The mountain trembled. It was not a violent jolt, but it was enough to set off the alarms.
Lusian raised his head. Although he had heard nothing, he did not need to: the Mother Tree had sensed it before anyone else. A pulse of mana traveled through the earth until it reached him with a single, unmistakable warning: danger.
Beneath their feet, the earth was awakening. The Lithar—the stone golems—had begun digging. Instead of advancing across the surface, they were opening tunnels through the mountain's depths, approaching without being detected. However, they had not counted on the Mother Tree's roots descending far deeper than they imagined.
Whenever a root encountered a Lithar, the ground collapsed: the flow of mana was abruptly severed, and the root died.
Lusian stood up, his throat dry. "No…"
In the distance, the savanna breeze began carrying a different scent. The meaty stench of hunger, blood, and a large pack drawing closer.
The Tree responded immediately. An electrical pulse shook the summit, making the leaves tremble and the wood creak. For one eternal second, the entire forest seemed to hold its breath.
Kara abruptly stopped her training. The greatsword halted in midair before plunging forcefully into the stone.
"What the hell…?"
Without waiting for an answer, she took off running.
Elizabeth looked up almost at the same time. She sensed the change in the air, and her demonic mana reacted instinctively, struggling to erupt from her body, though she managed to suppress it at once.
"What's happening…?"
Farther below, Emily dropped to her knees. When she placed her hands against the exposed roots of the Mother Tree, she felt the sap violently stirring before calming down, recognizing her touch.
Isabella remained motionless. She closed her eyes and listened—not to a sound, but to something far deeper. When she opened them, a faint smile, a mixture of irony and resignation, appeared on her lips.
"Again…" she whispered to herself. "Peace never lasts long."
On the outer walls, Nyra dropped whatever she was carrying. Metal rang against stone. Still not fully understanding the situation, she saw the dark elves rushing toward the mountain. She tightened her grip on her sword and ran after them.
"Selvryn!"
She did not answer; she could not. She was entirely focused on listening to the Tree's voice.
One of the main roots had just vanished. It had not been cut or destroyed: its mana had simply ceased to exist.
Selvryn went pale.
"They're underneath us."
Leaves began falling in cascades. First one, then another, until they became a steady rain. The forest was reacting in full force. Underground, the network of roots creaked like the cracking of enormous bones shifting in the darkness.
Selvryn clenched her teeth. This was not a conventional battle: there was no visible target, no body to strike. The Lithar moved through the rock like fish through water, capable of emerging wherever they pleased.
And their only target was the roots.
"How do you fight something like this…?" she murmured.
At that moment, the mark on her forehead burned. It was not a simple flash; it seared with intensity. An amber glow emerged beneath her skin and slowly began branching outward, as though something deep within her had awakened.
Selvryn brought a hand to her face.
"What…?"
The mark pulsed.
And then she felt it: the Tree.
No longer as a distant presence, but as a pure will spreading throughout the entire mountain.
Those around her began stopping one after another. Kara, Nyra, Emily, the dark elves… Even those far from the roots felt the tremor. A strange pressure seized their bodies; it was not pain, but an invisible current beginning to circulate through their veins.
Kara released the hilt of her sword, stunned.
"My mana…"
She felt it moving. She was not generating it herself: the flow was simply passing through her body.
Suddenly, the first amber veins traced lines across her arms, spreading toward her neck, temples, and collarbones.
Nyra stared in horror as the same markings appeared across her own skin.
"What is it doing to us?"
Emily remained silent. She already understood: the Tree was not trying to attack them. It was using them.
Mana circulated through their bodies; it entered, distributed itself, and flowed back out. It was not trying to fill them, but to connect them. Each body had become a conduit, a new root, and a living extension of the Mother Tree.
Selvryn closed her eyes.
For the first time in her life, she perceived things that stretched far beyond the mountain: the network of roots, the mana flowing beneath the earth, and the exact coordinates along which the Lithar golems were advancing. Every tunnel, every vibration, every point where stone crushed a root and severed the Tree's flow.
When she opened her eyes, her vision was absolute.
She did not need sight; she could see through the Tree.
"It's looking for them…" Her voice trembled as she understood. "It's connecting us directly to it."
Lusian arrived just in time to hear her words. Observing the amber veins covering the inhabitants' skin and then looking toward the mountain's summit, he asked:
"Can it attack them?"
Selvryn slowly shook her head.
"Not yet."
Another vibration shook the ground, this time with greater force. The roots beneath the earth began twisting, and humans and elves alike felt the same pull in their guts, as though they had suddenly been chained to a colossal network.
Selvryn raised her gaze.
"But now it can find them."
Lusian understood immediately.
