Time passed…
While things around Darkwell were tilting towards a climax, the upper observation hall had already filled with every major leader from across the region.
This meeting would determine how they faced the Corrupted World Tree.
The tension was almost palpable.
Lightning rolled overhead in constant waves. The storm outside flashed through the glass walls, making the faces of each respective leader light up with grim expressions. The hall itself was a towering circular chamber, its walls lined with rune-engraved pillars and half-dimmed crystal lamps. Massive windows surrounded half the room, the largest of which was directly behind the commander's seat. High-ranking officers from the United Army, the Hellion Empire, Mercenary Alliance, scholars, teachers, mercenary captains, gold-rank adventurers, and envoys from various powers crowded inside. Despite its large size, it was already very cramped. Many of them were bandaged or injured, soaked to the bone, or leaning against the walls to just stay upright. But they all waited….
Then, Elena stepped forward.
She had finally returned from her 'investigation'.
A glowing projection of the western region hovered over the circular table before her, it was a moving map crafted by a fourth-level spell. Its light brushed across her face as she placed her hands on the edge of the table. "The current state of the western region is far worse than we predicted back in Imai." Her voice was level and cold.
Of course, she already knew this would happen…
As a regressor, she knew the scale of all nine calamities. Their cause, effect, scale, and endings. But convincing others, in every loop, was always painfully slow. People didn't want to believe that the calamities were real, either from selfishness or greed. The first three calamities were wide-scale disasters, but they didn't have the same impact that the latter six would have. Convincing the continent was hard enough, much less the world outside. Cultivation sects hid in seclusion, powerful families rejected involvement, and the overseas nations waited for someone else to take responsibility.
Her biggest struggle in every life was forcing people to act before it was too late.
The noise in the room faded.
Elena tapped the projection.
The map was split into a dozen smaller zones.
"The Second Calamity has devastated the environment, the Dusk Dwellers have spread faster than anticipated, the Poison Sea has doubled in size since last week, and its expansion is exponential. The water in the west is now undrinkable, and the spiritual energy concentration is falling rapidly, replaced by… whatever toxin is falling from the sky."
Her knuckles pressed into the table.
"In short, time is running out!"
The projection shifted westward, towards the coast.
"The Corrupted World Tree has already spread its roots through most of the western region, and now it's extending even further into the central region. Everything they touch loses vitality, and the rate is accelerating. The air, the soil, and even the rain are all showing signs of carrying this withering, causing the natural energy of the world to disperse. If the Corrupted World Tree awakens completely, it may begin reshaping the landscape again, and when that happens, the devastation in the western region will likely spread to the rest of the continent, perhaps even further with time."
A low murmur spread through the room.
Elena continued…
"There is a problem. From my observation, the Corrupted World Tree cannot absorb spiritual energy through natural means. It has no proper absorption mechanism, despite what it may look like. That means it's drawing power from 'something', and that something is likely beneath it."
She raised her hand, and the projection shifted again, showing the roots of the World Tree stretching deep underground. The map plunged downwards, revealing an immense underground cavern wrapped in roots.
"After several careful expeditions, we found this."
She paused, letting the projection settle on a massive, spherical structure buried beneath the tree. Its surface was covered in layered markings, High Elven runes, and more importantly, there highest-level script. These were something created at the very end of the High Elven Empire, when their technology was at its peak.
"The Corrupted World Tree is anchored to an underground structure. This is likely something built by the High Elves, left behind after their disappearance." Her tone hardened. "It's drawing power directly from something within the structure."
Seeing the massive void, the hall erupted with sound.
Dozens of voices crashed together, some filled with accusations, fear, and disorderly arguments, while others were in disbelief, suspicious, and doubtful. How could they miss such a massive space directly below the backyard of the western region's capital?
In the end, none of that mattered.
They needed to decide what to do.
Elena stared down at the map, her eyes heavy as the chaos enveloped her. She ignored it, letting it settle as the background.
Her mind turned, thinking back to her past life.
