Chapter 51: Defeat · Rebirth

  Tulalion was a forest in the southwest of the continent. Due to its seclusion and pure natural energy, elves had settled here over a hundred years ago. Over time, more and more elves gathered, making it the largest elven settlement on the continent.

  For the elves, the Whispering Woods—their ancestral homeland far to the east—was a sacred realm untouched by mortal affairs. But Tulalion was their true kingdom. Though they still retained the inherent pride and aloofness of their culture, the influence of the mortal world had softened them in many ways. The elves here interacted with humans, gradually replacing rigid rituals and prayers with more practical ways of life.

  That day, a human guest arrived via a teleportation scroll. This was a rare occurrence: given the elves’ nature and culture, their interactions with humans were highly selective. Only those held in the highest regard by the elves could obtain a scroll to Tulalion’s teleportation circle—and such people were few and far between.

  Sedros, however, was undoubtedly one of them. Whether in human kingdoms, elven forests, or dwarven underground cities, he was always the most welcome guest. His profound mastery of magic earned the admiration of all magic users; his vast knowledge, wisdom, and innovative insights made rulers eager to consult him; and his kind nature, extensive connections, and tactful demeanor made it easy for him to win friends. He had befriended the elven elders here during his travels across the continent years ago.

  The colossal undead dragon was still advancing toward Oufu at a slow pace—it would arrive in roughly three to four days. Sedros had already devised a plan to defeat this nearly invincible behemoth, but it required certain magical items that only the elves of Tulalion possessed.

  As soon as he arrived, he learned the elders were in a meeting with an envoy from the Whispering Woods.

  The Whispering Woods had always stayed out of mortal affairs and rarely contacted other elven communities. For them to send an envoy now meant something momentous had happened. This worried Sedros. He had never visited the Whispering Woods, but he knew from elves there of their inherent disdain for humans. If this envoy imposed that attitude on the elders, he might leave empty-handed.

  To his surprise, when word of his arrival was relayed inside, the elves invited him to the meeting hall.

  Entering the hall, Sedros first greeted his elven elder friends.

  “You’ve come at the perfect time. We were just discussing how to reach you,” one elder said, gesturing for Sedros to sit. He pointed to a silver-haired female elf seated among them. “This is Lady Luya, the envoy from the Whispering Woods.” He then turned to Luya, introducing Sedros. “This is Mr. Sedros, the great mage and scholar we were just speaking of—he has excellent relations with many human kingdoms and religions.”

  “Greetings,” Sedros said, smiling and nodding to the envoy. Even among the inherently graceful and ethereal elves, Luya was exceptionally beautiful. She defied the stereotype of Whispering Woods elves as stiff and outdated; instead, her expressions were vivid, almost naive. She did not return his greeting, however—she frowned at Sedros, a look of disgust on her face, making her prejudice against humans plain.

  “The reason we called this meeting,” the elder explained, handing Sedros a portrait, “is to inform all our allied nations and groups of a man we are hunting. We hope you will assist us. Our envoy painted this portrait herself.”

  The portrait depicted a young human man. Elves were naturally dexterous, and it was clear the envoy had a vivid memory of this person—though she had no formal training in painting, his features were rendered with striking clarity.

  Sedros studied the portrait, his brows furrowing slightly. “What has this man done?”

  Even the elder elves lacked the skill to analyze subtle facial expressions—a talent honed by humans navigating complex political intrigue. None of the elves noticed his momentary hesitation.

  “This human stole several important artifacts from the Whispering Woods. We must retrieve them,” the elder said. “Please help us, Sedros. We know your influence in human society is vast—we hope you can at least uncover his identity and whereabouts.”

  “Rest assured. I’ll have news for you soon,” Sedros replied firmly, his eyes flickering for a moment before he smiled. “But I didn’t come empty-handed, either. I hope you will grant me a small favor.”

  His request was immediately approved.

