Chapter 765: The Unknown Existence
"Annihilate them!"
"Let these rebels become the perfect sacrificial offering!"
Seron spread his monstrous spider limbs behind him, roaring with a voice like cracking stone. His skin split further, fissures spreading like shattered porcelain. From the cracks seeped a thick, suffocating Black Mist. His flesh quivered violently, veins bulging beneath the surface as if countless serpents and insects writhed within, transforming his very body.
A deep, oppressive growl rumbled from his throat:
"Remember—our great Mother God sees all futures. Every pain, every sorrow, every death... is woven by His eight arms into fate!"
Seron howled in agony, raising his arm high toward the crimson Blood Moon hanging in the sky. Behind him, a dozen Elf Elders chanted in low, mournful tones, their voices mingling with the guttural shrieks of spider-beasts, forming a grotesque symphony.
Red light flooded the earth. A cruel, mocking feminine laughter echoed in every ear. An indescribable power pulsed through the air, warping reality itself.
"Stop them at all costs!"
Seron roared.
One by one, the giant cocoons suspended from the Sacred Tree burst open, spilling forth a foul, viscous mucus. From them poured forth thousands of Spiderified Elves—once the noblest of the Silver Moon Elves, offspring of the great Elder houses.
Now, their eyes were vacant, pupils dull. Like walking corpses, they charged toward the Allied Forces soldiers. Around them surged a tide of monsters—Sword Spiders, Phase Spiders, Demon Spiders—ravenous, relentless.
"For Justice!"
A thunderous roar split the sky as a massive golden figure swooped down from above. Flames rained like divine punishment, igniting a blazing inferno.
But the dozen Spiderified Elf Sorcerers riding atop the giant Abomination Spider raised their wands in unison. A regiment of thick, silken threads lashed out, forming a vast net that spanned the heavens. It caught the Gold Dragon mid-flight, trapping him in place.
Titus unleashed a torrent of dragonfire from his maw, seeking to burn through the web—but the threads shimmered with a faint red glow. They repelled the flames, immune to heat.
Hundreds of spider monsters climbed the web, swarming over the Gold Dragon’s body. They tore, gnawed, and drove their venomous spines into the gaps between his scales.
Yet the Ancient Gold Dragon’s strength was beyond measure. Even his mere thrashing sent shockwaves through the battlefield, crushing countless spiders beneath his might, scattering broken limbs across the earth.
"Rush to support Titus, Lord!"
A dozen Celestial Warriors beat their wings, eager to intervene—but were met by the Evil Dragon Legion in midair, locked in a grueling, brutal clash.
Far below, Mellisandra drew her longbow taut, her arrow wrapped in a spiraling hurricane of wind. Power coiled within the shaft, building to a breaking point.
“Swoosh—”
The arrow tore through the air with a shriek, its magic carving a wind blade over ten meters long. It sliced above Titus, instantly cutting down hundreds of spiders, severing the silk strands, and tearing a massive hole in the web—giving the Ancient Gold Dragon a chance to break free.
"Crafty villain!" Titus bellowed. His back muscles rippled beneath his hide as he spread his wings wide, violently tearing free from the web. He soared hundreds of meters into the sky.
In his claw, a golden scepter materialized. He pointed its tip downward, and a colossal beam of light erupted from it, blasting into the ground with apocalyptic force. Thousands of spider monsters were obliterated in an instant.
Using the shockwave as cover, Ria led her Silver Moon Followers deep into the enemy’s heart, like a dagger piercing their defensive line. She slaughtered over a hundred Spiderified Elves in rapid succession.
Dwarf Cavalry, Human Rangers, and the Celestial Legion surged behind them, crashing through the ranks and advancing toward the sacred tree.
Catherine’s eyes flashed with light. Her voice was cold, sharp:
"My people, allies—victory is within reach. The Spirit Saint Tree lies before us!"
"Attack with all your might! Rip apart their lies and malice! Let the silver moonlight return to this world!"
The Elven Queen raised her scepter. Silver light erupted, bathing the area in sacred radiance. In its glow, the spider monsters shrieked in terror, panic-stricken.
