken he had been.
To face such beings alone—it was not fairly strong. If anything, it was Erenes who had truly seen Ghislain's worth.
'We made a mistake. A gift from the heavens, and we squandered it. We shouldn't have left him behind.'
They had thought him merely a suspicious intruder with ill intent, and left him to die.
But even if some Elves were hurt during the ambush, they should have brought him back.
If Ghislain were here, holding back the priests, the Elders wouldn't be tied down as they were now—and the Elves' losses would be far less.
As the Elders faltered, the priests of the Salvation Church grew increasingly confident.
At the forefront, Munareff pressed the Elders with a cruel smile.
"That human really was exceptionally strong. Our prediction wasn't wrong."
They had feared humanity as a whole might have grown stronger and had braced for hardship, but the power of the Elven Elders was no more than what they had expected.
Munareff relaxed. At this rate, they could trample the forest and achieve one of the Church's long-held ambitions.
"Kuhuhu… You shall now pay the price for centuries of indolence."
They had lived trapped in the Demon Realm, in endless torment, clinging only to their mission of fulfilling their god's will.
But what about the Elves?
They had basked in nature's blessings, living in peace and beauty.
Never had they starved, never had anything been taken from them, never had they suffered.
The bountiful forest provided them with everything. The world itself favored them.
Now, they would pay the price.
The rage of those who had swallowed eternal pain would tear apart this sheltered forest.
"You cannot imagine how long we've waited for this day."
A fiercer energy radiated from Munareff's eyes as he relentlessly pressed the Elders.
There was no need to conserve power. All they had to do was keep the Elders occupied.
The rest would fall on their own.
Kwaang! Kwaang! KWAANG!
The other priests, sharing Munareff's conviction, unleashed their power without restraint. The Elven Elders could do nothing but barely hold their ground.
KUWAAAAHH!
GRAAAAAHH!
The great chieftain of the Red Fang tribe, Grakash, let out a deafening roar that was echoed by all the Orcs.
True to their warrior race nature, the Orcs charged recklessly at the Elves.
Countless Orcs fell to arrows and spirit attacks, but they never stopped.
"Fire! Keep firing!"
The Elves unleashed arrows infused with light, while spirits burst from the ground to disrupt the Orcs' ranks.
But the Orcs' assault was like an unending tide.
KWAAJIK! KWAANG!
A Bruther carrying an Orc crashed into a tree, shattering its thick trunk. Elves stationed atop were flung into the air with the splintering wood.
Every Elf that hit the ground was immediately swarmed by multiple Orcs swinging their axes madly.
Trusting in their superior numbers, the Orcs attacked like madmen. Even with spirit aid, the Elves struggled to withstand the onslaught.
KWAJIK! KWAJIK! KWAJIK!
All around, Elves fell, blood scattering. The land turned red, and the spirits of the forest wept in sorrow.
Yet the Elves did not retreat. As guardians of the forest, they stood their ground.
Not that the Orcs fared much better. Their mindless charges brought them even greater casualties than the Elves.
KUUUUUUNG!
Each swing of an Ent's massive arm sent Orcs flying. Its giant branches became clubs, its roots snaring Orcs like chains.
OOOOOOOOH…
KWAANG! KWAANG! KWAANG!
Orcs screamed as dozens of them clung to a single Ent, hacking away with axes. But the Ent's tough bark was not easily breached.
Its very presence was a shield for the forest. With each attack, it felled scores of Orcs.
GRAAAHHH!
"AAAAARGH!"
The battlefield was now drenched in madness. Elves, too, bled and screamed, swept into the frenzy.
The once-noble guardians of the forest now slashed and tore through enemies like beasts.
Among them, one Elf stood out with unmatched combat prowess.
PUH-UH-UHHHNG!
The fire spirit summoned by Erenes surged through the Orc ranks like a whirlwind.
Wherever the flames erupted, crimson fire licked the earth. The blaze that consumed all painted the battlefield red.
Her eyes burned with fury, and yet, tears streamed endlessly down her cheeks.
'This is war.'
Confronting the horrors of war for the first time, Erenes realized how naive she had been to wish for glory in battle.
Now, she understood why Elves fought only to protect, never to conquer.
Kwaang! Kwaang! Kwaang!
"Aaaaargh!"
