Billions of stars twinkled overhead in a sea of deep black and faint purple. On the distant eastern horizon, the faint sign of the coming dawn was the slow boil of orange that gathered there. The sky was clear and open, allowing those for miles to see the ominous black shape that was World’s End; a long string of towering mountains that stretched across the boundary of the mortal realm. And as dawn approached, the sky began to brighten without illuminating the land below, and thus, leaving the mountains to become silhouetted

On the mountain, it was not that dark, or at least on the snow-capped peaks and ridges. Of such, the small amount of light that reached the land below made the snow-laden parts glow faintly for all those who transverse it.

Several men stood on the edge of the snow where it was just enough to see, but not further enough in for it to encumber them. On the boundary of the rocky ridges and the pitch-black undergrowth of the autumn forest. Their spears were readied, their thick leather armor visibility shaking from the fear and the cold alike. Before them, in the blackness of the forest, two glowing red eyes slowly floated behind unseen trunks and thicket - disappearing for moments before reappearing elsewhere.

None of the men spoke. With four of them in total, each of them had created a semi-circle formation while they watched the disembodied eyes linger.

Their standoff had been ongoing for nearly ten minutes. With hunger on their pursuers' minds, it was apparent that only one party would walk away from this encounter alive. A deep, demonic growl came from the forest where the eyes were. Then, more red lines appeared just behind the eyes in the shape of stripes.

“Corrupted saber!” One of the men called out.

As if the words had been the signal, the corrupted beast shot out like a red lightning strike. All the men let out cries but kept their spears ready. The monster struck true and fast, dipping below the center man’s spear. His comrades struck toward the beast, missed, and turned just as the saber continued on like a charging bull with their comrade in its jaws. Thick splatters of blood-colored the snow where the man had been, and thick crimson trails followed after him as his screams were cut short.

A sound similar to that of watermelon splattering on bricks filled the cold early morning air.

“Fuck!” One of the men cried out as he backed away. “I-It got him!” His voice cracked as his expression twisted with terror underneath his open-faced leather helmet.

He didn’t have the chance to run as the corrupted saber dropped its kill and turned to find its next target. It found the backpedaling man and darted towards him. This time though, the others were ready. The saber pounced onto the man as he threw down his spear to run and crushed him beneath its overpowering weight. He went facedown into the snow. Before he could even cry out, the saber’s massive thick fangs closed around the man’s head and ripped it free from his neck with a thick trail of blood that splattered out after it. The remaining two men, determined to harm the beast before they died, thrusted their spears into the monster’s next; right where a glowing red stripe appeared. The beast released a pained howl as it jerked away from the attacks. Black blood stained the steel spear tips.

The saber turned, eyes full of hate and menace, swiped its massive paw out. It broke off the spear tips with part of the shafts before it readied itself to pounce again. A single arrow whistled through the air and pierced through its head before it stuck itself into the snow beside it. The two men looked up further up the ridge to find a single figure with a recurve bow with another arrow notched. The saber stirred slightly and the arrow was released and buried itself into the monster’s exposed side where its heart was.

Both the surviving men stared at the figure in frustration as it slowly picked its way down from its initial spot. A moment later, more figures appeared from the forest behind them.

“Took yur’ sweet fucking time…” The tallest of the two survivors growled towards the approaching lone figure. “You should have been here fucking minutes ago!”

The figure, which turned into a slender elven man who was half a head shorter than the other person, only gave a disinterested glance at the mauled bodies. “You four separated from the patrol on your own during the fight. If you wished to be tracked down sooner, you should not have traveled so far.”

“You fucking long-eared bitch!” The man roared, angered by the elf’s uncaring and singsong voice. “I’m going to---”

He was cut short as a fist came flying at him. It caught him on the left side of his lower jaw and it sent him spinning towards the snow beneath him.

“Elder Illian took us on the shortest patrol route!” Another person hollered. “You wanted to take the short route, despite the Elder telling you that it was dangerous! On top of that, you even ran from the fucking fight!”

“I’ll kill you too, Elf-lover!” The downed man screamed as he launched himself upward at his attacker. His eyes bloodshot and his shin slick with blood. Both the men went at each other before taking each other down to the snow in a fierce flurry of grappling. Of which, it only lasted less than ten seconds before the elf and the rest of the patrol separated the two.

