Sword of Dawnbreaker

Chapter 1318: Chapter 1317: Forest Sea Defense Line

Crack... Boom!

A majestic ancient tree, with centuries of history, rose from the fertile forest soil, charging toward the aberrations surging from the crossroads. Accompanied by a series of wood-on-wood friction sounds, its heavy branches slammed from the air, crushing those grotesque creatures into a pulp. Behind the tree, elite rangers had already drawn their bows. The surface of their specially enchanted longbows shimmered with the brilliance of magic symbols; the finely crafted arrowheads pulsed with three intermittently glowing cyan whirlwinds, and the hum of air resonance reverberated in the air.

”Power up — Aim, release!”

The commander’s voice echoed over the highlands. Dozens of arrows, infused with arcane energy, swept past the scorched canopy of the Guardian Ancient Tree, forming a parabolic arc before plummeting to the distant end of the crossroads. A group of creatures, barely escaping the tree’s wrath, staggered as they attempted to rise. But arrows piercing their bodies triggered a series of explosions within, and amidst the rising dust and flames, the wave of monsters that had burst from the dense woods was finally obliterated.

”Squad One, rest here; Squad Two, recover arrows; medics assist the wounded!” A human commander descended from a nearby knoll, issuing orders among the warriors. His head was bandaged, the once white cloth now stained a dark red with blood and soot. His enchanted longsword was smeared with gore, its once radiant magical brilliance now dimmed. Exhausted, his bloodshot eyes conveyed weariness, yet his voice remained robust—for now, only this booming voice could sustain the warriors in their struggle here.

Not far away, the towering Guardian Ancient Tree emitted a series of weary creaks. Moving with heavy steps to the edge of the battlefield, it re-anchored its roots into the ground, drawing limited nutrients to mend its wounds. Meanwhile, it stretched its canopy toward the newly spreading dawn at the forest’s edge. The tree’s crown, scorched and blackened by flames and thick smoke, had only a few trembling green leaves rustling in the wind.

Several silver-haired elves rose from among the human soldiers, approaching the weary Guardian Ancient Tree. They appeared to be communicating with the tree. The human commander didn’t understand the unique rhythm of the silver elves’ plant dialogue, but he noticed the increasingly severe expressions of the elf rangers—it was evident that the tree’s condition was reaching its limits.

Footsteps resonated from the nearby woods, causing the resting human rangers to instinctively grasp their weapons tightly. But upon recognizing the source of the sound, the soldiers exhaled in relief, resuming their recovery to enjoy this rare respite.

The human commander of this small mixed force looked toward the direction of the footsteps, seeing a tall figure clad in light-gold alloy armor—a silver elf—leading a dozen soldiers through the thicket. He immediately moved forward: ”General Romar.”

”No need for formalities, I’m inspecting the defense line,” General Romar from the Silver Empire raised his hand, interrupting the human commander. Though he appeared unstained by enemy blood, an aura of death and carnage flowed from his every move, surpassing that of everyone here. It seemed as though he had slaughtered hundreds, if not thousands, on the front lines without sullying himself with a speck. ”What’s the situation here?”

”The warriors’ strength is nearing its limit, and our weapons are heavily damaged,” the human commander said in a low voice, taking an arrow recently retrieved from the front line from a nearby soldier and pointing to the melting spellcasting unit at its tip. ”The consumption of spell-type arrows is excessively high—they’ve become like this, and we can likely only endure two more rounds before they’re completely destroyed. Regular arrows have little effect on those monsters...”

Romar’s gaze fell on the magic arrow teetering on the brink of its limit, expression grave and silent.

Too expensive, the production and processing of such intricate spellcasting devices are extraordinarily laborious. Even with the combined effort of the Silver Empire and Highmountain Kingdom, the numbers the treasury could muster are very limited. In typical ”ordinary wars,” such consumption might be bearable, but the aberration army emerging from the wastelands numbers in the tens of millions. These tough-skinned creatures almost all require spell-type weapons to be killed thoroughly, and the magic weapons the troops here wield...are nearing unsustainable levels.

