Chapter 704: After the Colossal Beast Falls

When a towering behemoth collapses, death does not necessarily mark the end of everything.

Often, the lingering spark of life survives within the corpse’s lingering warmth, persisting in another form—or rather, continuing on.

Deep within the ancient Gondor Empire, chaotic, dry winds whipped dust and mist across the plains. Above, a turbulent sky churned with murky clouds, twisting like an inverted funnel, casting a gloomy pall over the land. Pulses of crackling energy leapt and danced within the swirling vortex, unleashing arcs of electricity stretching for kilometers and rumbling thunder that rolled endlessly. Beneath this terrifying celestial spectacle lay the shattered ruins of the imperial capital—melted, torn apart, and broken.

The once-great capital had long since been reduced to dust by magical explosions. Now, only sparse, twisted remnants remained to testify to the existence of human civilization. At the heart of the vast plain, a massive impact crater lay dormant. Its inner walls, crystalline and layered, sloped inward toward the center. Jagged, molten formations—unrecognizable in their original shape—were embedded in the walls like grotesque, spiny branches reaching skyward, evoking a desolate and dreadful sight.

Yet even in the depths of such utter devastation, something still lived—

At the bottom of the giant crater, scorched earth bulged upward. Crystalline molten matter had solidified into a conical structure, as if countless prisms had been fused together. From the apex of this crystal spire, a blue flame of magical energy erupted, nearly a thousand meters wide, illuminating the entire pit. This magical blaze shot upward for kilometers, echoing the charged vortex clouds above. Around the “crystal cone,” numerous wandering mana phantoms drifted, restless and flickering.

This terrifying eruption had persisted for seven centuries, showing no sign of abating.

At the base of the crystal cone, a conduit extended from the crystalline prisms, following the curve of the crater wall and gradually merging into the molten crystalline formations embedded there. Within the conduit, streams of flowing light shimmered continuously, as if transporting some mysterious substance. Several dim, confused mana phantoms hovered nearby, instinctively drawn to the pure energy source but unable to siphon power due to the conduit’s protective barrier, growing increasingly agitated.

Suddenly, a bolt of light shot through the cluster of phantoms. The powerful energy within the bolt tore one phantom apart, scattering it into fragments, while a chaotic arc of electricity exploded against the distant crater wall.

In the next instant, all the mana phantoms fled the area at high speed.

Where the bolt had struck, the outer wall of the crystal cone silently parted, revealing a narrow entrance. A tall, statuesque woman clad in the faded uniform of a Gondor imperial mage stood there, expressionless. She watched the dissipating arc cloud not far off, her hand still raised in a casting gesture.

The chaotic wasteland wind swept through the crater’s depths, stirring the silver-gray strands of hair that framed her flawless face. Her skin was immaculate, yet her silver-gray eyes seemed devoid of emotion—cold and mechanical.

She glanced toward the energy conduit for several seconds before slowly lowering her hand. A faint glimmer flickered deep within her eyes.

“Cleanup complete. Harmful entities expelled.

“Energy conduit exterior scan normal. Environmental readings stable.

“Imperial Calendar 2488, Fire Moon, Day 2. Sentinel Unit 4 commencing patrol.”

Her voice was tinged with a mechanical cadence. The tall mage with silver-gray hair lifted her gaze to the distance. A pale blue halo of runes radiated from her waist, and she rose from the ground, flying toward the crater’s rim.

“Alert zone status normal… all energy conduits visually intact… other sentinels observed, no anomalies… crossing outer perimeter of ruins…”

She reported methodically as she swiftly swept over the crater, finally landing smoothly on the corrupted, torn wasteland beyond.

“Arrived at patrol zone outside ruins. Calibrating surveillance systems…” she said, lifting her head to scan the desolate, ruined capital. Centuries of unchanging desolation filled her polymer-enhanced eyes, the optical crystals rendering the scene with crystal clarity.

Her gaze suddenly froze. A towering, grotesque creature—swollen and malformed, as if composed of flowing red sludge—entered her field of vision.

“Threat detected: high arcane resistance unit. Initiating elimination protocol.”

Before the cold, mechanical voice could finish, the mage launched a swift assault. A complex halo of runes materialized behind her, and with a powerful push off the ground, her tall figure blurred into a phantom streak, charging the aberration at near-knightly speed.

The creature noticed the incoming attack and let out a chaotic roar. Polluted magic surged across its body as it raised an arm, quickly forming a ball of black-red corruptive energy. But before it could unleash the destructive blast, the mage was upon it. She raised her arm, and a blade of alloy sprang from her palm, slicing clean through one of the creature’s arms mid-cast. In a flash, the blade spun back and severed the other arm—two strikes, executed with the speed and precision of a master swordsman.

The aberration howled in chaotic fury, twisting to catch the mage’s movements, but before it could complete its turn, another alloy blade sliced through a weak spot on its back.

The giant blood-red monster collapsed with a roar, its filthy blood and sludge rapidly disintegrating. The mage retracted her blades as a cloud of dust and debris from the creature’s death swirled around her.

Suddenly, the dust that should have naturally dispersed froze midair. Another threatening energy signature flickered in her sensors. She raised her arm instantly, attempting to lock onto the new threat’s location. But the lingering dust briefly interfered with her judgment—at that moment, a dry, branch-like vine suddenly burst from the ground nearby, stabbing straight into her back!

A harsh metallic cracking sound rang out as the brittle vine pierced the alloy shell protecting the mage’s back. Her body convulsed violently, then emitted a series of crackling noises and strange mechanical sounds before finally going still.