It took most of their remaining ten men to hold down the large man, whereas the elf calmly held down his defender. “Brother Kilden, restrain yourself. Secure the corrupted’s head along with the deserters.”

The man glared fiercely at the struggling man in the snow but nodded a moment later before pulling a knife from his belt to complete his task. Elder Illian then turned to the large man again. “I had thought to give you a way out of your punishment, since you did, in a way, make the fight easier on us; despite deserting, and making us chase after you four. However, since you so desire death, I shall grant it to you - Brother John.”

Brother John had a mad look about him. His armor was disheveled, splattered with his blood from partly biting his tongue and his cut lip. The elf looked down on the man as he would a horse that needed to be put down. Without mercy and care. He drew his dagger from its sheath on his waist, and the man began to struggle harder.

With one clean thrust, Illian stabbed the dagger into the deserter’s heart. Brother John went taut with a muted gasp just before Illian worked the danger around, mutilating the human man’s heart.

“You could have just sliced his throat,” One of the men said. The elf pulled the dagger out, nodded, and sliced both sides of the man’s neck with ease; as he no longer struggled. Blood pulsed from both cuts, leaving the men that restrained him confused. “I… Meant the front of his--”

“Cutting the airway does not kill quickly,” The elf said as he wiped the blade in the snow. “It is a slow and painful death. Destroying the body’s blood circulation is a quicker, and by far, less cruel death to subject a living being to.”

“Er…” The man looked to his comrades for help, but none of them questioned the elf. He just turned back to his superior in defeat. “If you say so.”

Illian looked at the deserter and watched the man as he closed his eyes within moments, then his body went limp. “I am no expert in the medical field, but through many of the people I have met in that field, I have learned many theories in how mortals die. One such theory, and one I believe is the most accurate, is blood loss or destroying the spinal cord just below the brain.”

The elf inspected his dagger. Satisfied that it was clean, stuck it in his sheath before continuing. “Straggling is too harsh, takes a lot of force, and is quite a terrible way to die. Fire is too slow and is also a terrible way to kill. Hanging is too finicky and drowning is similar to burning. I would have preferred to take him back to the castle to Headsman. But I did not wish to deal with his uncooperative nature. Thus, this will suffice as you can see. He will die within the next few minutes in peace.”

“Still pretty vicious.” The soldier commented.

Illian gave a subtle shrug. “I believe it is not, however, you’re free to believe whatever you wish.- just behead him so we can present his head to the Lord Commander upon arrival.”

“Do we behead the others?” The soldier asked before clarifying. “The ones we lost in the fight before.”

“No,” The elf answered. “Apprentice Herald, we may be the Condemned Watchers, but we are not savages. If you die in battle, it is an honorable discharge from your life sentence. Thus, they may rest where they have fallen to be returned to the world.”

“I-I see…” Apprentice Herald said as he reluctantly pulled his sword to do his duty.

Illian got up as he left his parting words with the young man. “Fear not, young one. You will come to terms with the ways of your new life in time.”

Herald, only sixteen years old, looked down at the dying man he held down along with his fellow sentenced, and shuttered at the atrocity he was about to commit…

The first rays of warmth brushed the tips of the snow-capped peaks of World’s End. Slowly, the light bled downward, glistening off the snow-covered ridges before it touched the very top of the forest that grew on the eastern mountainside. With the warm of day bleeding through the crisp, cold forest undergrowth, its inhabitants began to peak out from the safety of their homes.

Singsong chirps and calls of the many birds began to fill the air. Some of love, some of war, and some of friendly greetings. A herd of boar pushed from their well-hidden dens deep in a throng of boulders. A herd of deer pushed past several bushes and out onto a rocky river beach, only to be greeted by a gust of bone-chilling morning air. A family of bears labored down the mountain to find their first meal of the day.

Amongst the flow of nature and light, the tired patrol marched through the trees. With the daily parcel of living on World’s End and amongst its many ridges, peaks, and slopes; the condemned warriors had to traverse snow, rocks, and dirt alike in their patrols. Often, some of the towering peaks were too tall to cut across, they ended up having to circle their bases. This patrol had left the last fortress to the south-west in route towards the most central fortress of the order. King’s Folly was the fort’s official name. Named after the first King to officially claim World’s End and attempt to claim the lands on its western slopes.

