After the Fall, humanity returned to wielding copper and warring between tribes, divided by divine orders and social functions. Some of them, absorbed in their avarice and violence, were exiled to the mountains and caves. Savages, they devoured their fellows, lay with beasts, and were deformed by the ills of their tormented life; cursed to look horrible as iniquity in their heart.

  But the beautiful song of life charmed their ears and promised them a new life in the eternal spring that hid in the depths of the forest. The crazed fairy clouded their consciousness and took away their sense of individuality, their animalistic bodies reflecting their primitive instincts.

  Utilizing her mastery of flora, she transformed them into mixed beasts and vegetables, using spores and the carcasses themselves to multiply like rats.

  He thought that the Legends of men turning into beasts were only the exaggeration of poets to fill in the gaps in the stories of heroes. After confirmation from Morgana and my own eyes, I stopped questioning what is or is not real.

  Orcs, ogres, and trolls. If there was any sense of humanity in her malicious eyes, it was long gone, diluted between the chimerical animal and vegetable freak that Hilda. In her madness, she adopted the monsters as her beautiful and terrible children.

  For now, that will be the excuse I use to kill them.

  The golden light of the sun pierces the canopy of trees, as large as castles, and illuminates the gloom they cast over US. Nature invades the path, shrubs, and plants adorn the passage with iridescent color that bombards our eyes.

  Around the gray stones at the base of the mountain range, Cloud rips off at high speed, concentrates his mana and intensifies the weight a second before drilling into a wooden tower. He spins his spear while surrounded, stocking and impaling the miniature chimeras before speeding up again.

  The group moves along the trail at the foot of the mountain and avoids the depths of the forest, where the troll camps had grown. Even at a distance, however, the outskirts of Vanusia had already been taken, and the surprise attack from the rear is the only thing we have to steal advantage of.

  The surviving creatures soon realize they can no longer reach the speedster, so they change their target. Their number increases by dozens as they squeeze between the stones or emerge below us using underground tunnels that take over the region.

  With ghoulish smiles, they charge at our group bearing rudimentary bronze and stone swords and spears. Their dissonant laughter fragments through the air into agonizing noises, but they are interrupted by the melodic harmony of the flute.

  Nia blows on the instrument, her manifestation increasing its emission to the degree that it handles magic in accordance with the music. She conjures and pressurizes water with one note, and with another throws them like soap bubbles. Childishly deadly, they blast the creatures and collapse the stones so that they are buried.

  The surviving shaman, wielding a necklace of fangs and a scepter, channels Lightning at the tip of the catalyst, but the magic fails and falls apart before the attention of chaos. Surprised, he's decapitated with surgical precision by a blade of bones sprouting from Wander's arm.

  The Elf stands around Nia and protects her sister, while Cloud prowls the group's outer circle. In its center, I make signs and quote incantations to disrupt the main targets, but I avoid using my magic indoors.

  Even more important, though…

  The sky roars with thunder, Electric scars run through the blue and make it glow white. Frightened clouds gather and dance around the conflict at the edge of my vision, commanded by the giant of Storms who fights the Hero. Though the dark cuteness of immaterial beings cries out for conflict to cease, the hurricanes of mist they bring to Earth serve more to foment fury than otherwise.

  Cracks open where the fighting takes place, golden lights pierce the gray sky and temporarily turn day into night. Like children playing with their toys, powerful winds tear trees from the ground and redirect them. Some of them…

  “Fireball!”I conjure a fireball that pulses from my hand into the sky and blows up a tree as big as a house.

  On the right, the storm attracts the monsters, torn between the temptation of chaos and the strength of the hurricane. The stupidest are overcome by carnal weakness, while the cleverest, Hilda's official elves, abandon their posts. Some, however, remain vigilant of the group's presence.

  Lights in the sky. I feel the mana of creatures approaching, spinning gracefully in the wind as they watch the group assault. We had limited time until we were surrounded by the older and competent soldiers.

  On the left, the depths of the forest, taken by the structures of the monsters that did not run away. To the south, the toxic fog approaches and threatens to reach us with its celerity.

  I keep running. Our pace quickens. Vanusia is nearby, and her magical barrier would protect us. After the dozens of monsters we faced, going through the inside of the gorge paid its price.

  A little more. Just a little more. Only-

  Laughter echoes around us, shrill, crazy, unrestrained. Higher and more evil than any troll. Hiding behind the trees, a chill runs down my spine when I see his yellow eyes watching us.

  Then she disappears.

  “What was that?!” Wander says. Nia prepares for another note, the gray elf pulls out his bow and unsuccessfully tries to locate the enemy. Cloud lands on a rock to check us out.