From above, another Spiderified Elf Spellcaster raised his wand. Acid, poison mist, and bloodlight lashed toward the advancing Silver Moon Elves—each spell capable of ending a mortal life with ease.
But Ria stood firm, sword in hand, a sacred aura shielding her. Behind her, Mellisandra unleashed a volley of arrows. The spellcasters’ heads exploded instantly.
The Ancient Gold Dragon burned a path with fire. Human Rangers picked off spellcasters with precision arrows. The Half-Elf Holy Knight slashed through every obstacle with his silver blade.
Under the combined might of these three Legendary beings, the road to the Sacred Tree was cleared in mere moments—leaving behind a battlefield littered with blood, corpses, and wreckage.
"Attack!"
"Victory is within grasp! If we erase the root of this magic, Serrynia can return to peace!"
Ria stared at the wide path, veiled beneath the sacred tree’s leaves. The branches on either side were twisted, distorted—no longer the graceful limbs of a divine tree, but grotesque, writhing tendrils.
Once, this road had been known as the Sacred Path, the Glorious Silver Moon Road—the sacred route every Serrynian Elf must walk to receive divine favor.
As a Half-Elf, with human blood in her veins, she had never been allowed to tread it. She had been called a “mongrel,” a “polluter of bloodlines.”
Now, this sacred path was drenched in blood-red. Corpses of Spiderified Elves littered the ground. The Sacred Tree itself was poisoned by evil power, its form utterly alien to the memory of her childhood.
Was she even truly a Serrynian?
As Ria stood frozen in thought, Catherine stepped forward. Her voice was gentle—but unwavering.
"Come, Ria. Let us end this tragedy together."
"A thousand years have passed. Serrynia deserves to return to its former glory."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Ria looked up. Her gaze met the Elven Queen’s serene face, her silver eyes glowing with quiet strength. She nodded firmly.
They reached the massive trunk of the Sacred Tree. Only a single ancient wooden gate remained—once the gateway to divine sanctity.
In the past, the gate had stood noble and majestic, its surface etched with wise, ancient Tree Giant faces. It judged the soul of every visitor—only the pure-hearted could pass.
Now, it was cracked, jagged spines jutting from its edges like fangs. Its gaping maw resembled a monstrous, blood-filled mouth, its crimson lips curled into a twisted grin. The cracks oozed deep blackness, as if it were seconds from devouring all who stood before it.
"Who dares approach?"
A voice, hoarse and dripping from the abyss, echoed from within.
The Sacred Tree’s surface rippled. A face emerged—distorted, mad, eyes blazing with madness. It stared at the Elves with a feral grin.
"Do you bring... a sacrificial offering?"
"This... is the Sacred Tree?"
"Is this the holy gate?"
The Silver Moon Elves trembled, their faith crumbling before their eyes.
Catherine stepped forward without fear. Her eyes held sorrow—but her voice remained cold.
"What do you require?"
"Blood. Fresh blood. One thousand Silver Moon Elves. I shall let you pass."
The gate’s eyes glowed with hunger, locked onto the Elves as if they were prey.
"You must pay a price."
Under its gaze, the Elves felt a chill that seeped into their bones. The once wise Elder of the tree had been corrupted by evil power—twisted into a greedy, bloodthirsty monster.
"Then so be it," Catherine said, her voice like frozen ice.
"Then I shall not honor our past."
A gasp tore from the gate.
"What? I am the Sacred Tree—"
Swish.
Catherine bit her finger, letting her royal blood drip onto the scepter’s tip. She raised it high.
A blinding silver light erupted, lancing toward the gate. The monster shrieked in agony—but the light purified it.
The ancient wooden gate groaned, then creaked open.
The interior of the Sacred Tree was revealed.
"Shahanini above..."
Even Catherine gasped.
"Gods..."
"Impossible!"
The tree was hollowed out. Corrosion marred every surface. Twisted, fleshy branches like limbs protruded from the walls. Thick spiderwebs draped everywhere, strung with countless giant cocoons—tens of thousands at least.
Spiders scurried through crimson silk, carrying blood and limbs of Silver Moon Elves.