All but the King and his closest aides had perished to the miasma thick lands beyond. To the corrupt aura and the many corrupted beasts and monsters there. Since then, the fortress had been named King’s Folly ever since by the deceased King himself. The chain of mountains had since been called World’s End. Many nations and groups had tried to conquer the lands since. And each had failed in their quests.

As such, the Order of Ends had been established. Each serving member had been condemned to death. Their crimes did not matter to the order, only that they be condemned criminals. In that regard, they would be given two choices. Death by their nation’s way of death, or be sent to World’s End to serve the Land of Light. Many people have said that this was distasteful and that the order should be made of honorable knights. Very few people could argue with that notion. The ones that could were those who’d been to World’s End.

It was not a place to be called home to the honorable. It was a place fit for graves.

The patrol broke through the tree line and its shade. With them came the smell of corruption. A stench so putrid that all of nature’s creatures fled at a single whiff. It was death, unholy, and unforgiving. At Elder Illian’s side, was a blood-stained burlap sack that contained the heads of the deserters. Two in total and the hands of the other two. Behind him, the remains of the patrol carried burlap sacks as well, but they each carried a single head of the corrupted monsters.

Once the group reached the top of the ridge, a rest area came into view. Carved out of the rocky mountainside, it overlooked the eastern seaboard. Stretching out across the entire horizon for miles, the calm water glistened in the sunrise as the group settled for breakfast and some rest.

“Elder Illian…” The apprentice called out to the elf as he dropped his sack downwind of the group. “Is this how the rest of my life will be like from now on…?” The boy was pitiful with dark sacks beneath his eyes, drooped shoulders, and downcast eyes.

Illian looked at the budding boy without a lick of sympathy. “Yes.”

The teen recoiled at the curt answer that was devoid of any emotion - only holding the elf’s ethereal singsong tone beholden to all elves. “... Why…?” Finally, the boy looked up, tears welling in his eyes.

“Because you have been condemned to die,” Illian said. “And you have chosen World’s End over execution.”

“Isn’t this just the same as being executed!?” Apprentice Herald said.

Illian nodded. “It is.”

The boy fell silent, not expecting such a straightforward answer. “I was sentenced to death for sleeping with a Duke’s daughter. I don’t deserve to die for that…”

“It matters not what you’ve been sentenced for, only that, whatever nation you’ve hailed from, has sentenced you to death.” The elf said before he turned to the ocean while he began to dig through his pitifully small purse at his waist. “The Order of Ends does not discriminate against the crime. Murder, rape, high treason, and petty thievery. All is the same here. You are all dead men.”

“And what crime did you commit?” The boy asked.

“None.” Without any hesitation, the elf answered as he pulled a thick piece of jerky from the bag. It was thicker than their standard ration and looked far better.

“Then why are you here?” The boy asked. “You just said you have to be condemned for a crime to be in the order.”

“I never said I was a part of the Order,” Elf Illian stated before he began to chew his jerky.

“You’re… Not a part of the order?” The boy’s expression conveyed his confusion nicely for the elf and a smile bloomed on his otherworldly face.

“I am not, Apprentice Herald,” Illian confirmed.

“Then again, why are you here?” The boy asked again. “If you’re not supposed to be here, why are you leading this patrol?”

“Because I am Elder Illian of World’s End,” Illian said. “Not Elder Illian of the Order of Ends. I lead this patrol because I’ve been here since before Grand Master Duke Randall was born.”

“That’s impossible!” Herald gasped. “Sir Randall is at least sixty years old!”

“Didn’t you know? Elves live very long lives.” Illian winked before he finished his jerky.

“How old are you, Elder Illian?” The boy asked.

An answer never came as the highest-ranking officer called for them to move on. Highest ranking officer not being Illian, as the apprentice now knew he wasn’t even within the order. Now it all began to make sense since no one ever ordered Illian to do anything; instead, only made requests to him. Of course, one could not order someone whom they had no authority over. The question would be the sole thing that he’d regret never learning until the day he died, Herald would later realize…

After fifteen or so minutes, they left the rest area and continued further northwest. With that last peak to their back, they no longer had to snake through the lower footpaths that dotted the mountainside and instead, could stay on an almost linear path that led to King’s folly.