”...Lord Valendian’s reinforcements have crossed the Homeward Long Bridge and will soon arrive at the front lines,” the Ranger General exhaled lightly, sharing the news he had just received from the rear to encourage the warriors fighting fiercely on the front. ”Including three astrologers regiments and at least six ranger corps; your king is also mobilizing frontier troops from the west and east sides, and the pressure here will soon ease.”

”...That’s indeed good news; as long as reinforcements are certain, I believe we can hold out until then,” the human commander nodded vigorously, deliberately raising his voice but then quickly lowered it, casting a swift glance at the swirling dust and smoke at the forest’s edge as he urgently inquired, ”General Romar, the situation at the Sacred Stars Temple...”

”The breach from the wasteland leading to the defense line has been mostly plugged; now only small openings on the side allow a few enemy troops through the forest barrier, and large-scale ’tides’ like before won’t occur again,” Romar said sternly, though his tone was calm, with a hidden sharpness and coldness akin to a concealed blade. ”We now must stop the monsters already within the forest defense line, prevent them from gathering and entering the civilized world to spread contamination...”

The human commander solemnly accepted the orders, while Romar bypassed him and proceeded toward the Guardian Ancient Tree nearby.

The elf rangers tending to the tree saluted their supreme commander immediately, one ranger speaking in a low voice: ”General, its condition is grave...”

Romar nodded, coming to the foot of the Guardian Ancient Tree. He saw this forest guardian seemingly in a brief slumber, its tree crown twitching and swaying in the wind, with its mottled ancient bark covered in alarming scars. The sap flowing from its trunk had congealed and dried under the scorching fire and smoke, while the wounds bore the corrosive marks of aberration’s vile energy.

How many deadly assaults have this noble guardian thwarted to aid humans and elves in defending the line?

The Guardian Ancient Tree, the Highmountain Kingdom’s mainstay against the wasteland erosion in southern Gondor wasteland, these permanent treant wardens created using Druid spells were initially brought by silver elves from the distant southern isles to the Loren Continent and planted in Highmountain Kingdom’s northern border. After seven centuries of growth, they became a formidable forest along the long border—though today faced a heavy blow.

Facing the vast Gondor wasteland, every border country has its reliance to fend off the wasteland’s encroachment; Old Anzu boasts the natural Dark Mountain Range and Cecil Defense Line, Typhon has frontier swamp waterways along with powerful Mage Corps, National Knights, Augari tribal country possesses advantageous mountain barriers and fiercely warrior beastfolk highland braves, while Highmountain Kingdom... this nation originally had only an open plain and gentle hills between it and Gondor wasteland. Lacking natural defenses, their reliance against the wasteland came solely from these Guardian Ancient Trees planted by elves, as well as the flesh and blood of border warriors generation after generation.

Crack... Crack...

The sound of wood structures rubbing suddenly came, the Guardian Ancient Tree seemingly sensing Romar’s approach awakened from its brief dormancy, its canopy shaking, an elderly face-like pattern on its upper bark tilted toward the Ranger General, a tremor sound only elves could comprehend resonated from the shriveled leaves into Romar’s ears: ”Do you need me to fight? General?”

”You need rest,” Romar stated slowly. ”We have temporarily cleared the enemies nearby.”

”Enemies... are still many...” the ancient tree rasped. ”They spread within the forest... though they’ve lost their minds, they’re widening like a plague. My siblings... many have fallen silent, General, I can smell the forest burning, those plagues igniting toxic fel flames, scourging my brethren...”

Romar’s tone was calm and cold: ”We will ’purify’ those plagues; the monsters will turn into mud, becoming nutrients for your kin next year.”

”Purification... good, but they are not good nutrients...” The ancient tree mumbled, its voice growing deeper, ”They... taste nauseating, not even as good as soil...”

The ancient tree spoke slowly, this guardian rooted at the border for hundreds of years seems to have accumulated considerable wisdom in its long life; it seems to want to use its humor to make the general beside it laugh. However, Romar showed no trace of a smile, he only silently watched the ancient tree gradually lower its branches, observing its bark and roots stiffen like real plants, its magic power finally dissipated, and it fell into complete silence, no longer emitting any sounds of ”consciousness.”