  By the time Sedros returned to Oufu, night had fallen. He rushed the items he had obtained to the city’s blacksmith workshop. The blacksmiths here had been secretly recruited from the Kalendor Basin with high salaries—their skills were exceptional, and they could forge weapons to his exact specifications.

  It was midnight by the time he left the workshop. Sedros dragged his exhausted body back to his residence. So far, everything seemed to be going smoothly, but even so, he only had an 80% chance of success in his plan to defeat the monster.

  Eighty percent was enough for most things, but not this one. Failure would leave no room for retreat—Oufu, the city he had spent over a decade building to realize his ideals, would be reduced to ash.

  Another problem troubled him: how to ensure the “core” remained intact during the attack. Destroying it would have been far simpler.

  He had promised Sophia he would heal Ethan, but that promise had been made to reassure her into returning to her duties. Even if he retrieved the core intact—it was a legendary treasure, after all—could he really use it to save a man? Or should he return it to the elves? And what would he tell Sophia then?

  “I imagine you’re quite troubled right now.” Sedros looked up, deep in thought, as he entered his room—and froze at the sight of someone he never expected to see. “I asked the city officials, but they said you were busy, so I decided to wait here.” The man was dressed plainly, sitting casually in a chair crudely made by an orc apprentice. Yet his presence seemed to elevate the chair, making it look as dignified as a masterpiece crafted by a master artisan.

  Sedros smiled. “I remember one of your specialties was curing headaches. Since you’ve appeared at this moment, I’m sure you won’t let me down. I have quite a few ‘headaches’ right now.”

  The man smiled too. “I hope one night is enough. Honestly, I’m troubled too—that’s why I came to you, to tackle this together. I used flight magic to sneak here without anyone noticing; I must leave before dawn.”

  Three days later. Ten miles south of Oufu.

  Sedros, Gru, and Sophia watched as the undead dragon’s massive form slowly appeared on the horizon. Beside them, over a dozen lizardmen pushed a dozen giant ballistae.

  Each ballista was as long as two men and as wide as one, with bolts over a man’s height. Their force was enough to pierce any shield within 500 meters. Combined with the lizardmen’s telescopic vision, these were terrifying weapons. The bolts loaded now were specially made—their tips were fitted with thin, spiral-shaped horns: unicorn horns, which Sedros had obtained from the Tulalion Forest.

  “It’s a true work of magical art. I almost hate to destroy it,” Sedros sighed, shaking his head.

  Gru’s voice was calm. “I, on the other hand, am eager to fight it.” He glanced at the robe Sophia was wearing. “If I could, I’d face this monster head-on.”

  Only those who had practiced Dark Meditation could unlock the full defensive power of the Robe of the Lich Lord; without it, even skin exposed beneath the robe would not withstand magical flames. Gru had initially insisted on wearing the robe to fight the monster directly, but Sedros had finally persuaded him to abandon this dangerous idea.

  After the monster spewed flames, its magic would fluctuate as it recharged and reshaped—leaving its defenses at their weakest. Sedros knew Sophia was skilled, and her small frame allowed the robe to cover her entire body, including her head and face. She was the only one who could act as bait.

  There was another crucial reason: Sedros wanted her to complete this task with her own hands. He wanted her to retrieve the Leaf of the World Tree and use it to heal Ethan—the same man who had once saved her with a World Tree Leaf. Only then could she leave Oufu without regret and fulfill her duties.

  In Sedros’ hand was a spear, forged by Oufu’s blacksmiths over the past three days. Its professional design ensured it maximized the thrower’s strength and accuracy. The spearhead was also a unicorn horn, topped with a tiny cross.

  The cross was a necklace, intricately carved from crystal with extraordinary craftsmanship; the cross itself was made of a rare magic jade. This jade was mined only in the Sanderfirth Mountains—home to giant beasts and thunderbirds—and inherently contained immense magical energy. After being tempered with magic, it could be infused with unique magical properties. It was priceless; to a mage, it was nearly invaluable.