An hour and two peaks later, the group came into view of King’s Folly. The ancient fortress rested at the center of World’s End’s largest pass, which could have been classified as a valley itself if not for how high it was. The pass was nearly half a mile wide with high jagged rocky walls on either side. Even to Illian, an elf, the pass was not a naturally occurring phenomenon. Not even the corrupted beasts could climb the cliff face.

Upon getting closer, large squared rocks appeared here and there alongside the road once they stepped onto the main artery. Elder Illian had always wondered what they could have been. Was that one home? Or was it a store? It was all possible as King’s Folly loomed over them in all its decrepit glory.

King’s Folly was a palace built in the age of Gods. Now, it was a rundown fort for the condemned as a shield against the corruption that existed beyond its reach. Its massive walls took up the entirety of the half-mile pass. Its walls climbed nearly a hundred feet at its highest point. However, with the degradation of time, most of its walls had crumbled down to the lowest point of ten feet. And not a single person cared that it happened.

Illian was pulled from his thoughts as they reached the Old Square. It was an area strange to many newcomers. The foundations of a large plaza that rested at the foot of King’s Folly. Many of the pavers were beaten and weathered, yet oddly lasting longer than the palace itself. At its center, a statue of a woman that’d long been overtaken by some vine plant. An even more amusing sight was that her feet had been polished to a marble smooth shine.

One by one, each of the warriors rubbed the woman’s feet, touching the pearl-colored stone and not the brownish-green the rest of the statue had turned.

Elder Illian had touched the statue’s feet as well. “May you rest in peace.”

“Do you know who this is…?” Apprentice Herald appeared beside the elf.

Elder Illian restrained a near impulsive scoff at the teen. “The statue depicts the figure of the Hearth Mother, God of Life.”

“Is that a pagan god?” The boy asked innocently, but he was rewarded with the harsh glare he’d ever seen the elf show. It was a mix of contempt and a visible desire to kill.

“The Heart Mother is not a pagan god,” He hissed in a low, dangerous voice that didn’t betray the offense the boy had given. “The Hearth Mother, may her light rest, was the creator of this realm and its mother. Though she may be gone, lost to the known realms, her memories keep the darkest evils of this world at bay. That, my young apprentice, is why you will show respect before her likeness.”

The apprentice wheeled back away from the elf. Illian’s eyes glowed a slight silver that was otherworldly for several moments before they returned to their normal mortal likeness. A terror that felt like he’d just stepped into the presence of a celestial had overtaken him. Not that he’d ever knowingly been in the presence of one, but it was almost an instinctive reaction once the man’s eyes glowed.

“I-I’m sorry, Elder!” The boy cried out just before he bumped into the last few men in the patrol as they brought up the rear.

One of the men grabbed the boy’s shoulders with his large, calloused hands before bringing his face down to the apprentice’s ear. “Best listen to the man… He can beat every one of us here. Just rub the foot, yer god ain't gonna care if it’s that much.” And released he was like the last of the men pushed past him and rubbed the foot as well. With that, Herald was quick to follow suit, watching the elf with trepidation. Elder Illian nodded, pleased that the boy followed suit without further hassle.

“On this mountain, you respect the ancients more than you respect the new gods. Out here, they don’t care much if you live or die - only that you keep the demons and the corrupted away from progressing into the lands beyond ours.” The elf warned him. “You should reconsider to whom you pray - Alistair has given these rejects little heed since he rose to godhood years ago.”

The consideration fell away as the boy quickly scurried away, and Illian only shook his head. He too followed the rest of the patrol along with the fleeing boy and entered King’s Folly. Its inner sanctum was a terrible mismatch of different environments. Piles of rubble laid there, and a small herbal garden would grow on one side while the other was a small training ground for swords. Some spots were temporary storage for monster parts and other spots were just unwanted land littered with small rubble that no one was ambitious enough to clean up.

Such was the way here.

“I hear you encountered some issues,” A man called out to the elf just as he broke past the gate guards. Sitting on a pile of such rubble near the gate was an older man dressed in thick furs.

