Chapter 40: Act 32 – The Forbidden Orchard
After the mist in the forest dissipated, the battle was nearly over. The sudden attack by the young members of the human guard initially caught Madara’s advance forces off guard, but once Cabais rallied the higher-level undead, the situation quickly became clear.
The forest fell silent—
“Master Cabais.” The pale-faced apprentice necromancer placed a hand on his chest and respectfully bowed to the towering skeleton before him.
“I thought you worms wouldn’t come to see me, Rothko.”
The skeleton general, clad in brass armor, had flames blazing in its eye sockets. It sat cross-legged atop a pile of corpses, one hand gripping its double-bladed battle axe while the other rested on its knee, looking down at the frail apprentice with contempt.
Dark lords and necromancers had always mutually despised each other, and this time they only came together at the call of the Mercury Staff, merely putting on a façade. The bloodline clan had maintained its own circle, rarely participating in the affairs of Madara—a country that had endured such division for centuries—until recently when a dark cloud suddenly emerged from its stable shell.
This was the wording of the elf-ladies’ prophecy, coinciding with Lady Ylian’s revelation about the ‘darkness spreading from the East.’ Whether they were dark lords, necromancers, or bloodlines, everyone believed this era was coming to an end, and a new one would be ushered in by Madara.
Rothko smiled subtly; Cabais was one of Tagus’s main commanders, while he was merely a lowly squad leader, the gap between them immeasurable. The only reason this skeleton would chastise him was because his advance squad had stolen the limelight from the entire flanking army. With three hundred skeletons and over twenty corpse wizards, he had decisively crushed the Buche guard squad and annihilated the Green Village self-defense group, allowing Cabais to sweep in triumphantly and, in coordination, completely wipe out the Buche guard. Such achievements could only be described as glorious.
Traditionally in Madara, the vanguard of the army was meant to exhaust the enemy’s living forces, and at worst, to buy time as a buffer. This vanguard typically consisted of skeleton soldiers and lower-level corpse wizards, and Erluin would only need a guard squad one-third their size to easily defeat it.
In Tagus’s plan, Rothko was merely a pawn to distract Buche, with the real attack coming from the side led by Cabais and the ‘Lich’ Wesa—but this one-eyed vampire commander didn’t anticipate that the apprentice necromancer named Rothko would deliver a significant surprise. Just as he did not foresee that ‘Lich’ Wesa would make a major mistake on the right flank. The battlefield was always full of variables, even an excellent commander could not always be ahead, let alone Tagus, who was known for his caution.
However, this humble necromancer apprentice did not yet realize the path that lay ahead of him, and he certainly wouldn’t retort. On the contrary, Cabais’s words felt like an honor to him since they were directed at all necromancers, indirectly elevating his status.
He glanced at the cold, black armored warriors behind Cabais with a hint of envy. He had scavenged many good items during the invasion, but most of them had to be reported, and what remained wasn’t enough to call forth a black knight. He heard there was a tomb of a holy knight in the Green Village, which would be an excellent vessel, but sadly that was now in Cabais’s territory.
What a pity, but never mind. There would be plenty of opportunities in the future; this time Madara was here to reap the benefits, and every general had their eyes on this chance.
He thought for a moment and replied, “Master Cabais, a few escaped rats have fled north. We didn’t see the refugees we observed yesterday afternoon; I suspect they were making a feint while their main forces have already entered the Dagger Riverbank to the north.”
That was enough. The north was under the control of ‘Lich’ Wesa. If he wanted to retrieve those ‘living materials’ or at least claim a share, he would need this ‘grim reaper’ to nod in agreement. A lowly squad leader like him could not bear that responsibility.
But Cabais was not a fool; he regarded the small necromancer apprentice and suddenly realized the fellow’s impure motives, unable to suppress a click of his jaw: “You want me to clash with that baldy Wesa? What benefit do I get from that, little worm?”
“Expanding your own power further; isn’t that benefit enough, my lord?”
“Hmph, just a ragtag group. I have no interest in those weak skeletons.”
“I heard there’s a veteran of the November War among Buche’s guard, one of those human commanders.”
The flames in Cabais’s eyes flickered: “Not worth the loss; it would be a boon for that brat Wesa.”
Rothko sighed, realizing his persuasion had failed. He raised his head, about to take his leave since he and Cabais weren’t of the same hierarchy; had it not been for this matter, he wouldn’t have come here—despite being the military commander of the army, the Grim Reaper Cabais was still an ineffective authority over him as a necromancer. His vanguard could very well disregard his commands.
But just then, he felt a tremor in his heart and couldn’t help but look south.
The towering skeleton also looked in that direction—their gazes pierced through the forest and landed on the shadows of the mountains beyond.