  “She's a witch! Keep running! You have bigger problems!”

  For the second time, the ground shakes. Ahead, I feel the approach of the wild beasts in a direct onslaught, their mana obscured by the influence of whatever it is that has appeared.

  A club smashes the ground near Wander and narrowly misses. The Elf reacts with an arrow that sticks into the creature's eye, but the orc does not hesitate and attacks again. Put on the defensive, Nia begins to cast and Cloud advances to the rear.

  The swine beasts are elite units, standing three meters tall with powerful musculature. The first, dark green, ignores Wander's Arrow and brandishes the club against the Elf's chest, which extends the bones of his forearm like a shield to withstand the pressure of the attack. Still, the impact throws him backwards.

  Cloud lunges at the creature's leg with the spear, then spins and tears at another's hand. Musical notes echo through the air and explode in pressurized jets of water, but even these are not able to pierce the bulbous layers of the orc's skin.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  The shot turns to the girl and rushes towards her, but her hand melts, and her body is pierced by a thousand swords. At least he thinks he is. Your body falls to the ground, paralyzed by the illusion I conjured.

  I draw my sword and finish it, then inhale, point my finger at the group and Channel. Orcs tear off and duel against Cloud, their quick attacks as a figure would be imperceptible to ordinary human eyes. The sound of metal invades the air, but is suddenly interrupted by the crunching noise of bones forming.

  “Osteoflora.” He whispers.

  The spinning bone blade erupts from the ground and impales the orc distracted by Cloud. Wander, lowered, fortifies his body with intensification and manipulates its interior out of the flesh, extending its structures beneath the ground and spreading them out like roots. They grow like spears, creating pillars that block wild attacks and simultaneously pierce them into the equivalent of a small forest.

  The rest don't react, punctured by the concentrated heat of supersonic spheres from the firebolts I conjured.

  Using fire to burn the environment would have been my choice to control the battlefield, but Morgana warned me not to, as the forest would remember my decision. I assume—I hope—that making bones invade the Bush and Stone is not such a serious offense. I also hope that my fight with Cloud has not left that which governs this dimension angry.

  At the moment, I don't have time to think about it.

  Wander sighs. He went beyond what he can emit, and his body exhausted itself. For wizards specializing in intensification, maximizing their emission is not so bad since their movement is only bodily. When a sorcerer casts large spells, however, the cost of exceeding their limit is much greater.

  The group of five soon becomes zero, but is replaced by more rats and Wild Boars. Wooden structures stretching around us throw arrows that drown in the density of water, conjurations are stopped or explode in the face of their sorcerers due to the influence of chaos.

  Damage is accumulated. The deficiency of is apparent; it's not just Wander who gets tired. Trolls are used as cannon fodder at all times, carnivorous plants and orcs still press the group.

  Cloud bleeds from his leg and belly, Wander from both arms. Nia and I share average injuries, but the exhausted girl is already almost out of mana. I forgot that ordinary people cannot use so many spells per day. I am the only one who can stand for a long time.

  No. With the size of these orcs, the structures already created and the tribal shamans, they wouldn't have been able to cross a third of the gorge if I wasn't here.

  But it doesn't matter anymore. I can see Vanusia on the horizon, and fast as we are, we'll be there in an instant. I can smell the well-tended Bush and the scent of non-lethal flowers that emanate the traces of a sane civilization. We would come out of the sweet chaos to embark on a real-

  Yellow eyes.

  I had forgotten about them.

  For the second time, shrill laughter echoes. The sky darkens. With them, the bioluminescent fungi and flowers give us back the power of vision in the starless night. Blue, yellow or red, they surround us with the beautiful and almost convince me that we were safe from whatever conjured the darkness in the first place.

  A sorceress cannot change day into night. Not like that. With my eyes, I see the flow of aura that contaminates the air and traps us in a dome, thousands, and thousands and small constructs until they solidify in the illusion of our senses. A spell that cannot be performed normally. A ritual.

  She wants to destroy our mind.

  “Sieghart-” Wander says.

  Steps.

  The group stops. Nia pops out her new ones and takes a deep breath as she sees two elves walking towards us. Cloud grinds his teeth and stands at the head of the group, Wander enlarges his bones to make makeshift weapons.

  The elves come from the opposite side of the gorge, putting themselves between us and the city of Vanusia. One after another, the crunchy echo rises, shaking the ground with power, and the air with pressure. The silhouettes of the two soldiers invade our vision, surrounded by the multicolored light of the flora.

