Death and decay stretched as far as the eye could see, staining what had once been a lush, green forest. Like an infected wound upon the land, it festered with rotten trees and untouched corpses—a stark contrast to the vibrant canopy that still clung around the lone sentinel holding the Corruption at bay. The World Tree Nocthrya, now towering a hundred feet tall, stood unyielding against the tide of treants pressing at the edges of his misty domain. Yet the cheerful, carefree entity paid them little mind—for his focus was on a different battlefield. One which the green skinned boy was an active part of.

Nocthrya stood at ease as a fierce battle raged around him. A towering Berserker clashed against four adult Treants, while twin earth golems wreaked havoc against the dozen or so juveniles in the backlines. All this happened amidst a fiery tempest that engulfed the entire battlefield, with a lone witch standing at its focal point. To an outside observer, the adventuring party was on the back foot—but in truth, it was the Treants who were desperately trying to break out of the encirclement of flame and earth.

The excited boy did nothing but watch with wide-eyed fascination, all while maintaining a steady stream of healing life mana—a task that came as naturally as breathing.

"Two more adults to your left," Velastra-Friend called, her voice steady as she fed more mana into the massive fire tornado. It burned indiscriminately, but the fire mage kept it far from her allies.

"Got it, my love," Ignar-Friend rumbled, shifting his massive red frame to meet the oncoming threat. He barked toward the twin golems, "You two, stop playing around and finish the juveniles already."

"On it, ya old brute," one golem shot back, launching massive stone spears in rapid succession. "Almost out of time on this Spell anyway."

Its twin joined in, decimating the smaller Treants with ease. Within seconds, bark shattered, revealing glowing cores beneath. Before the walking trees could react, thick vines erupted from the ground, coiling tight around them.

The moment Nocthrya's roots touched the malignant cores, the Treants fell dormant. So did the golems, collapsing like puppets with their strings cut—only for two laughing dwarves to clamber out of the rubble.

"Bahahaha, got one more than ya, Boff!" Toff-Friend roared, charging forward to aid Ignar-Friend.

"Bah, ya just nicked it," Boff-Friend shot back gruffly before following his twin into the fray.

Nocthrya still couldn't tell them apart unless one shouted the other's name, but he was determined to figure it out.

With the dwarves joining the assault, the tide shifted. Blows rained down from all angles, the three warriors moving with airtight coordination, never giving the Treants an inch. Without their space-controlling spores, the enemy was nothing more than a set of giant, lumbering punching bags.

The battle reached its crescendo as the largest Treant began gathering mana, no doubt preparing to unleash a devastating, large-scale attack.

"Oh no you don't," Velastra-Friend declared, thrusting her hand toward the assailant.

Raw flame burst from her palm, compressing into a white-hot arrow that shimmered with lethal intent. At the sight of it, Ignar-Friend signaled a silent retreat.

As the attack formation broke, the Treants glimpsed a flicker of hope. But the fleeting emotion turned to ash when an Aura descended upon them—an oppressive heat that scorched not flesh or bark, but will.

The flung arrow landed harmlessly between the grouped up Treants, a seemingly missed attack. But that is when the trapped heat exploded out, engulfing the group of six in a sea of flames. The entire area in a fifteen feet wide radius was burnt to a crisp within a fraction of a second. Only the Treants weathered the fiery storm.

They left the circle in a hurry, but the flames clung to their bodies like oil, charring their defenses effortlessly. One by one, they fell to the desolate forest floor before being inundated with Nocthrya's roots.

Only the last one stood defiantly, refusing to surrender. The Spell it had created was still active—an orb of violent space mana that distorted everything around it. With its last breath, it tossed the ball towards Nocthrya, who was busy absorbing the Corruption from the fallen.

And yet he didn't make any attempt to dodge or protect himself. For there was nothing he could conjure that could surpass the defense that was set up the next instant.

Ignar-Friend's towering form planted itself before him, bracing for impact. The others closed ranks, the dwarven twins raising an impenetrable wall of stone while Velastra-Friend laid a calming hand on Nocthrya's shoulder. The group stood beneath a dome of layered defenses, braced for the storm.

BOOM

The ground shook violently as the spell hit Ignar-Friend. Trapped within the secondary defense, the others couldn't see what was going on outside. But Nocthrya could—and the sight left him wide-eyed.

The Spell had hit dead center, right on the berserker's chest. The unstable space mana eroded everything, as it tore through to destroy whatever it touched. Velastra-Friend's Spell had tried to burn, but this Spell was aimed at shattering space—the basis on which reality was formed. The ground sundered, and the air cracked as the Spell took effect.

Yet amidst the chaos, Ignar-Friend stood with a serene gaze. He weathered the attack like a boulder parting a raging river. The dwarves' earthen dome had been redundant—nothing could breach the wall of unyielding flesh protecting them.

