City of Sin (Yanyu Jiangnan)

Child Of The Forest

Demi burned brightly in the midst of battle; her level was certainly on the lower end, but her effect on the battlefield was not. However, that was only to be expected; after all, cursemasters were built for war.

Demi put everything into weakening the enemy, while as her counterpart Olar was focused on strengthening their own army. His warsong inflamed passions, tempo gradually speeding up and pulling the warriors along. The soldiers grew able to draw on strength that they did not know existed.

Mounted on his unicorn, Richard was pacing through the battlefield. He didn’t attack without necessity, focusing his energy on managing his troops. This battlefield was a mess, elven warriors and druids lurking around every tree in ambush. As the combatants started moving around the trees to continue their fights, they often realised they weren’t fighting the same enemy anymore. The situation made it hard to retain control, forcing him to shout out his commands sometimes even to specific soldiers. Most of his men were focused on their individual battles, losing awareness of their surroundings.

Still, he could often turn the tides around with only a command or two in some pockets of the battlefield. Other times, he had to take action personally before the fight was under control. Still, he restricted himself to flame arrows that targeted single opponents, not daring to use anything with an area of effect. Ever since he had awakened his truename, his offensive spells were imbued with abyssal flames that greatly increased their power; even the fireballs which were supposed to be weakened in these surroundings could not be borne by ordinary soldiers. Every fireball would kill many tenacious elves, but his own soldiers would also be sent to the ground.

“Zendrall, Circle of Death!” Richard’s shout stopped the necromancer who was in the midst of summoning more undead. He made a few gestures and a ripple of dark grey gushed out of his hands, passing silently through the melee. Still under the protection of Soul Guard, Richard’s soldiers only felt a bout of dizziness and disgust. However, the elven warriors nearby started to feel a soul-rending pain. Seven or eight archers fell from their cover in the trees, twitching uncontrollably; numerous weapons impaled them in the blink of an eye.

The biggest success was the fall of an elven druid. Zendrall was thrilled by this windfall, immediately starting a chant for a spirit lance, but Richard just shook his head. A wave of the Twin of Destiny instantly spawned a bolt of lightning that landed on the elf who was in the midst of transforming into a panther, setting him ablaze. The elder ran wildly into the woods as he burnt to his death, a ridiculous squeal ringing throughout the vicinity.

The lightning spell hadn’t been boosted by Sacrifice, but it still contained a blood-red power within that was strong enough to kill the druid. Had Richard waited for Zendrall to finish the lengthy incantation for his spell, the enemy would have escaped.

Having used a single flourish to defeat the opponent, Richard then rushed towards another critical battle. A large branch suddenly swept through the air to try and strike at him, but he jolted the unicorn to avoid the attack before ignoring the treant entirely and looking towards the distant battlefield. Surprise attacks were everywhere in this chaotic fight, and he had no intent to engage with a random enemy.

However, the unicorn had other ideas. It dashed forward to implant its horn into the treant’s trunk, the movement so sudden Richard was almost flung off its back. He instantly grew furious, scolding it sternly and even knocking his staff against its head, but the creature didn’t take it to heart as it instead shook its head violently. It continued to thrash about until it left a deep hole in the treant’s bark before reluctantly pulling its horn out. The gap it left behind emitted a dull radiance, oozing green fluid.

The treant had gone rigid the moment it was stabbed, howling in pain but unable to break free. It could only watch as its trunk was ripped into, barely even shaking its body. Even when these creatures were attacked by the axes and their roots were hacked off, they only exuded a little bit of sap unless their hearts were injured. General wounds shouldn’t even have affected it, but a casual stab from the unicorn into the thickest part of its body still left a wound that was leaking sap. The treant howled a few times, stumbling away before its enormous body fell to the ground.

The spectacle left Richard in shock. He tugged at the unicorn’s mane a few times, saying, “I didn’t know you could fight!”

The unicorn neighed in delight.

This interlude didn’t last long. Richard regained his seriousness, eyes sweeping across the battlefield even as a lethal arrow whizzed past him for the heart of a nearby cleric. Without any time to call for help, he immediately traced its path back to the source. A humanoid knight stuck its halberd into the ground, unsheathing its sword and throwing it in the direction he had marked. The blade sliced through the air, evoking a brood-curdling scream as it disappeared into the trees.

The cleric in question froze in shock, trying to look over his back but unable to see the arrow deeply embedded into him. Two others who were nearby tried to treat him quickly, but their divine spells could do nothing with the arrow pierced through his heart. The man swayed in place for a few moments before crumpling to the ground.

With even the clergy in the back suffering casualties, there was no safe space in this battle. Richard’s soldiers fell one by one at a rate he could not control, leaving him feeling powerless for the first time in forever.

It was then that Nyris flashed before him, swinging his giant axe menacingly as he cut down a severely injured treant in a few swings. The prince then flashed him a winning smile, signalling that everything was under control.

This small action put Richard at ease. He remembered that he had yet to use the Book of Holding, and Nyris, Agamemnon, Waterflower, and Flowsand hadn’t needed to use their ultimate skills. Although his warriors were dying everywhere, the elves were suffering far more casualties. Coincidentally Olar waltzed into range, the powerful treble of the elven warsong lifting Richard’s spirit further.

