Chapter 274: Descent of the Titan

A chain of explosions sent a wall of fire surging into the skies above the elven capital of Liaheim. Everything in the path of the crimson pillar of light was utterly annihilated, swept away in a torrent of destruction. The residual force of that beam struck the earth in a sky-piercing explosion.

The land cracked open with a molten scar aglow with magma and crystallized debris.

A path had been slashed across the span of Liaheim—a line through which everything had been obliterated by a single strike from the Blighted Warspike, wielded by the World-Eater.

“If we can’t do something about that thing soon, we’ll have to fall back. This is beyond us. If that corrupted elven holy spear so much as grazes us…”

Wang Yu landed beside Avia, his gaze locked onto the World-Eater, which had paused after releasing that single devastating strike. His tone was grave.

“I know. I’ve prepared a Gate of Phases.” Avia nodded calmly. “This colossal worm isn’t something we can fight. If the Professor were here, perhaps there’d still be a chance. But now, retreat may be our only option.”

She was rational. She didn’t let pride cloud her judgment. As much as she wanted to help the elves, the truth was painfully clear: with the Blighted Warspike in hand, the World-Eater was beyond anything they could handle.

“The Professor… He went with Gewen to the dwarven realm. Could the devils have been counting on that? They weren’t merely luring Elder Gewen away. Their true objective was to remove Sieg from Liaheim so he couldn’t interfere with the World-Eater’s plans!”

Wang Yu’s brows furrowed. He recalled an elven elder’s offhand mention that Gewen had been reassigned from Liaheim.

Looking back, it wasn’t Gewen the devils were after—but his closest friend. To them, Sieg was the true threat.

“That must be it… But even if the Professor were here, without the maze-lock shrouding him, he can’t assume his draconic form. Even if he could, would he be able to kill this infinitely regenerating monster?”

As one doubt was resolved, another rose. Wang Yu now suspected the devils didn’t know about the curse Sieg bore. If they had, given their ability to dispel the maze-lock, they wouldn’t have feared him at all.

But even in his draconic form, could Sieg truly threaten the World-Eater? His most powerful attack—the radiant dragonbreath summoned from the depths of his heart—exceeded the might of most traditional dragon spells.

But even his dragonbreath might falter against the World-Eater’s grotesque healing.

If the devils didn’t know he was a wingless dragon, if they treated him like any other dragon, what, then, were they so desperate to avoid?

There was no point dwelling on it now. Wang Yu hoisted Avia onto his back and darted between the buildings of Liaheim, still watching the World-Eater for any change. If the situation were to worsen, he would escape with her at once.

The World-Eater had not moved since its cataclysmic strike. It clung to the Tree of Life, one massive hand still gripping the Blighted Warspike.

Though it had stilled, none dared strike it again. No one wished to provoke a second attack. The power of that Warspike was overwhelming.

From the World-Eater’s swollen form, a yellowish slime began to ooze—layer upon layer of thick corruption, dripping down its flanks.

This corruption was alive—in a fashion. It wriggled and crawled from the beast’s body and across the ground of Liaheim as it flowed toward the Tree of Life.

The yellow slime sank into the soil. Slowly, the corruption spread. Towering trees that supported elven structures—every vine and petal—began to twist.

Leaves lost their verdant hue and turned mottled, bruised. Bark sloughed off in strips, giving way to glistening, lump-ridden sheaths of purple flesh.

A sickly violet rot spread outward from the Tree of Life. All life in its path was being consumed. The World-Eater was transforming all of Liaheim into a core of corruption.

Its goal was not just destruction, but rebirth—to let rot take root here before it spread outward to the dwarven realm… and beyond.

The yellow corruption did more than infect the land. It was changing the Tree of Life itself. Where it touched the ancient bark, it rewrote its nature, transfiguring it.

Vein-like cords of fleshy, purple-gray muscle threaded across the trunk as they branched inward. These unnatural growths—neither plant nor beast in origin—pulsed in a nauseating rhythm.

They were veins: veins that linked the World-Eater to the Tree of Life. The monstrous worm was pumping its corrupt essence into the tree, accelerating its defilement.

No one knew what might be born once the World-Eater succeeded in corrupting the great tree—but whatever it was, it would be worse than the World-Eater itself.