  Few mages owned such a treasure, and fewer still would carve it into an amulet instead of a staff—fewer than five people on the entire continent.

  The undead dragon drew closer, suddenly speeding up. It had no eyes, but it sensed the auras of those who had harmed it days earlier in the distance. Driven by instinct, it hurried forward, eager to incinerate these sources of discomfort in its flames.

  “Alright, let’s begin,” Sedros said. Sophia nodded, glancing at the colossal monster. Its mountain-sized body was made of corpses, which trembled as if alive with every step, accompanied by a deafening rumble. The stench of rot washed over them—this seemed like a force no mortal could compete with.

  “If we defeat this monster, we’ll really save him, right?” Sophia asked.

  “Yes. I promise,” Sedros nodded.

  His assurance seemed to steel her resolve. She shouted firmly, “Good. I’m going!” and spurred her horse toward the undead dragon.

  Sedros gripped the spear’s tip and shaft, beginning to chant a spell. A jet-black mist spread over the spear, while the unicorn horn glowed with a brilliant white light.

  These were two spells: the dark magic “Power of Darkness” and the white magic “Holy Blade of Purity.” Neither was particularly advanced—even a mid-tier mage could cast them. But to infuse both into a single weapon without conflict? Only Sedros on the entire continent could do that.

  Unicorn horns had the ability to repel dark and necromantic magic, and they were extremely rare magical items—only elves with close ties to unicorns possessed them. The “Holy Blade of Purity” attached to the horn was specially designed to counter undead creatures, capable of piercing the tough bodies of revenants. Most importantly, it would ensure the tiny necklace hanging from the spearhead penetrated the monster’s corpse-made body.

  The “Power of Darkness” would convert the weapon’s magic into explosive force the moment it touched the target. Though it was a one-time burst, it drastically increased the weapon’s lethality. For the brief moment these magics were active, the weapon’s power was comparable to that of a legendary artifact forged to destroy the undead. Moreover, the cross on the spearhead contained immense white magic energy.

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  Sedros now felt confident in his plan—but his greatest confidence did not come from the weapon he had spent so much effort enchanting, nor from the assistance of an old friend. It came from the man who would throw the weapon. He handed the spear to Gru.

  Sedros was arguably the most knowledgeable and well-traveled man on the continent. Yet if there was one thing he did not understand, it was this long-time friend. He still had no idea what kind of power lurked within Gru’s body. But he knew one thing: it was power that would never disappoint.

  Sophia and her horse drew closer, seeming as insignificant as an insect beside the undead dragon’s massive form. Green flames erupted from the dragon’s mouth, instantly engulfing everything within a few hundred meters.

  “Now—fire!” Sedros ordered. The lizardmen pulled the triggers, and over a dozen man-sized bolts shot forward, striking the dragon’s chest as planned. The unicorn horns pierced its surface, embedding themselves in its torso. The bolts formed a circle, surrounding the location of the World Tree Leaf.

  Gru stepped forward, spear in hand. With his first step, dust and stones around him flew outward.

  With his second step, even Sedros beside him had the illusion that the entire ground was sinking under the force.

  With his third step, all the white light around Gru concentrated in his hands. He leaned forward, his body arcing like a taut bow—then snapped upright, and the spear flew from his grasp.

  Anyone who had heard thunder would never flinch at the pop of a firecracker. Similarly, anyone who witnessed this throw would never again find thunder or lightning impressive—even the wrath of heaven paled in comparison to this moment.

  That single, brilliant，fierce, and wild instant was enough to linger in the memory of every witness for a century.

  The spear, wreathed in black and white light, roared forward with unstoppable force—as if it could pierce the entire world. The air around it was sucked away, and the thunderous boom threatened to tear at one’s skin. Where the spear passed, the earth and stones were torn up, leaving a straight trench like a man-made river.

  There was only the boom. The undead dragon’s supposedly indestructible body turned as soft as water-soaked bread under this force—there was no sound of impact. The brilliant light struck the circle formed by the unicorn horns, piercing a massive circular tunnel through the dragon’s chest, large enough for a man to walk through. Chunks of corpses fell from the sky, vanishing instantly as they touched the green flames.

