My world-tree system-Chapter 71 - 70: Strange corridor

Foster had no time to let his rage overwhelm him.

The tree gave them no respite.

The roots quivered, as if shivering with excitement, and the vines snapped through the air, ready to come down on them at the slightest opportunity. Foster raised his head, his gaze burning with hatred, looking for a way to fight back, a hope...

But all he could see was the end.

- Kassandra, move!

She narrowly dodged a thick root that came crashing down where she’d been a second earlier. Her breath was ragged, her sword trembling.

- We can’t..." she gasped. We can’t win...

Foster gritted his teeth. He refused to accept the thought. Yet every attack, every blow, was useless. The tree was implacable.

And he was hungry.

The vines rushed towards them at the same time, swift as vipers. Foster launched a wave of mana, repelling them for a split second.

But it wasn’t enough.

Foster was panting, his breath burning in the icy air of the clearing. His heart was pounding, pulsing in time with the energy radiating from his golden tattoos.

All around him, the battle was lost.

The roots and vines weren’t just weapons. They were alive, conscious, cruel. They played with them as a predator plays with its prey before devouring it.

A scream ripped through the air.

- Help!

Foster turned his head sharply.

An elf a few yards away was struggling furiously, wrapped in countless tendrils that pulled him relentlessly toward the ground. His fingers clawed at the ground, desperately seeking a hold, a way out.

- FOSTER!

A second howl.

Another elf was seized by a massive root. He tried to slice the tendril with his dagger, but it was too strong. It suddenly tightened around him, cracking his bones under the pressure.

His scream died with a hiccup of pain.

Foster leapt forward, his mana exploding around him, sending out a wave of searing energy.

- World Tree Roots]!

Silver roots sprang up from the ground, wrapping themselves around the enemy tendrils, holding them back for a moment.

Just a moment.

Just long enough to see the look of terror in the eyes of the two elves.

Enough to realize that he couldn’t save them.

- He couldn’t!

He reached out, but already the tree was swallowing them.

The ground opened beneath them like a voracious maw.

The two elves were swallowed up.

Silence fell again, so brutal it was deafening.

Foster didn’t dare breathe.

Behind his back, a cry rang out.

He turned just in time to see Kassandra disappear under a tide of tendrils.

- NO!

He dived towards her, grabbing her hand at the last moment. She struggled violently, the vines wrapped around her torso, her legs, pulling with terrifying force.

- Pull me out!" she screamed, her voice broken by panic.

Foster pushed with all his might, the mana pulsing in his arms. He felt the vines resist, tightening around his friend.

And then...

A crack.

The pressure suddenly increased.

- Foster!

His arm slipped through his fingers.

Foster screamed.

But it was too late.

Kassandra was swallowed up.

The ground closed in.

A heavy silence fell over the clearing.

He was the only one left.

Alone.

His gaze fixed on the spot where she’d disappeared.

A low, deep burst of laughter rose in his mind.

It wasn’t a sound. It was a foreign thought. A whisper from deep within the tree, a shiver crawling through his soul.

"You, too, will join me."

Foster’s heart exploded with rage.

The golden tattoos lit up violently, projecting a burning aura, even more intense than before. A roar of mana erupted around him, blowing away the nearest vines.

His body pulsed with pure energy.

He struck the ground.

An immense circle of light spread around him. Silver roots sprang up, twisting like living creatures as they struggled against the darkness.

But nothing changed.

The tree didn’t even have to fight back.

It simply waited.

"Too late."

The roots closed in on him in a split second.

But he wouldn’t let them.

Not without a fight.

Not without slaughtering them all.

Foster slowly lowered his center of gravity, his muscles bandaged, his mind frozen in absolute concentration. 𝕗𝐫𝚎𝗲𝘄𝐞𝕓𝐧𝕠𝘃𝕖𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝚖

His fingers slid over the handle of his katana.

Slowly. Deliberately.

An icy sensation spread through him. His expression changed.

No more panic.

No more uncontrolled anger.

Only absolute focus.

His gaze became sharp, piercing as a drawn blade.

And then, his blade intent was born.

The air around him trembled.

A halo of golden energy coiled around his blade, luminous, sharp, intangible and yet more real than any mortal-forged sword.

The roots quivered.

They sensed the danger.