  The first of them is small for an adult, but still larger than us. Her spiky blonde hair is thrown back, and the light sword rests on one of her shoulders. He wears armor, but it doesn't look like iron. Morgana warned me about this. Elves and fairies can use iron or steel to hurt, but do not dress them under any circumstances.

  Instead, what protects it are golden, stiffened layers that simulate light plates, adorned by green patterns like a fruit. Its internal parts are dark, its extremities, rotten and decaying.

  The second, taller and fatter, carries a bow-harp made of wood, gold and silk, with a green armor that looks like a melon. I can't know the exact properties of their weapons, but there's a reason soldiers use them.

  The first, lilac-colored, raises his chin and stares at the group. “Are you the ones who betray, kill and destroy my queen's heart? Are you the ones who burn the forest and hurt my Hilda?”

  “Calm down!” Wander says. “We can find a solution to this without having to fight!”

  “I'm calm. I'm very calm.” He wanders his eyes around the group with an overbearing smile. “And you, Sir Verg? Are you calm?”

  The man frowns, but does not answer. He is young, but his lilac skin is full of wrinkles, his countenance is surly and tired.

  “I am honored to know them, but not of what I shall do. Surrender to Hilda's power and avoid suffering. Please.”

  He doesn't look evil. Somehow.

  “Forgive the ways of my companion. I wanted to postpone the warning of your untimely deaths, but the honored knight here wouldn't allow the loss of time or any form of fun during the work.” He inspires, frustrated. “But I do believe this is the end of the line for you adventurers. Whether you come from Vanusia or not, everything about Eternal Spring is in Hilda's domain. Drop your weapons.”

  “We don't need to do that.” Wander says. “Hilda doesn't need us and is already winning the war. We're just trying to get home without getting killed. We'll enter Vanusia and no longer disturb you. Please, it's just trolls and orcs, she alone can spawn hundreds of them…”

  “I am sorry to inform you that this is not our decision to make. We obey orders from the one who reigns, and the one who reigns is Hilda, and always has been. Vanusia is a traitor.” He frowns. “One who doesn't mind abandoning her soldiers to die.” Then the Elf shrugs. “Hilda, at least, is sincere. Come on, they can fight for her if they're spared, can't they, Verg?”

  The man settles down. “You have destroyed important structures in some camps, and whatever is fighting that giant, it has brought fear and despair into the hearts of our troops. Rebelling will only cause more problems. For the sake of our lives, we need to capture you.”

  Cloud frowns. “I'm not giving my fucking life to you. How am I sure they won't kill us or throw us into a dungeon? We don't know Hilda!”

  “We…” I say. The eyes turn to me. The blond elf sharpens his gaze and tilts his head, the obvious sense of awkwardness stamped on his face.

  They are strong enough to get rid of average illusions, but I can still paralyze their bodies or reverse some direction. This will not last long. If we are going to fight, I need to attack now, with the best I have.

  But his flesh is not bulbous or hairy, his face is not that of a monster or cannibalistic fairy. They're human. With faerie blood, elves, but human.

  “We don't have to… Fight. We can just forget all that and… You, Sir…”

  What are you going to say, genius?

  Don't you realize that everything you say is redundant?

  Do you even know how to convince someone else?

  “Sir Velinar. Come on, give me a good argument.”

  Nia wanders her gaze across the field. “T-there's something wrong. Sieghart…”

  The surrounding aura thickens, taking on a more detailed form. The sky that was once nighttime is now completely black, and it rushes against the light to consume it as well. Once the ritual is completed, we will be swallowed by darkness. I imagine it deprives us of our senses as well.

  I need to go after the witch. But if I leave now, the group will be attacked. Can they even survive if I leave to look for her?

  Verg and Velinar look at each other, their countenances sharp. “… I knew there was something wrong. Manipulation of bones… And strange company… Brothers walking together and powerful mages despite their age.” He smiles. “Oh, I remember perfectly.”

  Wander freezes. Nia looked between the fighters, ready to play the flute.

  “You are the ghastly wretch, aren't you? What Dishonored a fair fight using scissors?”

  Wander grinds his teeth. “… Sieghart, go after the witch.”

  “What?”

  “… Listen to me, they will not stop. They're just talking to buy time. If she completes the ritual, we will fall under her spell.” He says, then inspires. “Trust us. We can survive.”

  I clench my fists. It's two against three. Two good soldiers, brand new, against three injured and exhausted adventurers. But still three against two. More importantly, two humans.

  Maybe I'm just using this as an excuse to escape the responsibility of having to kill another man. But for now, I begrudgingly agree.

  I propel myself in the air using fire, maximize my mana detection, and pierce the attempt to hide from the witch. Altering my course in the heavens, I go towards her and conjure.