A thunderous roar shook the world. Schwarzwald, the largest and most ancient expanse of woodland on the continent, was nothing short of hell on the Mortal Realm. The once-proud and timeless forest now lay half-devoured by flames. These weren’t ordinary fires but the pure hellfire spat out by the hellfire’s vessel from Hell. Had it not been for the Wind Spirit King’s intervention, not a single tree would have survived the inferno’s ravenous hunger.
At the heart of the ruined forest stood the elves’ sacred ground, Elfo Sagrado—a place that, until mere hours ago, had basked in tranquility for centuries. Now it was transformed, unrecognizable, from the holy refuge of the elves into the front lines of a war against hell itself.
All around, the air shook with monstrous roars. Demonic beasts swarmed toward the sacred ground’s heart, their screams a cacophony of hunger and hatred. The elves fought desperately to repel them, their arrows, spells, and blades forming a silver web in the darkness.
Many among the elves were no ordinary warriors. There were Transcendents here—those whose names were legend among their people, whose power could tip the scales of war in any ordinary age. Yet today, even the strongest elves found themselves struggling. These monsters were different. Their flesh was tougher, their hunger for destruction bottomless. What would have been a defining clash in any other land now amounted to nothing more than a frenzied skirmish on the margins of something far greater.
Above it all, three colossal Quiklon fortresses—dark, floating citadels the size of castles—hovered ominously. Each one radiated an unnatural chill, its hull made not of stone or steel but the essence of shadow itself. From these bastions, waves of darkness rained down like meteor showers, each streak of power strong enough to incinerate a city wall or obliterate a magical fortress.
One after another, these torrents fell—dozens at a time, their combined impact enough to shake the continent’s bones.
However, not a single one reached its target.
All the darkness, all the fury, was turned aside by the ever-churning winds. Karin, Queen of the High Elves, stood at the eye of the storm, her presence both serene and terrifying. Each spell she wove twisted the wind into a living shield, scattering the attacks as if they were nothing more than summer rain.
The demons pressed on. They tried everything—blasts that curved, twisted, and ricocheted, arcs of shadow that snaked around in complex patterns to strike at the sacred ground’s weak points. They poured their essence into attack after attack, determined to punch a hole in the defense.
If any one of those blows landed, it would have meant disaster. The sacred ground itself would have been torn apart, the World Tree within forever tainted. Yet Karin was unimpressed.
“Such petty tricks,” she muttered, her voice like a cold wind. She stamped her foot, and the ground itself seemed to answer.
With a sudden rush, the air spun outward in all directions. The displaced wind gathered, swirling faster and faster, encircling the sacred ground like an invisible serpent. The pressure built until, all at once, the spinning air burst outward, forming a titanic cyclone that encased the entire heart of elven civilization.
The darkness came again, arcs of shadow twisting and writhing as they sought to breach the new barrier. Each one, no matter how cunning its path, was devoured by the swirling gale—snuffed out in an instant. The power Karin wielded was so overwhelming that the demons themselves fell silent, momentarily bereft of words.
“What in the...?” One finally managed to gasp.
“Perish,” Karin said coldly.
She raised her arms, and the cyclone’s edge formed into countless lances of wind—each sharp enough to pierce mountains, each swirling with lethal intent. In a flash, the lances shot forth, targeting the Quiklon fortresses overhead.
Abaddon, the Demon of Destruction, gathered darkness in response. The Quiklon fortresses, more than mere floating castles, were engines of demonic power, amplifying the strength and defense of the demons within. With the combined might of fortress and demon, Abaddon conjured a wall of shadow, thick and impenetrable.
Yet the moment the first wind lance struck, the barrier began to crack. Spiderwebs of force spread. After a couple more attacks, the barrier shattered and the darkness crumbled.
Panic laced Stheno and Bael’s voices. They threw their own power forward, twisting the wind with magic and brute force, fighting to stop the assault. Only by pooling all three demons’ might did they manage to fend off Karin’s onslaught—but even then, they barely succeeded.