"Unbroken indeed," Nocthrya murmured.

The others heard him, but only answered with quiet smiles.

As the vibrations stopped, the twins made the dome collapse to see the devastation around them.

"Whoa," one of the dwarves whistled in appreciation. Nocthrya had lost track of who was who yet again.

"You alright, dear?" Velastra-Friend asked in concern. No matter how many times she saw her husband survive such things, her worry never abated in the slightest.

"A little itchy, but otherwise okay," Ignar-Friend said with a smile. The shredded remnants of his minimal chest armor hung in tatters, revealing unmarked skin beneath.

Power surged through Nocthrya's roots, racing along the battlefield and into his allies. One by one, their eyes unfocused as the familiar glow of System prompts filled their vision.

"By the Mountain's heart," the dwarf on Nocthrya's left breathed. "I'm almost at the threshold for an A-grade evolution."

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

"I've already crossed it," Ignar said with pride. "A few more of these, and we'll stand among the few who've reached the peak."

The three men drifted into a brash discussion as they moved off to inspect the battlefield's remains, leaving only Velastra-Friend beside Nocthrya. Her expression was a knot of pride, regret, and something darker.

"What's the matter, Velastra-Friend?" Nocthrya asked, sensing her mood. Being a World Tree, he was adept at reading emotions.

She didn't answer at first, eyes fixed on the unseen screens only she could see.

"The peak," she said at last, voice quiet. "We should have reached it long ago. Every cursed mission we took, every price we paid…"

There were no tears in her eyes, yet Nocthrya could feel her soul weeping. He could have called on his calming powers to ease her pain—but instead, he simply took her hand, the gentle touch pulling her back from the edge of her thoughts. He didn't say anything, just smiled.

Velastra knelt until their eyes met, then wrapped her arms around him.

"Thank you," she whispered.

Nocthrya closed his eyes and returned the embrace. He liked the feeling—a simple human warmth his true form could never quite experience.

After a tender moment, she released him and gave him a thorough once-over. With quick, fussing hands, she brushed dirt from his face and tried to tame the unruly mess of his hair.

"We need to get you some proper clothes," she said firmly. "I'm not letting you walk into civilization looking like a wildling."

Nocthrya answered with a quiet smile at the display of motherly care. He wondered if his own mother…

The smile slipped away. Velastra-Friend's sharp eyes caught it immediately.

"You okay?" she asked softly.

"I…" Nocthrya began, but the words refused to come.

Perhaps sensing the thoughts he kept hidden, she drew him into another embrace. This time, Velastra-Friend's Aura slipped free—not the scorching heat from before, but a gentle, soothing warmth.

"Whatever you're feeling, you can share with me," she murmured, stroking his back.

"My mother…" Nocthrya's voice caught.

Velastra-Friend's grip tightened, but no words came. Then another shadow fell over them, and a massive pair of arms wrapped around them both. Ignar-Friend said nothing, yet his silent embrace spoke volumes. They could feel his pain, just as he felt theirs. The bond they shared with Aenon-Friend grew stronger with each passing day.

Off to the side, Boff-Friend and Toff-Friend shifted uncomfortably, unsure how to take part in the strange scene—a couple holding a child close. Like parents comforting their hurting kid.

After a long moment, they let him go, leaving a lingering warmth on his skin, and within his heart. Their eyes met, carrying an unspoken promise—they would rescue their mother.

As the moment faded, a gentle chill drifted in from the west—bringing with it five untethered shadows that slid silently across the ruined terrain.

"You're back," Nocthrya exclaimed.

Like the lifting of an unseen veil, five figures stepped out of nothingness—four Abyssal Wolf pups, a red-haired woman with piercing blue eyes, and Nocthrya's favorite person in the world. Aenon-Friend stood with his usual easy smile, taking them all in.

"You've grown taller, my friend."

Nocthrya darted forward and hugged him with all his strength. He'd never done it before—not until he'd learned how good a hug could feel. He still wasn't as tall as Aenon-Friend, but he was only a few months old. For now, he simply enjoyed it: being surrounded by people he cared for, who cared for him in return.

"Aww, you look adorable, Nocthrya," Jenny-Friend said, ruffling his hair. "I wonder where you got the idea for this look."

She shot a mischievous glance at the one he was hugging. Nocthrya felt his face heat up. She wasn't wrong—he had chosen his form and gender to resemble Aenon-Friend. Nocthrya was his own person, but he wanted to look like his best friend.

"I wonder the same about you," Velastra-Friend said, eyeing the redhead with an appreciative smile. "Torn and tattered armor, a goofy smile, and the confidence of an army… almost like you're mirroring someone."

Jenny-Friend flushed as a much larger version of herself came strolling into view.

"Good to see you in one piece," Ignar-Friend rumbled jovially, patting her on the back—nearly sending the poor girl sprawling.