  The spear itself did not penetrate deep into the dragon’s body. The massive impact shattered all the unicorn horns and the magic jade cross, releasing a surge of white magic. The spear’s own violent force detonated this magic, tearing the dragon’s body to shreds within the affected area.

  A single emerald leaf drifted down from the giant hole in the dragon’s body. The white magic from the explosion had not harmed this leaf, which was brimming with life force.

  As the leaf fell, the undead dragon’s body began to collapse. Like a giant block of building blocks with its core removed, thousands of corpses crumbled at once. In the blink of an eye, the monster that had just seemed powerful enough to defy all living things was reduced to a pile of stinking flesh.

  Deprived of life force, the corpses began to melt into mud and black water the moment they fell, releasing all their pent-up rot in one foul burst.

  Sophia’s horse had been incinerated in the green flames. When the flames surged toward her, she had immediately pulled her limbs into the robe, hugging her head and curling into a ball. After hearing the boom, she sensed the flames around her had dissipated, so she stretched her head and limbs out of the loose robe.

  But she nearly fainted at once. The stench of thousands of corpses rotting simultaneously assailed her nose; tears streamed down her face under the assault, and she could almost hear the sound of flesh decomposing and the stench spreading through the air.

  “Disease Ward!” “Antidote Aura!” “Healing Touch!”… She cast several white magic spells on herself in quick succession, then pulled her robe over her nose and squinted her eyes open. She had learned magic from Sedros—she dabbled in nearly every school, though she mastered none.

  Amid the rotting corpses ahead, a small pile remained intact. Sophia waded through the rotting flesh, corpse water, and bones, mustering her courage to move the bodies. The emerald leaf was pressed between them. Even surrounded by death, the leaf retained its vibrant life, glowing vivid green. As Sophia picked it up, the surrounding corpses immediately began to decay.

  A white orb suddenly flew toward her from a distant hill—fast as a ballista bolt, yet silent. It was about to hit her when a faint streak of lightning struck it from behind, “crack!” The orb itself was unharmed, but the blow altered its trajectory slightly, hitting the ground a few steps away from Sophia.

  Boom! The blast sent her flying, and she landed hard. She stood up—without the robe, the shockwave alone would have seriously injured her. Glancing around, she saw several more orbs flying toward her. She had no time to think; she fled back the way she had come.

  Again, faint lightning streaks intercepted the orbs mid-flight, redirecting them just enough to detonate harmlessly on the ground around her.

  Amid the dense explosions, dirt, rotting flesh, corpse water, and bones filled the sky like a rain of death. Sophia ran through the blasts, the thunder and shockwaves threatening to swallow her whole.

  Gru stared coldly at the hill where the orbs originated, holding out his hand to Sedros.

  Sedros spread his palms, and a meter-long, wine-cup-thick ice spear materialized in his hand. This was “Thunder Ice,” a mid-tier water magic spell. Normally, it fired water magic energy at a target, creating ice spikes inside their body. But Sedros had condensed the magic in his hands instead of releasing it, freezing the moisture in the air into ice.

  Gru took the ice spear from Sedros, stepped forward twice, bent his knees, and threw it. The ice spear tore through the air with a shrill whistle, flying straight toward the distant hill.

  On the hilltop, an enraged lich waved her hands frantically. She unleashed “Thunder Blast”—the most advanced air attack magic—as casually as a cheap fireball spell. Her “perfect, invincible masterpiece” had been destroyed like a toy in the blink of an eye, and Vedenina was consumed by fury.

  But no matter how dense her spells, Ronis beside her flicked his fingers, and faint lightning streaks intercepted each thunder orb. These lightning spells were not powerful—they could not even defeat an ordinary soldier—but their speed and accuracy were flawless.

