Chapter 253: Chapter 253 – The Bleeding Forest!!

The night was calm, painted in silver hues beneath the watchful moon. A soft wind whispered through the trees, carrying the scent of dew and earth. Luca stood in front of his wooden lodging, his posture straight yet uneasy. His white shirt was neatly tucked, his dark trousers freshly pressed, and even his usually unruly hair had been combed down — though a few stubborn strands still swayed with the night breeze.

He exhaled slowly, trying to calm the restless beating of his heart.

Why am I feeling nervous about this? he wondered, adjusting the cuffs of his sleeve. It’s just… meeting the World Tree. But still… it feels like—like I’m getting closer to something. To a truth I’m not ready for.

His thoughts were broken by a soft, teasing voice.

“What, are you feeling nervous now, huh?”

Luca turned around to see Elowen, her crimson eyes glowing faintly beneath the moonlight. Her light emerald hair cascaded over her shoulders, and that familiar, gentle smile played on her lips — equal parts comforting and mischievous.

Luca gave a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of his neck before nodding slightly. “…A little.”

Elowen chuckled under her breath and stepped closer. With a grace that seemed born from the forest itself, she raised her hand and gently patted his head. Her palm was soft, and her touch carried a warmth that seeped through his nerves.

“What are you nervous about?” she said softly, her tone more maternal than teasing now. “The Mother Tree is the mother of all. There’s no need to be afraid of meeting your mother, is there?”

Her words, simple as they were, loosened the tension that had been coiled inside him. Luca found himself smiling, nodding again — this time with calm sincerity.

“Let’s get going,” Elowen said, her tone turning light again as she stepped ahead. Her steps were soundless, each footfall blending with the rhythm of the forest as though the ground itself welcomed her. Luca followed, keeping pace beside her in quiet reverence.

For a while, only the rustling of leaves and the soft chirp of nocturnal insects filled the silence. The moonlight spilled through the canopy above, painting their path in shifting silver patterns.

Luca glanced sideways, his fingers tightening slightly against his trousers.

It’s probably not the right time, he thought, hesitating. But still… there’s no one else here, and I’ve been curious for a while.

He swallowed lightly, gathering his courage.

“Senior Elowen,” he began, voice cautious yet sincere, “can I ask you something?”

Elowen’s gaze drifted toward him, her expression serene. “Of course.”

He took a small breath. “Are you—are you and Brother Vincent—”

A sudden BOOOOOOM!

The ground shuddered violently beneath them.

A deafening shockwave tore through the air like the roar of a mountain splitting apart. A fiery orange flash illuminated the night sky, followed by the crackling scream of burning trees and the echo of collapsing wood.

Luca stumbled back, his reflexes snapping into action as his eyes widened in alarm. Elowen’s hair whipped around her face, her calm expression hardening instantly into focus as glowing emerald mana began to surge around her fingertips.

“Stay close!” she commanded sharply.

The peaceful night was gone — replaced by chaos, flames, and the scent of ash.

The shockwave still reverberated through the forest. Embers flickered in the wind like dying stars, carried from somewhere deep within the woods. Luca blinked rapidly, shaking off the ringing in his ears as his gaze darted toward the rising column of crimson smoke in the distance.

“What—what was that?” he managed to say, his voice roughened by the sudden blast.

Elowen’s expression had turned sharp, her gentle demeanor replaced by alert precision. “That direction…” she murmured, narrowing her eyes toward the flickering glow spreading through the trees. Her tone tightened. “That’s close to the inner sanctum.”

“The sanctum?” Luca’s eyes widened. “But isn’t that where—”

She didn’t let him finish. “Move!”

In a blur of green light, she shot forward, her mana surging through her limbs with graceful urgency. Luca followed without hesitation, his body instinctively falling into rhythm with hers. Their feet barely touched the ground as they dashed through the forest, weaving between glowing roots and falling embers.

The air grew hotter the closer they came, the smell of burning bark stinging their lungs. Fire licked at the ancient trunks, casting twisted shadows across the ground. What had once been serene and sacred was now a nightmare of orange flame and collapsing wood.

Luca skidded to a stop beside Elowen as they reached a wide clearing. His breath caught in his throat.

The heart of the forest was ablaze.

Massive roots, once vibrant with mana, were split and charred. A tree older than kingdoms lay half-toppled, its glowing veins sputtering weakly. The ground itself trembled, humming faintly with unstable energy. Sparks danced through the air, carried on a wind that howled with unnatural force.

Elowen’s lips parted in horror. “This… this can’t be happening…” she whispered. Her hands trembled as she reached toward one of the glowing roots, her mana brushing against it — but the pulse she felt there was faint, fragile. “The forest’s life force… it’s been disturbed.”

Luca frowned, scanning the destruction. “By what? There’s no trace of any creature—”

Before he could finish, a flicker of silver light descended through the smoke.

Aurelia landed gracefully beside them, her golden armor gleaming with reflected firelight. ” Luca!” she called out, eyes narrowing at the devastation. “I felt the explosion from our lodging. What’s going on here?”

“I don’t know,” Luca replied, voice strained. “But the inner sanctum’s barrier—it seems something broke through it.”

Moments later, the others arrived one by one. Kyle burst through the burning underbrush, his spear in hand and eyes scanning for enemies.

“What in the name of the Goddess—this whole area’s collapsing!”

Selena appeared next, her icy aura instantly clashing with the heat as frost spread beneath her feet, forming a protective dome against the fire. “We’ll suffocate in this smoke if it spreads further,” she muttered, lifting her staff. Streams of cold air swirled around, dimming the flames closest to them.

Lilliane arrived moments later, panting, clutching her staff tightly. Her eyes widened at the scorched clearing. “The mana here… it feels unstable. It’s crying out.”