Illian bowed his head slightly as a sign of respect. “Grand Master, we did. Several corrupted Sabertooth Tigers, a couple of dead, and a couple of deserters. All situations dealt with.”

“And what are your thoughts on the current situation?” Grand Master Randall asked.

“We will need to hear from the Rangers, but I surmise that something is happening beyond our imagination.” The elf replied as he dropped his burlap sack at the man’s feet. Grand Master Randall was a duke, up in his later years with a wrinkled sickly complexion. He was sentenced to lead here due to his failures during a war the elf had already forgotten about. “Three today, seven yesterday, and another two before that. They’ve appeared daily and that’s a major cause of concern.”

Randall sighed, glanced at the bloodied head then back to Illian. “Reports have come in from the other outposts. They’re reporting a high encounter rate as well. I’ve already requested assistance from the Empire. It will reach them within a fortnight and, heavens willing, they send us help.”

“I will pray to the Hearth Mother that your wish is heard.” Illian bowed his head respectfully once again and walked on - leaving the old man to his devices.

The nightmares born of Miasma - monsters and the corrupted - have been the longest and natural part of their world. Since the dawn of time, the first record made by elves, and by the spoken word of the gods, Miasma has existed. The moon to this world’s sun, Mana. Where one existed, so did the other. Where one did not, neither did the other. Good existed because evil was there to contrast it. But was it always so?

Illian could not answer that.

Though he had lived long and picked through every inch of this world, he could not answer it. Even he had not existed since the dawn of time, nor would he be there when time ceased. Blessed be his life to serve in the name of his mistress, the Heart Mother Avery; all mother and maker of home and children. Though the scripture says she was not a mother herself, she was a mother to all in name and service.

Blessed be the woman who served as the maker, and the servant. Hearth Mother, who kept the fire going for the heroes of old. But even he was full of questions and not many answers. Be such a perfect entity create such a flawed world?

He’d traveled to the endless deserts of the south and seen the floating mountains. Go beyond to the edges of the endless tundras and see the massive ice spires that marked the edge where mortals could live. To the land of Haven and gazed upon the Mountain of Dragons with its priestess. To the west where the dwarves and elves lived, feasting with them at their dinner tables.

In the name of the Hearth Mother, he’d traveled far and wide. And within those travels, he’d seen war, death, and sorrow. He’d seen less joy and happiness. Yet, even still, these mortals struggled to live, to thrive - to look to the stars. WIth each hopeful look to the heavens, it renewed the elf’s resolve in his mission.

Illian closed the book he’d long given up interest in reading and slid the tome onto a stack of five on top of the table that rested beside him in the library. The room was cold and smelled of mold and smoke. Many of the long, thick wood shelves were empty as several of the old archivists slept by the door on the far wall. He looked up, gazing upon the mostly dark upper balconies that were even barer.

When he’d first come here, these shelves were packed to the brim with books and scrolls. In the early years of the Order when honor and chivalry were common practices among the people. Much knowledge had been kept here within these walls as many pieces of research came and went. It’d gotten to the point where they just began to line the walkways with loose books. In those times, it was easy to do so as the Kings and Emperors of those times wanted to learn about the corruption that’d lived between them and the demons. And if it could be purged.

However, as wars and times dragged on, interest in corruption became sparse. Elves, living long, were the only to be concerned after several hundred years. By then, the leaders of the nations - short-lived races such as dwarves and humans - had accepted corruption as a normal phenomenon.

Funds and resources for the Order of Ends and its many services began to dry up as the years went on. Mortal trifles began to press and soon, the Order was nothing more than just a place to send their condemned. Though it’d always been such a place, there had been many adventurers and freelancing knights alike to keep the range safe. Now, it was all they could do was to patch one hole after the next.

The corruption and monsters had been slipping past them for years. Illian never knew if the Empire even cared or if it was just cheaper to deal with the cleanup. Either way, he didn’t see the Order living past another hundred years…

Illian’s musings were scattered as the door squealed open, waking the old men beside it, and in walked Duke Randal. “Elder, we have a situation.”

