Chapter 1339: Before Returning Home

The “door” woven from leaves and vines rustled softly as it slid open to either side. A petite, golden-haired elf stepped out from the dim corridor into a spacious inner chamber. She carefully stepped over the faintly glowing plant conduits that resembled veins or nerve fibers, whispering as she approached Beltira, “I… just woke up. I heard a lot of noise outside, so I came to check…”

“A lot of noise?” Beltira paused briefly, then quickly caught on. “You mean the sounds you heard through the neural resonance, right? Sorry for waking you—that was the neural signals coming from the wasteland border.”

As she spoke, Beltira slowly emerged from the tangle of vines she had been resting in. The lush flowering vines and leaves fell away from her like a flowing robe, retreating behind her to form a throne-like structure. Her gaze settled on the small elf standing before her—

The young elf known as Belna wore only a simple garment. Her exposed arms, back, and legs were covered in intricate runes and interconnected lines, a complex array of pale green mixed with golden threads. These markings formed tattoo-like patterns, orderly yet elaborate. Where the runes did not cover, her skin was pale to the point of near-translucence, with faintly visible veins beneath, through which seemed to flow a glowing… “liquid.”

These features, clearly unlike those of ordinary humans or elves, gave Belna an uncanny, almost alchemical doll-like aura. She stood before Beltira, the runes on her skin pulsing with a faint light. Glancing at the vine throne and the neural nodes that had contracted into it, she asked cautiously, “The border… is the fighting still intense there?”

“The war is fierce, but you don’t need to worry—the enemy is a bunch of reptiles stuck in the wasteland. They can’t reach the Holy Spirit Plains,” Beltira replied offhandedly, her tone dripping with undisguised disdain. Then, looking at Belna, her expression unreadable but her voice softening slightly, she added, “As for you, your body has just completed its final growth stage. You need to rest well to let your nervous system adapt. Go back to your room, or you can log into the neural network and hang out with your friends…”

“I can’t sleep. I feel full of energy…” Belna murmured, a hint of frustration in her voice. “And the neural network is flooded with news from the southern battlefield. All my friends are talking about the same things…”

The young golden-haired elf hesitated for a moment, as if weighing her words, then finally spoke, “I heard things aren’t going well in the Silver Empire? It seems we’ve lost contact with the south. The Silver Empire is isolated, and even… even the Star Sanctuary fell from the sky…”

“Some people just love to exaggerate in the neural network. The farther away, the wilder the rumors,” Beltira snapped, the flowering vines beneath her feet trembling in response. “The Star Sanctuary only made an emergency landing on the surface to seal a breach in the barrier. The Silver Elves’ Millennium Legion and the Highland Kingdom’s Ranger Corps have already stabilized the front. And we’re not completely cut off from the south—only the magical network communications are temporarily down. We still have messengers traveling through the Shadow Realm and backup channels via the Typhon Empire. The situation isn’t nearly as dire as you think…”

“Emergency landing…” Belna recalled the faint, yellowed memories in her mind—distant, as if belonging to another life. Yet in these recent days since her ‘awakening,’ they had been resurfacing, becoming clearer within this body crafted through cutting-edge biotech and arcane runes. “Messenger… you mean the mysterious one codenamed ‘Luyouqi’? I heard from friends online that he’s an ancient being the Emperor himself knows…”

“…Something like that,” Beltira said casually, then couldn’t help but ask, “You seem very concerned about the south lately?”

“I…” Belna hesitated, instinctively clutching the hem of her garment. “I want to go back… to the Silver Empire… Since the messenger can get through, maybe…”

“Belna,” Beltira interrupted before she could finish, her gaze fixed on the young elf who had only recently ‘come into being’ from a biological standpoint. Her tone was complex. “I did promise to send you home, but… none of us expected this war to break out so soon or to be this brutal. Now is not the right time. The entire continent is engulfed in flames, and your body…”

She glanced again at the runes exposed on Belna’s skin.

The intricate druidic runes and divine inversion arrays inscribed on her body maintained the stability of this form. Within her circulatory system, intertwined with veins, flowed a complex alchemical bio-liquid. Multiple layers of protection shielded her nervous system, with backup organs and internally armored bones. This seemingly fragile body was actually the pinnacle of the Cecil Empire’s biotech, a creation born from the great Solin Tree—more miraculous than any synthetic brain. All of it was designed to bring back an elf who had died many years ago and allow her to survive steadily in the outside world.

“Though I’ve used technology to let you move outside the incubation pod, and the tests so far have been promising, your final growth stage just completed. You still need more trials,” Beltira said patiently. “At Solin Tree, I can handle any problems immediately. But if you go south, I won’t be able to watch over you. Who in the Silver Empire can repair your body if something goes wrong?”

Belna looked steadily at the former Dark Priest before her. After a moment, she suddenly smiled.

She was still the little elf Belna, but no longer the naive girl she once was. She knew Beltira’s past, the dark cult of all things doomed, and everything that had happened to her own body. And because of that, looking at this ‘Dark Priest’ now felt especially… incredible.

But the little elf’s resolve was firm.

“I know my body’s condition—Beltira sister, don’t forget you shared your knowledge with me. I understand how this body works,” the petite golden-haired elf said calmly but resolutely. “I know the south is dangerous, but that’s exactly why I have to go back. I’ve been away from home too long. Maybe some people I see this time, I won’t see again… And you don’t have to worry about this body breaking down. The Silver Empire has many excellent druids, and I can handle emergencies myself. Even if something really happens, the messenger can still get me back here in time.”