Wang Yu’s eyes dropped to the base of the beast. A complex look crossed his face. Many elves were rushing into the infected zone, their faces twisted in desperation.

They bore no spells, no powers. Perhaps they still could not use them. But even so, they hammered the beast’s flesh with their fists. And though their blows achieved nothing of consequence, none of them stopped.

Perhaps annoyed by these insects crawling on its hide, the World-Eater stirred. It did not even lift the Warspike—it just shifted slightly. Those elves beneath it were crushed instantly: turned to pulp and swallowed by the corrupted earth.

“Damn these filthy bastards!”

Wang Yu cursed the devils under his breath. For these elves, the situation was like watching a monstrous thug brutalize their mother—while they, the children, stood helpless. Worse still, the thug had twisted their mother’s will against them.

A fresh explosion flared upon the World-Eater’s back, bathing the scene in blinding flame.

The black cat Ahn stood with its tail erect, eyes fixed upon the World-Eater. It seemed to be trying to damage the World-Eater’s body to halt the corruption spreading through the Tree of Life.

“So that’s its plan… With its spatial manipulation, dodging the World-Eater’s counterattacks shouldn’t be too difficult. It’ll at least buy some time,” Wang Yu muttered to himself.

He had no idea just how strong the black cat really was, but its idea held merit. The World-Eater’s body was vast. If enough of it were damaged, the corruption would be forced to slow. Delaying it seemed plausible.

But fate had darker things in store. The flames cleared to reveal an enormous translucent tree upon the World-Eater’s back, its glow a dreadful violet-gray.

The Blighted Warspike extended countless fine threads into this grotesque phantom tree to sustain its presence. The World-Eater channeled its limitless life force into the spear, unleashing ever more of the holy weapon’s corrupted power.

Ahn’s bombardment was completely blocked. The World-Eater’s defense, now bolstered by the Blighted Warspike, had reached the threshold of a legend. The beast was no longer something the scattered defenders could hope to stop.

“Wang Yu, there’s nothing more we can do. That corrupted spear has manifested a legendary defense. We can’t break through.”

Avia’s voice was quiet in his ear. From his back, she was carefully analyzing the data fed back by the Perfect Fractal. She understood the truth more clearly than anyone. As much as she wished to fight, reason held her back.

“Yeah… Let’s go. By the time the corruption fully overwhelms the Tree, it’ll be too late.”

Wang Yu didn’t hesitate. Without another word, he turned and ran, fleeing from the Tree of Life.

Avia’s gaze remained fixed upon the World-Eater, her Perfect Fractal still frantically gathering data on the monstrous entity. Though she could no longer intervene in any meaningful way, she clung to the hope that she might at least obtain some final insight into the nature of this catastrophe.

“Wait… What’s going on? There’s an immense surge of void energy… and it looks like space itself is beginning to fray. Could it be…”

She froze. A jumbled torrent of information flooded in through the Perfect Fractal. After a moment of rapid analysis, the girl came to a singular, staggering conclusion: a massive rift in space was about to open above the World-Eater.

A possibility flickered through her mind.

Atop the Tree of Life, the elven elder knelt before the heart of the maze-lock, tears streaming down his face, his entire frame trembling. With every ounce of strength he had left, he stretched his hand toward the control node that would activate it once more—but no matter how he strained, his body would not allow him to take that last, final step.

“Why… why must it be this way…?!”

A hoarse, anguished roar burst from his throat, echoing with a grief so profound it scorched his very soul.

His despair did not only stem from his own helplessness—but also from the Tree of Life, its pain transmitted through their shared connection. He could feel the agony of the corruption and its decay at the hands of the void.

Without warning, a spatial rift tore open beside him. A figure stepped through, clutching a small vial.

Stunned, the elder turned his gaze toward the newcomer. At such a moment, who could have possibly reached this sanctum—the Eden Plain, nestled in the crown of the Tree?

His eyes widened in disbelief. It was Moira, the aging human apothecary who had first brought them news of the World-Eater. What was she doing here?

She cast a glance at the elder, who lay crumpled on the ground, and said nothing. Instead, she strode deeper into the courtyard with single-minded purpose.

“What a fool I am,” she muttered. “I barely finished this Wishing Coin elixir—and here I am, already spending it just to save your kind.