But it was too late.

Foster moved.

His body almost disappeared from view.

A step.

A cut.

The aura of his blade projected violently, tracing an arc of light through the black tendrils.

And the slaughter began.

A first sweep-five roots sliced off in a single movement.

A fluid pivot-ten more reduced to ashes by the force of his intention.

They threw themselves at him. They surrounded him.

But his blade was everywhere.

It danced.

It screamed.

Each blow was clean, precise, unstoppable.

Tendrils flew, but found only emptiness and death.

A root wrapped around her ankle? He dived, decapitated his assailant and leapt to a new foothold.

Another sought to embrace him? He slashed her before she could touch him.

He no longer thought.

He no longer doubted.

He cut.

And again.

And again.

Foster struggled, but there were too many of them. Too strong, and as his body reached its limit, fatigue overtook him.

Dozens of roots sprang up at once.

Foster cut one.

Another.

A third.

But there were too many.

A tendril wrapped around his wrist.

Another caught his ankle.

He resisted.

- Damn!

His aura blazed one last time.

He tore his arm free.

He was already raising his katana to attack again...

When the final blow fell.

A whisper from the ground.

A shiver down his spine.

And a massive black tentacle rose from below.

A vegetable colossus, thicker than a tree trunk.

He couldn’t avoid it.

The impact hit him full force.

His body was lifted, thrown.

His breath caught.

The katana slipped from his grasp.

And before he could regain his senses...

The roots closed in.

The ground opened up beneath him.

Darkness engulfed him.

The fall was brutal.

Foster had no time to scream, or even to comprehend what was happening to him. In an instant, the roots had grabbed him and ripped him from the ground, engulfing him in the very bowels of the earth. The air whistled around him as he was whirled into a frenzied descent, propelled at terrifying speed through a subterranean gut whose rough walls flashed by at dizzying speed.

All around him was shifting darkness, a subterranean world of which he could only perceive fleeting glimpses - roots snaking up the walls, damp stones gleaming faintly, indistinct shadows that seemed to twist and move in the darkness. The pressure on his body was crushing, as if the earth itself wanted to crush him and reduce him to nothing.

He tried to move, to struggle, but the roots gripped him tightly, like a living trap, slithering around him like greedy snakes. The air became heavier, almost unbreathable, and a smell of damp earth and acrid sap filled his nostrils.

Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the descent ended.

He was thrown forward.

His body collided violently with a hard floor, rolling over several times before crashing into a wall with a thud. Pain exploded in his back, causing him to let out a hoarse grunt. He lay there for a moment, his jerky breath heaving in his chest as the echo of his arrival reverberated in his new surroundings.

A deep silence settled in.

One by one, torches hung on the walls lit up, casting a flickering, glowing light on the walls of this unfamiliar place. The light slowly revealed the place where he had landed: a long, narrow corridor whose walls looked as if they had been carved from polished black stone. Intricate patterns, interwoven in strange spirals and unknown symbols, covered every visible surface.

Foster inhaled deeply, trying to calm his panic-stricken heart. He slowly sat up on his elbows, his body protesting against the slightest movement. His aching muscles reminded him of the intensity of the fight against the tree, the desperate struggle, the pain of seeing his companions disappear one by one... and now, here he was. Alone.

- Where did I fall?" he murmured.

The air here was different. Denser. Colder. Every breath seemed filled with an invisible whisper, a latent presence that made the atmosphere oppressive. He didn’t like it.

His fingers grazed the ground, rough under his palm, before he leaned back.

He glanced around, studying the details of the corridor stretching out before him. The torches hanging on the walls gave off a flickering light that did little to dispel the shadows hanging over the place. Further on, in the still thick darkness, he could vaguely make out a massive doorway, framed by two columns covered in the same engravings as the rest of the corridor.

A shiver ran down his spine.

- This place...

It exuded a presence he couldn’t quite identify, but which chilled his blood. As if something, lurking in the depths, was already watching him. As if, by falling here, he had entered a forbidden sanctuary.

He reached for his katana still attached to his belt, reassured by the familiar feel of his weapon.

His thoughts returned to the others.

- Kassandra, Köflik, Kähn... where are you?

He tightened his grip on his katana and took a step forward.

The corridor, silent and eerie, awaited him.