My world-tree system-Chapter 52 - 51: Forced link

The bond between Foster and the elves of the World Tree vibrated with palpable urgency. They had found a solution, but it still had to be passed on to their lord without him losing his concentration in this titanic battle.

Foster was fighting with incredible ferocity.

Even in the Avatar State, he wasn’t dominating. He was surviving.

Faced with him, Kassandra was nothing more than a body possessed, a devastating weapon, driven by a power that went beyond sheer brute force. She anticipated every move, regenerated with frightening speed and struck with a rage devoid of humanity.

And yet, despite the whirlwind of steel and magic clashing around him, Foster felt something.

A pulse.

An invisible beat.

The link intensified.

The elves were calling to him.

Not with words, but with sensations, thoughts that brushed against his mind like a breeze laden with intent.

They had a plan.

Foster gritted his teeth, narrowly dodging a blow intended to crush his skull.

It was impossible to concentrate on a message in these conditions.

But the Mother Tree helped him.

She amplified the communication, soothed the pain that was engulfing her body and calmed her mind just enough for the information to pass through without a fog.

The plan appeared in a split second.

His blood.

A single drop would be enough to infect the mark with their link.

Then the elves would surround the monster and make their connection resonate, tearing Kassandra from the darkness.

Foster thought no more about it.

He accepted the plan immediately.

Foster couldn’t afford any hesitation.

He had understood the plan. But carrying it out?

That was another story.

The monster that inhabited Kassandra’s body gave him no respite.

Its attacks were precise, implacable, oppressive. Foster couldn’t afford to back down or even take a second to slice her own skin and extract a drop of her blood.

And yet, it had to be done.

This monster had to be forced to receive the mark of the World Tree.

Köflik and the others were already preparing to surround the fight, forming a semi-circle around it, waiting for the moment when Foster would succeed in inoculating the beast with his blood.

But how could he do it?

He dodged a black claw aimed at his neck and leapt backwards, but Kassandra pounced on him immediately.

She was faster.

Stronger.

And her regeneration made her practically immortal.

Foster parried a blow by crossing his forearms in front of him, feeling his bones crack from the impact.

Breathless.

The pain was searing.

But he took advantage of this proximity.

With a twist of his wrist, he summoned a World Tree Root.

It sprang from the ground in an organic blade, as sharp as elven steel.

In a split second, he cut his forearm.

A clean cut.

Blood began to seep immediately.

But he had no time to think.

The monster took advantage.

A shadowy hand closed around his neck, strangling him violently.

Foster suffocated.

The monster’s black fingers tightened around his throat, relentless, cutting off his breath.

His lungs burned. His body was screaming.

But he didn’t let go of his target.

His blood.

It was the only weapon that could turn the tide.

The previous blow had split his forearm open, and the scarlet liquid slowly beaded, vibrating with a purely elven essence.

There was only one way to turn the tide of the battle.

He had to make her ingest his blood.

But how?

Kassandra-or rather, the monstrous entity controlling her-was not going to remain passive.

Foster raised his arm, trembling, his blood dripping thickly.

He tried to bring it close to the monster’s lips, but it jerked back violently, its grip tightening even further.

A bestial growl was heard.

Kassandra opened her mouth in a twisted grin, revealing teeth that were no longer human.

She was no more than a slave to the brand, a deformed puppet.

Foster couldn’t hesitate.

With a final effort, he swung round sharply and slammed his knee into the monster’s abdomen.

The impact, although heavy and powerful, only slightly unbalanced him.

But it was enough.

With all the strength he had left, Foster violently grabbed his own injured arm and thrust it into Kassandra’s mouth.

Blood gushed onto her tongue.

She jerked back.

Her pupils dilated.

Then she screamed.

A scream of pure agony.

Kassandra’s scream ripped through the air like a thunderclap.

Her whole body convulsed violently, as if some invisible force were trying to tear her apart from the inside.

Foster took a step back, his breath coming in short gasps as he watched the battle being waged in his veins.

His blood, carrying the Legacy of the World Tree, was spreading inside Kassandra’s body.