At the ground where the vine emerged, a rustling sound grew louder. Countless plant structures writhed and crawled from the fragile, corrupted soil, tearing up a large swath of earth. These emerging plants twisted and reformed in a chilling manner, soon coalescing into grotesque, monstrous trees.

One massive tree shook its branches, the twisted, wrinkled faces etched into its bark writhing as it spoke: “It feels good to move freely… We spent seven centuries weaving our root network. Now, it finally serves its purpose.”

Another tree quivered its extending vines—the very ones that had pierced the mage’s back. “Remarkable. These ancient iron men are still operational.”

“Not all cognitive cores have failed,” a third tree rasped hoarsely. “The most advanced iron men protect their cores through temporary hibernation. Look there—Deep Blue Well… The iron men maintain it in their own way. It’s been transformed into a fortress, with subterranean production and maintenance arrays sustaining an entire iron man legion…”

Two other trees shook their branches, the rustling sound like whispered conspiracies. “…It’s truly difficult to take Deep Blue Well directly.”

“So we must spread slowly, take root bit by bit, and… find a way to dismantle the iron men’s defenses.”

The vine that had pierced the mage’s back slowly retracted. Inside the now motionless mage, faint whirring and mechanical grinding sounds echoed. She seemed to be attempting a reboot, but damage to her magical core prevented success.

“Take her with us,” the leading tree ordered, its roots writhing. “The Matrix will soon detect the loss of a sentinel. We must leave before more iron men emerge.”

“Yes, High Priest,” another tree replied respectfully. A rustling chorus of branches spread out, enveloping the locked-down iron man mage. The other trees communicated through their underground root network, and with a surge of vines bursting from surface cracks, all the trees merged with the creeping tendrils and vanished from sight.

Minutes later, several tall sentinels clad in Gondor mage uniforms descended nearby, but the monstrous trees had long since disappeared, leaving only a pile of slowly dissipating ash—the remains of the aberration.

…

Several dozen kilometers from the Deep Blue Well ruins, in a valley where countless twisted yet thriving trees took root, their gnarled branches intertwined and canopies connected. Layers of leaves rustled in the wasteland wind, bringing an eerie semblance of life to this land of extinction.

Around the valley’s entrance, numerous towering aberrations with strange spiked hides prowled like sentinels guarding this strange domain. Deep within the valley, countless vines writhed and emerged from the earth, quickly forming the shapes of several giant trees.

One such tree shifted its roots and approached a platform. Amid the rustling branches and leaves, it placed a “female mage” wrapped in plant matter at the platform’s center.

“Truly unexpected…” came a duet of voices from the nearby “forest.” Two elven sisters strolled out, their expressions admiring as they regarded the “treemen” gathered in the clearing. “Looks like things went smoothly for you?”

“The lone Iron Men aren’t hard to deal with—they’re rigid and predictable,” the treant leader said, turning around. His withered, grotesque face fixed on the elven twins before him. “Now, it’s time for you to prove your worth.”

“Watch your words, ‘High Priest,’” the elven twins replied coolly. “We’re merely cooperating with you, not your subordinates. Without our help, you’d be stuck trying to break through the Iron Men’s defenses for a hundred years.”

“We each have our own needs,” the treant leader—the new High Priest of the End of All Things—said hoarsely. “But if the outside world hadn’t left us beaten and broken, proud twins like you wouldn’t have crawled into this wasteland seeking allies. Now, let’s both drop this pointless pride—only results matter to us.”

The elven twins said no more. They passed the High Priest with icy detachment and approached the stone platform where the Iron Sentinel lay locked in stasis.

This ancient product of Gondorian technology rested silently on the platform—no breath, no heartbeat. Only faint clicks and hums came from within, signs that its self-repair systems were still running, though it was temporarily frozen.

“Good. At least you didn’t damage the cognitive core. Many structures, including the mana nexus, can self-repair, but once the cognitive core is broken, we’re helpless… after all, this is Gondorian tech,” one of the twins remarked casually.

Leilna stepped forward, placing her hand on the “female mage’s” abdomen. Under the glow of magical light, the worn imperial mage’s uniform melted away in a small hole, revealing a similarly melted patch of synthetic skin beneath—and beneath that, a gleaming metallic shell.

Filna’s fingertips traced the edge of the shell, as if slicing through metal with an invisible blade. With all protective spells disabled, the shell opened easily, snapping aside to reveal a delicate pure copper mechanical core and an array of faintly glowing ancient magical devices.

“Such exquisite craftsmanship,” Leilna whispered in awe.

“And just repaired itself at the critical moment,” Filna smiled slightly.

“Now, all that’s needed is a little interference with this unprotected cognitive core…”

The elven twins pressed their fingers onto one of the ancient magical components. A faint arc of electricity sparked, and a strange mechanical grinding noise echoed from within the “female mage.” Her eyes fluttered open, as if waking from a deep sleep.

Leilna and Filna straightened and stepped into the sentinel’s line of sight, looking down at her.

“Hello, soldier.”

“Reset complete. Loading identification database…” The “female mage’s” gaze fixed on Leilna and Filna. After a brief pause, she blinked again. “It’s good to see you, heretics.”

Nearby, the High Priest’s roots and branches stirred gently.

The druid leader, now barely recognizable, croaked hoarsely, “We’ve got the first one.”

Throughout the valley, countless twisted, monstrous trees shook their limbs, rustling loudly.

When a colossal beast falls, death is not the end.

The lingering life force often survives within the corpse’s warmth, living on in another form—or rather, continuing its existence.

(End of chapter)