My world-tree system-Chapter 69 - 68: Escape again

Köflik wiped the sweat beading on his forehead with the back of his sleeve, glancing heavily at Foster, still kneeling in front of the budding tree. The wind had picked up, carrying with it the last echoes of the battle.

- There’s no time for tears," Foster declared in a broken but firm voice. There are others.

Kassandra looked up sharply.

- Where?

Foster closed his eyes for a moment. He let his mind plunge into the bond that united them all: him, Köflik, the other survivors... those he had saved from death by transforming them into elves from the World Tree. This invisible thread vibrated within him, an interweaving of presences that he could perceive, feel like heartbeats in the distance.

- Two groups," he announced after a moment. One to the north, the other further east. We’ve got to move fast.

Köflik nodded, tightening the grip of his weapon on his back. Kassandra, for her part, looked up at the tree where Orwen’s essence now rested, before huffing resignedly:

- Then let’s go.

Without another word, they set off through the undergrowth torn by flames and chaos. Foster could feel the link guiding him, a lingering presence, almost fragile, but still there. His heart beat with urgency. They couldn’t be too late.

After several minutes of frantic running, they stopped dead under a huge oak with gnarled branches. Foster raised his head and clenched his fists. Up there, barely visible between the dense foliage, two silhouettes trembled silently, clinging to the branches like terrified shadows.

- They’re here," whispered Köflik.

Foster stepped forward, raising his hand slightly.

- It’s all over now. You can come down now.

A moment’s silence. Then a shiver of hesitation.

- Foster...?

The voice was weak, broken by fear and exhaustion.

- Yes, it’s me. You’re safe now.

The leaves shivered, and slowly, cautiously, the three refugees began to descend. The first jumped to the ground with precarious suppleness, his legs wobbling. The second, more wary, still clung to a branch, as if the earth itself had become a trap.

Kassandra approached slowly.

- We’ll take you back. You’re not alone anymore.

The hesitant elf finally let go, landing on his knees. His breath was ragged, his eyes haunted. Foster put a hand on his shoulder. He could feel their fear, their distress, but also the tiny relief of finally being found.

- Let’s keep going," he murmured. There’s still one group left. Kähn’s.

Foster felt a brutal pulse through the bond. A visceral, raw fear that squeezed his chest. This wasn’t just the usual panic of a hunted group. No. This was something else. Something deeper, more irremediable.

- The last group... they’re on the run," he murmured, straightening his head.

Kassandra and Köflik exchanged glances. No need for words. They all understood what that meant.

Without a word, they set off. Foster led the way, carried by the invisible thread that bound him to his family. The trees passed in the night, their gnarled silhouettes casting distorted shadows under the cold moonlight. The smell of turned earth, dried blood and damp leaves filled the air. Each step sounded like a silent countdown.

Foster felt they were closer now. The link vibrated with an urgency he knew well, a distress that stuck to his skin like a burn.

Then, at last, they appeared.

Three silhouettes speeding through the forest. Kähn led the way, his back arched with effort, muscles taut to the breaking point. Behind him, the other two followed as best they could, panting, exhausted. They didn’t need to speak for Foster to understand: they were at their wits’ end.

- Kähn!

The man concerned turned abruptly. He recognized Foster and his eyes lit up.

- FOSTER! Here you are at last, I was beginning to despair! There are so many sons of bitches out there.

- Yes, I know, my friend, but run instead of talk.

They ran a long way through the forest while the seemingly tireless Obscurus relentlessly pursued them.

- Ah... at last.

Foster stopped dead in his tracks.

On a rocky ridge a little way off, a silhouette loomed up against the pale moonlight. A dark mass, frozen in a tranquil posture. A colossus clad in armor gnawed by time and war, its contours sharpened like blades. Every inch of metal exuded brutality, marked by countless battles. But that wasn’t what was bloodcurdling.

It was his eyes.

Two yellow slits, burning with a cold, distant intelligence. A cruel patience. He wasn’t surprised to see them. He’d been waiting for them.

Kassandra swore under her breath. Köflik tightened his grip on his weapon.

- Another hellish general. he said.

- What do you mean again? Have you ever met one?" asked Kähn.

- Do you think that’s why we’re so late? Foster took too long to shoot him. Kassandra replied.

- I’d like to see you there," retorted Foster.

Foster felt panic crawl into his gut, a familiar sensation he immediately repressed. This wasn’t the first time he’d seen one of them. It wouldn’t be the last. Powerful, yes. Fearsome, no doubt. But pawns at heart. Mere instruments fashioned for a single task: execution.

- It seems my masters will be delighted to learn of your sudden presence outside Vollua, little elf. he said, a smile distorting his face.

And to warn...

The General dug his claws into his own flesh. A brief, precise gesture, without hesitation. A trickle of black blood escaped, running slowly down his armor.

And that’s when everything changed.

A shiver ran down Foster’s spine. The air itself seemed to tremble. The temperature rose slightly, an imperceptible but inevitable change. There was nothing natural or innocuous about this heat.

The General didn’t move, merely closed his eyes for a moment, as if savoring the moment.

His blood carried the message.

He needed no words, no incantation, no cry of alarm. Everything had already been done.

