Chapter 29: Getting Away

  For the first time, he heard his own bones creak. The joints of his bent limbs could no longer support the force his muscles tried to exert—he could only let the surrounding branches squeeze him tighter.

  There was no space left between any part of his body, yet the pressure kept building. His blood was the first to break under the torment: it found a way out through the fragile blood vessels in his nose, gushing forth as if celebrating an escape. His eyes, as if spurred on, seemed ready to burst from their sockets. His lungs had forced out the last wisp of air and now struggled to push themselves out too.

  He could feel his body deforming beyond what flesh and bone should endure. There was no room for willpower or courage here—no matter how hard he tried, how desperate he felt, his hands and feet remained utterly motionless.

  The pressure kept mounting, not just squeezing inward but twisting and grinding from all directions. His muscles and bones screamed with agony, and his mind flashed to the mangled, broken bodies of the soldiers he’d seen a few days earlier. He knew he’d soon be just like them. Hysterical fear spread like wildfire through his mind, merging with the pain as it rampaged through his body. It gathered every last bit of energy he had, and out of an animal’s instinct to fight for its life, he unleashed a fireball.

  It was too late. Elder Kelan watched as the deadwood guardians’ hands folded into a massive ball of twisted branches. The harsh, grinding creak of wood against wood cut through the forest’s silence. He stopped in his tracks, disappointed. Even the sturdiest Scale Ox would be reduced to shattered bones and minced meat in that wooden vice.

  Then, a sudden, earth-shaking explosion rocked the entire forest. The cluster of guardians’ hands burst apart; burning branches flew everywhere. Two of the guardians’ bodies caught fire, their flames lighting up the woods as bright as day.

  Ethan fell from the center of the blast, crashing hard to the ground—but he staggered to his feet at once, lurching forward to keep running.

  “Impossible,” Kelan froze, staring as the guardians—now missing hands—flailed wildly at Ethan, who fled in a panic. The forest was shrouded in the Sunwell’s divine power; no one but their elven clan, nurtured by the Sunwell, could wield magic here.

  He watched Ethan run. At first, he stumbled, but after a few steps, a faint blue-white glow of healing magic surrounded his body. Gradually, he ran faster—soon, he was sprinting.

  Kelan understood. Though he hated to admit it, the truth was clear: this human had merged with the remaining Sunwell power in his body. Not only could he use magic in the forest, but the divine power covering the entire woods amplified his magic exponentially.

  He can’t escape with the World Tree Leaf. It was their last hope to fight darkness, their sacred duty as a noble race. He had to stop Ethan by any means—even if it meant using violence.

  Kelan lifted his bow, drawing an arrow from his quiver. He nocked it, pulled the string taut, and the flint tip began to glow with a fiery yellow light.

  The bowstring snapped forward. The tip blazed into a brilliant yellow orb, and the moment he released it, the orb streaked forward like a beam of light, striking Ethan square in the back. The magic within erupted instantly.

  The force of the explosion made the pursuing unicorns rear back; the shockwave even knocked over an approaching deadwood guardian. Ethan was thrown through the air like a dead leaf—but when he hit the ground, he only knelt for a moment to catch his breath before leaping up, as vigorous as ever, to keep running.

  Seeing his full-powered attack do nothing, Kelan’s composure—so prized by elves—snapped. He shouted, equal parts shocked and enraged: “Kill him!”

  Wind howled in his ears; the scenery blurred past his sides. Ethan felt an almost giddy urge to whoop and dance as he ran. A group of deadwood guardians loomed ahead. He didn’t dodge—he held out his palm and charged straight on.

  A blazing light, bigger than his body, gathered before his hand. It carried a searing heat, tearing through the air with a roar that seemed ready to split the forest apart, and slammed into the guardians ahead.

  The explosion shook the entire forest. Ethan was thrown to the ground by the blast, but when he looked up, the guardians were reduced to burning stumps—like giant torches. Burning wood fragments filled the sky, turning the area as bright as day. Ethan scrambled to his feet, cheered at his triumph, and ran on.

  The golden power in his body resonated with the forest. He could clearly feel the Sunwell, far behind him, sending ripples through the forest air. Every time he used magic, this resonance multiplied its effect tenfold. The hit to his back had wounded him badly, but a single healing spell had him back in full strength.

  A long arrow whistled past his ear— the elves had started shooting. Ethan pulled his robe up to shield his head. Arrows rained down on him; in a dozen steps, he’d been hit twenty or thirty times, but the robe didn’t let a single arrow pierce through.

  Hoofbeats sounded behind him again. Ethan spun around and hurled a fireball. The explosion was answered by unicorn neighs—several were thrown into the air, and the rest were knocked off balance by the shockwave.

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  With a flick of his hand, another fireball turned a guardian to his side into a towering inferno. Weaving through the thunder of his own explosions and the glow of fire, ignoring the arrows pouring down behind him, he felt like the master of the forest. He even found himself hoping for more guardians—those once-terrifying wooden giants now felt as flimsy as paper. He’d never felt so alive.

  Of course, he still had to run. He didn’t dare turn his face to the elves’ arrows, nor did he dare wait for every guardian in the forest to converge on him. He still remembered the army of guardians that had surrounded the robed man a few days earlier.

  Calculating the distance… I must be close to the edge. Suddenly, a wall of dozens of deadwood guardians appeared before him. These mindless giants seemed to share a silent understanding—they’d gathered in his path, forming a circle. And beyond them, he could see the meadow where he’d first entered the forest. Ethan almost cried out in joy.