With that, both of them flew down the hall with heavy steps. The palace was in a state of chaos as every man was running to and from places. Each of them screaming for something. A sword. A cape. New boots. Daggers. Heaven have mercy, was this place so unprepared that each man had to scavenge for supplies from different parts of the palace rather than have a complete set of workable equipment…

“Only three of the forty rangers came back minutes ago,” Randal squeezed the words out as he struggled to keep up with the elf. “I’m not sure if we can trust what they say - it must be wrong that ---”

“Demons I tell you!” A voice howled as they stepped into the palace’s lobby. A large ballroom-like-place that was full of boxes and barrels. “They slaughtered them! Get yer fukkin’ hands off me! It was the demons!”

Illian only caught a glimpse of the raving ranger as he was being pulled into a side hallway, most likely towards the infirmary. “Are we sure it’s demons?”

“We’re not sure,” Randall said. “But the patrol was massacred, no doubt about it. Demon or corrupted, we’re going in with everyone. Those rangers were one-fourth of our fighting strength. Figured if we sent everyone in, we’d at least kill whatever it was. Better than most of us die and the threat is killed than some of us die and it still be alive.”

“Cold and true words,” The elf replied.

“Will you fight with us?” Randal asked.

“Of course,” Illian smiled. “I am two-fourth your fighting strength.”

And of course, when they stepped out into the biting cold, it was deep night. Illian had a disdain for the night. It was dark, with a full moon and partly cloudy. Dark spots crawled along the snowy ground as fresh snow began to fall. “Why does everything have to happen at night?” The elf complained to himself.

“Evil never sleeps,” Randal commented as he followed suit

Despite this, the night was beautiful, and for the first time in many long years; the elf felt a sense of dread. Nearly sixty men, armed to the teeth, marched out of the palace. Leaving only a few doctors and those who could not fight. Even so, runners had been sent out to each outpost to their north and southwest. The alarm would be called and the Order would respond in full… Hopefully.

A threat that could wipe out most of a ranger patrol was serious. One that they couldn’t ignore.

Tens of lanterns lit the way as Illian led the procession of misfits with a bullseye lantern. It illuminated the path ahead nearly sixty feet. Given that there were so many of them, they need not attempt any sort of stealth to be hidden from potential threats. All the combatants were on edge and tired, most of them in a foul mood. They continued on, following the north-west path that snaked over the mountain. Neat stacks of flat stones marked their journey and told them which half-mile mark they reached.

Forty minutes later, they reached the first stone pile that was marked with an animal skull with a bloody slash across its forehead. This one marked the edge of the most dangerous zone, the Ruins.

“Wall!” The Grand Marshal called out from deep within the group, and within minutes, a line of spears had formed on either side of Illian. “Forward!”

And so, they marched forward. They kept the same pace, moving kept the nerves to a minimum. Moving met their minds weren’t. Once fear set in, the men would be useless, or so Illian had instructed Randal. Fear was their biggest enemy out here in the mountains, and mitigating that fear as much as possible was key to surviving.

Several mind-numbing minutes later, they broke through the town’s edge. Five men each picked their way down long-abandoned roads - eying the foreign crumbled homes that had once been that of a medium-sized town. Many of which had fallen to their foundations, leaving only piles of stones that cast long shadows in the lantern light. Some danced. Some flickered. But in the distance, some slinked around like dangerous predators. Elder Illian was no fool, and he could feel the ominous cloud that hung in the air over them. He was sure even the densest man within their troop was aware something nasty was out there.

And that was when they reached the center of the ruins, where a statue stood. In all its beauty, stood the hearth mother - her arms spread out as if to welcome them in a cold stony embrace. Her countenance beautifully haunting in the dim light of his lantern. There seemed to be an... Unnatural glow to it as well. Seconds later, that was when he noticed that the stones around its feet were not stones but cut up bodies.

No blood. No gore. Simply human bodies that had been cut with butcher-like precision. They were pale and devoid of any blood. That haunting face was no longer that of the Hearth mother but that of a wicked female demon. It was deathly beautiful with its glowing red eyes, and it smiled down on the elf with a playful expression. “More have come to be sacrificed.”