The thing powering the corrupted world tree was a powerful High Elven Artifact that could be used in the future calamities. In her past life, she had never been able to obtain it, so she destroyed it each time. However, in this life, she actually had the ability to take it for herself.
Elena's mind flashed to a High Elf, Felllilth.
Bang!
Kareth finally struck the table with his hand, silencing the room.
Elena nodded in thanks, then continued…
"Our only option is to descend into this structure and destroy whatever power source the Corrupted World Tree is using. If we don't, the entire western region will collapse. It's not only the roots that are a problem, but the Black Sky is still expanding, and soon the rest of the continent will be affected."
She took a slow breath. "We don't have time. Once the Corrupted World Tree fully awakens, it will be unstoppable. The roots have already crossed the western region's border, so it's not impossible for the entirety of the western region to sink if that happens." She paused, then added, "Our only hope is to destroy it while it's still half-dormant."
She looked up at the leaders gathered before her.
"What we need," Elena said firmly, "is a small, elite force, capable of entering the area beneath the World Tree and destroying its core." The projection zoomed in again, revealing the cylindrical chamber beneath the World Tree as clearly as possible. The roots were interfering, but there was no doubt that something existed there, producing a massive amount of spiritual energy. The Corrupted World Tree functioned by absorbing this spiritual energy, then converting it into the natural energy of heaven and earth, or life force (Qi), to strengthen itself and continue to grow.
Silence swept through the room.
They may not have grasped the true scale of the disaster, nor did they know that the Corrupted World Tree could consume the entire world, but they understood enough.
Elena stepped back from the projection. "I'll lead the operation myself."
Boom!
The storm thundered outside, outlining her silhouette.
No one argued.
Elena sat down slowly.
The exhaustion she had accumulated over the past few days was clearly visible on her face. The next matter to deal with was not the World Tree, but the surrounding city itself…
-
Darkwell was collapsing.
The lower city was half-submerged, and the outer towers shook violently in the wind. Tens of thousands of people remained trapped as Dusk Dwellers swarmed the streets. If they didn't act soon, the entire city would fall, and its people would die.
Kareth took command, studying the magic projections.
"We clear the city first," he said. "If Darkwell falls, it will be difficult to reach the rest of the region."
He gave orders rapidly. "The Mercenary Alliance will take the northern and eastern districts. The United Army will secure the south. The Hellion Empire will clear the west." After that, he continued to assign smaller tasks to each of the remaining forces.
Faction leaders nodded one after another, their expressions grim.
"Protect the evacuation routes and stabilize the tower anchors. No one moves alone. Let's purge the city before nightfall!" Kareth roared, receiving a wave of cheers. Although his voice was unnatural, his momentum was unquestionable.
Boom!
When the meeting ended, the United Army exploded into motion.
Forces raced from the central tower, scattering across the unstable streets. Each faction moved towards its designated district to clear Dusk Dwellers and rescue civilians.
* * *
The meeting was over.
Silence settled in the empty room.
Kareth didn't move. He stood before the glass wall, watching the storm grind against the swaying towers of Darkwell. The runes along their frames flickered with thin, uneven lights, like dying embers. The last vestiges of their spirit pierced through the storm, like a distant lighthouse. The faceless shadows of countless people were running back and forth in the distance, all trying to reach the evacuation points like ants in a colony.
He stood there, hands behind his back, almost disconnected from the disaster.
Boom!
Lightning flashed.
For a moment, the whole city surfaced beneath the white light.
The rain that flowed down the window distorted his reflection, as the storm pressed its weight against the tower, making the walls grown.
In the large empty hall, it was quite ominous.
Boom!
Another flash!
Then silence…
A quiet voice approached from behind, barely more than a whisper. "Patriarch, the Black Tower…"
Kareth didn't turn.
He watched the next bolt of lightning cut across the sky...
"I know."
He said nothing more.
* * *
Black Rain splashed violently against the stone walls of the northern district.