The Lithar had chosen to fight beneath the mountain, believing they could hide in the darkness and that the roots were the Tree's weak point. However, they had made a grave mistake: the Mother Tree did not merely have roots.
Now it had eyes.
And those eyes were watching from inside each of them.
Far below, in the darkness of the depths, a stone figure raised its head as it sensed the disturbance. Its obsidian eyes glowed in the gloom.
"It has found us."
Another Lithar emerged from the rocky wall beside him.
"Then let's cut its roots."
The leader remained motionless for several seconds before slowly closing his stone fist.
"No," he said, directing his gaze toward the surface. "We will cut what now sustains them."
The earth violently trembled, and for the first time, the true war beneath the mountain began.
"It has sensed us," Selvryn said.
She did not need to raise her voice: everyone heard her clearly. The words did not travel through the air like an ordinary conversation. Instead, they settled directly into the chests of those present, transmitted through the same flow of mana circulating through their veins.
"Not only as defenders…" Selvryn continued. "But as part of it."
Nyra stared at her own hands, trying to understand the transformation taking place within her.
The exhaustion accumulated over days did not gradually disappear. It simply ceased to exist.
Her body, heavy and exhausted only moments before, recovered all its vitality as though fatigue had never touched it.
Then she noticed something else.
It was not merely her physical state. A constant current of mana from the Mother Tree had begun flowing through her.
It did not enter violently or threaten to overwhelm her. It followed a defined path through her magical core, distributing itself toward her extremities before continuing onward.
It entered, was channeled, and flowed, integrating her into a colossal system.
She closed her eyes for a moment.
Now she could perceive the earth beneath her feet, the network of roots beneath the stone, the pulse of mana surrounding the outer walls, and the exact position of every one of her comrades.
She did not need to look at them to know where they were. If any of them shifted their stance or lost their balance, the earth beneath their feet subtly adjusted to support them before they could fall.
It was a strange and overwhelming sensation.
Her muscles tensed with flawless firmness, not because of an excess of brute strength, but because her body now knew with mathematical precision exactly how much energy to apply.
When she tightened her fingers around her spear, the wood reacted instantly. Small green tendrils emerged from the shaft, slowly advancing toward her hand and climbing up her wrist.
Nyra instinctively tried to pull them away, but she could not.
Not because they were holding her with force—there was no physical restraint on her arm—but because the Tree no longer considered her an outside element.
The connection was already part of her own body.
She moved her fingers, and they responded normally, but the spear followed the movement differently. It no longer felt like a weapon she was holding; the movement originated in her arm, traveled through the shaft, and culminated at the tip without any separation between the two.
When she opened her eyes, she confirmed that she still had complete control.
She could think, decide, and pull away if she wished, but the Tree's presence remained there like an unbreakable bond.
"It has marked us…" she murmured, staring at her hands. "And what are we now?"
Selvryn watched her in silence for a moment before answering:
"Now we are the swords that defend the Mother Tree."
The sound of the underground tide arrived shortly afterward.
From the base of the mountain, the horde of carnivores launched its attack.
It was a thunderous cacophony of claws scraping against stone, fangs crashing against the defenses, and savage roars rising up the slopes.
Among the mass advanced beasts altered by the Lithar: creatures not only larger, but reinforced to an unnatural limit, with hardened plates covering their skin and musculature capable of withstanding superhuman strain.
A massive hyena leapt toward the walls.
Nyra stepped forward, and at that exact moment, the stone beneath her feet petrified, giving her perfect footing.
She had neither asked for it nor planned it. She simply moved, and the mountain responded to her intent.
Nyra lowered her center of gravity and thrust the spear in one clean, precise movement.
The tip pierced the creature's armored plates as though they were paper. Without even reaching the wall, the hyena was hurled backward by the impact and tumbled down the slope until it disappeared among the rocks.
Nyra recovered her spear.
Her breathing remained calm, without a trace of fear or exhilaration, dominated by absolute certainty.
She could now perceive the battlefield not as a visual spectacle, but as a living network in which the mountain, the warriors, and the roots remained connected—and she was one of its primary nodes.
Meanwhile, Lusian closed his eyes and projected his consciousness beyond the physical plane, delving into the very structure of mana.
There, he understood the true nature of what was happening.
The Mother Tree did not reason in human terms, nor did it distinguish between an individual and an extension of its own network. To it, Nyra was not a person, but a point of channeling through which its energy could circulate.
There was no malice in its actions, but neither was there consideration.
It did not seek to hurt them. It simply did not understand the fragility of their bodies.
"No."
Lusian's voice resonated powerfully through the flow of mana, freezing it instantly.
"They are not your tools."
For the first time, the Tree offered a response—not through words or thoughts, but through a confused resistance, unable to understand why it should stop.
Lusian clenched his teeth.
