Beshaba, also known as the "Maid of Misfortune" and "Lady Doom," is a deity of the chaotic evil alignment, possessing intermediate divine power.
Throughout the long ages, Beshaba and her twin sister Tymora have each governed half of the portfolio of fate.
Specifically, Beshaba presides over "misfortune, bad luck, and mischief," while Tymora governs "good fortune, skill, victory, and adventure."
In stark contrast to the goddess Tymora, called "Lady Luck" and "the Goddess of Adventurers," Beshaba not only lacks her sister's gentle and kindly temperament but possesses an extremely petty and vindictive nature.
Whenever mortals hold any public gathering (whether weddings, coronations, athletic or martial competitions, newborn naming ceremonies, or other formal occasions), in addition to inviting the corresponding deities, they must also include the name of the goddess Beshaba.
Should any mortal dare violate this rule, this goddess with her strong sense of pride will view it as a grave insult and immediately bring down retribution, cursing everyone present with permanent misfortune.
Another circumstance is this: any intelligent being who encounters a pitch-black, long-horned stag in the wilderness must follow it inseparably until the stag vanishes of its own accord; otherwise, they too will attract the curse of the Maid of Misfortune.
At this very moment, Orum found himself in the second situation.
The black stag paced slowly forward, its demeanor calm, without a trace of aggression, as if completely oblivious to Orum's presence, walking past him.
Orum froze for a moment, then quickly caught up, staying close within the range of darkness surrounding the black stag.
He could feel that if he turned and ran now, he would truly invoke Beshaba's curse and be plagued by misfortune for all eternity.
Looking up, he saw that the battle between the goblins and the tree monster had ended. To avoid the black stag, the goblins had all retreated, hiding at the edge of the jungle, warily stealing glances toward the black stag.
One slower-moving goblin happened to step one foot into the inky air surrounding the pitch-black stag.
"Splurch!"
The instant it stepped in, a vicious blood-red tentacle, like a spear, pierced through the goblin's skull.
Watching the goblin's corpse flung away by the tentacle, Orum immediately felt his scalp go cold.
The black stag's tentacle tail wasn't decorative; it was a genuine deadly weapon.
But Orum was also within the inky air, so why hadn't he been attacked?
By all logic, Beshaba's avatar shouldn't actively attack intelligent species.
The pitch-black stag's differential treatment of himself and the goblins left Orum puzzled.
Could it be that Beshaba was shallow and disliked ugly creatures?
At this thought, Orum's eyes suddenly widened.
Wait a minute.
Given this goddess's past behavior, this guess might actually be possible.
Beshaba had inherited the beauty of the previous goddess of fate, and among the gods, her appearance was quite outstanding.
It could be surmised that the possibility of Beshaba being superficial was extremely high.
With this line of reasoning, as Orum recalled the earlier scene, that blood-red tentacle flinging away the goblin did seem to reveal a hint of... disgust?
Just as Orum was lost in these wild thoughts, the black stag had slowly walked to the front of the Blighted Treant monster.
Facing the approaching black stag, the goblins could turn and flee, but the Blighted Treant monster, rooted in the soil, had no way to dodge.
As the inky breath spread, those light orbs floating in midair rapidly dimmed and extinguished, and the fairies tumbled to the ground one after another.
Orum looked down and discovered that these fairies seemed to have no resistance whatsoever to the inky air.
Their wings drooped, and they lay listlessly on the ground, looking as if they were breathing their last.
The Blighted Treant monster also seemed completely subdued, its massive trunk frozen in place, trembling incessantly, unable to move an inch.
The pitch-black stag strode straight forward. Even though Orum didn't want to approach the Blighted Treant monster, he had no choice but to keep pace.
Orum followed the pitch-black stag past the Blighted Treant monster, observing its armor-like thick bark and iron-whip-like long branches, marveling inwardly that such a magical creature was truly beyond what a novice adventurer like himself could handle.
Without the pitch-black stag's suppression, Orum probably wouldn't have lasted ten seconds.
Orum noticed that once the inky air enveloped the Blighted Treant monster, it acted like an anesthetic, completely paralyzing it. All its branches had lost their vitality.
Clearly, this man-eating Blighted Treant monster no longer had the ability to attack Orum.
Orum looked up at this slightly trembling giant tree, and a thought suddenly stirred in his mind.
"Isn't this my opportunity? While it can't fight back, why not just kill this Blighted Treant monster?"
