NOVEL NEXT Chapter 996: Right to survive
"This is a plague Cyclops," Orion stated, his voice echoing slightly in the stone chamber. "Key features: single eye, bloated physique. They favor great-axes and spiked clubs."
He nudged the dead creature with his boot, gesturing for Caesar and Tangere to get a closer look. "A word of warning about the eye—it emits a low-level fear and confusion effect. In combat, do not maintain eye contact."
He moved to the second corpse. "And this is a Red-Eyed Ghoul. Part canine, part humanoid. A demonic shock trooper." He looked down at the mangled body. "The red eyes give them night vision, and they have an acute sense of smell for blood. These are likely the enemy's trackers."
They were clearly Abyssal creatures. That meant the enemy they were facing was demonic in origin.
"These monsters have one thing in common," Orion continued, glancing back at Tangere. "They are all carriers. Walking sources of plague."
Tangere understood the unspoken command. He knelt, placing a hand over each corpse. Without a word, wisps of foul, dark energy were drawn from the bodies, flowing into his palm until the demonic flesh seemed somehow cleaner, less virulent.
Then, with a casual flick of his finger, Orion sent a small orb of blood-red fire at the creatures. There was no sound, no roar of flame, but the bodies were consumed in an instant, leaving behind nothing but a faint scorch mark on the stone. The effortless, silent display of power left both Aerin and Caesar momentarily stunned.
"I've already had a pair of each of these sent to your Shield Warrior armies," Orion said, turning to Caesar. "Have your men study them. Get familiar with their anatomy and potential combat styles." Of the three new arrivals, only Caesar commanded a conventional force. They needed to be prepared not just for the fight, but for the risk of infection.
"Our camp will need Plague Totem Poles, and effective ones," Orion said, now looking at Tangere. "I assume you came prepared?"
Before his arrival, Orion had briefed Tangere on the nature of this world. The plague lord wouldn't have come empty-handed.
As expected, Tangere produced a dimensional pouch and handed it to Orion. Inside were not only totem poles designed to absorb and nullify ambient plague but also vials of a shimmering liquid: Plague Ward Potions.
The potion was, itself, a benign strain of plague. Once ingested, it would suppress, purge, or even consume hostile infections, granting the user a powerful resistance.
Orion didn't waste words. He handed a third of the potions to Caesar. "Get your Shield Warriors dosed immediately. I don't want their combat effectiveness compromised by infection."
Next, he passed another third to Aerin. "From this point on, we'll be clearing demonic monsters in an expanding radius from this camp. You can give these to any Wood Elf who is willing to join us."
The implication was clear. Aid was for allies. Those who didn't swear fealty would receive nothing.
Aerin nodded, understanding perfectly. "Don't worry, Godfather. I'll persuade them." As if to prove her point, she uncorked a vial and downed it in one go right in front of them.
Beside her, Caesar and Tangere exchanged a quick, confused glance. The term "Godfather" had clearly thrown them for a loop. Orion saw their curiosity but offered no explanation. Some things only got more convoluted with clarification.
"One more thing," Orion added. "According to the one named Freyla, there's another type of demonic monster out there—something she called a Mist Wraith. They appear and disappear without a trace, and their arrival is always preceded by a thick fog. My scouts haven't managed to capture one yet. Stay sharp during the clearing operations."
Aerin, Caesar, and Tangere all nodded. With Orion's intel, they finally had a basic grasp of the situation.
"I'll skip the formal welcome," Orion concluded. "I'm sure you all have urgent matters to attend to. The clearing operation begins at dawn. Get some rest tonight."
Caesar was the first to respond. "Big Boss, this plague is everywhere. I need to get these potions to my men ASAP. I'm worried any delay could be disastrous."
Orion nodded, dismissing him. With a quick farewell to Aerin and Tangere, Caesar hurried out of the war room.
"I require a sealed, enclosed space," Tangere stated.
It could only be him. Aerin's Wood Elf race currently consisted of herself and Freyla. She had nothing to prepare.
"Follow me." Orion glanced at Aerin, then led Tangere toward the fortress's sublevels.
As they disappeared down the stone steps, a profound sense of loneliness washed over Aerin, followed by a hot flush of shame. I have no one. Not a single soldier. In their eyes, I must be completely useless.
Her spirit flagging, she walked out of the war room and found Freyla in the castle's courtyard garden, looking just as lost as she felt.
"Elder… the Forest of Nature is someone else's territory now?" Freyla's voice was hollow, devoid of hope. The words were a pale shadow of the despair in her eyes. Ever since her wounds had stabilized, a single question had haunted her. Is there really any hope left for us?
"Yes," Aerin said, forcing herself to take a deep breath and push down her own misery. She managed a weak smile. "And it's not called the Forest of Nature anymore. It's The Stillness."
She looked at her friend, her voice gaining strength. "Freyla, our king is dead. Most of the elders are dead. The Wood Elf race has lost its home, its territory, its entire way of life. Our traditions, our laws, our faith… it all shattered. Even the Tree of Life has sealed itself away."
Aerin stepped forward, her resolve hardening with every word. "All we can do now is follow this power—this chance we've been given. We have to gather our scattered people and preserve the spark of our race." As she spoke, she felt the weight that had been crushing her chest begin to lighten.
"Ask yourself, Freyla, what is 'good'? What is 'evil'?" Aerin's eyes were intense. "When one of those demonic monsters is tearing you apart, do you choose to die with honor, or do you choose to live? Now look around you. At these skeletal soldiers, these undead. Why are they here? To harm us? Or to help us?"
She placed her hands firmly on Freyla's shoulders. "If you can't wrap your head around this, if you can't accept it, then leave. Walk out of here before sunrise. They won't stop you."
Her grip tightened. "But if you do, you have to promise me. You tell every Wood Elf you meet that there is hope here. A chance to build a new Wood Elf race from the ashes. You cannot take away their right to survive."