Chapter 266: Distortion

At present, the various intelligent races still knew far too little about the peculiar beings known as devils. Much about their nature remained shrouded in mystery, veiled by the limits of mortal understanding.

The common image of a devil was that of a cunning deceiver—one who toyed with the hearts of mortals, forged treacherous pacts, and exploited cunning loopholes with schemes woven from the threads of human greed.

In the aftermath of many great historical upheavals—sudden civil wars, loyal ministers who became regicidal traitors overnight—one could often find faint, flickering traces of devilish meddling in the shadows.

But… what of the events where no such traces could be found? Did absence of proof imply non-interference?

Was it not more likely that they guided the course of events from the shadows, smiling all the while as things unraveled toward ruin and their own “amusement,” mocking mankind’s blindness to their own manipulation?

Each devil was a singular entity. Those known to Wang Yu were “One,” who inhabited the soul of Charles Ryder; and “Seven,” who was slain within the mindscape forged by Roland’s key—annihilated by Wang Yu himself.

Each possessed a power uniquely their own. “One” foresaw the future. “Seven” wielded hellfire that could enslave souls. The devil “Five,” shrouded in secrecy, had the remarkable ability to distort.

Unlike voidborn beings who could distort matter directly, “Five’s” power went one step further. Not only could it twist the physical world through void emanations, it could even twist the perception of those it touched.

Without warning, a person’s thoughts, memories, even beliefs, could be subtly reshaped until they no longer bore any resemblance to their original self.

That was how devils operated. Their schemes might appear full of holes, their plans seemingly flawed—until the terrible weight of their inscrutable powers fell into place, leaving resistance impossible.

As with the Hellgate incident in Aleisterre, everything had simply been too convenient. Despite the apparent flaws in Pernia Ryder’s plan, her foresight had allowed things to progress essentially as she had planned.

“One” had foretold a dark future for Aleisterre then.

If not for Wang Yu, who was somehow able to destroy Roland’s key and send the ancient horror Yule into the void…

If Yule had instead succeeded in claiming Roland’s hidden legacy, then perhaps that bleak vision would indeed have come to pass.

The events unfolding in Liaheim, capital of the elves; in Ironforge Bastion, the dwarven stronghold; and at the Forest of Origin—the stage was set for another devil’s production.

Outside Ironforge Bastion, at the elven encampment where the elves accompanying Gewen and Sieg had settled, an arrow split the air as it struck a raven mid-flight, piercing its chest with merciless precision.

The bird shrieked with a harsh, grating cry, before tumbling from the skies, its fragile life snuffed out in an instant.

“A magic-eye pendant and a whisperstone ring? Someone really splurged on this one. But seriously—sending a raven with no stealth enchantments to spy on us? What a waste of good alchemy tools.”

The elven ranger who loosed the shot approached the fallen raven and inspected its accessories. They were, without question, devices often used for covert surveillance—and useless when paired with such a conspicuous bird. It was easily spotted and immediately shot down.

“It has to be the dwarves snooping around. Crude, hot-headed oafs, the lot of them… and thick-skulled, too.”

With a scoff, the ranger grabbed the bird’s carcass and flung it away from the camp, muttering as he turned back.

“Maybe this’ll give those bearded brutes a warning.”

The “raven” landed with a soft thump just beyond the camp’s outer wall. As it struck the ground, the black feathers seemed to slough away, revealing pale ones beneath. It was no raven at all, but a peregrine falcon—a magical beast, a trained courier.

As for the enchanted trinkets the ranger had mistaken for spying tools, one was a metal tube holding a sealed letter. The other, an echo-box for transmitting messages.

Wang Yu and Avia had sent out this falcon bearing a message to Sieg and Gewen in the dwarven kingdom, detailing their suspicions of the link between the corruption in the Sorensen Mountains and the Tree of Life.

But both message and messenger now lay discarded, forgotten in a patch of grass no one would ever think to search.

Meanwhile, outside the Forest of Origin, near the Sorensen Mountains, several elven rangers were using the words of nature to commune with the treants, asking them to help uncover the roots beneath the soil.

“There’s nothing unusual. The Tree of Life’s root network hasn’t extended this far. It was never possible for it to be funneling life force to the Sorensen Mountains all these years.”

One ranger peered down at the exposed roots, shaking his head. He considered the entire investigation a farce—pointless conjecture based on baseless claims.

Indeed, vast though the roots of the Tree of Life might be, they did not stretch past the borders of the Forest of Origin.

Apart from a single branch toward the dwarven realm, they had never grown beyond their ancient bounds.

“Agreed,” said another ranger. “Let’s report this to the elders and move on. We’ve still got dozens of false ‘awakened’ roots to clean up—we can’t waste time on fairy tales.”

The treants gently brushed soil back into the pits with their limbs, covering up the roots once more.

None of the elves noticed what stirred beneath. Those “normal” roots that the rangers had dismissed began to shift, flexing like living tendrils. They pushed aside the soil the treants had just laid down.

