Chapter 4031: Verdant Host (Part 2)

Turning so many trees into quasi-plant folk did more than give them the ability to fight. The Treantlings’ conscience was now developed to the point that they felt fear, rage, and pain in the same way as any member of the five races would.

Each one of the green colossi was several decades old, yet they had never moved, never struggled, and never practiced magic or martial arts. Their combat ability was limited, and there was no guarantee they would make it back to the Trawn Woods.

Even worse, giving the trees a conscience also meant giving them the ability to think and choose for themselves. They had no obligation towards Lotho and no reason to obey his commands.

Yet they chose to, because the Upyrs had invaded their home. The corrupted Divine Beasts had set the Woods ablaze, terrified the small creatures that had nested on the trees’ trunks, and killed many Lutians they knew.

The trees didn’t understand why the humans cut them down from time to time, but they knew there was no malice in it. The Lutians did it with care, never taking more than they needed and always planting a new tree to replace the one they took away.

It was thanks to that practice that the borders of the Trawn Woods hadn’t moved since even the oldest among the trees could remember. It wasn’t much, but in the fierce battle for survival in which plants engaged every day, it was an unusual act of kindness.

Orpal had stomped over Raaz’s fields, making the crops scream their silent cries of agony. His Upyrs had filled the air with the smell of burning wood, tearing down the city that the trees had watched grow and thrive over the years like one of their own.

The plants that lived deeper inside the Woods, under the protection of the kings, had ignored Lotho’s call. They had no care for what happened to a place they perceived as a distant land and creatures who were alien to them.

The old birches and oaks that stood nearby Selia’s house, instead, and all those who were familiar with the small, weak humans and considered them akin to young saplings, had left the Great Mother’s warm embrace to face the invaders.

"What the-" A Lindwurm-Upyr was about to finish a wounded Hydra at his feet when something heavy tackled his left side, almost pushing him off balance.

The Treantling-oak was as tall as the violet-cored Divine Beast in its natural form, but growing feet and arms required rearranging its mass and lowering its height. On top of that, the slender tree weighed much less than the bulky colossus.

The Upyr snarled, grabbing the Treantling with his clawed hand and opening deep cracks in its thick bark. The oak bellowed in pain, but didn’t let go. Its gnarly feet grew deep roots that dug into the ground, absorbing the water and nutrients it needed to restore its wounded body.

The healing abilities of the plant folk required no world energy and were unaffected by Frost Soul. Also, the roots grounded the Treantling to the point that the Upyr couldn’t move an inch.

The Hydra was so close yet unreachable. Small vines sprouted from the hands of the oak, searching for the gaps in the enemy’s armor through which pierce into his flesh.

"Why don’t you go down?" The Lindwurm hammered at the Treantling with the pommel of his sword, the creature too close for the blade to be effective. "Let me go, you useless bastard!"

When that didn’t work, the Upyr dug his claws into the Treantling and drained its life force with Vampiric Touch. The tree yowled as its leaves withered and fell, but didn’t break its hold.

"I’m sorry!" The Hydra had recovered enough to bite the Upyr with his heads and inject his acidic venom.

That and a tier four Spirit Spell, Shooting Lance, opened a deep hole in the Lindwurm’s chest.

"Do your worst, lizard." The Upyr snarled, feeling his flesh and bones reknit themselves as fast as the acid dissolved them. "As long as kindle here heals, so do I!"

A second Treantling heard him and agreed with him. The birch planted its massive fist into the still-open wound from Shooting Lance and spread its tendrils like a disease, squashing everything that even remotely felt like an organ.

The Upyr died, and his corpse reverted to the much smaller form of an Emperor Beast.

"Thanks." The Hydra said while panting heavily. "Can you-"

The wounded oak drained the Lindwurm’s corpse to regain the lost strength while the birch searched for a new opponent.

"Carry me to safety? Guess not." The Hydra sighed, using a floating Spirit Spell to escape Frost Soul’s crippling effects.

The trees didn’t understand words. Only the mission mattered to them.

All across Lutia, the Treantlings stabbed Upyrs, dragged them down with sheer numbers and weight, and ruined Orpal’s plan. He had brought enough of his corrupted Divine Beasts to defeat an army, but he hadn’t accounted for plant folk.

The death and destruction the Upyrs had created were fertile ground for the Treantlings, and Frost Soul negated the greatest advantage of true mages over plant folk: the ability to use all elements.

’Don’t worry about those weeds.’ Night said. ’They are heavy and bothersome, but pose no danger to our plan. They are much weaker than real Treantlings since they don’t know the first thing about magic.’

’True.’ Orpal nodded. ’Time to change the rules of the game.’

He raised his spear, Thorn, above his head and released a blinding radiance. The members of the Council raised their Spirit Barriers and took cover, afraid that the Undead King might be about to unleash another barrage of Shattered Moon.

Yet nothing happened. The brilliance quickly faded, and the battlefield devolved into chaos again.

"Are you alright, kid?" Ajatar asked, feeling his skin crawl for some reason.

"I could be better, but I’ll live." Invigoration had mended most of Ufyl’s deep wounds, but even barrels of nutrient potions weren’t enough to restore the flesh and blood he had lost. "Where’s Fyrwal?"

"At the heart of this mess." The Drake pointed at the center of Lutia.

Fyrwal stood there, at the forefront of the Hydra troops’ arrow tip formation. With her Royal Fortress Armor and her mace, Dreamweaver, she was the only one who could hold the line.

The Davross of her equipment and the Life Maelstrom it stored were unaffected by the Upyrs’ bloodline abilities and allowed her to overpower the bigger and heavier corrupted Divine Beasts.

Yet Fyrwal couldn’t win alone. The best she could do was to cover the retreat of the wounded and secure at least one side of the Mage Association. She had fought nonstop ever since pushing Orpal back, never taking a moment to rest or restore her dwindling strength.

"How long before the reinforcements arrive?" Faluel stomped her way to the backline, the first known position unaffected by Frost Soul. "Lotho’s Treantlings are a one-trick pony. They can buy us some time, but they can’t win this battle for us. We need some heavy hitters."

"Any moment now." The Drake checked his communication amulet. "The Council forces are stretched thin, but the moment they heard Narchat is here, they put Lutia on top of the list."

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