However, it was also at this moment that a strong feeling of unease stilled his heart. Light spilled out of both of Richard’s eyes as he instantly activated Analytic, barely catching a silhouette flying through the woods at an unbelievable speed. In this silhouette’s hands was an unusual spear that seemed to be made out of some natural branch, both ends inlaid with bone tips. These tips sparkled with a natural radiance not unlike those of the elves’ bone daggers, with no extravagant decorations. However, the moment the weapon came into view Richard felt as though invisible needles were pricking his eyes. It was an inexplicable feeling of danger— this invisible enemy was undoubtedly powerful!

The figure flickered next to Olar, thrusting the spear into the bard’s chest. Olar’s mouth lolled open in shock, the last words of his warsong still reverberating in his throat leaving him unable to even scream.

The spear made it through his chest without any obstructions, the skin and flesh nearby bursting apart as though many explosions were ringing out within. A large hole appeared in the middle of his chest in a split second even as the spear continued to sink deeper in.

A bolt of blood lightning flashed down from the sky, lacerating time and space as it fell upon the attacker. Sparks surrounded the figure in a scant few moments, forcing it to reveal its true form. This elf was young but tall, possessing a rather wild beauty. There were four streaks of dark green adorning his face, only adding to his unforgettable savage aura.

The blood-red lightning arced constantly, tearing a green barrier apart. It took a few seconds, but the spell successfully tore apart his nature defence and drilled into his body, leaving his face crumpling up in pain. However, he screamed once and his aura returned, protecting him from the electric flames.

Three Orleans soldiers wielding greatswords rushed towards the young elf, but he only broke into a confident smile. He calmly shook Olar off his spear, turning to face his new opponents.

The elf’s movements seemed calm and natural, but even a simple turn left behind a momentary afterimage, his actions too fast for the human eyes. The three soldiers continued to charge at him with all they had, but only made it half the distance before all energy left them and they fell to the ground. They never noticed the terrible holes in their chests.

Agamemnon leapt into the sky, the giant sword in his hands slicing at the elven youth. It was a simple move, using pure speed and power, but it only caused the elf to light up. He spread his legs in mid-air to land on the heads of two royal soldiers, the spear in his grasp swatting the attack away and countering with a stab of its own.

Agamemnon didn’t make a peep as he dodged, sword moving like the wind to shower the enemy with attacks that seemed to hold no technique to speak of. This was sheer violence supplemented by pure power, a mad barrage that would leave even a saint on the back foot.

The elf brightened up further, eyes filled with praise. His spear was quick as lightning, not yielding in the slightest as he matched Agamemnon blow for blow. It took a mere three attacks before Agamemnon was pushed into a disadvantage, forced off his offence until all he could do was try to save himself.

The spear suddenly pressed close, a simple shake of the elf’s wrist causing it to circle the larger weapon thrice before sending the giant sword flying into the sky. Agamemnon was unwilling to let go, but that only meant his entire body was thrown away.

The elf still had the leisure to raise his hand and pull back the dishevelled hair on his forehead, revealing a dazzling smile. Another flash of green and eight royal soldiers nearby were left with bloody holes in their heads, stiffening before they collapsed outward with him at the centre. Crisp sounds could be heard under his feet as the skulls of his stepping stones shattered, but they still did not fall.

The youth’s eyes narrowed, his gaze sweeping across the battlefield in search of another target.

Time seemed to be distorted in this place. The young elf’s movements were easy and unhurried, almost every minuscule action resulting in death and destruction, but it hadn’t been more than a few seconds since he showed himself. Olar still hadn’t crumpled to the ground, Agamemnon still soaring upwards, and Richard himself was ashen-faced after forcing out a grade 6 spell boosted by Sacrifice to save the bard. He felt as though his body had been set on fire, his hand still pulling open the Book of Holding.

A divine glow landed on Olar, immediately stopping the fountain of blood erupting from his chest. The greater heal had come barely in time, likely having saved the bard’s life. The young elf’s eyes immediately locked onto Flowsand whose hands were still glowing from the spell. His eyes brightened at the sight, but he then shook his head at the thought of having to kill such a beauty.

When his eyes finally landed on Scherr, they stopped moving. The saint was like a frog noticed by a snake, completely on guard yet not daring to move.

However, just as the elf was about to attack, Nyris soared into the sky with axe in hand, attacking with full strength. Despite his noble status and delicate face, this prince had never been afraid of battle. Still, the elf only looked at him and nonchalantly thrust his spear a few times, sending the axe flying. The polearm then smacked into Nyris’ chest, blood spurting from the prince’s mouth as he was thrown away with broken ribs.

The young elf no longer bothered with Nyris, wandering towards Scherr with his spear flashing in and out of sight. The naked eye couldn’t even see the main body of his weapon anymore as an unknown number of attacks were made with every strike.