"Although it's not just you she resembles," Aenon-Friend added with a cryptic smile, his gaze drifting to the side.

Venge-Friend emerged, prompting the wolf pups—and Jenny—to rush toward her. But the mother wolf's eyes were stern, not soft. Jenny and the pups quickly formed a neat line as she inspected each of them in turn, sniffing or giving a brief lick before moving on. Only once satisfied did she allow them to tackle her in a joyous pile, returning the roughhousing in earnest.

"Greetings, Alpha," Bane-Friend said with a deep bow. He and the other wolves appeared one after another.

But then, all eyes turned to the final figure to arrive—the last member of their ranks.

Thalindra-Friend stood before them with the same confidence they'd always known—only now, it felt… stronger. Just like her Aura. Nocthrya smiled as he sensed the familiar life affinity within her soul, now in perfect harmony with the other half she had long suppressed—death.

"Welcome back, Lady Sylvathorn," Ignar-Friend said with a formal bow.

"Oh, hush, Ignar," she replied with a friendly wave. "When you're with this group, you can call me Thalindra."

Her gaze found Aenon-Friend, eyes deep with intent.

"There is only one rank I will not allow anyone to overlook," she said, her voice fierce. Her Aura flared, and the air itself seemed to still. Without hesitation, everyone moved—forming a neat line before Aenon-Friend.

As one, six people, eight Abyssal Wolves, and four wolf pups bowed. Only Nocthrya remained off to the side, quietly admiring the sight.

"You know I don't like such overt displays of respect, right?" Aenon-Friend said flatly.

They rose together, unashamed.

"And yet, here we are, Lord Fenrast," Thalindra-Friend said matter-of-factly. Before Aenon-Friend could object, she swept her gaze over the battlefield. "You four are getting better. Am I to assume these were the last Treants that escaped the dungeon?"

"Should be," Ignar-Friend replied, his voice taking on a crisp, professional edge Nocthrya had never heard from him before. "We'd been picking them off in smaller groups, but I guess they decided to band together for a better shot."

"Good. In that case—" Thalindra began.

"There are still two more groups," Aenon-Friend cut in. "One has formed a defensive line around the Treant dungeon."

Thalindra blinked. "That's a kilometer away. You can sense that?"

Aenon-Friend nodded, unbothered. "The other group is four kilometers in that direction." He spoke casually, as though commenting on the weather, while the rest stared in disbelief.

Nocthrya, though, wasn't surprised. After the wolves, no one shared a stronger bond with Aenon-Friend than he did—and he knew better than anyone just how impossibly vast his Sovereign's Eye range truly was. And it was still growing.

"Ahem. Well then, what are your orders, Lord Fenrast?" Thalindra-Friend asked.

Aenon-Friend's gaze drifted toward the distant Treants before turning back to the group. "We haven't really fought together yet, have we?" he said with a smile. "So, let's target the splinter group as one—it'll help us learn each other's capabilities."

Grins spread across every face in anticipation of the coming battle.

"But," Aenon-Friend added, raising a finger, "let's have some fun too."

Confused looks met his words, which only made his smile widen.

"The Treants are trying to escape," he continued. "And this group's much larger than the last. So, in the spirit of competition, we'll take turns facing them. Each of you gets ten minutes to take down as many as you can."

The air practically crackled as everyone exchanged knowing glances. This wouldn't just be a show of force—it would be a chance to learn each other's strengths, cover each other's weaknesses, and build trust.

"Bahahaha, I like it!" one of the dwarves roared, smashing his fists together.

Nods and murmurs of agreement followed. Then something clicked for Nocthrya.

"Ah, I see why you wanted me to bring them here," he said as realization dawned.

"Bring who?" Jenny-Friend asked, baffled.

Before he could answer, branches rustled all around. Everyone—except Aenon-Friend, Thalindra-Friend, and Nocthrya—instinctively shifted into defensive stances.

"Bah! Why in the blazes d'you have me trekking through this blasted forest?" came Borin-Dwarf's grumble.

"Heehee, you've got twigs in your beard," Talia-Friend giggled from atop a massive Treant.

"I must concur," came the frail voice of her grandmother beside her. "This is not kind to old bones."

Only Borin had refused to ride the newly cleansed Treants that Nocthrya had so carefully raised.

Mouths fell open as the largest Treant they had ever faced strode calmly into view—two riders nestled high among its branches.

Aenon-Friend had planned meticulously for this grand reveal. No one had any clue what him, Nocthrya, Borin-Dwarf had planned. Before people could snap out of their shock, Aenon-Friend spoke.

"It's not really a competition, without an audience, is it?" Aenon-Friend said with mischievous look.

As the others were still dumbfounded, he unleashed his Aura to announce to the world of the storm that had gathered. He made his mask reappear as he declared boldly.

"Let the game begin."

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