The dwarven kings weren’t faring any better. The demon they had overwhelmed before now fought with monstrous ferocity. Their enchanted weapons clashed with demon, and for every powerful strike they delivered, the demons countered with even greater strength. Sparks and explosions of elemental energy filled the air, turning the battlefield into a chaotic storm of power.
Not planning to indulge further, Cervic almost growled as he took a firm stance, planting his foot tightly to the ground. Tightening his grip on his black sword, he held his stance as energy gathered around him. Dark and white energy swirled around his body, the ground beneath him cracking as his power surged, seemingly doubling in an instant. With a single slash, he sent a crescent-shaped wave of destruction toward the tentacle-necked demon, the attack moving horizontal to the ground. The attack tore through the air as it raced toward its target.
The demon raised its arms to block, but the moment Cervic’s attack struck, the limbs shattered. A pained grunt escaped its throat, but Cervic didn’t give it a chance to recover as its body flew backwards. He closed the distance in an instant, his sword flashing downward with enough force to split a small mountain.
The demon’s body was cleaved in two. This time, it didn’t get back up.
Seeing this, the others pushed back harder. Cauldrus, who had decided to be more creative used his innate ability to control wood and plants to trap the enemy as a huge root broke through the ground to bind the demon. The air around him dropped to freezing temperatures, his golden eyes shining with cold determination. Raising his hand, he summoned a massive pillar of ice, encasing the crimson-scaled demon entirely. Then, with a flick of his wrist, the ice collapsed inward, crushing the demon into frozen fragments as even its image appeared to visible split into different places from outside..
The dwarves also performed exceptionally well, though they struggled more than the others, they managed to kill their foes too.
When the final demon collapsed, an overwhelming silence fell upon the battlefield.
The coalition forces stood victorious, but none of them celebrated. They were exhausted, at least some of them appeared to be, while Cervic and Cauldrus didn’t look to have tired much at all even after such a battle.
As they walked back to regroup, Cauldrus suddenly froze as a sharp, unexplainable sensation crawled down his spine. It was as if something had been ripped away from him. His eyes widened in shock as he turned toward the distance, his heart pounding in his chest.
"No…" he muttered.
Cervic noticed the change in his expression. "What is it?"
Cauldrus clenched his fists. "The barrier around the Elven Capital… it’s gone?" He said, almost as though he wasn’t sure of the statement himself.
The words sent a ripple of unease through the others. The barrier around the Elven Capital wasn’t something that could be broken easily. It was an ancient protection, something that required either immense power or internal workings to bring down.
Cauldrus wasted no time. He reached into his robes and pulled out a glass-like stone. Without hesitation, he crushed it in his palm, the fragments dissolving into a shimmering dust meant to trigger the teleportation formations back in his kingdom…
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But… Nothing happened.
His expression darkened even more… The formations weren’t responding.
Realization dawned upon him like a cold nightmare. Someone had tampered with the teleportation network. Whoever was behind this wasn’t just breaking through defenses, they were cutting off all possible means of immediate return, an they had to be responsible for the barrier also. It didn’t make any sense, and yet it was happening.
"Lord." The female elf that had appeared alongside Cauldrus said, looking worried.
Without thinking too much, he pulled out another teleportation glass. The air around Cauldrus crackled as he crushed another teleportation tool, his form flickering before vanishing from the battlefield. When he reappeared, he stood several miles away from the Elven Capital, hovering above the vast emerald forest that surrounded his kingdom. The towering trees swayed beneath him, but something was different, something was wrong, he could feel it.
Without hesitation, he propelled himself forward, his body cutting through the air like a streak of silver light. The closer he got, the heavier his heart became.
…
-Earlier… moments before Cauldrus had felt the disconnect-
Within an expansive, glass-enclosed garden, or at least it looked like a garden, with plants and vines growing all over and covering the entire place in a chaotic and oddly beautiful manner, Ithil stood in absolute stillness. The air around him shimmered faintly, threads of plantation twisting and coiling in a mesmerizing dance. He exhaled slowly, his golden eyes reflecting the ethereal glow that surrounded him.