Her kin continued to fall, bodies torn apart.
Hell wasn't elsewhere. This—right here—was hell. A world without war would have been better.
But reality does not bend to one's will. She hated herself for not being strong enough to end this war.
More fire spirits surged around her.
Her breath came in gasps, but she did not stop.
Within those flames, she drew even more power, throwing herself ever deeper into the battlefield.
"Eternal flame, devour those who defile this forest!"
At her gesture, the spirit transformed into a massive blaze that roared toward the Orcs.
KWA-AAANG!
Dozens of Orcs were instantly reduced to ash. Erenes held nothing back.
She had lost control of her power. Surrendering to rage, she unleashed all the energy she had.
The flow of her energy grew rough, erratic, and the fire spirits swelled ever larger.
Even the spirits were reacting to her emotions, beginning to go berserk.
And when her emotions and energy reached their peak—
"UAAAAAH!"
With a scream of bloody tears, a high-ranking fire spirit was summoned.
PUH-UH-UHHHNG!
From the air emerged a massive, flame-wreathed lizard. It opened its mouth toward the Orcs, guided by Erenes's will.
KWA-A-A-AANG!
A searing storm of fire blasted across the Orc ranks. Hundreds were incinerated in an instant.
Erenes struck harder and more mercilessly than anyone.
It was as if she didn't care whether she died here. She released all her power without restraint.
In that moment, Erenes was no longer an Elf, no longer a spirit summoner.
She was merely an incarnation of flame, possessed by rage.
KWA-A-A-AANG!
The ground split open, and the heat rose, painting the sky red. Around Erenes was pure hell. Nothing remained.
Watching this, Iraniel wore a sorrowful expression.
'Erenes…'
She could feel so clearly what Erenes was losing. Her harmony with nature was shattered, her soul being consumed by flame and rage.
Elves are meant to exist in harmony with nature. Emotions must be serene, power must be restrained.
Communion with spirits is a sacred ritual, born from that harmony.
But Erenes had destroyed that balance herself. Her rage had pushed her beyond her limits—and her spirit was breaking even faster.
"It's not your fault."
Iraniel did not scold Erenes.
It wasn't just Erenes—every Elf present here was changing in a similar way.
How many could remain calm and steady their breath while watching their forest trampled, their friends bleed and fall?
Not even Elves could endure such agony.
Iraniel turned her head and looked around.
'Is this how we fall?'
The Elders were tied down by the priests of the Salvation Church, and the Orcs kept pouring in.
If that were all, perhaps they could still hold the line. But the real problem lay elsewhere.
Sssssssss…
A scent of death, like smoke, drifted through the air, and the aura of decay spread across the rotting ground.
The insidious dark mages, hiding behind the Orcs, were ceaselessly spewing curses, corrupting the forest.
The life of the forest was withering. The cursed energy spread, consuming Elves and Orcs alike.
One by one, Elves afflicted by black magic began to fall. With no one to counter the curses, the casualties only grew.
"Kuhuhu… Such pure air this is."
The dark mages were delighted. This place felt like a stage created just for them.
So much death! With every breath, the magic of death filled their lungs to the brim.
They used that power as nourishment to slowly dye the entire forest in death.
And finally—
Grrrrrrhhhhh…
The corpses that had lain still on the death-tainted ground began to twitch.
The corpse of an Orc rose. The corpse of an Elf stood up. They began to slowly walk toward the Elves still fighting.
Though their combat ability was low, it didn't matter.
"Ah… ah…"
Tears welled up in the eyes of the Elves.
What they saw was a friend who had once gone hunting with them.
What they saw was a friend who had sung songs with them.
And now those friends, as cursed undead, were reaching out their hands.
When an Elf dies, their soul is meant to return to the embrace of the World Tree. But those who become undead are trapped in an eternal cycle of curse.
The tears wouldn't stop. The Elves, unaccustomed to such horror, began to break down mentally.
"Kihihihihihi!"
The dark mages laughed mockingly at the sight.
Despair melted into the battlefield already tainted with blood and fire.
Iraniel raised her hand. Along her arm, vines of wood wove together to form a massive bow.
Elven Serenade.
The ultimate weapon only the Elven Grand Chieftain could wield finally revealed itself.
There was a reason the strongest Elf, Iraniel, had not yet entered the fight.