  The remaining half of Vedenina’s face contorted in rage. She glared at Ronis and rose into the air. She could not let the World Tree Leaf be taken—she would use flight magic to kill everyone there and retrieve it.

  But a thunderous crash halted her movement and her rage.

  It was the sharp, solid sound of objects colliding violently—not the explosion of magic. An ice spear had struck the ground just a few steps from her, sending shards of stone flying. Fragile as ice was, it had smashed a crater into the hard granite, with cracks spreading outward. The ice spear stood like a monument to destruction and power, glinting coldly in the sun.

  Sandro stared at the ice spear, then turned to Ronis. “If your students at the Magic Academy saw this, I guarantee at least half of them would abandon magic to study martial arts immediately.”

  The lich’s body was just a vessel, but Vedenina could have sworn she felt sweat dripping inside. If that ice spear had hit her, she would have shattered into pieces like scrap.

  She hadn’t even had time to see it coming—one moment, it was nowhere, the next, it was embedded in the rock beside her with earth-shattering force. And she knew that even if she had seen it, she couldn’t have dodged it; no magic could defend against such a direct, brute-force attack.

  Something inside her seemed to break. She had always prided herself on this body—this pinnacle of human wisdom, this vessel of the greatest magical power on the continent. She had believed she was above all living things, immune to the decay of time. After creating the invincible undead dragon, she had even felt like a god, equal to the Creator itself. But in the span of a few moments, before she could recover from the shock of her masterpiece’s destruction, she realized she could be killed in an instant—vanish from the world like any other mortal.

  The ice spear hadn’t hit her, but it had shattered all her confidence and conviction. She knew if she dared to fly toward Sophia, another such attack would turn her into a pile of bone shards before she could react.

  Gru frowned. From this distance, Vedenina and the other two were just tiny black dots—too far for his throw to hit. He held out his hand to Sedros. “Give me another.”

  Sedros smiled, glancing at the distant trio before shaking his head. “Enough. Our business here is done.” By then, Sophia had fled back to them. The three mounted their horses, leading the lizardmen back toward Oufu.

  It took Vedenina a long time to pull herself out of her daze. The pain of failure and loss turned to hatred and rage. She snapped at Ronis, “Did you set this up? They couldn’t have known when my magic would fluctuate, couldn’t have timed their attack so perfectly. And no one but you could infuse that much white magic into a weapon!” Her fury made her forget all courtesy; the green flames behind her false eyes seemed ready to burst forth and burn Ronis alive.

  Sandro also looked at Ronis, grinning. “I told you—when you said you were going to the bathroom three nights ago and stayed out all night, I thought you were…”

  “Even if I hadn’t interfered, your masterpiece would have been defeated,” Ronis interrupted, his tone mocking. “I only helped save a single World Tree Leaf. Didn’t you say we’re all just cogs in the wheel of history? Didn’t you say everything was going according to your plan? Then why are you so angry? So surprised? So furious?”

  At his words, Vedenina fell silent.

  She went from trembling with rage to motionless. Combined with her lack of breath, she looked like a mere decoration—a dead thing.

  After a long moment, she regained her composure and bowed respectfully to Ronis. “Forgive me, Master. I lost my temper and offended you in my haste. I hope you won’t hold it against me.”

  “Too much courtesy only breeds suspicion,” Sandro clicked his tongue. “If I weren’t here, you’d probably kill him, wouldn’t you?”

  The lich ignored Sandro. Her hoarse voice was flat as she said, “I’ve thought it through. This is all the turning of fate’s wheel… it was meant to happen.”

  Ronis cut her off calmly. “I won’t argue with you about these vague concepts. No matter how much we debate, we’ll all just keep doing what we think is right. We always have, and we always will.” He gave his former student a final glance. “I think this will be the last time we meet. And I hope it stays that way.”