Across the wide bridge marched hundreds of warriors, each formation split into small groups of six to eight tanks. They were towering, silver-armored figures built like walking walls, their thick layered plate was forged for siege, sealed shut, and carried an unstoppable momentum. The massive tower shields locked together in a single gigantic wall, while spears and axes rose above them like a metal forest.
Together they formed over a dozen tight units, advancing with perfect steps, moving forward like a living machine, each step shaking the ground with more force than the surrounding storm.
Behind each team were dozens of swordsmen, each carrying a similar shine, only slightly more mobile. Their presence alone felt like a drawn crossbow, existing as a silent threat ready to explode forward and eviscerate anything in their path.
This was the Silver Shield of the Mercenary Alliance.
Every step made the unstable bridge tremble. Each movement carried the force of ten men, a weight born from bodies that were more metal than flesh. Their armor didn't clang, it boomed, ringing with a deep and heavy echo, swallowing the storm as they marched through the Black Rain.
In the front stood a single figure.
Anchor, the leader of the Silver Shield, Mercenary Army, and the Black Wrath.
Unlike those behind, his armor was completely sealed, stained black by countless battles and untold bloodshed. His shell was pitch black, thicker than the others by several levels. His pauldrons rose like spiked battlements, and the plates around his limbs were reinforced with hardened ridges. Inside the helmet, two red eyes flickered, piercing through the storm.
His presence alone directed the battlefield, or at least, it should have. Anchor no longer shouted orders or roared commands. He no longer laughed or cursed like before.
Now, he simply moved.
A little over a year ago, this barbaric beast had changed…
Each swing of his great sword left afterimages in the rain, cleaving through monsters and stone like the earth. The Dusk Dwellers fell in waves, their bodies dissolving into the water as if erased from existence.
Anchor carved through the enemies like a soulless monster.
The men behind him followed loudly, half in awe, and half from fear. They roared commands as they stumbled forward, impaling, smashing, and crushing anything that stood in their way.
* * *
In the east of the city, the ground was washed white with frost.
A swarm of Dusk Dwellers flooded through the waterlogged alleys, only to freeze mid-step, their bodies covered in thin layers of ice. A moment later, they shattered. The next moment, their corpses, black twig-like things, rose again as obedient, silent puppets.
From the back, Tepit, leader of the White Skull, raised a bone staff engraved with runes that glowed pale blue beneath a thin layer of frost. Each channel pulsed with frost-filled spiritual energy, spreading through the air as he murmured a low, steady chant, his voice lost beneath the sound of cracking ice and twisting bones. His army of the dead moved forward in formation, smashing through everything that dared to breathe before him.
Behind him, dozens of necromancers worked together, controlling skeletal beasts, ghostly hands, and Frostfire flames. They wore white robes, pale like bone, and were adorned with blood and bone.
They were mostly younger men, with the occasional thin woman, and an experienced elder. All of them had cold expressions, lacking that lively warmth that normal casters had.
They were masters of death, ice, and yin magic,
They transformed the battlefield into an eerie domain where nothing stayed but death and frost.
* * *
In the north-east, the rain turned purple as a storm of mystical energy swept out.
The air was heavy with perfume and poison. Women cloaked in violet robes danced through the flooded streets, their carefree laughter carried by the storm.
They were witch-like women, the common kind, and every one of them was a controller. They were cruel and beautiful, their eyes glowing faintly as their enemies turned on one another, screeching under an invisible pressure.
In the center walked Vellina, the leader of the Violet Cap.
She was tall and nimble, her every step graceful. Her hair was long and dark, clinging to her skin, and her lips curled into a smile that promised a pleasurable death. Her spiritual energy mixed with her mental energy and radiated like a low hum, sinking into the minds of those around her, severing their connections to an unseen source.
These women, whether it was Vellina or the Violet Cap, were all trouble personified. They couldn't be trusted, their appearances were facades, their personalities were plays, and everything about them changed by the day.
"Keep the bridges clear," she said lazily, her voice rippling out over the storm.
The violet witches obeyed.
* * *
Center of the City.
In the heart of the city, where the fighting was most intense, Hexfill and the members of the White Wolf were clearing out enemies while focusing on protecting those who were late to leave.
