[Warning]
[Unique Skill: Heaven Divider Lv. 100 — Activated]
The moment Lilya swung her sword, the world seemed to stop.
Blue-gold light erupted from the blade, splitting the air in a deafening silence. In less than a heartbeat, a colossal streak of light shot forward, piercing straight through the living wall of Treants.
Towering trunks split apart cleanly.
No resistance.
No sound.
Wooden fragments drifted through the air like glowing dust as a narrow corridor was carved through the giants.
But the slash did not stop there.
It continued forward, cutting deeper and deeper—toward the center, where the Elder Treant stood.
One of the Elder Treant's massive branches rose to block the attack—
—and was severed.
Straight.
Clean.
What was stranger still...
the wound did not regenerate.
The dark aura that had faithfully clung to its body trembled chaotically, desperately trying to restore the damage. Yet something within that blue-gold radiance calmly rejected it.
The Elder Treant fell silent.
Its colossal wooden body trembled faintly.
And inside Harlan's mind, that ancient voice echoed once more—
—but this time, it sounded different.
No longer broken by pain.
Weak.
Gentle.
Filled with quiet nostalgia.
[...this aura... ah... so nostalgic...]
"Elder Treant...?" Harlan whispered, barely audible.
His eyes remained fixed on the massive, split trunk before him, unable to believe what he had just witnessed.
At the far end of the newly opened path—
amid drifting splinters of shattered wood—
stood a girl.
Her blonde hair swayed softly beneath the night wind.
A warm golden aura wrapped around her slender frame.
The blue blade of light in her hand still pulsed faintly, traces of [Heaven Divider] yet to fade.
But the moment everyone's eyes settled on her—
Lilya's legs suddenly gave out.
Her body wavered.
Her right hand, still gripping the sword, trembled violently.
Her entire body shook.
Her left arm hung limply at her side, quivering despite bearing no weight at all.
Her eyelids drooped halfway shut.
Heavy breaths escaped unevenly from her lips.
"...Hah... my MP..." she murmured, so quietly it was almost inaudible.
=============================
MP: 18,600 / 62,000
Stamina: 48,000 / 120,000
=============================
The [Veil Resonance] surrounding her still remained—
but only barely.
Thin.
Fading.
Like a candle moments away from burning out.
Ahead of her, the Elder Treant did not attack.
Did not move.
Its severed branch still hung lifelessly—
refusing to regenerate.
"What the hell happened?!" Rhett shouted, narrowing his eyes at the corridor carved through the Treants before them.
His sword remained raised, ready to strike, yet his gaze could not leave the clean cut slicing through the living wall.
"Even the roots hit by that attack... they're not regenerating anymore?" he added, his voice caught somewhere between disbelief and caution.
Rhett stepped forward half a pace, his fingers brushing against the surface of the severed wood, still warm from the lingering traces of light.
Nothing moved.
No black tendrils crept across the wound.
No twisted fibers attempted to reconnect.
The damage was truly dead.
"Rhett... look at where the attack came from..."
Kael's voice came quietly, almost a whisper.
The hand gripping his dagger trembled slightly—not from fear, but from shock he still had not fully processed.
He pointed toward the end of the corridor, toward the lone figure standing amid drifting clouds of splintered wood.
"Even I can't believe I'm seeing her use something like that..."
At the far end of the path, beyond the thin haze of shattered bark and dust, a girl stood silently.
Her blonde hair stirred gently in the night wind, loose strands falling across a pale but calm face.
Her simple village dress—ordinary, humble—
was torn in several places now, stained with black soil and streaked with dried blood.
And yet—
there were no wounds.
No cuts.
No bruises.
The skin beneath the dirt remained untouched, as though her body itself had healed injuries that should have been there.
Around her slender figure—
a soft golden aura glowed faintly.
Pulsing.
Warm.
Like morning sunlight somehow forced to exist in the middle of a dark night.
In her right hand, a simple branch—
small, fragile, hardly worthy of being called a weapon—
had transformed into a stable blade of blue light.
Not a true sword.
Yet sharper than steel.
She stood alone amidst the wreckage of shattered giant trees.
Alone.
"L-Lilya...? Is that really you?"
Even Harlan himself wasn't certain of the words leaving his mouth.
His eyes remained fixed on the girl at the end of the corridor—
the blonde-haired girl with tangled hair, torn clothes, dirt, and dried blood clinging to her, yet standing tall amid the fallen giants like something impossible.
It was Lilya.
The daughter of his old friend.
The child he had raised after her parents died during an important mission.
The girl who had always been cheerful.
Kind to everyone.
The one who often helped Cecilia and the villagers.
An idol to the entire village—
alongside Cecilia.
It really was Lilya.
But she was alone.
Where was Cecilia?
The question lingered in the air, unspoken.
Lilya stood upright.
Her breathing remained heavy.
Her hand still trembled faintly around the sword—
but her eyes...
her eyes were different.
No longer those of an ordinary village girl who only knew how to gather herbs and bargain at the market.
There was something else there now.
Resolve.
A fire that refused to die.
"Uncle Harlan..." she said softly, yet clearly.
Her gaze shifted briefly to Rhett, Bram, Kael, and Darian—
one after another.
"I know there are a lot of things you want answers to..."
She inhaled slowly.
"And I truly want to explain everything... including my mistakes."
But—
[Battle Instinct]
Her eyes sharpened instantly toward the Elder Treant as it began moving again.
"...I'll help you fight them first!"