Such a strong magical reaction—
“It’s Zeveril Pass.” Cabais sniffed the air, as if smelling the magic wafting from the direction of the Pine River.
Rothko said nothing, as he felt an even stronger magical fluctuation emanating from that direction.
What madness was the Golden Magic Tree unleashing? Such a strong reaction could probably be felt by any wizard from dozens of miles away; he suddenly felt worried, unsure whether the sorcerers of the White Maned Legion in Ridenburg would notice.
“We should send some people ahead, Master Cabais.”
“Hmph, I naturally know without you saying. Our undead creatures are much more attuned to magic than you are; wait until you become a lich, and then come teach me a lesson.”
Rothko smiled.
*
Brendel led Freya and Romaine through a jagged rock crevice on the cliff, immediately gesturing for them to stop. From here, they could see the entire sunken valley below—surrounded by bare mountains, a gray rock formation dipped downwards, with sharp stone spikes protruding from the ground—a large golden oak tree stood silently rooted in the center of the cracked valley.
This was the Forbidden Orchard.
The Golden Magic Tree absorbed nutrients from the earth and free magical particles, causing the land to wither and the earth element to rise unanchored into the sky, creating such a scene. Brendel looked up; the sky over the valley was heavily overcast, as if dark clouds hung low, a consequence of the elemental imbalance.
Because the earth elements had collapsed, a multitude of other elements congregated in this place, leading to an abnormal chaos in the elemental order. The elemental order was a rule set during the creation by Martha and controlled by the four elemental lords—but order isn’t always stable; like everything done by the Golden Magic Tree, human factors frequently disturb the environment.
In the past, elemental mages had their powers suppressed by 30% in this valley due to elemental anomalies, and for this reason, almost no parties would accept elemental mages at the beginning—this period was referred to as the three-year blood and tears history by elemental mages. Of course, later on, that profession rose prominently, but that is another story.
Romaine and Freya stared in awe at the bizarre Golden Magic Tree; they had only heard of such creatures in bedtime stories, never expecting to see one in person one day, feeling a bit as if they were in a dream.
Moreover, the beauty of the Golden Magic Tree presented a stark visual contrast to the desolation surrounding it, like witnessing a fantasy realm full of wondrous colors.
“W-what is that?” Freya couldn’t help but ask blankly.
“So beautiful, Brendel! Is that the golden apple tree from the myth? Those monsters are the guardians of this tree, right? I can’t believe there’s such a beautiful creature in a place like this!”
“That’s an oak tree, Romaine.” The future Valkyrie sighed.
“I, I know that! It’s just a golden oak tree!” Merchant Miss hurriedly defended, raising her eyebrows.
“Don’t be deceived by its beauty; it’s likely the most dangerous creature you’ve ever encountered. No, it should be called a monster.” Brendel’s gaze carefully searched the entire valley, quickly finding a patrol team of treeborn monsters—those creatures draped in vines were slowly advancing across the rugged rocky surface—
This matched his memories from the game.
“Monsters?”
“Yes, the creatures we previously encountered all originated from it.”
“How is that possible?” Freya widened her eyes in surprise.
But she and Romaine had also seen the patrol of treeborn monsters; now they were not overly tense facing these creatures. Over the course of their journey, the three had battled these magical servants of the Golden Magic Tree too many times; Brendel himself had gained 65 experience points and even obtained a tree crystal from a mature treeborn monster.
This item was a manufacturing material in the game, but he didn’t know how production skills worked in this world; in any case, he thought it wise to carry it for now.
However, he noticed that both Freya and Romaine had shown notable growth in combat, especially that future Valkyrie—her strength and agility had increased rapidly—after several bouts, she was approaching the level of a guard trainee. But Brendel was still unclear how they were earning experience, as it seemed they were progressing much slower than he was.
For advanced monsters like the treeborns, logically speaking, a few kills should have leveled Freya up a few times, yet he felt she even lagged behind his second career as a mercenary.
This raised some questions.
Of course, all doubts had to be set aside for now, as they had more important matters to attend to. If the Golden Magic Tree discovered them first and summoned back the withering beasts outside, they would have little time left. Brendel calculated in the game that from the start of combat until the first wave of withering beasts arrived, they had at most fifteen minutes, right at the existence cycle of the sacred sword; if they hadn’t taken down the Golden Magic Tree by then, they would need to consider fleeing.
However, Brendel did not contemplate launching an immediate attack; firstly, he wasn’t sure how to deal with that patrol of treeborn monsters, and he himself had another question to resolve.
With that in mind, he couldn’t help but glance at a higher cliff on the other side.
“Wait here for me; don’t get discovered.” He turned back to say.
