The Wandering Fairy [LitRPG World-Hopping]

As the chaos brewed around him, Soren noticed the Beacon of Guidance once again gaining its usual luster. No longer was it plagued by an endless sinister emotion. No longer did he hear the whispers of laughter from something utterly unfounded. There was only the attraction of the light, and the wisdom it has to offer.

Despite his plan working, he knew that the storm hadn't yet ended. The Fallen Vynasians were still out there fighting—held back by Isha's Spirit Beasts. But that didn't account for the ones inside the shrine as well.

The elders who were once preoccupied with maintaining the magecraft formation were now staring at him coldly, as if imagining hundreds of ways to torture him to death.

He smiled nervously. "It seems you're all awake now! How wonderful."

It didn't take long for him to receive their 'warm' welcomes. Magecraft spell after magecraft spell was fired in his direction. Ice spears, flaming arrows, and many more he couldn't really understand.

Soren, however, had already anticipated this. He had made sure to cast Violet Mirage before he utilized [Ophidian Transfer].

Nevertheless, the attacks were relentless. The illusions he was casting were not going to last for long.

He turned to Isha who was busy commanding her Spirit Beasts, unaware of the danger behind her. Gritting his teeth, he quickly cast Fairy Barrier on her, preventing the attacks from reaching her in time.

"We have to leave!"

Hearing his voice, Isha nodded and ran out of the shrine under the cover of Soren's spell. He made sure to confuse his enemies by heading in a different direction using his illusions while he himself followed after her.

Of course, it didn't fully work… He managed to dodge most of their attacks except for one—an ice spear launched by one of the elders aimed at his shoulder. The impact left him tumbling in the snow.

Soren grunted from the pain as he felt his vision falter once more. His injuries had piled up for far too long—it was a miracle he was still awake after it all… Noticing what had happened, Isha frantically rushed to his side, but with enemies encircling them from both directions, the situation looked hopeless.

Even so, Soren did not give up. Despite everything, his hands clung tightly to his wand as he channeled what was left of his anima into Fairy Barrier, stacking the spell endlessly until a thick, translucent shell formed around the two of them.

The barrage of attacks did not end. Spell after spell was thrown. Cracks grew wider and wider across the barrier. And with the Snow Wyvern and other Spirit Beasts dealing with the Vynasians on one side, the pair of magi remained utterly helpless against the Elders within the shrine.

"Soren… What do we do—we can't last long under this situation!"

Fighting against sleep, Soren's lips curled up into a faint smile. "We already won. Just hold out for a bit longer."

Though the original plan was to escape the shrine once they finished the deed, Soren found out the hard way that it was all just wishful thinking. He had thoroughly underestimated the strength of the elders… And their intelligence.

Despite awakening from the trance just moments prior, they were immediately able to grasp the situation and figure out even how his illusions had worked… But as he thought about it more, it kind of made sense.

After all, the elders weren't just selected randomly. They were hand picked after growing and gaining experience out in the field… Only the best of the best from the tribe were selected and converted into the Fallen in secret. Those who rejected the offer were likely 'taken care of.'

Sensing his barriers shattering one by one, Soren couldn't help but chuckle to himself at the absurdity of his plan. Although it had worked, he still might have chewed more than he could swallow.

I guess I can't win every gamble I make…

Somewhere near the village plaza, where the chaos had initially begun, the Elven Songster was busy battling against an endless horde of Fallen warriors. Most were simply 9th Class sentinels or 1st Circle magi with not a lot of fighting power, but their numbers made them strong…

As he cast one spell after the other, he turned to look behind him. The visage of Cassia unconscious reflected in his eyes. She was held tightly by the remaining villagers of the tribe… The ones who had not been transformed into terrifying monsters hunting their own kind.

Thanks to Isha's efforts, all of them had been evacuated to a distant building where they were met with Myrin carrying their Holy Shrine Maiden. Together, they tried to hide until the chaos died down, but that plan instantly fell apart once the enemies discovered their location.

Soren… That bastard left me with a truly difficult task…

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Just as the both of them had guessed, Cassia still remained a valid target for the Vynasians. Her powers were just too precious to let go of…

Suddenly, he heard a burst of explosions ringing in the periphery. Sensing something was wrong, Myrin expanded his Soul Realm even further, allowing even the faintest of sounds to reach him through his Inherent ability.