The tree now resembled a towering corpse, a hundred meters tall. The crimson silk were its veins. The spiders, its blood. The remains of the Elves, its army’s sustenance.
This was the Enthel Palace—the sacred ground where the ancient Elven kings swore oaths to the gods, where Serrynia was born.
And now, it was this.
"Desecration..."
"Utter desecration."
Catherine’s voice trembled—not from fear, but from fury. The sight was too vile, too evil.
At that moment, the Arcane Hermit Order Mage lifted his head, his gaze solemn.
"Your Majesty," he said, voice low, "I believe I have found the anchor point."
All eyes turned to where his wand pointed.
At the center of the crimson silk vortex, suspended like a living relic, hung a female Elf.
She wore a pale gold crown. Her silver hair cascaded like flowing water. Veins traced beneath her pale skin. Her upper body curled inward, wrapped in silken threads like a newborn infant—radiating an eerie purity.
But her lower half was a monstrous spider form—eight spined legs folded tightly, forming a throne of obsidian thorns.
A Spiderified Elf.
A sleeping one—sealed for a thousand years.
Yet, when the faces were seen clearly, every being present—Elf, Dwarf, Human—stiffened in horror.
For the sleeping Elf bore an uncanny resemblance to Catherine. Eighty percent likeness. The same silver hair, the same crown, the same bloodline resonance.
Catherine stared, breath caught in her throat.
"Shahanini above... such a face, silver hair, the ancient crown... the bloodline... Could she be..."
A dry, mocking laugh echoed from the tree’s crown.
"Ah, you’ve guessed it, Catherine."
Seron stood atop the tree, scepter raised. He laughed wildly.
"She is the one you call the fallen tyrant of Serrynia—the one you exiled. She is your grandmother. Fariti, the Moonwalker."
Catherine’s fury erupted. Her brows snapped together.
"How dare you insult her corpse!"
Seron’s face twisted with madness.
"No insult—this is honor. She will become the vessel of the Octo-Armed Mother Goddess. The living avatar of the Fate Weaver!"
He shook his head, feigning sorrow.
"You could have shared this glory. But you... were too ignorant. Too blind."
"Honor? To let your body be the throne of a dark deity? Is this what you call honor?!"
Catherine spat.
"She would never have believed you’d do such a cruel, insane thing!"
But Seron paid no mind. He raised his scepter, spreading his eight monstrous limbs wide.
"Come! Witness this sacred moment!"
Before he could finish, the crown of the Sacred Tree split open like a monster’s maw, revealing the crimson Blood Moon above.
Only now, under the full weight of the moon’s power, could the Dark Deity’s will reach the Material Plane—perfect for the ritual.
The Elf Elders slashed the throats of captured Silver Moon Elves with spider-like claws, letting their blood flow.
"Blood sacrifice to the Mother Goddess!"
"Praise the great Weaver of Chaos!"
As the incantations rose, warm blood poured into eight prepared fire basins—crafted from carnelian, obsidian, and other sacred dark materials. Each basin burned with oil, coal, and incense, symbolizing the eight arms of the Mother Goddess.
Hiss-hiss!
The blood touched the flames—immediately igniting with unnatural, crimson fire, glowing in eerie harmony with the moonlight.
Within the tree, the eight-armed worshippers of the Mother Goddess choked each other, using dagger spines to stab into their own hearts—engaging in a brutal, self-inflicted battle.
Under the crimson moonlight, they danced like madmen—each step a sacrifice, each breath a death.
Catherine clutched her head. Her soul felt like it was being torn apart. Yet she forced her voice out:
"Stop him! Now!"
"Your Majesty, I—"
But the aura of terror was overwhelming. Mortals collapsed unconscious. Even the Legendary Holy Knight could barely move, clinging to consciousness by sheer will.
And the one who could truly break the ritual—Titus, or Kai Xiusu—played along, pretending to be affected, watching the scene coldly.
Interesting...
In the original timeline, even without the Ancient Gold Dragon’s intervention, Catherine had won—but at a far greater cost.
Now, Kai Xiusu suspected the Goddess of the Silver Moon might descend herself—coming face to face with Ross in the material realm.
(End of Chapter)
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