Chapter 662: 662

Each exchange made them faster, more fluid. Their coordination tightened. The spear-wielder no longer hesitated before blocking his strikes; the chain-bearer’s aim became precise, almost predictive; the trident’s thrown arcs cut closer each time.

They couldn’t land a decisive hit, Erik’s speed and experience kept him one step ahead but the pressure was unrelenting. Every second he fought, the creatures learned. The divine red roots refined their body, timing improved, and their rhythm became terrifyingly efficient.

The fight dragged on, and with every passing moment, Erik’s frustration deepened. His strikes should have ended this long ago, he was stronger, faster, and definitely more skilled than these abominations. Yet no matter how many times he cut them down, the creatures refused to die. Their bodies mended in unnatural ways, torn flesh knitting back together, bones snapping into place with wet cracks.

Realizing brute strength was futile, Erik shifted tactics. He slowed his assault, parried instead of striking, and began to watch. Every twitch, every regeneration, every shimmer of their blood, he studied it all. If their immortality was truly a gift from the gods, he would have felt a trace of divine essence in them, a whisper of higher power. But there was nothing. No light, no blessing, no divine resonance. Just a hollow, unnatural persistence.

His mind raced even as his body bled. Deep cuts marked his arms and chest, each movement a surge of pain. He spat blood into the dirt, eyes narrowing. If not the gods… then what sustains you?

Before he could piece together an answer, one of the creatures lunged forward, the one armed with the trident. It thrust the weapon through the air, and the world itself seemed to scream. Space tore open before as it passed by.

Erik’s instincts flared. He barely registered the motion before his spear responded, not to his will, but of its own. It blurred into a streak of light, humming with lethal precision, and in the blink of an eye, the creature was gone, shredded into ribbons of flesh and blood mist.

The rift’s backlash came a heartbeat later. Erik’s focus snapped toward it, every muscle tensing. He twisted aside as from the torn space emerged a claw water construct that lashed out, the edges of the claw slicing through stone and air alike. The air shuddered around him, the taste of iron thick on his tongue.

He landed heavily, panting, blood dripping down his chin, but his eyes were sharp, alive with new understanding.

Erik’s eyes darted toward the creature his spear had shredded moments ago. To his bewilderment, it wasn’t healing, at least, not as swiftly as before. The abomination lay crumpled on the ground, its form twitching and convulsing as it tried to regenerate, but the process was sluggish, faltering.

Before he could dwell on it, another strike came crashing in. The blow landed with bone-rattling force, sending Erik hurtling backward through the air. He struck the ground hard, rolling to his feet, blood trailing from his lips.

His spear, sensing his peril, streaked back to him like a flash of light, slapping into his palm with a resonant hum. The moment his fingers closed around it, Erik felt the pulse a connection not of mere steel, but of essence. His eyes widened in sudden realization. He glanced across the battlefield, spotting the trident lying far from its wielder. The creature that had thrown it now fought weaponless… and weakened.

His gaze snapped to the others each one gripping a weapon that seemed almost alive in their grasp.

So that’s it…

Erik moved. In an instant, he blurred from sight, reappearing in front of the creature wielding a sword encased in frost. The creature reacted with eerie precision, thrusting its blade forward. The sword pierced through Erik’s chest, blood burst from the wound and for a brief, frozen heartbeat, everything stopped.

Then the creature’s expression twisted in confusion. The Erik it had impaled began to flicker, his form breaking apart into countless motes of light.

The real Erik emerged from the illusion, already within striking distance. With a deft twist of his wrist, he disarmed the creature before it could even register what was happening. The frozen sword clattered across the ground, and Erik kicked it away in the same motion.

His spear flared in his grip, the runes along its shaft igniting. A serpentine blaze erupted from its tip, a roaring coiling serpent of fire that lunged forward, engulfing the disarmed creature in a storm of heat and fury. When the flames died down, nothing remained but drifting ash.