Karin clicked her tongue, a hint of disdain in her eyes. “Who knew demons could be so cooperative?”
“This doesn’t make sense...,” Bael muttered, laughing hollowly.
The situation had shifted. The demons, supposedly all-powerful, were on the back foot. Even with the Spirit King bound in battle against the hellfire’s vessel, even with their fortresses and monsters, they couldn’t break through Karin’s defense. It should have been impossible.
However, Karin was not fighting alone—behind her stood the World Tree, the sacred ground, and the hopes of her people. She fought not only for herself but for the heart of the elves’ existence. Not a sliver of malice could be allowed to touch the sacred tree; Karin had to split her focus, defending both the physical battlefield and the spiritual core of her world.
Meanwhile, the demons were unburdened. Their powers were undiminished, their fortresses at their command. It should have been no contest, as it was like three fully armed knights fighting against a single warrior, both hands tied.
Yet, the demons were being driven back. If they didn’t split Karin’s focus with the battle, or if they didn’t have the airborne fortresses, they would have lost even before the battle.
“So, this is the power of a Hero...,” Bael muttered.
“Even with the Spirit King locked down, we still can’t break through? This is getting ridiculous.” Stheno grumbled, not bothering to hide the frustration.
Quiklon fortresses were supposed to be the ultimate weapons—siege engines in the sky, amplifying demonic power. However, demons had their own strength, their own authority. Stheno was the Demon of Whirl; his ability was to twist and distort energy. The fortress, as a platform for brute force, did not suit him.
“Wasn’t Lubitra supposed to be here? Why am I even needed?” Stheno asked the other demons.
“He would have come, but—Lubitra was badly wounded, still recovering. No strength left,” Abaddon answered.
“He lost to that barbarian, right? What is this world coming to?”
“Would you stop whining and fight already!” Bael shouted.
At Bael’s shout, the demons rallied. However, despite everything, none of them truly believed victory was possible. They could feel it: at this rate, they would be whittled away, beaten down slowly but surely.
“Damn it. This is humiliating,” Bael muttered.
“She’s a Hero. Unless those with true rank intervene, there’s no way to defeat her. Besides, we didn’t come to win by force.”
“That’s right.” Bael agreed with Abaddon. The goal wasn’t to defeat Karin outright—it was to keep her attention occupied.
Bael muttered, almost to itself, “Just hurry up and get it done already...”
Another thunderous explosion shook the sacred ground’s outer rim. The battle raged on. The elves fought with every ounce of strength, and the demons struggled desperately to block Karin’s attacks. The balance hadn’t shifted—if anything, Karin was steadily gaining ground.
Yet, the queen frowned, her instincts prickling. Something’s wrong.
The combined strength of three of the highest-ranked Transcendent demons, the Quiklon fortresses, and the hellfire avatar itself was a force strong enough to topple kingdoms, strong enough to make the world tremble.
However, it wasn’t enough. Even with the Spirit King bound, they couldn’t break through, and the demons had to know it.
So why weren’t they escalating? Why were they holding back, as if stalling for time? What was their true objective? Karin wondered. She couldn’t figure it out. The gateway to Hell had shrunk—now only large enough to allow a few monsters through at a time. There was no way that alone could overturn the battle.
She shook her head. If she couldn’t guess the enemy’s plan, then she would focus on the simple task before her: destroy the enemies in front of her. Her eyes grew cold, resolute. The wind screamed as it gathered around her, the storm intensifying until even the demons found it difficult to breathe.
She raised a hand to the sky. “Come, winds from above the clouds. Savage gale at the edge of existence.”
The air responded—a power that did not belong to this world. A wind capable of rending the earth, of shredding all that stood before it, descended at her command.
The sacred ground trembled. Hundreds of vortices spun into being, swirling, snapping, tearing through the battlefield. Yet, not a single tree in the ancient forest was harmed. Every last bit of force was concentrated on the demons—her true enemies.
It wasn’t exaggeration, nor metaphor: every wind in this world, at that moment, danced to Karin’s will.
Bael screamed, terror overwhelming even his demonic pride. “This is madness!”
