My world-tree system-Chapter 43 - 42: Panic

The silence that followed the death of Hell’s second general lasted only a heartbeat.

And then...

Chaos exploded.

A gut-wrenching howl echoed through the night, carried by dozens, hundreds of voices dead with fear and rage.

The Obscurus army had lost its leader.

And in this world of darkness and fury, where only the law of the strongest dictates order... this meant their end.

But before the collapse came, before the panic consumed them... they did what any cornered beast does in its last moments.

They attacked everything that moved.

On the edge of the battle, at the edge of the forest...

A group of elves from the World Tree were panting, their legs heavy with fatigue and their muscles knotted with effort. They had given their all, using their magic and their blades to contain the infernal surge.

But now...

Now the Obscurus no longer followed orders.

They were no longer an army.

They were a pack of wild beasts, and in their madness, they turned on every living thing.

The first scream rang out, a howl of pure terror.

One of the elves, already exhausted, was seized from behind by an abomination with deformed limbs. The black fangs closed in on his shoulder, sinking to the bone with a foul sound of tearing flesh.

He didn’t even have time to react before more Obscurus descended on him, crushing him under a mass of screaming bodies.

A geyser of blood shot into the air.

And then the real horror began.

- Get back! GET BACK! WE’RE BEATING RETIRED!’ shouted an elf commander as he saw the horror unleashed.

But it was too late.

The creatures rushed at them, their claws and weapons striking at random, even turning on their own allies.

The Obscurus were killing each other in their destructive madness.

Corpses piled up.

Disembowelled bodies lay in the mud, indistinct between elves and monsters.

Buildings began to burn under the flames of the black magic unleashed.

Entire trees were torn from the ground, shattered by entities that had become uncontrollable.

The edge of the forest was transformed into a killing field.

A little further on, in the heart of the chaos...

An elf was running, short of breath, carrying a seriously injured comrade on his back.

All around him, madness spread like a black wave.

He saw a soldier being dismembered alive, his screams mingling with the creatures’ snarls.

He saw a figure charred by an explosion of chaotic magic.

He saw a group of Obscurus tear each other apart, their fangs sinking into the flesh of their former brothers in arms.

And he understood.

They didn’t stand a chance.

They had to run.

Flee before they were swallowed up by this tide of death and madness.

Behind the front line, in the heart of Vollua...

Köflik struggled to open his eyes.

His body was shattered, his breath heavy and painful.

He didn’t know how long he had been unconscious... maybe a few minutes, maybe an eternity.

But what he saw when he got to his feet made his blood run cold.

The battle wasn’t over.

It had just taken an even worse turn.

From where he was, perched on a half-collapsed structure, he could see the carnage spreading.

The Obscurus were killing each other.

They were no longer an army, but ferocious beasts abandoned to their primitive instincts.

But this was not the good news he had hoped for.

For in their blind rage... they were taking the elves with them.

They were killing everything that moved.

They razed the forest to the ground in a wave of madness.

Vollua herself was in danger.

- ’Fucking...’ Köflik leaned against a wall, gritting his teeth against the pain radiating throughout his body. ’Foster... we’ve got to wake up...’

He turned his head towards the figure of his comrade, still unconscious, still exhausted from his fight against the demon.

Köflik couldn’t wait for him to regain consciousness.

He had to do something.

He had to do it now.

The Obscurus, in their rampage, searched for every sign of life and finally came upon Vollua:

On the ramparts of Vollua, the elves who had remained in the city fought with the energy of despair, their silhouettes standing out in the glow of the flames. Arrows flew, piercing the shadowy creatures scaling the walls. Blades gleamed, splitting flesh and bone, pushing back wave after wave of the enraged horde.

And yet... something was wrong.

- ’They are not weakening.’

The elf who had just spoken, covered in black blood, shot another arrow into the skull of an Obscurus climbing the rampart. It screamed as it crashed to the ground, but another one immediately took its place.