Erik exhaled sharply, his gaze flicking between the fallen weapon and the slowly regenerating corpse of the first creature. His theory was confirmed. Their immortality was bound not to the gods, not to their flesh but to the weapons they wielded.

And now, he finally had a way to end this.

Erik didn’t stop moving. The air behind him trembled as another attack tore through the space he’d just vacated, but his attention stayed locked on the ashes before him. Despite the creature’s body having been reduced to dust, he could still feel it that stubborn, pulsing signature of life refusing to fade.

His instincts were right.

From the ashes, thin red roots began to emerge, writhing and twisting like veins searching for flesh. Slowly, almost painfully, they began to rebuild the creature’s form sinew first, then bone, then the faint outlines of skin.

Erik’s expression hardened. So, you can still crawl back from that…

Seeing he was on the verge of uncovering the truth, he charged forward again, cutting down the remaining creatures with measured precision. The battlefield soon became a grim sight of piles of ash scattered across the scorched ground, each one pulsing faintly with crimson roots that refused to die.

The weapons, however, lay far from their wielders. Erik had kicked them aside, ensuring no creature could reach them. And that was when the full picture became clear.

The weapons were more than tools, they were anchors. The source of the creatures ridiculous vitality. Without them, the beings could still regenerate, but their recovery was sluggish, weak, almost pitiful compared to before.

Erik stood amidst the ruins of the battlefield, spear planted in the earth before him, arms folded. The wind tugged at his blood-stained cloak as he stared down at the twitching remnants trying to reform before him.

A dilemma took root in his mind.

He couldn’t simply walk away. If he did, they would rise again slowly, perhaps, but inevitably and eventually find their way back to his kingdom. Leaving them alive would mean unleashing disaster upon his people.

Yet destroying them entirely… that was another matter. The gods themselves had bound these creatures with restrictions, making them both powerful and vulnerable at once. Their strength came from the very curse that limited them.

Erik tightened his grip on his spear, eyes narrowing as the red roots twitched closer together, struggling to reclaim form.

As Erik weighed his options, a single thought surfaced reckless, perhaps, but worth testing. If it failed, he would find another way, perhaps even devise a seal to bind these abominations forever. But first, he needed to test things out.

He exhaled slowly, closing his eyes. The air around him rippled as the boundaries of space bent to his will.

The world twisted.

In an instant, the battlefield dissolved into light, replaced by an ancient forest bathed in ethereal glow, Erik’s domain. Towering trees shimmered with veins of silver light, their leaves whispering in a language different from this world. The air was thick with magic, heavy with the breath of life itself.

Once, this place had been beautiful yet mournful a forest of memory and ruin, where the remnants of an ancient elven civilization lay scattered in sorrow. Crumbled statues, fallen spires, and broken bridges had told the story of loss and failure. Ghostly figures of fallen elves drifted among the trees, their presence both protective and tragic.

But now… it was different.

Where ruins once stood, restoration had begun. The broken pillars gleamed anew, woven through with luminous vines. Statues once toppled now stood proud and whole, their stone eyes alight with quiet reverence. The air pulsed with warmth and vitality, and the spectral elves no longer wandered aimlessly they moved with purpose, repairing, nurturing, rebuilding.

This transformation mirrored Erik’s victory over Silas ,a wound healed, a spirit redeemed. His domain, once a reflection of grief, now pulsed with rebirth.

And into this sacred space, the five creatures were dragged.

They struggled, their forms twisting as if the domain itself rejected them. Their red roots writhed against the soil, sizzling where they touched the luminous ground.

Erik didn’t strike. He watched eyes sharp as something new stirred at the edge of his perception, faint at first, then growing stronger. A distortion deep within the heart of his domain like a heartbeat buried beneath the earth.

He turned toward it.

There, half-hidden beyond the veil of trees, he saw something. Not fully, but enough. A massive tree, blood-red and pulsing, its bark slick like flesh, its roots spreading far and wide. They pierced through the fabric of his domain, stretching into an unseen realm and from those roots, he felt it: five distinct lines of connection, each one tethered to the creatures before him.

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