Chapter 1240 - 840: Calamity of the Forest

Chapter 1240: Chapter 840: Calamity of the Forest

Tate Continent.

The elf village in the Cyan Forest has already fallen and become a purgatory.

The once lush woodland is now tainted by a hideous, ever-expanding purple-black Void Rift.

The rift flows with cold, lifeless energy, stripping away vitality wherever it goes, twisting and drying ancient trees, morphing them into tendril-like crystals exuding corruption.

Elder Gloriel, whose strength is roughly Level Ten, stands at the forefront of the ruins, his ancient oak Magic Staff trembling violently, extracting the last vestiges of magic power within him to barely maintain the tenuous "Serenity Guardian" array.

The purple-black light collides with the array’s barrier, each impact making the elder’s face paler, sweat soaking his robes.

Being the strongest combatant here, he must resist tenaciously.

Otherwise, the homeland behind him would be overturned and destroyed in an instant.

"Hold on! For the forest!"

Gloriel hoarsely shouts, his voice so weak amidst the Void’s whispering and the monsters’ screeching.

From deep within the rift, hordes of crystal claw bugs and screamers continuously emerge.

The sharp limbs of the crystal claw bugs tear through the air, leaving corrosive purple traces. The screamers’ piercing howls are like invisible spikes, viciously stabbing at the souls of all elves.

The head elf guardian, Kelias, once proudly refused to seek aid from the Night Watchers, now his eyes are bloodshot.

"Die! Damn you, filthy bugs!"

He furiously swings his elven longsword, shattering a crystal claw bug lunging towards Farella, his movements precise, yet tinged with an insane desperation.

"Lysa—No!" A harrowing scream echoes from behind him.

Kelias whirls around abruptly, his eyes filled with rage.

His young female elf archer, Lysa, is struck by the screamer’s shriek.

Her screams suddenly cease, her skin crawling with web-like purple-black patterns, her beautiful face distorted and rigid, her clear eyes consumed by hollow darkness.

The Void’s devastating assault and infection on the spirit are undeniable.

And this elf.

She was so young, she hadn’t even traveled very far.

This means that her spirit wasn’t steeled by the test of time.

She stiffly turns, raising her elf bow without emotion, the arrow aimed at a former comrade—a warrior battling crystal claw bugs.

She’s been infected.

Her spirit shattered, pieced back together by the Void’s pollution, stained with an indelible purple.

The new "Infected."

Kelias’ remorse is like a serpent devouring his heart.

"It’s my fault! Damn pride! What have I done!" He roars in agony, instinctively rushing forward, his longsword slicing through the air with a mournful scream, precisely piercing Lysa’s corrupted heart.

Foul black blood splatters, her hollow gaze seemingly mocking him.

This wasn’t the first, nor will it be the last.

To slay a tainted comrade.

This greatly deepens the soul’s fracture and trauma, significantly diminishing the resistance of will.

This is the Void, its power is so unreasonable, its destructiveness is so rampant.

One strike after another, one wave after another, one cycle after another.

Hard to resist, hard to refuse.

The Void’s corruption accelerates remarkably with the rift’s expansion.

Elf warriors continue to fall.

Some are severed by the crystal claw bugs’ limbs, their bodies wrapped in infectious purple crystals within the twisted black mist.

Some laugh maniacally under invisible spiritual pollution, hacking at their comrades until the elder exhausts his strength to release the final purifying light, turning them to ash.

The air is filled with the stench of rotten flesh and twisted crystals, mingling with desperate cries and the monstrous screeches of Void creatures.

Farella and Elian lean against the remnant of a half-crystallized ancient tree, fighting fiercely.

Farella draws her longbow fully, the emerald-green arrows infused with natural power shoot forth and accurately explode the core of a crystal claw bug.

Elian dual-wields short swords, his figure moving like the wind, evading and striking amidst several screamers’ assault, his sword light glimmering, slicing at the distorted throats attempting to shriek souls.

A faint golden glow flickers on their foreheads—a spiritual blessing quietly obtained after they sent a plea for aid to the Night Watcher outpost in Moonlight City, allowing them to barely maintain clarity amidst the torrent of Void whispers.

This is the adventurer’s gift.

Or rather, it is the mental resilience brought about by receiving equal blessings as adventurers and the Night Watchers.

Datafication greatly grants those with weak spiritual resistance at least the qualification to fight against the Void.

"The Night Watchers... They’ll come!" Farella breathlessly shouts, but as she watches the tide-like enemies and the teetering defenses, the conviction in her words wavers.

The elf warriors are compressed behind the crumbled stone ruins at the village’s edge, the ground beneath their feet etched with purple-black crystal lines, exuding a nauseatingly sweet scent.

This smell is more of what’s unveiled when magic power is polluted.

A clawed combat beast—one of the stronger creatures emerging from the Rift’s expansion—lets out a mind-rending screech, breaching the defenses, its giant claws crashing down with the sharp sound of tearing space.

Elder Gloriel roars, releasing his final "Nature Purification," the green aura reluctantly forcing the beast back a few steps, but he also violently coughs up blood, his form tottering.

Kelias, eyes reddened, parries the combat beast’s claw once more, retreating to the elder’s side, his voice trembling with intense panting and overwhelming guilt.