It seeped, burned, consumed.

But the dark mark would not be denied.

A titanic magical shock exploded from the possessed elf’s body, sending out a wave that pushed Foster and the other elves back several metres.

Kassandra collapsed to her knees, trembling, her eyes wide.

Her whole body twisted under the pressure of the two forces struggling to control her.

On one side, the dark mark, an insidious and implacable entity, clung to her, clawing at her essence like a raging parasite.

On the other, Foster’s elven blood, pure and carrying the essence of the World Tree, was spreading like a rising tide, seeking to assert itself.

Kassandra’s veins glowed an incandescent red.

Then, suddenly, a torrent of blackness burst from her skin, a viscous, corrosive smoke that wrapped around her body like chains of darkness.

The mark was striking back.

Foster felt an overwhelming mental pressure, far more intense than his first confrontation with the mark.

The shadow tried to grab hold of him, to infiltrate his own mind and break him in turn.

But this time, he was not alone.

The Mother Tree reacted immediately.

A shiver ran through the woods of the World Tree, and an immense plant energy flowed towards Foster, strengthening his spirit, fortifying his link with Kassandra.

It was a battle of wills.

Foster closed his eyes for a moment, concentrating on the link that had formed.

Then he summoned all the strength of his Legacy and plunged mentally into the battle.

Inside Kassandra’s body, it was a war.

Golden roots, the embodiment of her elven blood, were spreading at breakneck speed, trying to suffocate the darkness that was parasitising them.

But the mark reacted like a cornered beast, striking and twisting in spasms of rage.

Kassandra’s veins turned black, then gold, then black again, the battle oscillating between light and shadow.

She screamed until her voice broke.

Her body was being torn apart from the inside.

Foster felt his own energy drain.

If he didn’t find a way of breaking the mark completely, then it risked absorbing Kassandra for good...

Or worse...

Take possession of her irreversibly.

He clenched his fists.

He had to free her from this hold.

Foster struggled.

His mind was on fire, invaded by a tide of shadows trying to crush his spirit.

The mark didn’t want to die.

It clung to Kassandra, to her body, to her soul, writhing and roaring in a last act of survival.

Foster pushed, but each effort was like facing a raging ocean.

He was powerful.

But alone.

And he was weakening.

But then a glimmer of light rose up from the darkness.

Köflik’s point of view:

Köflik didn’t know exactly how he had plunged into this storm of energy. It had all happened naturally.

He had felt Foster’s suffering.

The crushing pressure that threatened to break him.

And without thinking, he reached out with his mind.

The link came to life immediately, drawing him into an ocean of darkness and pain.

The mark.

There it was, a deformed, screaming, immense thing, clawing desperately at Kassandra’s soul.

And Foster, alone in front of her, was struggling.

The captain pushed, tried to break it, but the mark fought back with monstrous strength.

He was powerful.

But so was she.

Köflik understood.

Alone, he would not win.

So he stepped forward.

He had stretched his strength, offered his energy, shared his link with the Mother Tree.

And he felt it immediately.

Foster was no longer alone.

Then another.

Giovanni, his heart pounding, his breathing heavy, had joined them.

Then another.

Then a third.

Then a fourth.

One by one, the elves understood.

They let themselves be guided by the ancestral link that united them to the Mother Tree.

Their minds opened.

Their strength merged into one.

The next moment, they were all there.

Connected.

Woven into a single consciousness.

A symphony of souls.

The fear vanished.

The pain became lighter.

The weight less crushing.

Foster was no longer alone.

And so they attacked.

The Mother Tree was fully awakened in their minds, vibrating with an ancient and implacable power.

An immensity of vegetation pulsed within them.

The darkness clenched and howled.

But there were too many of them.

And then, light burst forth.

Golden roots, immense and luminous, surged over the mark.

They pierced it, strangled it, shattered it from the inside.

The entity screamed.

But it was too late.

The Mother Tree tightened its grip.

A final scream.

A terrible crack.

And then...

Silence.

The bond loosened.

They fell to their knees, drained, trembling.