Chapter 306: Communication and Exposure

Static crackled through the magical communication device, but Belna paid it no mind. She smiled patiently and waited a few seconds before a hoarse, low voice—like dry branches scraping together—came through the device:

“The wasteland today is as dull as any other day before—High Priestess Beltira, why are you suddenly reaching out through the Shadow Bridge?”

“I want to confirm the situation at the outpost,” Beltira said calmly, though she was using the alias Belna. In truth, she was a mid-level leader of the cult. “You should already know that those blind monsters have launched simultaneous attacks on the borders of Typhon and Ansu.”

“…The ‘this side’ of the Wall remains under control. Any incidents beyond the Wall are none of our concern, High Priestess.”

Beltira snorted lightly, clearly displeased with the response. “There have been reports of mutated beings among the aberrations—creatures with rudimentary intelligence and powerful spellcasting abilities. Why was none of this mentioned in previous reports?”

Silence fell on the other end of the line, then the crackling resumed. “…We have not observed any such mutations as you describe.”

Beltira’s finely arched brows furrowed deeper. This answer was even less satisfactory. “Do you think I would fabricate such a thing? Even humans outside the Wall have witnessed these new mutated monsters. Are you truly unaware?”

“High Priestess Beltira, do not question the loyalty of the ‘Sacrificers.’ We do not know what these mutations you speak of are, but we will investigate. If your claims are true, it only means these creatures are undergoing unprecedented mutations. In the face of such changes, patience and waiting for the investigation’s results is the wisest course.”

“I will wait,” Beltira said, her expression cold and rigid, “but my patience is running thin.”

“Patience, patience—we have waited seven hundred years. Nothing can derail our plans now…”

The noise and voices on the device gradually faded. Beltira knew the Shadow Bridge’s effect was nearing its limit; the illegal signal would soon be detected by the Silver Empire’s mages. Before the connection cut off completely, she hurriedly added, “The elves will soon notice the stirrings at the Grant Wall. We will reset the channel and switch to Plan B…”

Above, the sky was choked with filthy, swamp-like clouds. Chaotic magical energy churned within them, spawning endless lightning. The howling wind carried poisonous gases and radioactive dust. Life withered and twisted in this lethal environment. Even the earth itself—the foundation of all things—had been scorched and scarred by corrosive magic, turning into a barren wasteland. This was a place where life had been extinguished.

Yet some “things” still moved within this lifeless land.

In the Gondor Wasteland, within the scorched zone of magical energy, a “forest” was slowly crawling forward.

Its black, twisted branches grew wildly in the corrupted magic. Sparse, disordered gray-white leaves clung to the limbs, while pale or blood-red crystalline growths pierced the bark like grotesque inlays. No scholar could identify these “trees” by species or name. Even in the most bizarre and fantastical depictions of the Black Forest, none would portray such grotesque forms—especially since these trees swayed their branches and moved across the ground on countless writhing roots, as if alive.

Countless such “trees” slithered across the wasteland. Their roots twisted and coiled like tangled serpents, constantly expanding, contracting, and writhing. Occasionally, a tree would slow its crawl, plunging some roots briefly into the corrupted soil to absorb the last remaining nutrients. Yet their march never ceased, as if their sole purpose was to traverse this desolate land endlessly.

At the heart of this crawling forest stood an enormous, ancient monstrosity, moving slowly amid its companions. Its bark was wrinkled and pocked, folding into a grotesque pattern resembling the face of a wizened old man. This bark-formed visage shifted slightly as a hoarse, deep voice emerged from its cracked mouth: “Do not worry, High Priestess Beltira. Everything is under control…”

After a moment, the old face closed its mouth. Around the giant tree, many smaller crawling trees stirred in unison. Faces appeared on their wrinkled bark, turning toward the forest’s edge as their branches twisted.

Outside the crawling forest, on the scarred wasteland, countless hideous flesh giants moved slowly. A maddening low murmur echoed from each giant’s chest, filling the barren plains.

Among these blindly rampaging flesh giants, a few colossal individuals—two or three times the height of ordinary giants—marched steadily, drawing closer to the crawling forest’s direction.