Far off, a darkness was watching her.
That darkness paid no attention to the battle around it—only to her.
That's why she hadn't been able to move. If even a bit of her strength waned, that darkness would descend upon them immediately.
They were both locked in a standstill, sensing each other's power.
But...
'There's no choice...'
That darkness would not care even if every ally died. So long as it could capture her, the war would end in their victory.
But Iraniel couldn't allow that.
She couldn't stand by and watch her people die. She couldn't abandon the Elves whose souls were screaming in torment.
So she slowly drew the invisible bowstring.
Fwaaaaaa...
Brilliant emerald light surged to the string. Eight arrows of light began to form.
There were eight dark mages. Each one a formidable being near the sixth circle.
'I must pierce and kill them all in a single shot.'
Iraniel focused her mind and gathered her energy. She knew the darkness was waiting for her opening, but she had no choice if she wanted to eliminate the dark mages at once.
As she gathered her power, she paused and looked up at the sky.
Up until that moment, the dark mages were still laughing and jeering with joy.
"Kuhuhu… More, more death."
"Is it because they're Elves? Their souls are so pure. Absolutely delicious."
"Be my limbs forever, writhing in eternal pain. Huhuhuhu…"
While they chanted gleefully, spreading death across the land—
Suddenly, from the sky, a voice rang out of nowhere.
"You bastards deserve divine punishment."
"......?"
"Take it. Heaven's wrath."
Boom!
The blackened sky split open, and a blinding flash of light struck down upon the earth.
One dark mage, hit directly, exploded without even a chance to scream.
"W-what the—!"
The remaining dark mages frantically summoned all their magic to form shields. But then, countless bolts of lightning rained down on the battlefield.
Pzzzzz-Bang!
Lightning poured down like a torrential storm.
At a glance, it seemed random, but each strike was precise and controlled.
Dozens, hundreds of lightning bolts fell—targeting only the Orcs.
GRAAAAGH!
BOOM! KWAANG! KWA-AANG!
Explosions erupted all across the battlefield.
One bolt shattered the ground.
Another incinerated an entire Orc unit.
Yet another swept away the undead, leaving no trace behind.
And then, the largest bolt of all struck the heart of the battlefield.
KWA-A-A-AANG!
For a moment, silence blanketed the battlefield.
Even the frenzied Orcs were so stunned that they stopped fighting and backed away.
The priests of the Salvation Church, who had been battling the Elders, recoiled in surprise.
The surviving dark mages scrambled to retreat.
All eyes turned toward the center of the battlefield.
A man descended with blue lightning—Ghislain, resting a staff on his shoulder, grinned.
"This body has arrived."
"......"
Everyone stared blankly at Ghislain. Even the battle-hardened Orcs were dumbfounded.
He had appeared out of nowhere, unleashing a power so overwhelming—it was only natural they were shocked.
Unbothered by their confusion, Ghislain looked around and let out a deep sigh.
"…Ha, you've really turned this place into a hellhole."
A crooked smile twisted Ghislain's lips.
This place suited the dead more than the living.
The air was saturated with death. The dark mages had sacrificed the forest's life to create this land of death.
Living beings could not survive here. The living would have to fight just to resist the encroaching death.
But the dark mages and undead could fight endlessly, constantly replenished.
They had corrupted the forest to turn it into their battleground.
For the living, it was hell. But for the dead, it was a sanctuary—a stage.
"But there's no rule saying only you bastards get to use this land."
Ghislain snapped his fingers.
Tak.
With that brief sound, black energy surged like a storm beneath his feet.
Fwaaaaaah!
The black mist that erupted from the ground began to take form.
Thud!
Thud!
Thud!
Each footstep echoed like a drumbeat from hell.
Heavy black armor swirled with darkness.
Steel harder than iron, darkness deeper than shadows.
From within the helmets, eyes burned red like the fires of the hell.
Their black capes fluttered without wind, and the massive greatswords in their hands quivered with ancient resentment.
Standing in formation, they did not move an inch, gazing forward—as if awaiting orders.
Ghislain slowly raised his hand, and in a cold voice, said,
"Let's clean up this battlefield. Let them see who truly commands death."
The moment the words left his mouth—
KWA-A-A-AANG!
From the blackened earth, one hundred Death Knights raised their swords in unison.
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