Chapter 344: 344

As they separated, the priest’s golden film wavered, cracks spidering through the shield as he breathed heavily. The princess, too, showed signs of wear, chips and fissures marking her stone armor. Yet, undeterred, she raised her arms and drove them into the earth once more, invoking the full strength of her domain.

Around them, the cliffs shifted, forming stone hands and arms that moved to encircle the priest, pressing down with enormous force. The priest’s golden shield rippled and expanded, morphing into large spikes to pierce the stone limbs and free him, but the stone hands continued to close in, grasping tighter.

In a final show of strength, the priest let out a thunderous bellow, his shield collapsing inward before it exploded outward, fragments of golden energy dispersing in every direction. The blast shattered the stone hands, scattering debris across the domain. But the princess was waiting—she charged forward, her form blurring with the speed, and brought her massive fists down onto his exposed back.

The blow connected with a sickening crack, and the priest staggered, the golden film flickering and fading as he slumped to the ground. Dust settled around them, leaving the two giants in silence. Both had fought with every ounce of their strength, but the princess stood victorious, breathing heavily as she looked down at her fallen opponent.

As Kjoric fell, his vision fading, his last glance was one of silent, desperate hope, fixed on the place where he had thrown the sacred tree. His final moments carried the weight of his mission, the heavy expectation that someone might still retrieve what he had fought so hard to protect.

Outside the wall where the battle had raged, Terra clan members began emerging cautiously from their hiding places. Children scampered toward the bodies of the fallen zealots, poking at their strange armor and lifeless forms with a mixture of fear and curiosity. For the adults, however, somber duties were called; those who had lost family members gathered to honor their dead, placing them gently in stone coffins etched with clan symbols. Their faces, though stoic, bore traces of pain as they murmured last farewells, even as the sounds of the princess’s recent clash echoed faintly in the distance.

Among the clan members, one apeling stood out, his movements stilted, his eyes darting with unease. Unlike the rest, he appeared to avoid all interaction, his posture tense as he edged closer to the place where the tree had fallen. He walked with a singular focus, never lingering or looking back.

The sacred tree itself had already begun to respond to the earth’s embrace, fresh roots burrowing deep, anchoring it once more as life pulsed back into its trunk. Some Terra members gathered around, debating in low voices whether to wait for the princess’s judgment on its fate or simply leave it where it now stood, an unexpected addition to their . Childtownren played nearby, laughing as they raced around the tree, unaware of its recent trauma.

In the shadow of this scene, the suspicious apeling sidled closer. With one swift, calculated motion, he reached up and sliced off a branch. Clutching the fresh cutting, he slipped away, casting quick glances at the other clan members, who remained oblivious to the theft as the tree rapidly regenerated, hiding any sign of his tampering.

His heart pounded as he began to put distance between himself and the village, his steps growing faster, more desperate. Every fiber in him now focused on a single goal: to leave Terra territory before anyone realized a branch was missing. But as he cast a last, frantic look back, his blood ran cold. The enormous wall of earth that had hidden the princess and her opponent had begun to recede, revealing the princess in her humanoid form, standing tall beside the massive, motionless form of the priest.

The Terra clan members gasped, their attention drawn to the scene as they rushed toward the corpse, murmuring about the faint glimmer of gold still visible on the priest’s skin—a relic of his mystical power that lingered even in death. The suspicious apeling, however, felt no awe, only a rising terror as he realized what the end of the battle would mean. He had only moments before the attention of the princess and her warriors would shift back to their territory—and if someone noted the broken branch, he knew he wouldn’t get far.

The princess, meanwhile, surveyed her people, her gaze falling on the tree. Something tugged at her mind, an instinct born from her connection to her domain. She noticed a branch, fresh but slightly misaligned, as if recently disturbed, and a memory flashed across her face. She turned, her expression sharp and questioning.

“Has anyone seen a stranger among us?” she asked, her voice steady but carrying a force that silenced the crowd. Terra members exchanged confused glances until an elder stepped forward, a thoughtful frown deepening. “There was someone,” he said slowly, “an apeling I didn’t recognize. Seemed nervous. Didn’t look around like he belonged.”

The elder pointed to the path where the stranger had disappeared, and the princess’s face hardened. She turned swiftly to a nearby warrior, her voice commanding. “Gather the trackers. Send word to the mountaineers—if this thief seeks to cross our borders, he will find no escape.”

As the Terra clan’s tracking party gathered, the apeling spy was already making his escape, racing through the dense, rugged landscape surrounding the town. He could still feel the pulse of adrenaline from blending into the apeling clan’s village mere moments earlier, but now, with the faint echoes of footsteps behind him, he knew his time was dwindling.

His mission from King Nwadiebeube had felt like an honor at first, a daring feat none before him had dared attempt. It had seemed like a crowning achievement, one that would elevate him in the king’s eyes. Armed with an artifact—a gift from the king to assist him—he’d been instructed to observe the priest’s dealings with the apelings, and more importantly, to secure any treasures the priest might find.

The artifact had served him well, cloaking him from sight and allowing him to blend seamlessly into the apeling village. He had watched, unseen, as the priest engaged in fierce combat with Terra clan members, all over a treasure he’d eventually recognized as a strange tree. When the priest was drawn into a deadly struggle, he knew it was his chance. Concealing his human features with the artifact’s magic, he’d slipped away unnoticed.

Now, on the outskirts of the apeling village, he broke into a sprint, pushing past low-hanging branches, jagged rocks, and knotted roots that seemed determined to trip him up. The distant sounds of laughter and village life faded as he put every ounce of strength into his escape, the prize—wrapped safely in his arms—a heavy reminder of the danger he faced. He could almost taste the thrill of escape, but a sudden shift in the air warned him otherwise. The Terra warriors were gaining on him.

A chill gripped him as he ducked into a nearby ravine, slipping and stumbling over loose stones in his haste. He risked a glance over his shoulder, catching sight of shadowy figures moving with graceful precision. The Terra warriors, with their calm, predatory focus, seemed to blend with the landscape, their dark eyes locked onto his position, relentless in their pursuit. For a moment, he pressed his back against a boulder, forcing himself to slow his breathing, clutching the branch to his chest.

Yet, each step seemed to echo through the forest, the land responding to their presence with subtle shifts—the tremor of roots, the rustling of leaves—almost as though the very earth aided their pursuit. In a desperate bid to throw them off, he activated the artifact again, willing it to transform him into a rabbit, hoping the disguise might buy him precious seconds.

He veered off the path, plunging into a dense thicket where low branches and thorn-laden bushes clawed at his fur-cloaked skin. But the Terra warriors, skilled in every corner of this wild terrain, seemed undeterred. As he darted deeper into the forest, he could feel their rhythm steady and unfazed behind him. Vines and branches moved as if obeying the warriors, parting for their passage, while closing in around him, making his escape harder with each step.

Finally, he reached the edge of a steep ravine. The moon offered faint illumination, casting a silvery outline over the sharp rocks below. His mana was almost depleted, the artifact’s magic waning with each passing second. Glancing back at the approaching figures, he knew he couldn’t afford hesitation. Taking a deep breath, he stumbled down the slope, sliding over loose stones that clattered noisily, announcing his descent.

The Terra clan’s mountaineers halted at the ravine’s edge, their eyes tracking his movements below with practiced calm. One gestured to the others, their silent signals calling them to position around the ravine’s base, ready to close in. Feeling their watchful eyes above him, he spotted a narrow crevice nestled among the jagged stones and squeezed inside, pressing himself flat against the cold, damp rock. The branch held tightly to his chest, his breathing shallow, each heartbeat thunderous in the confined space.

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