“Still… I could never stand the devils and their ilk. And after all these years in Liaheim, well… I suppose I’ve grown attached.”

Muttering as she walked, she stopped at the edge of an arcane formation—a teleportation array, ancient and powerful, capable of spanning perhaps two or three hundred kilometers at most.

“Wishing for the destruction of that damned worm outright was beyond me. But the elixir gave me something better: a hint. If I can bring Gewen back, things will work out. It’s not what he can do—but what he’s bringing with him. That must be the key. There’s no way the entire half-vial would be consumed just to teleport an elf.”

She gazed into the glowing runes of the array, then raised the vial and made her wish: to summon Gewen and whatever reinforcements he might have, those who might yet stand a chance at halting the World-Eater’s rampage.

“Just ‘might’? Hmph… there’s a world between ‘might’ and ‘will.’ Otherwise, I’d have swallowed my pride and gone to beg my two apprentices for their shares, too.”

Brushing aside her thoughts, Moira focused on the connection the elixir had forged, a thread stretching across a vast distance in space.

At that very moment, deep beneath the earth, Gewen crouched on a scaffold in the Iron King’s underground hold. He was gasping and trembling. His link to the Tree of Life relaying its agony in full, raw and unfiltered.

The pain was unbearable and terrifying. What was happening in Liaheim? Had the World-Eater truly shattered the elves’ final defenses?

Beside him crouched Sieg and Tobey the dwarf, their expressions grim. They understood what that link meant—and they feared the worst.

“Wang Yu and Avia should be all right,” Sieg said at last. “I trust their abilities. Noelle came here with me. But… how did things go so wrong, so fast, for the elves?”

Even as he tried to reassure himself, the question gnawed at him.

“Damn it,” muttered Tobey. “If we dwarves could make it in time, we’d roll out the Iron King without hesitation. But even at full speed, we’d be too late…”

“No—this can’t be happening. What’s going on out there? Let me go back—let me do something, anything…!”

Gewen’s voice cracked. It wasn’t the pain that was tearing him apart, but rather the helplessness—the knowledge that disaster was unfolding and he could do nothing to stop it.

“Can you hear me, Gewen?” came a voice in his ear. Startled, he lifted his head. It was Moira.

“You have strong allies by your side, don’t you? That accursed worm is ravaging the Tree of Life and destroying Liaheim. I’m opening a portal. Bring your reinforcements—now. Or all will be lost.”

He blinked in disbelief, stunned by the words and their implication. Then, without warning, a portal flared open before them. Gewen recognized the long-range teleportation array on the Tree of Life immediately. It had been enlarged to a remarkable degree—so large that even the Iron King Bogul could pass through.

Struggling to his feet, Gewen knelt before Tobey, his voice shaking with desperate sincerity. “Please… help us!”

“Whoa, whoa, don’t get on the ground, now!” Tobey exclaimed, flustered. “Of course we’ll help—we’re allies, aren’t we? This here’s the gate, right? All right, lads—get the Iron King moving! We’re off to help our elven brothers!”

He hauled Gewen up and shouted, “Release the clamps!”

With a thunderous clatter, the Iron King’s restraints were loosed. The colossus dropped to the stone floor, shaking the cavern.

Its core reactor roared to life, flooding the chamber with searing orange light. The heat distorted the air around it. In the shadowed helm, two crimson lenses flared open like waking eyes.

Iron King Bogul had awakened.

Each step was like a declaration of war. The titanic war machine strode into the portal and vanished into its shimmering heart. Upon its shoulders stood Gewen, Sieg, and Tobey, who followed it into the unknown.

At that same moment, in the skies above Liaheim, a spatial rift tore open as the void itself roared in protest.

The Wishing Coin’s magic, born of a wish and fueled by the void, had linked the space between the Ironforge Bastion and Liaheim. Salvation crashed through the portal.

A metallic roar split the heavens—a god’s warcry in the tongue of thunder and flame. Lightning sang, and fire danced in praise.

A metal titan forged of steel and fuel and dwarven genius fell from the heavens. Iron King Bogul, Protector of the Realm, descended through the rift with apocalyptic force, and hurled himself down upon the World-Eater.

A titan had come to war.

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