In the unfathomable darkness of a room where time seemed to stand still, a pulse broke the silence. Subtle, almost imperceptible, but terribly eloquent. A warmth sprang up in the void, slithering like a snake beneath the skin of a being whose very presence overwhelmed the surrounding space.

He slowly opened his eyes.

A cruel smile stretched his lips.

Around him, shifting shadows straightened, attentive. He hadn’t said anything yet, but they were all waiting. They knew that when he spoke, it would not be without reason.

- He’s left Vollua.

The words fell like a blade on the back of an offered neck.

At first, a silence greeted this revelation. Then a deeper, stonier voice broke the moment of suspension:

- At last. And just in time HAHAHA.

A murmur ran through the assembly. It wasn’t surprise. It was grim satisfaction, an anticipation nurtured by centuries of patience.

- The leader of the wretched exiles has ventured out of his lair," he continued, savoring every syllable. Away from the Mother Tree. Away from the protection of his domain.

He turned his head slightly, scanning the indistinct silhouettes around him. In the shadows, some were already smiling. Others remained motionless, but a muted tension vibrated in the air.

- Does he know about the sanctuary?" resumed a more sibilant voice, imbued with an icy malignancy. If so, we need to nip his research in the bud.

- Then let’s crush them immediately.

The sentence was sharp, devoid of hesitation.

The man who had felt the signal placed a hand on the sculpted armrest of his seat and closed his eyes briefly. The information flowed through his mind like poison through an open wound. His pawn - this insignificant, expendable general - had done his duty. He must have been watching his own flesh being consumed by the signal, his flesh becoming the intermediary between their world and theirs.

But it didn’t matter.

The pawn could die.

- Obscurus’s troops must focus on Foster and his group.

He paused, relishing the moment when the order took shape, when his command alone would precipitate a ruthless hunt.

- He mustn’t disrupt our plan, he’s just a fly on the wall for now, but let’s not be fooled.

- Don’t take him so seriously either," added another voice, this time imbued with morbid amusement.

Muffled laughter rose in the darkness, echoing like a funereal melody in this assembly where no one had a face, where only words carried the truth of their existence.

In the shadows, seven presences quivered.

POV Foster:

The air thickened around Foster, and he straightened his head slightly, his pupils shrinking. His breath became shorter.

A vibration.

No, not a vibration. A tremor in the atmosphere, a shift of energy, like an invisible current whipping through the air around him. His instincts suddenly flared up, screaming out a simple, implacable message.

He closed his eyes and let his perception take over.

They were coming.

Not just a squad. Not a few isolated trackers.

Eight of them.

Eight presences. Eight masses of power on the move. Each accompanied by a swarming mass.

His heart pounded in his chest.

He understood.

He should never have wasted a second.

His gaze shifted to the Hell general standing in front of him.

The scumbag was smiling.

That smile... That putrid smile, filled with grim smugness, sadistic amusement. An expression of victory.

- You son of a bitch...

He understood what he’d done.

This wasn’t a simple observation, not a trap they’d close later.

No.

The son of a bitch had sent a signal.

He had warned the Lords of the Apocalypse.

A shiver ran down Foster’s spine. They knew.

He could have sworn that, somewhere, deep in the darkness, those foul beings were already laughing.

The ground beneath his feet vibrated.

The Obscurus.

Their movement was no longer chaotic or erratic. It was organized. A shiver of fear ran through Foster. The swarming mass of shadows began to converge.

Then he felt them.

Not just generals.

Legions.

Hundreds of them. Thousands of them.

The woods, once a refuge of silence and darkness, filled with creeping chaos. The rustle of leaves mingled with the hurried footsteps and metallic clatter of entities lining up for battle.

The trap was closed.

Foster swallowed. His gaze swept the clearing. There was no way out.

He put the stat points he’d accumulated by leveling up directly into his magic.

[Host status]

[Race] : Elf of the World Tree

[Knight of rank 8]

[Adept of rank 10]

[Innate talent] : Child of the World Tree, Father of the race

[Level 19: 14/600,000]

[Strength] : 112

[Endurance] : 110

[Constitution] : 115

[Perception] : 116

[Magic]: 103 -->152

[Free stat points] : 49 -->0

[Equipment] : Grimoire, Devourer’s Katana

Köflik and Kassandra understood even before he opened his mouth. Their instincts drew them back, ready to react. But Kähn... Kähn was still frozen, his gaze locked on the advancing darkness.

- RUN!!

Foster’s howl split the air.

No useless bravery. No stupid plan.

They had to run.

The next instant, the first roar burst into the night.

One of the generals had entered the dance.

Foster didn’t even pause to catch his breath. He immediately reached down with one hand.

- Roots of the World Tree]!

The earth rumbled.

A dull thump resounded beneath their feet.

Massive roots suddenly sprang up from the earth, gnarled and thick as a titan’s arms. They exploded out of the ground with a deafening din, shattering trunks, tearing up the earth and driving back the nearest Obscurus in a storm of dust and debris.

Some roots wrapped themselves around his legs and those of his companions, propelling them forward as they fled. Others rose like spears, piercing screaming creatures.

- MOVE!! he roared.

The ground beneath their feet shattered under the impact of the attack, but Foster didn’t take the time to look back.