Every leaf in the crawling forest trembled. Amid the rustling, a faint voice whispered: “Everything is under control…”

Beltira ended the communication and stared steadily at the now-dim magical device.

“Sacrificers…” The female high priestess closed her eyes, a trace of nostalgia and bitterness flickering across her cold, indifferent expression. “Seven hundred years…”

But within seconds, she suppressed all unnecessary emotions. Opening her eyes, they became icy and detached once more. After confirming the Shadow Bridge was safely stored and the device showed no anomalies, she smoothed the wrinkles on her clothes and turned to leave.

Yet her feet seemed rooted to the spot. Though her body had already twisted away, she could not lift a step.

Surprised, she looked down—only to find no roots or vines binding her. It was her own legs and feet holding her fast.

Frowning, Beltira tried to move again. This time, not only did she fail, but her hands instinctively returned to the now-dead magical device.

The high priestess whispered in alarm, “Belna? What are you doing?!”

Her body stiffened, frozen in place. But inside, a profound struggle unfolded. Her face—the pure, beautiful visage of an elf—shifted through a storm of emotions: anger, pain, resolve, despair…

Finally, all expressions faded into cold detachment. Beltira regained control of the body.

Yet a soft sigh escaped her lips.

“Belna… this is your last act of defiance.

“Go. Before I change my mind.”

The elven girl’s body staggered, then slowly approached the magical terminal in the room. She gently traced the smooth alloy surface, then awkwardly placed her hand atop it.

Moments later, the elven runes glowed brightly again. A shimmering projection and voice appeared—a kindly smiling silver elf waving at Belna.

“Windspeaker 1015, greetings, sister on a distant journey.”

The elven girl hesitated but then spoke slowly, breaking the silence: “I am… Belna Lightwind, from… White Stone City.”

“Very well, Miss Belna. How does it feel to travel abroad? Are you contacting family in the Empire? Or reporting what you’ve seen? Or is there a special matter requiring a secure line?”

“I… no, I don’t need to contact family. I have only a few words for Master Thornheart of Moon Valley.”

“Please speak. We will record your message.”

“…Master, I am well out here. Traveling is truly fascinating. This world is so vast—much larger than the forests of my homeland…

“I’ve met many people—humans, elves also traveling, dwarves common in the northern continent, and even a fairy. Fairies are truly interesting—small, but full of spirit…

“Master, I do not regret leaving to see the world, but I also want to see my homeland’s forests again…

“But… I will not return.

“I will stay in the outside world, because of a promise I must fulfill.

“One last thing, Master—please stop gambling… It’s really embarrassing to admit to others…

“That is all, Miss Windspeaker.”

“Understood. Your message has been recorded.” The silver elf smiled as she transcribed Belna’s words, then asked, “Any other messages for anyone else?”

The elven girl was silent for a moment, then shook her head slightly. “No.”

“Very well, sister on a journey—it was a pleasure to speak briefly. I hope we meet again. May the stars and earth always watch over you.”

“May the stars and earth always watch over you. Thank you.”

The runes on the device dimmed. Belna repeated softly, as if to herself, “Thank you.”

Clearly, this was not meant for the now-offline Windspeaker.

The “elven girl’s” body swayed slightly. A cold voice came from her lips: “You need not thank me. We both know this is part of the contract.

“You give your flesh and life force; I fill your regrets.

“I merely seek to better stabilize the ‘fusion’ of your flesh. Besides, I have been monitoring your actions—every word and deed remains bound to me. So there is truly nothing to thank me for.”

The room fell into a long silence. Minutes later, Beltira chuckled softly. “Hah… I never thought I’d be influenced by you…”

She shook her head, her face quickly regaining its usual composure. Then she opened the compartment door and left without hesitation.

She passed through the messenger hall’s security checkpoint with practiced ease, crossed the streets, and exited the elven-built town through another gate.

Soon, she was walking through the coniferous forest outside the valley.

Still in her “Belna” guise, Beltira strolled through the deserted border woods as if wandering her own garden. Unhurried, she walked until reaching a clearing.

She smiled and looked up toward the not-so-distant figure of Solderin, who had already drawn his short bow.

“Sister Sol,” she said softly, “we meet again.”

(End of chapter)