“That messenger… well, maybe,” Beltira said with a hint of helplessness. Her mind—and many auxiliary processors—worked rapidly. Realizing that this long-absent Silver Elf had made up her mind, she began considering the feasibility of the plan. If she couldn’t dissuade her, the only option was to keep things under control.

After some thought, she finally lifted her eyelids and sighed at Belna. “Alright, since you’re determined, I won’t stop you. But don’t get too excited just yet. We need to plan this carefully. I can’t let you recklessly rush to the south—you’ve already paid a price for recklessness. Also, I need to discuss this with Brother Gawain. That messenger…”

She paused, and even her otherwise expressionless synthetic face twitched slightly at the corner of her mouth. “He’s not an ordinary being. I hope you won’t be too shocked when you meet him.”

…

The wind, heavy with the scent of smoke and gunpowder, swept across the scorched remains of the old frontline. Coarse dust whipped through the air, slapping against the shattered earth and the towering walls of the border fortress. Flags snapped in the wind, their edges singed and curling from fire and magic, brushing against Belsethia’s pale golden hair. From the distant forest came faint whispers carried on the breeze.

Belsethia gazed down at the land in silence. Only faint ripples of magic pulsed around her, showing she was listening to the “voices” carried from afar.

Beside the ruler of the Silver Empire stood a tall, armored middle-aged man with short black hair and a dark red eyepatch covering one eye. Together, they overlooked the scorched earth and the “mountain range” sprawling low on the horizon. After a long silence, the man finally spoke.

“Our attempt to retake the Blue Rock Hills failed. The warriors have temporarily withdrawn to the defensive line. The monsters deployed more forces there than we expected, and they seem intent on turning it into a long-term stronghold.”

“I’ve heard the news carried on the wind. The Guardian Ancient Tree and the Millennium Legion are moving to reinforce, Your Majesty,” Belsethia said gravely. “Our front now holds from the Blue Rock Hills to the forest barrier… As more Millennium Warriors cross the Homecoming Bridge, the monsters emerging from the wasteland are also increasing their numbers.”

“…The most critical moment has passed, but we’re still far from true dawn, Your Majesty,” Odrys, King of the Highland Kingdom, squinted his remaining eye against the wind. “The northern part of the forest barrier has fallen in several areas, now turned to wasteland. We’ve had to divert significant forces to deal with the mutants growing out of the air and to purify the spreading corruption in the forest. The front is stretched too thin; our warriors are exhausted, but the monsters fear no death. If this stalemate continues, we will fall behind again.”

Belsethia was silent for a few seconds before speaking in a low voice, “But we cannot retreat an inch… You know the reports from the north. The monsters’ true goal in attacking the civilized world is likely to plant ‘control nodes’ at specific locations that can dominate the planet’s entire magical system. This stalemate is difficult, but it’s a necessary phase. We must endure it.”

“…On the day the Star Sanctum fell, you didn’t abandon the Kingdom of Gaoling. Then Gaoling would never betray the Alliance. But I have to say… if we can’t find a way to break this deadlock, this war is going to get a lot harder,” Audris sighed. “Our scouts recently spotted signs of aberrant creatures moving along the northwest border. It seems some of the monsters that were supposed to attack the western front are now heading our way. The numbers aren’t large yet, but that’s definitely not a good sign.”

Before he could finish, hurried footsteps echoed from the nearby city wall. Belsethia turned her head and saw a young man with short black hair, dressed in military uniform and carrying a longsword at his waist, striding quickly toward them. It was Lorin, the only son of King Audris of Gaoling, who had just come of age not long ago.

“Why the rush?” Audris frowned immediately, his tone sharp as he asked.

“Greta Fortress is under attack,” Lorin said rapidly. “The enemy is coming from the Shadow Gate direction…”

“Again? Those damn bastards never quit, do they?!” Audris swore loudly, his hair standing on end. Without wasting a moment, he strode swiftly toward the other side of the wall, glancing back at Belsethia as he hurriedly said, “I need to meet with the generals. Things at Greta Fortress have been looking grim lately—Your Majesty, like I said, if we don’t find a way to turn this around soon, this war will truly become unwinnable!”

The tall king and his young heir quickly disappeared along the ramparts. Belsethia’s gaze returned to the direction of the forest barrier. Thanks to the unique perception of the Silver Elves, she could see not only the scarred land but also the other forces permeating the soil and trees—the struggling life forces, the ever-spreading chaos energy. The “memories” left by mortals in the earth were being devoured by darkness. Civilization was fading, already retreating to the very edge of this fortress. Yet here it stubbornly held, supported by the fierce will of countless mortals. This boundary line was locked in a stalemate with the dark forces advancing from the wasteland, a relentless tug-of-war of mutual consumption and shifting tides.

…

At the same time, on the northern front of the Gondor Wasteland, Findel Wilde, clad in full battle gear, was driving a magi-tech armored vehicle across the vast, barren plains between the forward camps.

The biting wind whipped frozen shards of ice and snow against the vehicle’s door. The howling gusts kept nerves taut and alert. The distant mountains blurred under the harsh weather, but shafts of bright blue light pierced through the snowstorm—glowing beacons emitted by the purification devices. In this brutal weather, they served as perfect guides for the way forward.

A soldier’s voice came from behind: “Sir, want me to take over? You’ve been driving for quite a while.”

“No need—we’re passing through a purification gap. It’s best not to stop now.” Findel didn’t look back as he replied. Then he glanced down at the mission briefing beside him:

Mission: Proceed to the newly established frontline laboratory to assist the lab chief in setting up the magi-net communication system.

Mission note: Maintain calm and courteous demeanor.

(End of chapter)