  Just blow through these guardians, and I’m free. He waved his hand, summoning another fireball—but this one was only half the size of the last. It blew off one guardian’s head, leaving the others unscathed.

  Ethan froze, stunned. Only then did he feel the magic surging in his body begin to fade. The Sunwell’s ripples in the air had grown faint—ever since he’d moved away from the well, the resonance had been weakening. But he’d been so caught up in his own power that he hadn’t noticed.

  That split second of hesitation was all it took. A dozen unicorns caught up, fanning out around him. The elves stopped shooting, probably to avoid hitting the beasts.

  Trapped in the circle, Ethan glanced around. The unicorns tossed their heads, their sharp horns glinting threateningly. These intelligent creatures didn’t rush to attack—they stayed a cautious ten meters away, herding him in place. They were waiting for their elven allies. And ahead, the deadwood guardians began to close in.

  I can’t let the guardians trample me, or wait for the elves to catch up. No matter how rigid their “anti-violence” culture was, they’d never give him another chance to escape. Ethan suddenly thought of the cruel punishments he’d heard for runaways: tendons in hands and feet cut, iron chains run through collarbones… spending the rest of his life writhing like a maggot in a damp, dark cell.

  The crash from invincibility to helplessness left him panicking. And freedom—so close he could almost touch it—made his heart feel like it was being torn apart by a thousand cats.

  The meadow was right there, just a few dozen meters away, its flat surface glowing with the moonlight of freedom. He’d heard from Luya that the deadwood guardians relied on the Sunwell’s power—they couldn’t leave the forest. Once he stepped beyond the trees, his chances of escape would soar.

  How to cross those few dozen meters? Ethan studied the unicorns, which watched him warily. He knew the trick he’d used to get past them earlier wouldn’t work again—blinding himself with that light now would be suicide, and he couldn’t charge blindly into their horns. And ahead, the guardians loomed, once again seeming tall and terrifying.

  He searched his body for magic, like a starving beggar rummaging through his pockets outside a bakery. But no matter how hard he tried, only enough magic for two or three small fireballs remained. Not enough to destroy the guardians—probably not even enough to take down the unicorns.

  Where to aim? Who to hit? His mind raced, but every plan ended the same way: either blinded and gored by unicorns, or trampled by guardians.

  What do I do? What do I do? The elves were closing in. Where? Who? How?

  Then, he thought of a plan—absurd, dangerous, but the only one he had.

  It’s better than nothing. Even a one-percent chance was better than zero.

  He bent his knees, dropping into a half-crouch. He fired a fireball at the ground, then jumped upward with all his strength.

  Boom!

  The shockwave from the explosion combined with his leap, sending him flying over the unicorns’ circle.

  The muscles in his buttocks and thighs went numb from the impact. Ethan watched in horror as he hurtled toward a deadwood guardian’s face. If I hit it, I’m done. Even if the collision didn’t kill him, falling would leave him to be trampled.

  He calculated the angle mid-air, then raised his hand and fired his last remaining magic—another fireball—at his own buttocks.

  He had no time to register the deafening blast. Every joint in his arm—from shoulder to elbow to wrist to fingers—dislocated. His whole arm nearly flew off. He suspected the muscles in his buttocks and thighs were completely destroyed; he couldn’t even feel pain anymore.

  Spinning through the air like a flaming projectile, he sailed over the guardians’ heads. Finally, he cleared the forest, crashing into the meadow of freedom.

  The impact made his bones feel like they’d shattered. He rolled across the grass for meters before stopping, seeing stars, lying motionless like a corpse—he could barely breathe. Next to him was half a rotting body, left over from the zombies’ feast. No one had been here since; the stench of the zombies’ leftovers filled the air.

  Ethan knew he’d both succeeded and failed.

  He’d escaped—but he was too exhausted to run further. Only one hand could move. If the elves came over, they could pick him up like a dead pig and take him back.

  Then, he saw his sword, not far ahead. He used every last bit of strength to drag himself toward it. He knew it was useless now, but he had to hold it. He didn’t dare hope to escape anymore—it was just a final act of defiance. I won’t wait to be slaughtered.

  But for a long time, all he heard was the unicorns’ neighs and the elves’ shouts. No one came. Ethan forced himself to look back. The elves and unicorns stood at the forest edge, pacing back and forth, but none stepped out. A few unicorns ventured a few steps into the meadow, but the stench hit them, and they turned tail and ran back.

  Ethan laughed—short, ragged bursts that turned into coughs, and then more laughter. He’d heard from Luya that their clan hadn’t stepped outside the forest in tens of thousands of years—it was their most sacred rule. But he’d never imagined they’d be so rigid, so stupid.

  The unicorns were just beasts, after all. Once they left the Sunwell’s glow—something they’d felt their entire lives—they grew skittish and afraid. In the forest, they’d fought zombies bravely, but now, seeing the elves hesitate, fear had set in. The stench alone was enough to drive them back.

  A elven figure tried to rush out—Luya, he thought—but Elder Kelan grabbed her, scolding her sharply.

  Ethan forced himself to calm down, slowly gathering what little magic he had left. He cast a shaky healing spell on his legs. Without the Sunwell’s boost, his magic was back to its pitifully weak state. But luckily, his legs weren’t too badly hurt. After the spell, he could move them again, if only barely.

  The elves watched, helpless, as Ethan laughed and crawled toward the opposite forest. They argued fiercely—debating whether to break their sacred, unbroken rule. By the time they reached a decision, and Luya led a few elves into the opposite forest to chase him, Ethan was already gone.