A moment later, Melina appeared beside him, bowing slightly.
"It’s time," Ithil said, his voice calm but firm. "Go. Initiate the first part of our plan."
Melina nodded without hesitation. "As you command."
With a flicker of light, she was gone again, like she was never there.
Ithil remained in place for a moment longer before his figure blurred, vanishing from the garden. In the next instant, he reappeared at the very top floor of a grand tower, one hidden within the colossal branches of the World Tree that stretched high into the heavens.
This was the Central Tower, the heart of the Elven Capital and the elven lands, a sacred place where only the highest authorities of the kingdom and race could enter. From there, Ithil could see everything, the sprawling white stone buildings below, the countless elves moving through the city streets, oblivious to the change that was coming, and the expanse of forests that stretched almost endlessly.
He had stood in this place before, he had admired the beauty of his people and their achievements, but he had also despised their stagnation. The same city, the same people, the same traditions, unchanged for thousands of years. The elves, once pioneers of wisdom and magic, had grown complacent, refusing to push beyond their self-imposed boundaries.
It was time to break that cycle.
While he entertained the brief moment of thought, two figures flickered into existence within the tower.
Two elven elders.
They wore long ceremonial robes woven with silver threads, their presence exuding authority and wisdom. Their expressions immediately twisted into a mixture of shock and confusion upon seeing Ithil standing there.
"Ithil…?" one of them spoke cautiously, his face tightening.
"How did you enter this tower?" the other demanded, eyes narrowing. "You do not have the necessary authority to access this place."
Ithil turned to face them, his expression unreadable. "Does it matter how I entered?"
The elders exchanged wary glances. They could immediately tell that something was off.
"Of course, it matters," the first elder snapped. "Only a few people can access this floor. Certainly, I don’t need to inform you that you are not one of them."
The second elder took a step forward, a hint of relief flashing in his aged eyes. "But if it truly is you… then this is good. You must leave immediately, Ithil. This is not a place you should be."
Ithil did not move.
Instead, he let out a soft breath and said, "Tell me something… do you feel no shame in what we have become?"
The elders hesitated, confused even at the question. "What are you talking about?"
"Our people," Ithil continued, his gaze piercing through them. "We call ourselves a proud race. We claim to be wise, powerful, superior. And yet, we cower in our ancient ways, unwilling to advance, unwilling to take risks. We are not growing. We are rotting."
The elders’ faces hardened as they listened.
"Those are dangerous words," one of them warned. "Words unbecoming of an elder."
"Then perhaps that is the problem," Ithil said, his voice unwavering. "Perhaps being an elder really is the problem…"
The second elder’s expression darkened. "You speak like an outsider, Ithil, a stranger. Have the demons corrupted you? Are you even the real Ithil?!" He seemed as he questioned, still very much shocked at the current situation and all what he was hearing.
Ithil chuckled softly. "So because my thoughts do not align with yours, I must be a demon? How… predictable."
The first elder’s eyes glowed faintly as he activated an identification spell. The golden aura surrounding Ithil flickered momentarily, confirming his identity, though, there seemed to be something more. The elder’s expression twisted. "It really is you, what happened, these are not the words of the Ithil we know."
"Then perhaps the Ithil you knew is gone," he replied. "And what stands before you is the Ithil that must exist."
Silence fell between them.
The first elder took a step back, shaking his head. "This is not you, Ithil, you are lost, I can sense the shift in you. You must have fallen to madness. If you do not return to reason, we will have no choice but to restrain you."
Ithil remained unfazed as he answered. "And if I do not return to reason?"
"Then, we will stop you by force," the elder said coldly.
Ithil sighed. "You still do not understand. I did not allow you this dialogue to ask permission. I came here to offer you a choice."
Hearing what he said, The elders tensed.
"Follow me," Ithil said simply. "Or stay out of my way."
The second elder narrowed his eyes. "And if we refuse?"
Ithil’s expression did not change as he spoke frankly. "Then you will be forced to sit it out."