Scherr’s twin swords danced dazzlingly as he was forced into retreat, expression completely distorted. It wasn’t long before his swords suddenly flew into the sky, the elf’s spear taking the chance to point between his brows. The tip barely touched the head, leaving a tiny red dot.

The saint’s body went stiff, hands lolling by the side as his gaze lost all life. A look of disbelief froze on his face as he swayed, head suddenly exploding into a bloody mist. The headless body still stood in place for a while, refusing to fall down.

The elven youth smiled, spear spiralling to create countless afterimages with seemingly great ease. However, his gaze suddenly froze. He looked up at the sky, just in time to see a bolt of lightning surrounded by a crimson aura strike his forehead.

The chain lightning spell caused the elf to groan, the green light around him growing darker as his eyes flashed with savagery for the first time. His gaze landed on Richard once more, and he started charging towards him.

Richard was sternly flipping through the Book of Holding, dropping yet another bolt on the elf’s head to completely break his barrier. At the same time his own body was surrounded by the sparks from Mana Armament, his speed abruptly increasing as he dodged to the side.

A mocking smile appeared on the young elf’s face as he sped up further, approaching Richard in a near instant. Richard dodged once more, having a third bolt smash into the enemy’s head. The elf finally let loose a miserable howl, but his spear was now extremely close as well. Still Richard did not give in, determination flashing in his eyes as he continued to flip through the book.

This fourth bolt wouldn’t be enough to kill the elf, but the attack from his spear was definitely lethal! However, Richard had used all his might in the last dodge. With the devilish speed of this opponent, it was nigh impossible to stave off the next attack. In that case, it would be better to go all out and throw another spell onto this damned enemy! Even if he didn’t die, at least he would be injured enough for Agamemnon, Nyris, and the rest to exact their vengeance!

However, the elf’s movements suddenly grew a little sluggish as he stopped for an instant mid-strike. Nyris had run over at some point, barely managing to put a hand on the enemy’s heels and pull him back. The fellow had gone mad!

The lightning struck the young elf, but even so his attack only paused for a moment before he continued towards Richard. His momentum was so great that Nyris was just dragged along.

*Schlick!*

The spear entered flesh, but not of its intended target. Agamemnon had knocked Richard aside in the most critical moment, taking the strike with his abdomen instead. The reticent youth seemed to have expected the pain, not caring for the grievous wound as he countered with the giant sword in his hands.

The young elf was greatly surprised, his movements growing so quick his figure seemed to blur as his left hand grasped the edge of Agamemnon’s blade, preventing it from moving forward. In the meanwhile, he viciously kicked Agamemnon away.

The two-sided spear spiralled once more, preparing to pierce into Agamemnon’s chest before stabbing the repulsive fellow who had cast five bolts of lightning in succession. However, the elf suddenly found his attack slowing down, the world around him moving at a speed he could not believe. He wanted to quicken his attack with a flourish of his fingers, but his movements had grown so slow he couldn’t believe his eyes. Even his thoughts seemed to be frozen, leaving him with goosebumps slowly rising all over his body.

Elsewhere in the battlefield, Flowsand tumbled backwards in with her back ramrod straight, streams of blood seeping out from the corner of her eyes. The Lens of Time had turned this maelstrom of an enemy into someone no faster than an ordinary powerhouse.

Richard turned around to look at the collapsing Flowsand, before looking back at Agamemnon and Nyris who could no longer stand. An abnormal flush rose on his face as electric flames leapt around him once more. This time, they were tinted a blood red.

His movements suddenly no inferior to the elf’s, he flashed to the side of the unicorn and drew his sword off its back. Another flash and he appeared next to the enemy, blade piercing towards his chest!

A scream of rage thundered through the battlefield as the spear struck back like lightning. Even restrained by Flowsand, the enemy had somehow sped up enough to match Richard in his empowered state. He had evidently activated some sort of secret skill.

Richard didn’t so much as make a peep, lips pursed tightly as stab after stab targeted the elf’s body. Each move was simple yet merciless, aiming for lethal points. He seemed to ignore any attacks that were not fatal, focusing on injuring the enemy as they traded blow for blow.

The nameless sword and the two-sided spear had turned into bundles of sparks that covered Richard and the elf. A crimson mist wafted out from between the two, a mix of their blood. It seemed like there was a meat grinder flying around within, fervently grinding at their flesh until one of them could hold on no longer. Countless injuries started to litter their bodies.

Richard grew calmer and calmer as the melee continued, eventually even showing a peaceful smile! The elf roared madly, but it contained an unconcealable fear. This opponent wouldn’t mind giving up his own life to kill him!

The elf suddenly tossed his spear towards Richard, using the moment of respite when he dodged to turn and flee into the depths of the forest!

The elven warriors and druids were all left stupefied. The child of the forest, the personification of god… Was fleeing?

It had been but a scant few minutes from the child’s arrival until he left with grievous injuries. A draconic roar cemented the failure of this ambush— Kaloh had been summoned!

Seeing the rapidly disappearing figure of the child of the forest, a trace of hesitation flashed in the eyes of grand mage Pamir. However, even as he put away his staff a graceful red figure appeared behind the enemy. Lina had teleported over!