The elders wasted no time. Their voices boomed across the camp, sharp and commanding.
"All troops, prepare for battle!" Geiros roared. "Swordsmen, to the front lines! Marksmen, support the flanks! Warriors, secure the remaining areas of the battlefield! Mages, with me—we'll back them up!"
"I'm coming with you!" Takeshi declared, stepping forward with firm resolve. "I'll hold the front long enough for you to break their formation."
Geiros gave a single nod. "Alright then. Move out! To your positions!"
The entire camp came alive with motion. Elven warriors sprang into formation, their movements swift and coordinated. The ground shook beneath their boots as they surged into place.
Then—a deafening crack.
The barrier shattered in a burst of light and energy. The enemy was here.
Takeshi sprinted toward the front, dual weapons gleaming. At a distance, his shots were sharp and deadly, striking down dark elves one by one. Any who got close were met by his blade, swift and merciless. He moved like a storm—unrelenting, precise, unstoppable.
Behind him, the elves moved with fluid coordination. Arrows whistled through the air, dropping enemies mid-charge. Mages cast their spells, hurling fire, ice, and wind into the chaos, tearing apart the invading force.
For a moment, hope flickered.
But then, from the depths of the forest, they emerged.
Six towering trents—living giants of bark and root—stepped onto the battlefield. Their limbs crushed trees and warriors alike as they stormed forward, leaving trails of destruction in their wake. The once-organized formation of the elves scattered under their force, chaos spreading like wildfire.
Takeshi, having cleared a portion of the front, turned to assess the damage. His eyes narrowed as he spotted one of the massive trents barreling toward him. Without hesitation, he rushed to intercept.
The creature swung a massive arm at him like a club. Takeshi dodged to the side and slashed, his blade cutting clean through the wooden limb. As the creature howled in pain, he aimed and fired a single shot—straight through its head. The beast collapsed, and Takeshi darted toward the rear lines, breath sharp, eyes focused.
Meanwhile, far above the battlefield, Nyx stirred from sleep. The room was dim, but Akari stood by the window, her tiny hands gripping the ledge.
"Akari?" Nyx called gently. "What are you looking at?"
"Papa," Akari said, her voice small. "He's fighting… down there."
Nyx moved beside her, peering out. Her heart clenched at the sight of Takeshi battling near the fallen barrier. Without hesitation, she turned to Akari.
"Stay here. No matter what—do not leave this room."
Slipping into her armor, Nyx launched into the air, her wings catching the wind as she soared toward the battlefield.
As she neared the front, she raised her hand. A massive void opened beneath a cluster of dark elves, swallowing them whole in one pull of gravity.
Takeshi turned as the air rippled with energy. "Thanks, Nyx!" he called, panting. "Good timing—the elders are struggling with the trents!"
"How many are left?" she asked.
"More than seven," he replied, pointing past the collapsing lines.
"I'll take care of it," she said, her voice calm.
With a burst of speed, Nyx shot toward the Great Tree, violet and black energy trailing behind her like a comet.
Takeshi nodded and turned back to the fray, cutting down two more attackers. But just as he prepared to rejoin the others, a sudden chill crawled up his spine.
A new presence had arrived—something powerful. Something… wrong.
He turned slowly.
An elf stepped from the shadows, cloaked in dark robes. Its aura was oppressive, and its eyes gleamed with unnatural light.
"You must be the Dark Elves' prophet," Takeshi said, steadying his breath.
"And you must be the humans' little 'hero,'" the figure replied, voice smooth and venomous.
Takeshi's gaze dropped to the dagger in the elf's hand. Its curved green blade pulsed with eerie light.
"That dagger..." he muttered. "It's a Celestial weapon, isn't it?"
The elf grinned. "Indeed. This is Nature's Fangs. Break it—and it returns stronger. Want to try?"
Takeshi's grip tightened. "Gladly."
They clashed instantly. Metal rang loud in the air. Sparks flew. Takeshi swung with precision, managing to chip the dagger's edge—but just as promised, it regenerated in a heartbeat.
Each exchange grew faster, fiercer. The dagger, now glowing brighter, struck with growing strength. Takeshi's movements were fast, but the elf's unnatural speed was closing the gap.
In one misstep, the enemy's blade slipped through his guard and slashed his arm. Blood sprayed across the ground as he staggered back.
"Not bad," the elf sneered. "That sword of yours… it's Celestial too, isn't it? Otherwise, it would've snapped by now."
"You think so?" Takeshi grunted through the pain.
The elf smiled. "Impressive—for a human. But still useless."
The prophet raised the dagger and shouted, "Connect, Sylvaris!"
The ground trembled.
Vines burst from beneath Takeshi's feet, wrapping around his arms and legs, pulling him down. He struggled, but the tendrils tightened, holding him firm.
A thorned whip materialized in the elf's hand. Without pause, the lashes began—vicious, punishing strikes across Takeshi's body. Each blow left a fresh wound, and though he grit his teeth, his breathing grew ragged.
From above, Nyx caught sight of him. Her heart dropped. He was in danger—but she was surrounded by enemies. She couldn't reach him.
Her hands clenched helplessly at her sides. "What should I do…?"
Back on the ground, the dark elf leaned close to the wounded warrior, whispering with a cruel smile.
"Where's your strength now, hero? You're no different from the rest. Just another insect beneath my boot."