- Where’s Foster?’ shouted another, his fists clenching on the hilt of his sword.

Their Lord had left to confront the enemy generals. He had to be back by now. They should be winning by now.

But they weren’t winning.

The darkness was gaining ground.

And the elves were beginning to understand.

If Foster did not return...

Vollua would fall.

Miles away...

Foster slowly opened his eyes as Köflik slapped his cheek.

- FOSTER, FOSTER, WE NEED YOU, WAKE UP YOU SON OF A BITCH!!!

The pain was immediate.

Every muscle in his body screamed in pain, every bone seemed to weigh a ton. He tried to move a finger - a jolt of pain shot through his arm.

He groaned. His ribs were broken.

The Avatar of Life had drained him of his energy. He had given everything.

But not enough.

Not yet.

A tremor shook his chest as he planted a trembling hand in the cold earth. He clenched his teeth, his muscles tense with effort, and in slow agony... he got to his feet.

Slowly.

Painfully.

Then... he looked up.

And his heart stopped.

Vollua was burning, as were some of the roots of his inner world tree.

A tear rolled silently down his cheek. 𝗳𝚛𝚎𝚎𝘄𝕖𝕓𝕟𝕠𝚟𝚎𝕝.𝗰𝕠𝐦

- Every day I lose one of my people, what use is all this power if in the end we’re all wiped out little by little. he whispered

On the city walls...

- ’They’re breaking our lines! We can’t hold out!’

A cry pierced the clamour of battle. An elf, his back against the wall, narrowly deflected a black claw that tried to tear his face off. His companion next to him was not so lucky - an Obscurus pounced on him, ripping out his throat.

Panic set in.

The Obscurus rushed into the gaps, waves of surging shadows rushing through the smallest opening.

- ’We’ve got to hold out! They’ll be back, they-’

A sudden silence fell over the ramparts.

A shiver ran through every fighter.

- Look...’ breathed one of the archers, his hand trembling on the string of his bow.

All eyes turned.

In the darkness, a silhouette stood out.

Far, far away, but moving slowly towards the city.

It staggered.

Then... she lifted her head.

Even from this distance, they could see her gaze.

A golden glint pierced the night.

- It’s him...’ someone whispered.

The air seemed to change.

A dull roar from deep within the earth spread through Vollua.

And Foster... raised a hand.

The trees trembled.

The living walls of Vollua, formed by the 156 Woods of the World, shuddered at his call.

An oppressive silence fell over the city.

Then, the first tree moved.

A root twitched.

A branch twisted.

And then, the Woods of the World awoke.

A shattering sound rippled through the air as a gigantic trunk bent backwards...

And then struck.

In a single movement, it crushed a dozen Obscurus under its weight, reducing their bodies to a mixture of black flesh and shattered bones.

The other trees also came to life.

Roots sprang up from the ground, grabbing the monsters and dragging them through the earth like sacrificial prey.

Branches bent like living whips, slashing and lacerating anything stupid enough to get close.

A scaly Obscurus leapt towards a rampart.

A root shot out and caught it in mid-air.

In one swift movement, it crushed him to the ground.

His body exploded on impact.

Another monster, a six-armed creature bristling with claws, tried to hack a tree to pieces.

The trunk twisted, avoiding the attack...

Then it came down on him like a divine club.

All that remained was a trail of crushed flesh.

The chaos was reversed.

The monsters had become the prey.

On the ramparts, the elves looked on in horror.

Their enemies howled, mown down by nature itself.

And at the centre of this carnage...

Foster advanced.

His steps were heavy, slow, but implacable.

His hand remained raised, commanding the Woods of the World like a king commands his army.

The black blood of the Obscurus flowed beneath his feet.

But he was only looking at the city.

He was only looking at his elves.

- He can be pretty scary when he wants to be,’ said Köflik a few paces behind with several of his companions passed out in his arms.

PS : I’m 3 words short of the 1,500 word mark, so : I love you <3 ’-’