Chapter 341: 341

Still, the priest’s men were relentless. A zealot with bloodshot eyes lunged at a Terra warrior, sinking a dagger deep into his side, even as the Apeling crushed his arm. The zealot only laughed, his hand twisting the dagger deeper before he was finally thrown to the ground and stomped into the blood-soaked dirt.

The priest watched from the backlines, his red eyes gleaming with satisfaction as his warriors drew strength from the violence, each death seeming to fuel them further. He raised his arms, chanting a guttural incantation, and a fresh wave of red mist rolled across the battlefield. Terra warriors clutched their heads, the eerie mist igniting a flash of pain that seared through their veins. Some stumbled, momentarily blinded, and the zealots used the opportunity to lunge, daggers flashing.

But the Terra warriors held strong. They roared in defiance, their body pulsing with a fierce energy, rooting them to the earth. In response, stones burst from the ground, ensnaring the zealots and holding them in place long enough for brutal strikes to land. The Apelings moved as one, an unstoppable force grounded by the earth’s power. They carved a path through the priest’s forces, who began to falter under the relentless assault.

At one point, the princess found herself face-to-face with a zealot who had clawed his way through three Terra soldiers, his face a mask of blood and madness. He leered at her, brandishing a jagged blade. She met his gaze with icy determination, swinging her hammer in a brutal arc that shattered his ribs and sent him sprawling. The zealot coughed blood, laughing through the agony as he struggled to stand. She didn’t give him the chance, slamming her hammer down, crushing him with a final, resounding blow.

Throughout the village, blood soaked the earth, turning the ground slick and dark. Severed limbs littered the streets, and the air was thick with the stench of iron and sweat. Screams echoed from both sides, yet the Terra clan remained unwavering, driven by the will to protect their home.

All through the town, the Terra clan moved with calculated precision, swiftly dispatching each Zealot they encountered. Unknown to the press or maybe ignored by her, the more they killed the Zealot, the thicker the red mist became.

Even the well trained Terra clan members had a look of glee on their face as they chased down a Zealot to kill, some momentarily leaving their position only to shake their head in confusion after finishing the kill.

The Priest, however, had already abandoned his vantage point, his eyes fixed on the distant golden glow as he and his mages pressed onward.

As they drew nearer, a rich, sweet fragrance began to envelop them, thick with mana. Each breath filled their lungs with soothing energy, seeping into their bones. The Priest quickened his pace, surprised to find the area completely unguarded. He scoffed; the apelings must be so confident in their defenses that they hadn’t considered anyone might reach this far.

Yet as he and the mages moved forward, the scene began to blur, becoming distorted as though they were slipping into another realm. A flicker of unease ran through the Priest, but the enticing aroma pulled him onward, compelling him to take another step.

With that step, it was as if he crossed an invisible threshold. The landscape opened into a vast, surreal farmland stretching endlessly before him, its abundance so unnatural it resembled a mythical garden. His gaze was drawn to one of the trees, its branches heavy with deep, crimson apples that gleamed invitingly. The Priest and his mages couldn’t look away, their eyes locked on the tree, entranced by the allure of the fruit.

The priest’s steps quickened, almost without thought, as he felt an insatiable hunger rising within him. Each apple seemed to pulse with raw mana, radiating an energy so potent he could feel it across the distance. He approached the tree, his hand twitching with anticipation as he reached out toward one of the apples. It felt warm beneath his fingers, almost as though it was alive, and his mouth watered in anticipation.

One of the mages whispered, his voice trembling with a mixture of reverence and fear, “This must be the gift of the god of nature. We have to take it for our lord.”

Without a word, the priest plucked the apple from its branch, and the nearby mages shifted uneasily, their staves held in nervous hands. But the priest, undeterred, lifted the fruit to his lips and took a single, deliberate bite. His eyes rolled back as an overwhelming surge of power coursed through him, mana flooding his veins, lighting up every nerve, and bringing each cell to life with a radiant vitality. The world around him sharpened, colors growing vibrant, sounds crisper—his senses magnified tenfold.

In that moment, he could feel himself break through the fifth stage, a threshold he’d skirted for years but had never crossed—until now. Drunk with the taste of newfound power, he snatched a second apple and bit into it eagerly. But this time, the rush of ascension did not come; the apple gave him only raw energy, a hollow echo of his first bite.

“Was it a one-time miracle,” he wondered, “or did it work because I was on the cusp?” He took a measured step back, glancing over the land stretching before him. “Now I understand why they say this gift could preserve an entire kingdom.”

The vast farmland was littered with mysterious plants and bountiful treasures, enough to elevate any faction wielding them. Nearby, one mage leaned down, captivated by a small, unassuming plant, and carefully plucked it with trembling hands. “This…this plant,” he murmured, his voice reverent. “This is one of those rare treasures capable of extending life itself. I’ve only heard of samples a century old, and those granted an additional twenty years to those lucky enough to find them.”

The mage made a shallow cut into the stem and sipped the precious sap. His eyes widened as he examined it further. “My lord, do you realize how many mages would sacrifice everything for even a taste of this?”

The priest looked out over the fields, horrified to see the life-extending plants scattered everywhere, like ordinary weeds. He let out a laugh, one of bitter horror rather than triumph, the truth dawning on him with brutal clarity: The Apelings may have lived in exile, not for the land they inhabited, but for the treasures buried within it.

The mages, too, seemed to realize the depth of what they had stumbled upon. “This isn’t something we can seize or even destroy,” muttered one mage, his eyes flicking nervously to the horizon.

The priest’s gaze hardened. “If we can’t take it all then we should be at least be able to leave with one.” He summoned an axe, still dried with blood from earlier battles, and with a fierce swing, cleaved into the apple tree. He waved his hand, attempting to stow the tree into his magical ring, but it resisted, as if the tree’s sheer life force rejected confinement. The priest sighed, barely surprised.

“This thing’s practically alive,” he muttered, hoisting the tree onto his shoulder. “This realm brims with life energy too potent for a mere trinket to contain.”

He raised his voice, a sardonic edge coloring his words. “No need to hide, Princess. I know you’re already here.”

A low chuckle echoed in response, and the ground shifted. From the earth emerged the princess of the Terra clan, her presence calm yet fierce. Beside her were five warriors clad in armor of woven ironwood, each bearing a look of silent amusement as they observed the priest and his companions.

“So,” she began, her voice soft but unyielding, cutting through the tension in the air. “You have come to plunder the lifeblood of our land.” Her gaze flickered to the apple tree over the priest’s shoulder, eyes narrowing with disdain. “You steal what you cannot comprehend, trampling on our sacred soil.”

The priest sneered, still high from his surge of power. “It is the nature of the strong to take from the weak. Your people hoard treasures that could transform kingdoms, and you expect us to let them wither here in obscurity?” He gestured broadly at the fields, his eyes gleaming with barely restrained hunger. “Our god deserves this bounty.”

The princess smirked, eyes never leaving the priest. “Then come, thief,” she said, swinging her hammer off her shoulder. “Claim it—if you can.”

The mages moved quickly, forming a protective circle around the priest as he clutched the apple tree, his face twisted with both fear and determination. Their hands crackled with magic, and they cast spell after spell to buy the priest time, their voices chanting in sync as they built a shimmering shield between the Terra warriors and the priest.

The princess’s gaze narrowed, but she paused, raising a hand to signal her warriors to hold back. “Let him run,” she said, her voice low but deadly.

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