"Such a powerful magical creature... what kind of reward would I get for killing it?"
Orum gripped his great axe with both hands and swung with all his might at the Blighted Treant monster's trunk.
"CLANG!"
A tremendous recoil force traveled from the axe handle, instantly spreading through both of Orum's arms, leaving them numb and sore.
Looking up, he saw that the bark only bore a shallow scratch. Compared to the Blighted Treant monster's massive body, this damage was about as significant as Orum pulling out a single hair from his own head.
"Roar."
Sensing Orum's attack, the Blighted Treant monster's two tree-hollow "eyes" turned toward him, staring straight at Orum.
Orum had never imagined he could read the emotion of "anger" from two pitch-black tree hollows.
Although the Blighted Treant monster was furious from being provoked, the black stag's aura of intimidation kept it immobilized, completely unable to retaliate against Orum.
"Would fire cause special damage?"
Orum's brain raced. He remembered that the half-orc Gal had a flint stone in his pocket that could strike sparks when hit against steel.
If he could just gather the withered yellow wood around them and pile it around the Blighted Treant monster, he could ignite a roaring fire and burn this powerful mutant plant to charcoal.
"Ah, that won't work either." After a few more seconds of thought, Orum sighed.
The pitch-black stag was still moving forward. Although he didn't know where exactly it was going, it certainly wouldn't linger beside the Blighted Treant monster.
Time was limited. Orum simply didn't have enough time to set up a large bonfire.
Did he have no choice but to spare the Blighted Treant monster's life?
Just then, a flash of purple light caught Orum's eye.
Orum looked up, and his eyes suddenly brightened!
That dazzling purple glow was coming from the purple crystal behind the Blighted Treant monster!
This fist-sized purple crystal continuously emitted an entrancing, bewitching radiance that drew Orum's gaze.
Could this purple crystal be the Blighted Treant monster's weak point?
Orum thought for a moment, then tapped the Blighted Treant monster with the back of his axe and asked, "Is the crystal on your back your weak point?"
Withered tree monster: "..."
The Blighted Treant monster fell silent for three seconds, then immediately shook its head.
"So it IS your weak point!" Orum's heart leapt with joy, and the Blighted Treant monster's head-shaking became even more vigorous.
Orum raised his great axe and quickly circled to the back of the Blighted Treant monster, but found himself in another predicament.
Too high. The purple crystal was a full seven meters above the ground. The thick trunk shot straight up with no footholds for climbing. Even if Orum jumped with all his strength, he couldn't reach it.
"No good, I'm running out of time." Orum glanced back to see that the pitch-black stag was about to walk out from under the Blighted Treant monster's canopy.
In roughly thirty seconds, Orum would leave the dark domain and be cursed by Beshaba for eternity.
Once the Blighted Treant monster regained its freedom, hundreds of steel-whip-like branches would instantly lash down like an overwhelming death storm.
What to do? Give up immediately, or make one last desperate attempt?
Twenty-nine seconds remaining.
Orum quickly glanced left and right, then tucked the axe handle at his waist.
He found his position, grabbed a thick branch with his left hand and swung forward. At the highest point, his right hand seized another branch!
The razor-sharp leaves mercilessly slashed his fingers, leaving wounds deep enough to expose bone.
Blood flowed freely through his fingers. Orum paid no heed. Like an agile ape leaping through the forest, he continued forward, climbing higher and higher.
Sixteen seconds remaining.
Reaching the highest point, Orum gripped the final branch with both hands, swinging up at maximum speed, aiming straight for the purple crystal behind the tree monster.
"Now!"
At the instant he swung up to a 45-degree angle, forming the optimal trajectory, Orum released his grip. His body traced a perfect arc, landing precisely toward the purple crystal behind the Blighted Treant monster.
At this moment, Orum's entire body was covered with bloody gashes from the sharp branches, making him look like a blood-soaked figure crawling out of the ninth circle of hell.
Yet his eyes were incomparably resolute, as if no pain could shake his fighting spirit in the slightest!
In midair, Orum drew his great axe and gripped it tightly with both hands. Channeling all the force his arms could muster and adding the weight of his falling body, he poured everything into a fierce strike aimed at the thin connection point where the purple crystal joined the trunk!
"Strike!"
"ROAR!"
The Blighted Treant monster seemed to suffer excruciating pain, releasing a wailing shriek.
Orum's form plummeted from high above. In midair, crimson blood sprayed continuously from his wounds.
For the first time, his face showed undisguised disappointment.