  Vedenina was silent for a moment, then nodded. “Yes.” She looked up at Ronis again, and the green light behind her eyes flickered. “But before I go, I want to give you a small warning—something I just realized. The person who took the World Tree Leaf, wearing the Robe of the Lich Lord… their figure looked like a young woman. Master, why would my classmate—who once gave up a World Tree Leaf to save a woman—let a woman wear his robe and risk her life like this? And why would you give up your amulet to protect that leaf? You understand what I mean, don’t you? I told you—the end was always predestined.”

  Ronis’s tone remained calm. “As I just said: you believe what you want, I believe what I want. We each do our own thing.”

  “Very well,” Vedenina said. “The stage is set. Whether it’s the false prosperity of development, war, politics, or anything else—all will play out. But the end is fixed. From now on, we’ll each play our roles, pushing history toward its inevitable destination. Farewell, Masters.” She unfurled a teleportation scroll, and blue-white light began to swirl around her.

  Ronis suddenly spoke up. “One last question. I’ve heard you have a son?” For the first time, his steady, deep voice trembled slightly.

  “I don’t know. I’ve forgotten,” Vedenina replied, her voice still hoarse and emotionless. Her figure vanished completely into the blue-white magical light.

  Sandro watched the light fade, shaking his head thoughtfully. “She was such a good person once. Truly.” He sighed, as if commenting on a minor flaw. “But she was too smart—thought too much, and thought about the wrong things.”

  “Man thinks, God laughs,” Ronis said, pulling a teleportation scroll from his pocket. “No matter how much we think, we’re still just humans.” He paused. “Let’s go back.”

  Sandro suddenly looked panicked. “Oh no! I just remembered—I left in such a hurry after getting your message that I left the stove on. My favorite pot must be burned to a crisp. Do you think the Magic Academy will reimburse me for it?”

  Ronis smiled and pulled a book from his pocket, handing it to Sandro. “I thought about it, and I’d rather return this to you.”

  “Oh, thank you. But they still owe me a pot!” Sandro tucked the book away, then unfurled his own teleportation scroll. Together with Ronis, he stepped into the magical light—and both vanished.

  Sedros and the others returned to Oufu quickly. Sophia took out the World Tree Leaf and fed it to Ethan.

  Sedros watched the leaf disappear into Ethan’s mouth, shaking his head in amazement. “If its energy were used to its full potential, this leaf could turn five low-level magic apprentices into legendary grand mages overnight. If it were cut and processed, it could create ten priceless magical artifacts. If we studied it for decades, unlocking the secrets of its power, it would spark a magical revolution—changing the entire world. But now… it’s only being used to save one man.”

  A golden light began to emanate from Ethan’s body, and his limbs twitched slightly.

  At first, it was just a faint tremor, but soon it turned into violent convulsions. Every muscle in his body spasmed, and his bones and joints crackled softly. His hands—wrapped in bandages—twitched, then burst free with a snap, revealing two intact palms.

  The light growing brighter, radiating from every pore of his skin. He no longer looked human; he looked like a piece of charcoal burning with light. Finally, the glow faded, and his convulsions subsided. Ethan lay on the bed as if merely asleep.

  Sedros examined him and said, “He’s fine. But he’ll sleep for another day or two—his body needs time to fully recover before he wakes up.”

  Sophia stroked Ethan’s black hair, her hand gliding slowly over his forehead, his brow bone, his straight nose, and finally his lips. She stared at him for a long time, as if trying to etch his face into her memory. Then she stood up and turned to Sedros. “Thank you for saving him, Sir.”

  Sedros shook his head. “I would never have used the World Tree Leaf to save him if it weren’t for you. So it wasn’t me who saved him—it was you.”

  Sophia’s voice was soft. “Regardless, I owe you my thanks. And I’ll need to trouble you to look after him for the next two days.”

  “Are you leaving now?” Sedros asked.

  Sophia nodded. “Yes. I promised you I would do this, so there’s no point in delaying. Time is running out.”

  “You’re such a sensible child,” Sedros sighed. A flicker of guilt crossed his face, and he pulled a scroll from his pocket, handing it to her. “This is a teleportation scroll left for you by Bishop Ronis.”