It shouldn’t be possible, yet her forest is dying. The reason behind it is clear, but it’s not one she wants to acknowledge.

‘I have to see for myself.’

Miasma in the forest, miasma in empty plains, the Unliving spreading far and wide; there is only one conclusion to draw.

‘The end is near, nature itself is dying, and even the plant life knows it.’

What could be the reason? Nothing changed in the environment… Apart from her!

‘It is my fault.’

Even if she enjoys her newfound freedom, she’s always feared the consequences.

‘It can’t be because of me; the degeneration is this fast because something is leeching the life.’

Is it because the champions died?

‘Unlikely again, failures happened many times in the past, and the Dragons and Undine have always lived out of the circle without consequences.’

Going against her fate could be the cause; she refused to lead the demons, and without someone to guide them, they died early without absorbing much of the miasma and grudges.

‘Before that, the Beast and Insect champions went off-script before that to target humans.’

Humans are at fault then.

‘Unsure, even if nature seems bent on destroying them, its creation of champions takes a far bigger toll on life and diversity than their farming ever did.’

Removing the human might stop nature’s madness.

‘Unlikely again, Beastmen are a likely target, same for Giants and Dvergr. It’s probable that none of the species that lives outside the bounds of nature will be pardoned.’

Demi-Elves, live within the confines of nature, and only take what they need.

‘But they trade with other species and use magic to bend it to their will.’

Can the destruction be stopped? Miasma accumulates faster than normal, this time her death would not take away all the sins of the world.

‘It necessary to bring back the demons.’

Won’t they will be killed and consumed by the clueless champions again?

‘One is needed to kill her, but the others must die by his hands.’

She has a plan; first reduces the mortal population, the have the elf hero kill the others, and finally her to bring back the demons. After that, even if he continues to kill the demon recklessly, the siblings can take care of him.

‘I will be hated.’

It was never a problem before; she was a symbol of fear, the leader of demons, the enemy of the world.

‘Interaction was a mistake: it clouded my judgement.’

She has a plan with a decent chance of success, but she can’t bring herself to execute it because she’ll be hated by her few acquaintances; people who are bound to die soon if she doesn’t do anything.

<><><>

Count Osman looks proudly at his troops, he was the one who contacted the empire and proposed the invasion. Yes, even if his territory hasn’t suffered much yet, it’s only a matter of time. One thing bothers him though, the contingent from the empire seems to be entirely composed of supply troops.

“Isn’t the logistic excessive? It’s a two days trip by horse.”

His vis-à-vis is unimpressed, both by the army and the leadership: the empire fielded ten times as many men to conquer the kingdom of Azul, and he was in charge of supply.

“We’re targeting a fort in the middle of a forest, sir; this counts as the bare minimum.”

“A wooden palisade is nothing to worry about; we’ll be done with the primitives in a single day!” boasts the count.

This so-called joint venture doesn’t have the support of the king. It’s motivated only by the count’s desire to promote himself, and his personal army is mostly new recruits. Since sending a true army in kingdom territory without the king’s agreement could be seen as an act of aggression, it was decided the colonel and four thousand of his supply troops would bring food and siege weapons to the count.

Colonel Rafe stifles a sigh, every second he passes in the company of the noble reduce his trust in the mission, but orders are orders.

The answer is obvious but he asks, “Have you ever led a siege, general?”

“I have a military education and come from a long lineage of generals; I know what I’m doing.”

‘As I thought, I fear none of us will come back alive from this mission.’ Out loud though, the officer accommodates the stupid noble, “I’m delighted to learn you are so well versed in battle. Please, leave the logistic to me, it is my specialty.”

“Well, as long as you understand who is in charge, there won’t be a problem.”

‘That I’m sure; there’ll be a lot more than one.’

‘I know joint command never works, but I wish command tried harder to push their view.’

“Don’t mind me, sir. I’m only here to support you.”

<><><>

Stefan is one of the many men who conscripted to avoid starvation; the army is the only place where you can still have regular meals. As a former farmhand though, he understands the foolishness of the venture better than anyone; the forest is sick and even if it isn’t as bad as in the kingdom, it’s impossible to support the kingdom with it.

Around him, many have reached the same conclusion, but no one dares to speak up. When night comes without anyone brushing on the subject, Stefan decides to inform his sergeant.

“Sir, I would like to speak with you.”

The superior barely looks at him before answering menacingly, “Desertion is a crime punishable by death; you better not forget that.”

“This is about the forest, sir. is sick. The higher-ups should be informed.”

“Go back to your camp, and I better see you there tomorrow morning, or I’ll personally hunt you down.”

After he leaves, another sergeant approaches his colleague, “What was that all about?”

“Another coward, the little shits are only good at eating our ration, and spitting stupid excuses.”

<><><>

Vindicta grabs Lars and signals him to stop making noise. After a small nod, the Elf stop moving and breathing entirely while the Rabbit-kin concentrates on the source of the noise.

Her ears move around for a while, as if trying to catch the source better, then she speaks gravely, “People and beasts, by the thousands.”

“How far?”

“At least hours, there’s too much echo to get a good read.”

As warriors they are both reputed to be worth over a hundred men but facing monsters, bandits and Beastmen is nothing like fighting a coordinated army. With perfect synchronicity, they pair hide its superfluous equipment under a nearby tree and run toward Mannhtorg as fast as they can.