Vincent followed, landing heavily beside Elowen. “I came as fast as I could.” His gaze swept across the ruined landscape, then to her. “What happened here, Elowen?”

Her lips parted, but no words came. She could only shake her head slowly, her expression haunted.

Then, the air shifted. A deep hum echoed through the clearing — ancient, resonant, and commanding.

From beyond the smoke, the Elf Queen emerged. Her steps were light, yet every movement carried the authority of ages. The hem of her gown trailed over the scorched soil, untouched by ash. Her long hair flowed behind her like strands of moonlight, and her emerald eyes shimmered with sorrow.

The moment she arrived, every flicker of flame seemed to hesitate. The forest itself bowed to her presence.

She walked past the others in silence, her gaze fixed on the epicenter of the destruction — a faintly glowing crater surrounded by charred roots. The closer she moved, the heavier the air became.

Luca felt it — an oppressive, ancient pressure, neither hostile nor kind.

The Elf Queen slowly extended her hand, her fingers trembling ever so slightly.

“The pulse of the Mother Tree…” she whispered. “It’s fading.”

Her fingertips brushed the scorched bark — and the entire forest shuddered. A wave of mana rippled outward, scattering ash and fire alike as faint whispers echoed through the wind, like the sorrowful voice of the world itself.

Elowen stepped forward, alarmed. “Your Majesty—!”

But the Queen didn’t move. Her eyes glowed brighter, her lips parting in an almost inaudible murmur — as if she was speaking to someone none of them could see.

Before the Elf Queen could reach deeper into the Mother Tree’s fading pulse—

a sound tore through the night.

“Jiejeiejeieje!”

“Hiehehehheehhahahahahhah!”

A grotesque, manic laughter echoed through the burning forest, sending shivers crawling up every spine. It wasn’t the laughter of mere men—it was a chorus of madness, a discordant hymn of those who worshipped destruction itself.

The ground split open near the scorched clearing as figures began to emerge through the veil of smoke—cloaked in black, their crimson-stained robes fluttering wildly in the firelight. Their faces were hidden behind masks carved with grotesque sigils, their eyes glimmering with a sickly, unholy red.

“Devil… cultists,” Elowen whispered, her voice trembling with disbelief.

Dozens became hundreds.

Hundreds became thousands.

They poured in from every direction like a tide of shadows, trampling ash and roots alike. The entire horizon behind the fire was now crawling with them, blades and twisted staves raised high, their laughter echoing in eerie unison.

Elowen’s legs stiffened, her heartbeat pounding in her ears. “How… how can it be?” she whispered. Her voice cracked, disbelief turning into horror. “The barrier—Mother Tree’s protection—it’s impossible! How did they get through?”

Luca gritted his teeth, drawing his twin sabers, the blades reflecting the firelight. His eyes darted around, trying to count, to assess—but there were too many.

The Elf Queen took a step forward, her flowing robes whispering across the scorched ground. The calm, divine grace she once carried was gone—replaced by cold fury. Her emerald eyes burned like molten jade as she glared at the cultists.

When she spoke, her voice was regal and venomous.

“You dare defile the sacred forest of the Elves? You dare step beneath the shade of the Mother Tree?”

Her tone was sharp enough to cut through the madness. Even the laughter faltered for a breath—until one of the cultists stepped forward.

He was taller than the rest, his black robe embroidered with a spiraling sigil that pulsed faintly with red light. A dagger gleamed in his hand, its edge warped as if alive. He grinned behind his cracked mask, tilting his head mockingly.

“Heh… The Elf Queen herself,” he said, his voice like oil over broken glass. “I wondered when you’d show your pretty face.”

Her gaze hardened.

“Speak, filth. How did you breach my forest’s seal?”

The cultist chuckled darkly, dragging his tongue along the dagger’s edge until blood dripped down his chin.

“You’ll find out soon enough, your Majesty,” he said, his eyes glinting. “Or maybe you already feel it.”

Her lips curved into an icy smile.

“Do you think,” she said slowly, her aura beginning to shimmer with emerald light, “that with me here, trash like you could do anything?”

The air around her trembled as pure mana surged outward, threads of divine green weaving through the broken air like a storm about to awaken. The nearest cultists were forced to their knees, choking on the pressure. Even the flames bent away from her, frightened by her power.

But then—

“—khh!”

Her voice caught in her throat.

A sharp, wet sound followed.

“Cough!”

The Queen’s body jerked violently as blood splattered from her lips—dark red against her pale skin. The brilliance of her aura flickered like a dying flame.

“Y-Your Majesty!” Elowen gasped, rushing forward.

The Queen’s knees buckled for a moment, her hand clutching her chest as another spasm wracked her body. The once-ethereal glow that surrounded her was now dimming, as if something had been stolen from within her veins.

The cultist laughed—louder, crueler.

“Ahaha! There it is! The mighty Queen feels it now, doesn’t she? The Mother Tree’s blessing—corrupted from the root!”

The words cut through her like blades. She looked up, eyes wide, trembling—not in fear, but disbelief.

Her fingers brushed her lips, still wet with blood, before she looked toward the center of the forest—toward the faint, fading glow that once symbolized life itself.

“M-Mother Tree…” she whispered, her voice breaking. “What… did you do to the Mother Tree?”

The laughter answered her before the silence did.

“Jiejeiejeieje! Jiejeiejeieje!!”

It spread across the cultist ranks again, like a sickness, a chorus of desecration echoing beneath the dying canopy. The very air seemed to rot under their laughter, and the night wind carried the sound through the forest—mocking, unending.

Elowen froze, staring at her Queen, horror in her eyes. Luca tightened his grip on his blades, his veins throbbing with rising fury.

The fire’s reflection dance

d across their faces as realization set in—

The forest was not just burning.

It was bleeding.

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