Chapter 100 Soren’s Dream!
Night, colder than ever before.
The cold wind blowing out from Misoda Canyon carried some eerie sounds that sent shivers down the spine.
Milan walked slowly to the front of the temple with a jar of crushed herbs in hand. She could hear the pained groans of the injured and her sister Selina’s gentle comfort. The air was filled with the smell of blood, and bloody bandages were scattered on the ground along with a scent resembling disinfectant. In a corner of the temple lay some injured, as the Captain of the Guard, Mokad, sat propped against a stone pillar, his left arm bearing a ghastly wound.
This is the work of the Werewolves!
There has always been a terrifying pack of Werewolves near Misoda Canyon. They worship the Demon Lord of the 422nd layer of the Bottomless Abyss, the King of Werewolves – Yenogu. These Werewolves are quite formidable, and since this Half-Elf tribe migrated here, their struggle against the Werewolves has never ceased.
By the way.
This is a town of Half-Elves.
Many people here look similar to humans, but in fact, they are all Half-Elves, only with diluted Elf blood. Currently, most residents of the town possess less than a quarter of Elf heritage.
“Damn Werewolves!”
A town guard let out a painful low growl; in his anger, his wound reopened, prompting the nearby physician to tell him to stay still, or the bleeding wouldn’t stop.
Sixteen-year-old Milan kept her head down as she walked forward.
Because she is a Half-Elf, she looks very petite, standing at the height of a twelve or thirteen-year-old human girl. However, she is naturally agile, and many people in this town are quite capable.
“Milan.”
A deep male voice sounded, and the tall guard stopped polishing his weapon, walking over to the little girl. “Go inside and see if your father has succeeded.”
The little girl nodded obediently. She set down the jar and walked toward the back of the temple.
The back of the temple was eerily silent.
This temple is dedicated to the God of Half-Elves and Wanderers – Krest. He is the heir of the God of Thieves – Max, and due to the domain of Shadows falling into the hands of the Lord of Shadows, the God of Half-Elves and Wanderers – Krest had to rely on his race to bring the weak domain of Half-Elves into his divine profession. From that time, his faith began to spread widely among the Half-Elves. His priests also became an important force within the Half-Elf community.
There is a prayer room at the back of the temple.
Milan cautiously approached it and gently pushed the door open.
Inside knelt a middle-aged man in a priestly robe before an exquisite altar with a statue of the God of Half-Elves and Wanderers.
“Lord Krest!”
“You are the guide of Wanderers, the protector of Half-Elves!”
“Your humble believer, Berniel-Casadic, prays for your response! … I pray you grant divine techniques to help my people! … The Werewolves are rampaging in our homeland! … They worship the Demon Lord of the Bottomless Abyss, the King of Werewolves – Yenogu! … My people have suffered heavy losses! … Many brave warriors have fallen to the minions of the Werewolves! …”
“Great Lord!”
“Your humble believer seeks your help! … Your followers need the divine techniques you grant to heal and protect! …”
“Lord Krest!”
“Your humble servant prays for your response! … If you can hear my voice! … I beseech you to guide us! … Many of my tribe have fallen! … We have requested help from the Church in Leaffall City! … But have received no response! … We lack food, lack weapons, lack warriors! …”
“If you do not respond to your servant’s prayers, everything here may perish in the flames of war! …”
The prayer turned into a lament.
The middle-aged man knelt before the statue, looking as if he had lost his faith and his soul.
“Father! …”
Milan’s eyes reddened slightly. She hurried over to support the swaying middle-aged man, tears streaming down like peas.
Her father had been kneeling for three whole days.
He hadn’t eaten or drunk anything during these three days, continuously praying for a response from the deity, but there was no reply.
No divine techniques granted, no response at all. Even the light of the temple was gradually fading. The Werewolves’ attacks had become increasingly fierce; Uncle Bastan had died in battle, Brother Bolo had perished, Uncle Karad had also been killed. Once an extremely powerful father, who had saved many lives, was now reduced to an ordinary man. He could no longer cast any divine techniques, could no longer heal the injured, nor could he protect this town.
Father is in so much pain!
Milan knew how much he loved this town he had built with his own hands, and she understood that her father would be willing to give everything for it, including his own life.
But now everything was about to be destroyed by war!
The crazy attacks of the Werewolves had caused them heavy losses, and the orcs from the other side of the mountains were also stirring, with the great footprints of Ogres appearing in the border areas.
Without the protection of the deity, without the priest’s divine techniques.
Their losses in battle began to increase exponentially; relying solely on the healing of herbs would ultimately lead to more and more warriors falling!
Father is in pain.
He repeated his prayers to the deity time and again, but still received no response.
“Milan! …”
The middle-aged man turned and looked at his lovely daughter, bloodshot eyes filled with anguish. He raised his hand to gently stroke the smooth long hair of the Half-Elf girl, then stood up unsteadily.
Clang!
Father drew his longsword and walked step by step to the corner, donning a half-armor forged from steel.
He hadn’t worn armor for a long time.
Milan slowly walked over, carefully helping her father put on the armor; she understood what her father wanted to do. As a once-powerful priest, now devoid of all divine techniques, he could only rely on this to fight.
“Tomorrow, you will leave with the others to Leaffall City. It is our capital, and there will be those who will accept and protect you there.”
“I will stay behind to cover the others! …”
Father’s tone was resolute, and this attitude of facing death made her shed large tears.
………………
Leaffall City, Bone Shatter Ridge.
A team of fully armed Half-Elf warriors was stationed here, kindling a bonfire, their expressions somewhat desolate and sorrowful as they sat around it.
“Hang in there!”
“Bacalo! … You have to hold on! … Don’t die! … Soon Priest Fina will be able to save you! … You must endure! …”
The suppressed sorrowful cries of the warriors echoed in the air.
A faint scent of blood filled the air, and on the ground lay an injured man, his ribcage caved in, his breathing very weak. Such severe injuries made it almost impossible to save him with just potions.
On the other side of the bonfire.
A Half-Elf woman with golden hair knelt on the ground, cradling a lifelike statue in her palms, praying devoutly: “Lord Krest!”
“You are the guide of Wanderers, the protector of Half-Elves!”
“Your humble servant prays for your response! … The warrior fighting to protect your faith is about to die! … He single-handedly killed six Werewolves! … He has defeated Ogres, defeated Orcs, and defeated Vampires! … He fought bravely to protect your glory! … Now he is on the verge of death! … Your humble servant Fina prays that you grant divine techniques to heal him! … If you can hear my plea! … Please guide me! …”
Tears fell drop by drop.
The painful groans beside her grew weaker; the rising and falling chest gradually stilled, breaths disappearing little by little.
The young Half-Elf girl stood up with tears in her eyes, her expression dazed as she looked up at the starry sky, seeing no light.
Faith was collapsing.
She, like a walking corpse, neared the body of the fallen warrior, knelt and gently caressed his cold cheek, tears streaming down as she sobbed uncontrollably: “Brother! … I’m sorry! … I’m sorry! …”
………………
In the world above ground, Spider Forest.
“Ah!!!”
Soren suddenly sat up, drenched in sweat, his chest rising and falling violently, heavy breaths echoing, like a bellows.
“What’s happening?!”
Soren’s expression was strange as he pressed his hands against his temples, murmuring, “Why is this happening? Why am I having such a dream! …”
“Why is everything in the dream so real! …” (To be continued ~^~)