<><><>

A scream of outrage breaks the unnatural silence. It was let out by count Osman grabbing a nearby sentinel sleeping on the job.

“Where is the road, what did you bastards do?”

A slap awakens the confused sentry. He doesn’t remember falling asleep, and even if he did, where did the road go?

The screams awaken the whole camp, and getting up they realize the irrationality of the situation. The count, though is still driven by rage and continues to hit the man and throw menaces, “Bastard, I’ll have you hanged for your crime! Do you realize what you’ve done? Because of you, we lost the road…”

The accusations are senseless, but no one dares to interrupt the raging noble. No one, beside colonel Rafe, “My lord, even if the sentry fell asleep, we didn’t move camp, and isn’t it abnormal for the whole camp to fall asleep?”

Yes, they did not move camp, and he himself awakened sitting on a pair of crates he used as his desk and chair.

Sanity regains the noble, “We must rejoin the road immediately!”

Did the road disappear, or were they transported by an invisible force in their sleep? There is no way to know, but the former seems more likely, “I’m afraid our presence was discovered; it is called an enchanted road and they must have dispelled.”

He had expected the ‘enchanted road’ to be a road with spells rather than an enchantment taking the shape of a road. A grave mistake but a natural one to make.

Twenty thousand men and beast put to sleep and the entire road disappearing under them; the enormity of what transpired is too much for Osman to bear, he asks “What… What can we do?”

The colonel is also disturbed by the insane situation, but his training and experience allow him to appear calm on the surface, “If the road vanished then we know where we are, we can either go south and abandon the mission, or continue north-east toward our target.”

“Flee? Impossible; my reputation depends on it.”

“Without a road, we must abandon the carriages, which mean we will lose most of our supplies and our siege engines.”

Osman’s confidence is gone, losing their supplies and necessary equipment without fighting a single battle served as a rude awakening. The Elven city is nearer than the forest’s exit though, and a way to restore the road should exist there, “We have to continue…” he shouts his orders “We’re moving forward, hurry and prepare to leave.”

The colonel is of the same mind, but not for the same reason; without a road retracing their route will take at least twice as long. Assuming they haven’t moved, Mannhtorg should be less than two days away at their current speed, which makes it the fastest way to confirm their current position.

Despite their fear, the army breaks camp with the speed and coordination born from countless repetition, and in less than half-an-hour they’re on their way.

Without the road to guide and protect them, the forest is free to show its cruel and unnatural side; paths that should be open, suddenly get blocked by trees, voices and visions lure men away. One by one, the soldiers see their number gets chipped away, so when a volley of arrows falls among, they feel almost relieved to finally face a tangible enemy.

Hidden being his large shield, a soldier attempts to relieve the heavy atmosphere, “I thought Elves were good with bows, but they managed to miss twenty thousand targets.”

“Keep your shield up,” orders an officer, “it was a warning shot!”

Veterans feel cold sweat, there was not a single sound to alert them from the attack, one second everything was normal, and the next there were arrows stuck in the ground.

“Cavalry, get ready to charge on the next volley.” Order the count.

Just as he finishes his sentence, an arrow penetrates the ground between his feet, a message attached to its shaft. Red-faced, Osman read the message, before screaming in fury, “Damn green monkeys, how dare they threaten me! Men, prepare for battle, let those cowards know that neither our resolve nor our armor chip easily!”

<><><>

“They’re preparing for battle.” explains Vindicta listening to the distant voices.

“They’d hardly turn back after coming this far.” answers Lars.

“Who the hell is a coward? Even if we include the civilians, there are ten of them for each one of us!” rants the Rabbit-kin

“Partner, you’ll soon see that even our civilians can fight.”

“And it won’t come as a surprise that my people still can’t.”

“They haven’t moved and still want to fight… They seem eager to die, don’t they?”

Behind them stand hundreds of villagers, and there are many more hidden in the forest surrounding the army. The Demi-Elf nation is fairly new and with their number they cannot keep a standing army. Only a few elders remember the time when they lived alongside humans with their Fae parents. Those were harsh times; devoid of their parents’ power, they couldn’t count on their protection either for the Faes only cared about their mate, not their offspring. Slavery was common, and it lasted until the King assembled them and gave them a territory of their own in the great forest.

All remember their promise to protect and nurture the forest though, and they would rather die than break their Oath to their God and savior.

Vindicta covers her ears and the three hundred elves standing behind him shoot a second volley. An instant later, explosions reverberate through the forest; the arrows stuck in the ground exploded at the same time as the one still in the air, taking the enemy by surprise from below and over. After the fifth volley, Lars whistle to signal their plan as worked as expected; the pack horses have dispersed in the forest and now is the time to hunt to fools trying to recover them.

<><><>

They’re defeated; their beasts of burden are gone and with them, their supply. Of the men sent to recover them, not a single has come back, same for the cavalry and anyone who charged at the invisible enemy at the count’s order.

As for Osman, an arrow pierced through his helmet and skull. “He was right;” comment the imperial officer, “his armor didn’t chip, it failed.” Considering their number, it seems unlikely the elves will incur the risks of taking prisoners but for the sake of getting the men out of the forest he walks in the forest arms in the air shouting, “We surrender!”