The Elder Treant roared.
Its voice shattered the air, sending tremors through the forest.
But before anyone could move—
"She's right... and sorry for dragging you into this, Lilya."
Rhett's voice came flat but warm.
His sword rose once more.
Ready.
"Yeah. I've got plenty of questions too... but..." Kael exhaled, drawing his bowstring tight again.
Bram simply nodded, saying nothing.
His axe already rested against his shoulder, muscles tensing for battle.
"We can't let them rampage any longer," Darian said shortly, his sword already half drawn.
Harlan nodded.
His hand moved quickly to the pouch at his waist.
Potion bottles emerged one after another.
A red one for Rhett.
A green one for Bram.
Blue for Kael.
Another blue for Darian.
Then—
"Lilya!"
He tossed the last blue potion toward her.
Without thinking, Lilya caught it with her left hand—
the same arm that had hung limp moments ago, now moving like lightning on instinct.
"This potion..."
She looked down at the bottle for a moment.
Then smiled.
A small, gentle smile—
the same one she used to wear whenever Harlan helped her as a child.
"Thank you, Uncle Harlan..."
She drank it.
Warmth spread down her throat.
Mana flowed a little more freely through her body.
The emptiness in her stamina eased, if only slightly.
=============================
MP: 18,600 → 27,900 (+15%)
Stamina: 48,000 → 60,000 (+10%)
=============================
Not much.
But enough.
Enough to fight a little longer.
Suddenly—
[Sword... Saint... please... end... us... quickly...]
Lilya froze.
"...Huh?"
Her eyes widened slightly.
"What was that voice...?"
Slowly, she turned toward the Elder Treant.
The colossal monster that had been rampaging without pause until moments ago—
had fallen still.
The black aura coiling around its wooden body had thinned, trembling faintly, as though something inside it was struggling to resist.
[Beneath... my roots...]
The voice sounded ancient.
Weak.
Yet clear.
No longer broken by suffering—
almost like the final whisper of someone who had already accepted death.
[...lies... the core...]
[...sever it... from below...]
[...then... all of us...]
[...will... wither... and die...]
"Elder Treant... you..." Harlan swallowed hard, his eyes widening in disbelief.
"Eh? Uncle Harlan heard it too?"
Lilya turned quickly toward him.
Harlan gave a slow nod, as though he understood exactly what she had been thinking.
Kael frowned, irritation slipping into his voice as he tightened his grip on his weapon.
"Hold on—what are you two talking about? No secrets in the party!"
His tone wasn't angry.
Only frustrated.
Confused.
Pressed for time.
Lilya took a breath.
The Elder Treant would not remain still forever.
"The Elder Treant asked us to kill it," she said, her voice calm but urgent.
"It said its core is beneath the roots. As long as the core remains intact, none of them can truly die."
Her eyes shifted toward the massive roots twisting across the battlefield.
"But if we sever it from below... they'll wither."
Kael froze.
"...What?"
"He's aware," Lilya continued quietly.
"He knows his body is being controlled. But he can't resist it on his own anymore."
Her grip tightened around her sword.
"So... he's asking for our help."
Silence settled for a brief moment.
Rhett exhaled slowly, tightening his grip on his sword.
"...Alright."
His voice was steady.
"I trust you, Lilya."
"Me too," Bram said shortly.
Kael hesitated, then nodded.
Darian merely raised his sword.
That alone was answer enough.
Harlan smiled again.
A tired smile.
A warm one.
"We'll do it together."
Lilya nodded.
The blue blade in her hand brightened.
And then—
they moved.
Rhett charged from the front, his sword flashing as he carved through massive branches trying to shield the Elder Treant's trunk.
Bram and Darian swept in from both sides, hacking apart roots that lashed toward them.
From the rear, Kael's arrows streaked through the battlefield, slipping precisely into cracks and openings between splintered bark.
And Lilya—
shot straight ahead.
[Quick Step]
Her body vanished from one point—
and appeared beneath the Elder Treant's towering trunk.
Massive roots twisted violently toward her, lunging to crush and ensnare—
but [Parry Counter] deflected them one after another.
[Precision Cut] sliced through roots that nearly wrapped around her legs.
Then—
she saw it.
The core.
Nestled beneath the tangled roots.
Pulsing.
Dark.
Corrupted.
Yet beneath that thick black stain—
faint traces of deep green light still remained.
The lingering life of the ancient guardian that had once protected the village.
"...Forgive us."
Lilya raised her sword.
[Air Cut]
SHHHHHK—!!
A razor-sharp wave of air tore through the roots shielding the core.
The opening appeared—
and Rhett moved instantly from the side.
His sword flashed once.
CLAAANG—!!
The core split apart.
Black light burst outward in every direction—
then slowly faded like smoke carried away by the wind.
For the final time—
the Elder Treant's voice echoed inside Harlan and Lilya's minds.
[...thank... you...]
[...young... Sword... Saint...]
[...continue... your... journey...]
[...Veldrin... is... in... danger...]
[...hurry... before... it... is... too... late...]
The colossal body stopped moving.
Cracks spread across its trunk.
Then—
BOOOOOMMMM—!!!
The Elder Treant collapsed.
The ground shook violently.
Dust and shattered wood surged into the night sky.
With the Elder Treant's death—
the remaining Treants began to wither.
Dry leaves drifted through the air.
Massive trunks split and crumbled apart.
The sound of ancient wood breaking echoed through the silent night—
like a long sorrow finally laid to rest.