Chapter 253: Cleansing and Visitation

A massive griffin soared above the Forest of Origin, leading a flock of eagle-like beasts in formation. Upon its back sat a squad of armored elves. Their vigilant eyes scanned the forest below, which had recently been subject to disturbing turmoil.

"There—look," said the elven knight standing upon the griffin's back. Clad head to toe in heavy armor that obscured all traces of face and form, he pointed below as he addressed he white-robed elf beside him.

"I see it," replied the elven mage. "I'll probe its condition first. If it's beyond salvation, we'll have no choice but to purge it."

With a murmured incantation, the mage cast Hawkeye. His pupils gleamed as his gaze pierced through the canopy. In the distance, a monstrous war-tree, its trunk drenched in blood, was rampaging through the forest, splintering trees in its path with feral abandon.

Its thick limbs pounded the ground, crushing creatures too slow to flee. One after another, the carcasses were hoisted to its crown and smeared across its blood-soaked foliage. Upon its trunk, a face once carved in benevolent stillness was now grotesquely stained crimson, soaked through by the gore it bathed in: an image of twisted madness.

From the tree's upper branches, thorned tendrils lashed out like serpents. Far more agile than its arms, they flung beasts high up into the air, then crushed them and drained their life force.

"..."

The elven magician fell silent for a few heartbeats. His gaze grew dark. Never had he witnessed such frenzied savagery within the Forest of Origin.

This forest, which had long been intertwined with the Tree of Life through countless unseen threads, had always thrived in harmony and brimmed with vitality. This abomination, a blood-drenched titan ravaging through the forest, was grotesquely out of place.

"There's no saving it," he finally said, shaking his head. "Even if it was once an ally of our kin... In this state, all we can do is grant it a final mercy."

Without pause, the elven knight drew his longsword. Etched into its blade was an intricate pattern of ivy vines, a symbol of life and continuity.

Raising the weapon high, he channeled both his fighting spirit and the words of nature. The blade shimmered with intertwining hues of gold and green, the glow spreading across the griffin's massive form.

The griffin shrieked. With a powerful beat of its wings, it surged forward like a living tempest. At its talons, streams of rapidly condensing air currents began to spiral, forming deadly vortices.

With another flap of its wings, the beast dove down. As it plunged toward the war-tree below, the twin air currents at its foreclaws solidified into saw-like blades of compressed wind that spun with lethal force.

The griffin halted mid-dive, its wings arresting its fall. It lashed out, hurling the twin saws of wind toward the war-tree's massive wooden arms.

Though this corrupted war-tree was swifter than before, it couldn't hope to rival the king of the skies. Distracted by the storm winds stirred up above, it turned its gaze skyward—far too late. The wind-blades struck it directly.

A horrible grinding sound rang out, like chainsaws cutting through timber. The twin wind-blades embedded themselves deep into the war-tree's limbs, shearing through bark and sapwood. Splinters flew. Verdant blood, cast upward in a fine mist, rained down in a gruesome drizzle.

The colossal war-tree shuddered violently as it reeled in agony. From its canopy burst a mass of writhing tendrils, lashing upward to ensnare the griffin, intending to drag it from the skies and crush the life from it.

But before the tendrils could find purchase, the twin wind-blades tore clean through the war-tree's limbs and struck the forest floor, gouging earth and flinging soil about like exploding shells. The severed arms fell with thunderous weight.

"No response."

From his staff, the mage conjured a verdant sphere of light. Small orbs orbited it in quiet motion. His brows furrowed as he gazed down at the armless war-tree, which seemed oblivious to its own mutilation and continued to attack with mindless hatred. He sighed again.

"Got it."

The knight sheathed the elegant longsword he had used to bless the griffin and unslung a massive greatsword from his back—the same make wielded by the silver-armored guardians of Eden Plain. Gripping the blade with both hands, he infused it with his fighting spirit, targeting the tangle of tendrils now surging toward them.

The sword's etched runes flared to life, and wind spiraled around its edge. With a roar of power, the knight swung, invoking his potential: Stormbinder.

A blade of energy detached from the sword, wrapped in a twisting cyclone. The moment it struck the oncoming tendrils, the vortex consumed them, pulled them into its whirling core, and shredded and sliced them to pieces.

The blade continued on, crashing into the war-tree's trunk. A shockwave erupted. The full force of the blow slammed into the behemoth, toppling it despite its titanic size. The whole forest seemed to tremble as it fell.

As the earth settled, the white-robed mage dismissed his previous spell and conjured a new one. A volatile, prism-shaped crystal formed atop his staff, pulsing with raw magic.