That was the only words spoken before the screams broke out. Corrupted beats came from nowhere and attacked their spread out numbers. The demon shot forward and attacked the elf. With a ship of his wrist, his sword was already free and danced about the demon’s unarmed hands; aiming for her throat and a quick end to the encounter.

He missed as the demon ducked her head and shot out with an unnatural hand. Illian stepped away, bringing his sword around, and tried to cut the demoness’ handoff. Sparks flew as the sword clashed with sharp, black claws, and the elf was pushed a few steps back. The lantern in his off-hand was cast away in his haste to defend himself. It shattered on the ground and its spilled oil lit - its flames illuminating the dangerous naked succubus that loomed over the elf.

The statue of the Hearth Mother had been an illusion, and the real one had been nearly twenty feet beyond where the succubus had been. The area twisted slightly as several goblin assassins charged through it and rendered the illusion null. Now, the blood could be seen in full view as the real statue was surrounded with burning torches and dead bodies as if it were --

“Ritual!” Illian cried out only to be rewarded with another quick one-two swipe from the demoness. He didn’t have a moment to spare. Illian had lived long enough to know that this was a very bad place to be now. If only he had listened to his instincts when it felt bad. He… Just never expected a demon to be out here.

It wasn’t a strategic place, nor was it a place of any monetary value. Per logic, a demon was more likely to attack the southern fort on the edge of the valley’s coast. It held important people they could have used. It just ---

“Focus, Blessed one, or I’ll kill you and suck out your essence,” The succubus purred. “You’re such a handsome elfling, it’d be a shame to kill you before I have had my fun.”

Illian took the moment the demon was resetting her posture. The sword flashed forward, thrusting towards her bare chest. The demon hissed and jumped back. Illian smiled and without a word, a fire appeared in his off-hand. The demon went wide-eyed as the fire burst forward like a torrent of dragon’s breath, billowing across the ground in a wide cone shape. It devoured almost everything in its path when it suddenly died out.

A glowing circular mana shield protected the demoness and her slightly burned body. Murder glinted in its eyes and it no longer held a playful expression. “You! You’ve ruined my beautiful body! I’ll kill you for that--”

The ground shook violently and threw all the fighters off as each turned to look around in confusion. The Heart Mother’s statue glowed with a golden light that was being strangled by a sinister deep black light that tried to grapple it. It illuminated the area as if it was a star, bringing day with it. The air became charged with celestial and demonic energy as both fought to be the dominant power.

“Yes~!” The succubus cooed as its body began to heal. “Lord Hades’ will has been carried out!”

Illian was too dumbfounded by the events that he failed to notice that, all the clouds in the area, had ceased to be. Out in the distance, which had once been an endless forest, a golden dome appeared and crackled with glowing black lightning. The sky seemed to break open as the phenomenon materialized into the physical realm, and everything around them began to vibrate. Blue figures began to slowly slip out of all of them, pulled towards the golden dome.

Even the succubus - her delighted expression turned to terror. “N-No! My soul! Unhan--” She tried to pull on the blue abstract figure but to no avail. Out of everyone around them, she was the first to drop. Her body blue and ghostly as a semi-transparent figure of her likeness glowed in her awake. It stood there for a moment, staring at its hands before it turned into particles. One by one, goblins, humans, and corrupted beasts alike dropped as the particles were sucked away towards the dome in the distance.

The distant dome grew and grew as the ambient mana skyrocketed to the point it even made Illian’s skin burn. But he could not move. He was captivated with terror as the golden light exploded outward and washed over the valley, including him; basking everything in a heavenly white light before it was sucked back.

The golden light manifested into a large ball above a mountain that’d appeared at the valley’s center. It swirled like a mad ball of fire that licked out violently. The area it touched exploded as if an Archmage had cast a high tier explosion spell. Several moments later, the ball exploded into a pillar of light that reached high into the sky. And for a moment, dawn reached all corners of the world.

Then night returned as it all fell silent. Golden particles the size of grains of sand slowly fell in as if it were snow. All around him, the ghostly vestiges of a bustling city filled with ancient long-dead races all around him. The moment didn’t last as the particles died and the ghosts fell away into the ruins.

There was not a single body left, only Illian… And a burning sigil on his right hand… In the distance, a new mountain had appeared and with it, the corrupted forest was now green with life…