His all-out strike had only created fine cracks in the crystal's connection point, failing to sever it.
"One more strike would definitely cut it through, but there's no time left."
Perhaps this was his limit. Feeling the wind rushing past his ears, Orum's heart gradually grew calm. Just like the saying goes, failure runs throughout life; where are all those miracles to hope for?
Just as Orum was about to give up, he suddenly froze.
Something felt wrong with his body...
The expected agony of hitting the ground didn't come. Instead, his body felt increasingly light and weightless.
Orum's eyes flew wide open, filled with incredulous shock, as he looked around.
In the empty air, countless light orbs appeared out of nowhere.
They bloomed together in a radiant, multicolored brilliance, like an unfurled rainbow dreamcatcher, gently supporting Orum's body about one meter above the ground.
Orum stood firmly, following the direction of the seven-colored flowing light. To his amazement, he discovered a rainbow staircase manifested out of thin air, winding upward, leading directly to the gleaming purple crystal seven meters high.
In just an instant, Orum realized that each step of this rainbow staircase was formed by countless fairies supporting it.
In this moment, Orum suddenly understood. The radiant spectrum blooming from these hundreds and thousands of fairies was conveying the same message:
"Please save us."
Ever since the original tree was killed, these fairies had been trapped in the Blighted Treant monster's lair, forced to fight for it, fed upon by it, chewed by it.
They had endured torment day and night, unable to live, unable to die.
Now, these eight hundred and seventy-one fairies had created stairs with their lives and guidance with their light.
This seven-colored stairway was their accumulated deep suffering from countless days and nights, a flame of revenge ignited in an instant from despair.
Ten seconds left.
Orum ascended the rainbow stairway and reached the purple crystal in the blink of an eye.
He gripped the great axe tightly with both hands once more, aligning the blade precisely with the crack he'd struck earlier, and swung down with all his might!
"Die!"
One strike, split in two!
The purple crystal broke with a resounding crack, falling to the ground like a fallen star.
The Blighted Treant monster's massive body trembled violently as billowing black smoke poured from the rupture, releasing a heart-wrenching shriek of agony.
In an instant, the once towering giant tree rapidly withered and shrank, ultimately transforming into a charred, feeble shadow of a tree.
[You have slain 1 Withered Tree Monster]
[Stage reward available: Heart of the Ancient Tree]
[Next stage reward:]
[Slay 10 Withered Tree Monsters to obtain Withered Tree Monster Beast Organ Advancement]
...
[You have gained the friendship of the Forest Fairies]
[You have received a permanent blessing from the Forest Fairies: 'Symphony of Life': Can be triggered once per day.
When you call upon the Forest Fairies to aid you in battle, they will bestow blessing magic upon you, greatly enhancing all your attributes for 1 minute and causing each of your attacks to deal additional mixed elemental damage.]
...
The rainbow staircase vanished in a flash. Orum was borne down by the colorful flowing light back to the ground.
Looking at the panel notifications before his eyes, Orum froze for two seconds, then immediately snapped into action.
He scooped up the purple crystal from the ground, quickly stuffed it into his bag, and sprinted toward the pitch-black stag.
Never mind the rewards; first, he had to keep up with Beshaba. He could examine everything else slowly later!
Orum burst forward at such speed that he startled the surrounding forest fairies, who were still immersed in the joy of liberation.
According to ancient fairy tradition, Orum, as their great benefactor, should have stayed as a guest, enjoying several days and nights of massage, fine wine, and music, then returned to human society wearing a floral crown, bragging about this wondrous experience in the tavern.
Orum wanted to rest too, but Beshaba's pitch-black stag kept walking. If he didn't keep up, he'd be cursed for life by that petty, dark, vindictive goddess, something he couldn't afford.
The fairies could only chase after Orum, flying and scattering crystalline dew and fragrant petals over him, expressing the forest fairies' most sincere gratitude.
Weaving through the dense forest, Orum finally caught up with the pitch-black stag, returning once more to the familiar shroud of darkness, feeling inexplicably reassured.
"Thank you, see you again someday!" Orum waved goodbye to the little fairies through the inky air. The fairies also waved their tiny arms, their eyes revealing reluctance to part.
After saying farewell, Orum suddenly realized a problem that made his scalp tingle:
"Wait, why is this stag heading east? Not only is it not returning to Blackwater Town, it's going deeper into the Misty Forest!"
"Where exactly does Beshaba want to go?"