More and more of these root-like appendages tore through the earth, creeping toward the Forest of Origin from the Sorensen Mountains, like fingers reaching inward…

In Holo’s tunnel in the Sorensen Mountains, Avia spoke up.

“Mr. Holo, have you already delivered these news to the elves of Liaheim?”

“I have,” Holo replied, his tone steady. “I am well aware that, alone, I could never hope to stop the being Lord Wang Yu has named the ‘World-Eater.’ I would only be sacrificing my life in vain.

“That is why I sought out those with the strength to oppose it. And the only ones to whom I could pass this warning were the elves of Liaheim. I trust that, by now, they have made their preparations.”

He spoke with clarity, without a trace of self-delusion. His goal had been to deliver a warning before it was too late. He had done so—of that, he was certain. And yet…

“…But the elves seem completely unaware,” Avia said, frowning slightly. “Mr. Holo, in your current condition, how did you even transmit the message?”

She looked toward the druid whose lower body had long since become one with the cave wall, transformed into vines and roots.

“That’s impossible,” Holo murmured, disbelief creeping into his voice. “Months ago, I began sending messages. I used druidic magic to animate certain plants, guiding them along the root systems that extend from the Tree of Life. The elves, with their natural affinity for the words of nature, should have been able to read the messages encoded in those plants.”

“I see…” Avia murmured, her expression tightening. “Then, Mr. Holo, could you create one of those plants for us now? I have a suspicion… and I need your help to confirm it.”

Holo nodded without hesitation. Stretching forth his still-functional right hand, he called upon the natural magic that remained within him. The earth before them cracked, and a tendril of vine slowly emerged.

Under Holo’s influence, the vine began to change. Tiny limbs sprouted along its length, twitching as if testing their newfound mobility.

Then, the tip of the vine detached from the main body—taking form as a small, oddly charming creature, akin to a walking cucumber with legs.

“This is what I sent. These beings should have carried my message to Liaheim. But… the elves never found them?”

He turned his gaze toward Sif, the only one among them who hailed from Liaheim.

“Sif, have you seen anything like this before?”

“No… I don’t think so,” Sif replied, shaking her head. She looked down at the creature. “It’s kind of… cute. But I’ve never seen one.”

“…”

Silence fell. Wang Yu and Avia exchanged grave looks. Neither spoke, but both knew the truth: Sif had seen this creature before—far too closely, in fact. It had once parasitized her throat.

In other words, what Holo and Sif were seeing, and what Avia and Wang Yu saw, were not the same thing. The creature Holo had just created was, to their eyes, identical to the “false roots” that had driven the forest into a frenzy—the very ones they’d fought against. Yet to Holo and Sif, it appeared benign.

“Mr. Holo,” Avia said quietly, “this is what we see. What do you see?”

She gathered her magic and projected the image of the writhing, gray-yellow creature they were looking at.

“That—wait, that’s…!” Sif clapped a hand over her mouth in horror. She recognized it instantly. How could she not?

“This isn’t… this isn’t what I created!”

Holo stared at the image as if seeing it for the first time. His voice quivered, laced with disbelief and a growing, unspeakable fear. “Then… everything I’ve done… was it all meaningless…?”

Avia snapped her fingers. A spell surged to life—Perfect Fractal, manifesting two lenses of pure arcane light before Holo’s and Sif’s eyes.

These were magic lenses, tools that translated all things into the raw, unaltered data of magic, stripped of illusion, deception, or subjective bias. What was false would be revealed. What was hidden would come to light.

And what had been distorted—by a force far more insidious than mere illusion—shattered beneath the lens of truth.

Perception collided with reality. The veil fell away. Now, at last, Holo and Sif saw the truth: an abomination writhing on the floor, a twisted mockery of life, soaked in corruption and animated by foul, unnatural will.

“A devil…” Wang Yu growled, each syllable soaked in fury. “Only a devil could have distorted reality like this, without anyone noticing.”

“Lord Wang Yu—please, I beg of you!” Holo cried, clutching at his head in anguish. “Help me! Help me pass the message on to the elves of Liaheim! They have no idea what’s coming. If they’re not warned, then… then all of this would be for naught!”

Sif looked up, her face pale but resolute. She might not have been a seasoned elder among her people, but in this moment of crisis, she could do nothing but turn to Wang Yu and Avia. “Please… help us.”

“Let’s go,” Wang Yu said at once. “We must return to Liaheim right away. Holo, do what you can to delay the World-Eater from awakening.”

But just as Avia prepared to open the Gate of Phases, the ground beneath them trembled violently. A deep rumble echoed across the Sorensen Mountains. Then came a pulse of energy. It was thick with life force, yet threaded through with decay, like the breath of a dying god.

If even Holo’s sight had been twisted, could they really trust his mind? He had claimed that he would have been able to stall the World-Eater for another week, but… what if it were already waking?

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