This was the third-tier spell Manacore Shard, which possessed the innate ability to seek out energy sources. The target was, naturally, the war-tree's heart.

The crystal streaked through the air, arcing down into the tree's crown. With a sharp crack, it detonated, sending shards of glowing crystal into the sky. The war-tree ceased moving at last.

"The words of nature have no effect... Its bond with the Tree of Life must be severed. Or perhaps... something else?"

The mage frowned, watching as blood-soaked leaves withered and fell. Moments earlier, he had tried to use that sacred elven magic to command the tree, but it had failed completely.

At his level, even berserk war-trees should have succumbed to his will. But this... aberration... was beyond him.

His confusion deepened, and with it came unease.

"Something's approaching," the knight said sharply, snapping him out of his thoughts. "Have the eagle-riders converge. Once we finish off the stragglers, we'll track down the source of this corruption."

As the warped war-tree died, the green ichor that oozed from it released pulses of life force into the forest, drawing curious—and dangerous—entities from the shadows.

Humanoid figures with blossoms for heads peeked out from between the trees, eyeing the griffin and the elves who now stood upon the corpse of the slain giant.

"Understood."

The mage waved his staff, sending out a ripple of unseen force. It relayed the command to the eagles circling high above.

The elven warriors drew longbows from their backs. They each infused their arrows with a different power—natural magic, fighting spirit, arcane might, or even void energy.

Emerald, iridescent arrows rained down from the heavens in a relentless barrage. Like a downpour of judgment, they swept through the forest and all the twisted creatures within...

Back in Moira's treetop home, Avia explained the situation. She and Wang Yu had brought back the rescued elf, Sif.

"Madam Moira, while we were gathering herbs, there was a huge commotion in the forest. We ended up rescuing an elf. We were going to send her to the hospital in Liaheim, but the elven rangers traveling with us told us you're the best healer there is. We were hoping you could take a look at her."

"I've examined her," Wang Yu added, laying Sif down gently on a bed in the lower chamber. "Physically, she's stable. All her wounds have healed. But... she's completely unresponsive to her surroundings."

Ever since her rescue, the elven ranger had remained silent, vacant. Perhaps it was the trauma of witnessing her sister's brutal death—crushed to pulp before her eyes—or perhaps something else entirely. No matter how Avia or Wang Yu tried to rouse her, her gaze remained lifeless and empty.

"...Isn't this little Sif?" Moira said softly, recognizing the girl. "Her sister was always with her—weren't they inseparable?"

Her voice trailed off, a look of realization and sorrow overtaking her expression.

"Let me see. Her body is fine. Any injuries she had have clearly been treated. Then why isn't she responding? Spiritual trauma? That doesn't make sense... Wait. Here."

Moira gently pressed her hand to various points on Sif's body as she probed it with finely tuned magic. Detection spells flowed into the ranger's body and transmitted information back to the old herbalist.

As Moira passed a hand over Sif's nostrils, she paused.

"Wang Yu, bring me the emberroot."

At her instruction, Wang Yu retrieved a small vial filled with green powder. Flickering flames danced faintly within the bottle—a vial of emberroot.

Moira transferred a measure of the powder into a slender test tube, then tapped it lightly against Sif's nose. The fine grains were drawn into her body naturally with each breath. There was a beat of silence, and then...

"Koff—koff—cough! Guh!"

Sif, who had been insensate, was suddenly seized by a violent coughing fit. She lurched forward, gagging, and expelled something from her throat in a spatter of blood-flecked fluid.

Quick as lightning, Wang Yu reached out and caught the object.

"What in the world is this...?"

He examined the blood-slick mass. To the touch, it was indistinguishable from raw flesh. Its surface was scorched in spots, evidence of the emberroot's ignition—and likely the only reason it had dislodged from her throat at all.

It resembled a tongue, albeit much smaller, and was shaped in such a way that it could easily pass unnoticed if adhered to the walls of a windpipe or esophagus. Wang Yu's brow furrowed as he noticed tiny buds of tissue sprouting from its surface—like the root tip of a seed, poised to burrow deeper.

Suddenly, there came a sharp knock at the door. A familiar voice rang out from outside just as Moira finished her inspection and Wang Yu studied the strange thing in his hand.

"Moira, are you there? I need a favor. Something's wrong in the Forest of Origin. If anyone can uncover what's really going on, it's you."

It was Elder Gewen. And alongside that voice, Wang Yu sensed another presence—one he knew well. Sieg.