The demons abandoned all offense, pouring their strength into desperate defense. The Quiklon fortresses shifted, barriers thickening. However, their defenses crumbled almost as soon as they formed. The winds Karin summoned shook the very world, breaking apart even the mighty fortresses of hell.
In seconds, the Quiklon fortresses began to collapse, chunks of infernal rock falling like hail. The demons’ faces went white. It was only then that they realized the truth. They’d never actually stopped Karin’s attacks. She had simply been holding back, wary of what the demons were truly plotting.
Now, she gathered the wind for a single, fatal blow. “Surrender.”
With that command, the fortresses stilled, the demons’ bodies frozen as if time itself had stopped. They couldn’t move, couldn’t even blink. They were completely, utterly trapped.
Impossible! Even for a Hero—how can she subdue all three of us so easily? Bael thought.
However, Karin seemed almost bored. She gathered her magic, wind converging around her hands.
“Die,” she said softly.
Just as she unleashed her final attack, about to obliterate the Quiklon fortresses, a new force rippled outward from deep within the sacred ground. It was a wave of pure, malignant magic—demonic energy, emanating from the sacred ground’s very core.
“What...?!” Karin’s eyes went wide. How had demonic power gotten inside?
Distracted, she faltered, and the demons—freed at last—gasped in relief.
“How did this happen?” she demanded. She had surrounded the sacred ground with a hurricane, a defense so perfect not even the Quiklons’ full might could break it. Nothing should have slipped through her notice. Yet, a demon had made it inside.
The demons laughed, taunting her.
“We have a rat among us—a demon that can hide from even a Hero. We weren’t sure if it would work, but distracting you was worth the effort.”
There were three Transcendent named demons, the Quiklon fortresses, and the hellfire vessel. Together, they could shake the world, but even that was not enough to defeat a true Hero.
However, Hell knew that. Their real target was not Karin’s life. It was something far more insidious.
A demon with a name—Bruno, the Demon of Shadows—had committed countless sins across the mortal world. He had corrupted churches, toppled kingdoms, and dragged people into ruin, all without ever revealing his face. Not even the highest ranks of the dark mages knew of his existence. Hell had saved its trump card for this very moment.
“Damn it!” Karin shouted.
In that instant, she realized that while she had been fighting at the sacred grounds edge, the true threat had slipped past her notice, infiltrating the heart of elven civilization. The attack from outside had been a ruse, a feint to draw her focus.
She turned, intent on returning to the sacred ground’s center, but the demons seized the opportunity. Countless streaks of darkness rained down, forcing her to defend.
“It’s too late. You’ve already lost,” Abaddon sneered.
“The World Tree will be defiled. The connection between the Mortal Realm and the spirits will be severed. You will lose your power. All of this is for the descent of the Great One.”
Karin couldn’t argue. She could already feel the taint spreading. She was too late. “No! I... I failed to protect the World Tree! How could I make such a terrible mistake?!”
“What’s wrong?” a familiar voice asked, calm amidst the chaos.
“I failed the World Tree! I let evil invade!” Karin choked out, overwhelmed by guilt.
“That’s unfortunate. But it’s alright. I took care of it.”
Only then did Karin realize—Ketal was standing at her side, a gentle smile on his face.
“It’s good to see you again,” he said, as if nothing was amiss.
“Y-you’re back?” Thɪs chapter is updated by novel(ꜰ)ire.net
“I just returned. Actually, could I ask a favor?”
“I’d appreciate it if you could deal with this one.”
Karin looked where Ketal indicated and saw the head of a man of unremarkable appearance clutched in Ketal’s iron grip.
“L-let me go, you bastard!” the head shouted.
Karin studied the head—and immediately sensed the concentrated demonic aura emanating from him.
“Ketal, who is this demon?”
“When I got back, I found him up to no good at the World Tree. With everything going on, I couldn’t let him be. I caught him right away,” Ketal said, visibly pleased.
Karin stared at him, lost for words, unable to decide if she was relieved, grateful, or simply stunned.