Chapter 1318 — The Forest Sea Line

The guardian ancient trees—these were the Highland Kingdom's mainstay for resisting the wasteland's erosion, situated in the south of the Gondor Wasteland. These permanent treant guardians, created through druidic magic, had first been brought to the Loren Continent by the silver elves from the distant southern isles and planted along the northern border of the Highland Kingdom. Over seven centuries of growth they had become a forest along this long border line—and today they had suffered a grievous blow.

Facing the vast Gondor Wasteland, every border nation had its own reliance for resisting the wasteland. Old Ansu had its natural Dark Mountains and the Cecil Line; Typhon had its border marsh waters and its powerful mage corps and national knightly orders; the Augurey tribal state had its favored mountain barriers and its valiant beastfolk highland warriors; and the Highland Kingdom... between this nation and the Gondor Wasteland there had originally been only open plains and gentle hills. With no natural barrier to rely on, their only defense against the wasteland had been these guardian ancient trees planted by the elves, and the flesh and blood of generations upon generations of border soldiers.

Kala... kala...

The sound of grinding wood came suddenly. The guardian ancient tree, sunk in brief dormancy, seemed to sense the approach of Lomar's aura. This ancient and venerable magical guardian awoke; its crown swayed, and the furrows on the upper half of its bark turned toward the ranger-general at its side like an aged face covered in wrinkles. A tremor only elves could understand passed from its scorched branches into Lomar's ears: "Do you need me to fight? General?"

"You need to rest," Lomar said slowly. "We have temporarily cleared the enemies from this area."

"Enemies... still many..." the ancient tree creaked. "They spread through the forest... they have lost their minds, yet they spread like a plague, wider and wider. My brothers and sisters... many no longer make a sound. General, I smell the forest burning; those plagues have lit toxic fel flames, scorching my brothers and sisters of trunk and limb..."

Lomar's tone was flat and cold: "We will 'purify' these plagues. Those monsters will turn to mud and become nourishment for your brothers and sisters next year."

"Purify... good. But they are not good nourishment..." the ancient tree murmured, its voice growing lower. "They... taste vile, worse than soil..."

The ancient tree spoke slowly. This guardian, rooted at the border for hundreds of years, seemed to have accumulated considerable wisdom over its long life; it seemed to want to amuse the general beside it with its humor, yet Lomar could not muster the slightest smile. He only watched in silence as the ancient tree lowered its branches bit by bit, watched its bark and roots stiffen and still like those of a true plant. The magic flowing within it finally faded away, and it fell utterly quiet, no longer giving forth any sound belonging to a "mind."

Wind blew from afar. The dry branches and leaves of the guardian ancient tree quivered in the air, giving out a long rustling sound. It had died, rooted in this land it had guarded for seven hundred years, standing tall and upright, dying in this dawn of dwindling sunlight.

Lomar gazed for a long time at the dead guardian. An elven ranger beside him said softly: "It was planted by the Queen herself, together with Master Vilania, back in the day..."

Lomar did not speak. He only drew a soft breath and laid his hand on the ancient tree's dry, mottled, scarred trunk. He wanted to make a brief farewell to this comrade-in-arms, then go organize the soldiers for the next battle—but just then, some indescribable sense of "throbbing" suddenly surged up in his heart, making his movements halt instinctively for a second.

In that second, a formless wind blew across the whole forest, and a formless power brushed over every inch of ground within the forest barrier.

The rangers nearby seemed to sense something as well. They looked up in astonishment, trying to find the source of the wind, but saw only that all the surrounding crowns were rustling in the wind, that every plant in the forest was bending to the wind's power. This forest, which had been slowly dying, seemed to revive in an instant, and even the foul, stinging stench filling the air seemed to be gradually dispersing.

His heart stirred, and Lomar instinctively looked toward the guardian ancient tree that had just died—and saw, between its bark, tender shoots quietly, silently sprouting; the branches already utterly dead and stiff were growing soft again in the wind. He looked in astonishment toward the distant forest sea and saw waves of green surging layer upon layer—and the next second, a voice he knew well, yet which now sounded incomparably majestic, rang out through the whole forest amid the resonance of countless ancient trees:

"Subjects of the Silver Empire, allies of the Highland Kingdom, I am Berentia Dawnstar, Empress of the Silver Empire.

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

"The enemy's reinforcements have been cut off, the breach in the wasteland has been sealed, the corruption spreading across this land has begun to disperse. The hardest phase is past—our line still stands, and the homelands behind us still stand.

"Along the entire wasteland border, the alliance's fronts are still locked in fierce battle. The civilized world has not collapsed under the onslaught of those monsters. I have received word from the north of the continent, and I am certain that the reinforcements dispatched from the south will soon reach the front.

"But before that, the aberrations roaming the forest barrier still threaten our homes and our kin by blood. These blind, mindless monsters will, driven by instinct, keep spreading toward wherever the lights of civilization burn—and we... we are the border of civilization itself.

"Here, as Empress of the Silver Empire and as a mortal among mortals, I implore everyone within the forest barrier: keep fighting bravely. Hold the ground beneath your feet, hold the comrades at your side, hold this forest—no matter what, we have not one step left to retreat.

"My people, hold on. Hold on until the reinforcements arrive. After today, wherever history may turn, our descendants will remember this day forever—

"On this day, mortals endure forever!"

The wind howled over the forest, and at that moment every leaf and branch roared aloud. The whole forest barrier seemed to revive in an instant from its twilight languor, and in the dawn light gradually spreading across the horizon, Lomar seemed to hear a thunderous roar, mountain and sea, issued by the forest itself.

"General..." a ranger beside him said, the young soldier's face wearing a complex expression of bewilderment and excitement. "That just now was..."

"It is our Empress," Lomarr breathed in softly, lifting the longsword in his hand. He looked at his soldiers, and deep within his eyes a blazing fire ignited once more. "Did you hear the command, soldiers?!"

"Yes, General!"

……

"Is this enough?"

South of the Sunvault Palace crash zone, at the edge of the forest defense line, the giant deer Amoen's form lay hidden among collapsed boulders and the charred remains of dead, burned-out trees. Berentia stood upon the giant deer's shoulder, gazing at the forest barrier defense line still shrouded in the fires of war in the distance, and spoke down to Amoen.

"This is enough," Amoen said with a slight nod. "This forest has already begun to regenerate, but more important than that is the regeneration of 'hope'—not many still have the strength or the capacity to notice the changes in the forest as a whole, but every person here heard your voice."

"...I must return among them now," Berentia said softly.