Their warriors were mostly seasoned swordsmen, veteran descendants of loyal retainers, and the top talent from trustworthy families, all loyal to the White Wolf and its leader, Hexfill. They fought in close formation, their blades flashing with sword light, striking out with white streaks of arcane light through the storm.
At the front stood Hexfill, the White Wolf, and the Mercenary Alliance's Leader. His silver armor, lined with a white mane, was already stained with red blood and black dust.
He swung his sword in wide arcs, cutting down monsters faster than they could be replaced.
-
After felling another enemy, he stepped back for a moment. He watched his men clear out the surrounding area, then turned his thoughts to another matter.
He cursed under his breath.
"Damn it… Tecelli, where the hell are you?" His voice was drowned by the storm, but the anger behind it wasn't. Those around him could see the irritation on his face.
Tecelli had disappeared before the Second Calamity began.
They split up after departing from Imai, and since then, they had yet to regroup.
Hexfill was one of the few people who knew about the Duskwood Project and their plans to revive the World Tree. In theory, it was completely possible. By using the Duskwood Trees and grafting them on the fallen world tree, it should have been possible to reawaken the fallen plant spirit of the world tree.
Although dangerous, something like this had been done before, and it was well documented in history.
Duskwood was a taboo plant, but it was the only one available on a wide enough scale to serve as the catalyst to reawaken the world tree. From the records, the effects of Duskwood were controllable, so Hexfill had given his tentative approval to Tecelli.
Now… It seemed as if he had made a mistake.
Not only in the Duskwood project, but also in trusting Tecelli.
The Duskwood Project was originally suggested by him. In addition to providing all the records and information, he also took charge of the project's secrecy.
Even Hexfill didn't know much about it in the end.
To make matters worse, the place where the Poison Sea had erupted was undoubtedly the excavation site where Tecelli was last active.
All of this gave him a very bad feeling…
Hexfill didn't want to admit it, but he was deeply concerned that Tecelli had betrayed them.
He channeled that rage into every strike, carving through the enemy with reckless precision. The Duskdwellers kept coming, crawling over the ruins of the battlefield, but his guard didn't break.
Since the Second Calamity began, Hexfill had been overwhelmed by a sense of dread.
He knew that it was irreparably tied to him and the Mercenary Alliance. It was long past the point where he could cover it up.
The time he had left was running out.
Not just for him, but also everything his family had built…
-
By the time the battle began to fade, half the street was filled with the corpses of twig-like monsters, and the unlucky citizens who had been caught.
They obtained a moment of peace.
From behind Hexfill, a soft voice called out.
"Alliance Leader!"
He turned.
Through the rain, a small figure approached, her cloak fluttering behind her petite body. She was young, no more than twenty, with large eyes, a small nose, and black feathers streaked through her silver hair and amber eyes that flickered softly in the night.
Pillia, leader of the Silver Eye, and the master of the Mercenary Alliance's intelligence network.
She landed lightly beside him, her boots splashing in the pool. Despite her small size and delicate features, her presence carried an unnatural sharpness.
It was the definition of a wolf in sheep's clothing.
She handed Hexfill a small bundle of papers. "Updated scouting reports," she added quickly. "The Dark Dwellers are thinning out in the northern district, and the United Army has secured the lower west… Also, there have been sightings of a few large insects near the base of the city."
Hexfill took the notes. "Good. Keep in touch with the others. I want to finish this before nightfall."
Pillia nodded. "Understood, Lord Hexfill!"
She hesitated for a moment, her expression softening a bit. "Lord Tecelli will turn up," she said quietly.
Hexfill didn't answer.
He looked back toward the storm.
"Maybe," he muttered, tightening his grip on his sword.
He knew Pillia was too optimistic…
She was young and naive, with too little experience in the real world. If it wasn't for her feral nature, then he would never allow such a cute young girl to take over such an important position.
The battle raged on, but the tide was shifting.
For now, Darkwell stood, but things were tilting towards trouble.