"If you use them that way, I will destroy you."
As he activated his divinity, a dense darkness erupted from within him.
It did not disperse like smoke. Instead, it took the shape of a defined structure that unfolded around the Tree's flow, containing it without destroying it or severing its advance.
At that moment, an identical mark was simultaneously engraved into the trunk of the Mother Tree and Lusian's hand, reacting in perfect harmony.
The flow changed immediately.
Mana continued circulating, but it stopped expanding uncontrollably.
Lusian had just imposed strict limits on the system: he determined who could receive the energy, in what amount, and how far it could reach.
The Tree remained the source of power, but authority over those connected to it now rested with Lusian, who had drawn the boundary.
On the walls, Nyra felt the transformation instantly.
The sensation of being dragged along by a superior force dissipated.
Although the connection remained and mana continued flowing through her veins, there was now a clear separation: she could feel the Tree, and the Tree could feel her, but neither was fused with the other.
Nyra opened and closed her hand, recognizing herself as the master of her own body.
Around her, the others' breathing steadied, and the involuntary tension in their muscles disappeared, leaving only the precise amount of energy necessary to maintain the connection.
The amber markings on their foreheads stopped branching and remained fixed as a definitive symbol:
The Mother Tree could sense them, but it could no longer control them.
Selvryn slowly raised her gaze toward the enormous trunk and remained completely silent for several seconds.
The Tree had accepted Lusian's will, not because its nature had changed, but because it had encountered an impassable boundary.
Lusian opened his eyes and released a sigh of relief.
The threat had worked.
No matter how desperate the situation was, every person retained the right to choose and decide whether they wished to fight.
The Tree could lend them its strength, but it would never make their decisions for them.
"This is better," he murmured.
On the slope, the difference became apparent immediately.
The battle continued below, but the Mother Tree no longer had puppets.
It had defenders.
The magical flow provided the energy, but it was the humans and elves who decided how to use it.
Nyra returned to her position atop the wall.
This time, her movements did not come from an external imposition, but from her own determination to protect her home.
She felt a warm current once again travel through her veins and lowered her gaze toward her hands.
The amber mark running along her arm pulsed with a slow, steady heartbeat.
That was when she noticed it:
Her mana reserves, which only moments before had been on the verge of total depletion, were beginning to recover.
It was not an uncontrolled torrent that threatened to shatter her magical core. The energy returned gradually, through a constant and stable flow that effortlessly adapted to the rhythm of her own body.
Nyra closed her fingers around the spear.
She could feel the latent presence of the Mother Tree, but this time there was no command floating in the air, no foreign force attempting to guide her muscles.
The power was there, entirely at her disposal.
She would decide how to use it.
At that moment, one of the altered creatures leapt toward her from the slope.
Nyra pivoted smoothly on one foot and raised the shaft.
She waited with absolute composure.
One second.
Two.
When the beast entered her range, she attacked.
The movement was clean and precise, without last-second corrections or hesitation.
The spearhead pierced the bone armor covering its chest and emerged firmly through the other side.
With a single accurate strike, she hurled the creature over the edge of the wall.
Nyra withdrew her weapon with agility, settled into her stance, and resumed her defensive position.
As she pulled the spear free and stepped to the side, the monster collapsed.
The warriors had not become infallible overnight; they still made mistakes.
But now they possessed an indispensable resource: reserves.
Whenever they exhausted their mana, the Tree supplied them with more, and whenever their muscles gave in to fatigue, the current returned to sustain them.
They could maintain an relentless pace and recover from mistakes that, under other circumstances, would have been fatal.
A few meters away, an elf reacted too late and blocked a hyena's claws when they were already nearly upon him. Immediately, the earth rose beneath his feet to restore his balance, allowing him to spin and drive his sword into the beast's neck.
Farther below, two humans fought back to back. When one missed a thrust and exposed his flank, the other covered the opening before the beast could exploit the gap.
They no longer fought like a single, autonomous mind, but as individuals supporting one another without exhaustion tearing their formation apart.
Little by little, the tide of battle began to turn.
It was not a drastic change—the carnivores and Lithar-modified beasts still possessed enough power to kill with a single blow—but the enemy's initial advantage was fading.
One creature fell.
Then another.
Then a third.
Soon, the savage roars began mingling with howls of retreat.
The defenders advanced steadily.
The Mother Tree sustained their vigor, but they were the ones who chose where to strike, whom to protect, and when to press the enemy lines.
Lusian watched the front in silence, feeling the oppression that had weighed on his chest since the beginning of the attack slowly dissipate.
He had accomplished what he set out to do.
The Tree remained the pillar of the mountain, but free will remained intact within the hearts of those who fought.
And as long as they retained that will, their destiny would remain in their own hands.