What he discovered left him speechless. The enemies he was facing turned out to just be the beginning… More and more Fallen were heading in his direction—all of them brimming with fury. Their souls were screaming the same strange chant:

"May you deceive them of their own fears."

He heard it over and over again.

"O' Serpent of Untruths..."

"Deceive them! Deceive them of their own fears!"

"MAY YOU DECEIVE THEM OF THEIR OWN FEARS!"

Startled, the Soothing Bard took a step back and stopped listening to their inner voices. The madness brewing within each of them was far too much to handle.

Turning to look behind him, he noticed the villagers huddled on the floor in silence, surrounding Cassia from all sides, as if to shield her with their own bodies. A majority of them were children—their parents had long transformed into viscous bastards willing to kill their own kin.

His jaw clenched. Turning to the front, he noticed the first wave of many approaching. Myrin's eyes narrowed as all hesitation left him.

I can't hold back anymore…

He was going to cast his original 4th Circle spell. Not one he borrowed from Myrella—this was made purely of his own efforts. The culmination of everything he had lived through so far.

Mistress, watch over me…

Taking a deep breath, he began to channel what remained of his anima into the proper axioms. Soon enough, the geometries pictured in his mind's eye would once more come to life.

Just as the final pieces were about to be assembled, a low rumble shook the earth. Myrin's concentration ceased as he looked around frantically.

"This… This anima…"

It was as if heaven and earth had become one again. He was overwhelmed by a sensation of reverence—a part of his mind yearned to fall to his knees in prayer.

As the last of the snow fell from the skies, the radiance of the sun finally shined through once more. And with it came the blooming of flowers.

The radiance of one such flower drew the attention of all. The Petalsword Sovereign stared gracefully at the brilliant sun, allowing its rays to shine upon Her brilliant form.

Next to her, the corpse of Elder Kaalan levitated freely. The Vynasian influence expunged from its husk. Despite it all, it was he who seemed more free in the end. The influence from his [Soul Corruption] ability might have stopped growing, but it did not outright disappear. Even now, She could still see numerous cracks scattered across Her Spirit Body.

[It seems they have succeeded in the end.]

With the Matron of Faith's passing and her being weakened, Yadria was now far too weak to defend itself from the Vynasian threat alone.

[It will take at least a year to fully recover my Spirit Body…] And if her expectations were correct, that would mean the Vynasians will likely launch an attack during that timeframe.

Her honey-colored eyes slowly shifted to what remained of the village below. On one side, Myrin the Exile stood firm and strong with his Soul Weapon in hand—ready to protect those unable to protect themselves. A colossal horde of enemies were throwing themselves at him in a fit of rage—desperate to avenge their Fallen leader.

On the other side, a pair of magi lay in the snow—shielding themselves desperately from their surrounding enemies. They had risked their lives to achieve their goal, and now, that risk was finally catching up to them.

[It seems I still owe these children… O' Holy Maiden. Watch over me as you would watch over your forests. May your blessings blossom even in the fringes of ice and snow.]

As she said this, the radiance of Her translucent sword grew more vibrant. The petals within its form danced wildly from an invisible wind as more and more of them gathered together.

She glanced at the chaos beneath Her one last time before fulfilling Her name's destiny.

[Let the petals slice through all things.]

A radiant flash of light filled the skies, and before anyone could notice what had occurred, the world itself faltered under the weight of Her sword. Every last remaining Vynasian was struck by the gruesome petals, forever cut into pieces. Myrin watched in awe as his enemies fell to the floor one by one—faces still full of rage, oblivious to what had occurred to them.

On the other side of the village, a similar picture emerged. Isha held Soren's unconscious body tightly as her eyes remained frozen on her enemies. What was left of them at least… Their faces remained the same—full of anger—as if imagining the deaths of their enemies. Unaware of the fates…

But it didn't end there.

Petals raced toward Soren, Myrin, and Cassia—cutting them to pieces as well.

No one had time to react. Isha turned to look at the body of the person she had been trying to protect, realizing it had disappeared out of nowhere.

Before she could panic, a distant voice echoed in her mind:

[Do not worry, child. The petals did not cut him. Only the space around him.

[I had sent him to where he and his companions needed to go from the start.]

As She said this, the brilliant figure covering the skies slowly unraveled into a storm of leaves that scattered in the wind.

Peace had once again returned to the worshippers of lies.