The wind blew from afar, making the dried leaves of the guardian ancient tree rustle in the air. It died, rooted in the land it had protected for seven hundred years, standing tall, dying in this faintly lit dawn.

Romar long watched the fallen guardian; an elf ranger beside him whispered, ”It was planted by the queen and Master Vilanya herself...”

Romar said nothing; he only inhaled gently, resting his hand on the dry, mottled, scarred trunk of the ancient tree. He intended to bid a short farewell to his comrade before organizing the warriors for the next battle, but at that moment, an indescribable feeling of ”heart-throb” suddenly surged in his chest, causing his motions to pause instinctively for a second.

An invisible wind swept through the entire forest within that second, a formless energy brushed over every inch of land within the forest defense line.

The rangers beside him seemed to sense something too; they lifted their heads in surprise, trying to find the wind’s origin, yet only saw all the crowns of trees rustling in the breeze, all plants in the forest responding to the wind’s force. This forest, previously drifting slowly into decay, seemed to have rejuvenated instantly, even the foul stench lingering in the air seemed to be gradually dissipating.

Moved in heart, Romar instinctively looked at the recently deceased guardian ancient tree, unexpectedly seeing tiny buds silently growing between its bark, its branches, once fully dead and stiff, softening anew in the wind. Shocked, he gazed into the distance towards the direction of the forest sea, seeing a wave of green surging layer by layer—next moment, a voice very familiar yet now sounding particularly dignified echoed throughout the forest amidst the resonance from countless ancient trees:

”Citizens of the Silver Empire, allies of the Highmountain Kingdom, I am the Silver Empress, Belsetia Morningstar.

”I have returned here, and now, through this forest, I speak to you.

”The enemy’s reinforcements have been cut off, breaches in the wasteland have been sealed, the pollution suffusing this land has begun to dissipate, the toughest phase is over—our defense line is still intact, the homeland behind us is also still here.

”At the entire wasteland frontier, battle lines of the alliance are still engaging in fierce fight; the civilized world has not succumbed to the assault of those monsters. I have received news from the continent’s north, and I am assured reinforcements dispatched from the south will arrive at the front soon.

”However, before that, aberrations wandering within the forest barrier still threaten our homeland and close kin. These blind, mindless monsters will continue to spread towards civilization’s light out of instinct, while we... are civilization’s frontier itself.

”Here, in the name of the Silver Empress, and as a fellow mortal, I implore all within the forest barrier to keep bravely fighting, to defend the land beneath your feet, protect your comrades beside you, and safeguard this forest—no matter what, we cannot retreat.

”Comrades, persist, endure until reinforcements arrive, after today, wherever history may lead, our descendants will always remember this day—

”On this day, mortals shall prevail!”

The wind roared over the forest, all the leaves and branches resounded in that moment, the entire forest barrier seemed to rouse from its twilight state, and in the dawning light spreading over the horizon, Romar seemed to hear a mountain-crushing roar emitted by the forest itself.

”General...” a ranger beside him said, the young soldier’s face mingled confusion and excitement, ”Just now, was that...”

”It was our Empress,” Romar inhaled slightly, rising his longsword. He looked towards his soldiers, once more igniting a fierce flame deep within his eyes, ”Did you hear the order, soldier?!”

”Yes, General!”

...

”Is this enough?”

On the southern side of the Sacred Stars Temple crash site, on the edge of the forest defense line, the silhouette of Amoen, the Giant Stag, hid amongst the collapsed rocks and the charred remains of dead trees, Belsetia stood on the Giant Stag’s shoulder, gazing at the distant forest barrier still shrouded in the fire of war, she looked down speaking to Amoen.

”This will be enough,” Amoen nodded gently, ”The forest has begun regenerating, but more important than that is the regeneration of ’hope’—few have the strength and means to observe the overall changes in the forest, yet everyone here has heard your voice.”

”...I need to return among them.” Belsetia spoke softly.

Amoen did not speak for a moment, he only gazed longingly at the forest, at the silver citizens battling within it. After a long time, he squeezed from his throat a few deep words:

”Then... I shall return to where I belong too.”