The Ominous Stirring of Ancient Evil

Deep within the Ancient Zhi Forest, a slumbering evil now stirred restlessly.

Large, human-sized ambush spiders gathered in swarms, weaving their sticky webs as a perimeter around the mausoleum.

Even in broad daylight, the howls of sprinting wolves echoed, one after another.

Winged beasts of all sizes, dark and dense like storm clouds, circled ominously above the thick forest.

Ominous portents were at hand.

A group of over a dozen blue-robed sorcerers stood before the mausoleum, all holding their breath in disgust, wary of the overwhelming stench of beasts assailing their nostrils.

Using a cleansing spell here was clearly an unwise choice, as it might risk angering the mausoleum’s true master.

The leading blue-robed sorcerer, advanced in years, held a metal staff topped with a flat, high head.

His hair was white, and his eyes, though cloudy, held a deep, hidden cunning.

“Revered Southern Sovereign, we have arrived as promised.”

The mausoleum’s entrance was riddled with sealed swords, haphazardly thrust into the ground, resembling a vast sword burial mound. The sword energy emanating from them, undiminished even after centuries, kept the sorcerers at a respectful distance, fearing that another step forward would tear them to shreds by the indiscriminate blades.

After a long silence, a chilling echo resonated from the lightless depths of the mausoleum.

“Blood!”

The voice was ancient and laden with profound resentment, a hatred so palpable it felt almost corporeal. Many sorcerers instinctively cast spells to alleviate the mental and internal shock it inflicted.

“I demand Cavendish’s blood as a sacrifice! Why have you not brought it yet?”

“We have already taken action. Your request will be fulfilled tonight.”

“The sooner, the better! Only their blood can truly atone for my suffering! I will have a hundred beasts gnaw at their bodies, crush their pathetic swords, and devour their souls, condemning them to eternal darkness!”

A more potent shockwave surged forth, causing even the hundreds of swords before the mausoleum to tremble for a moment. Many sorcerers found blood uncontrollably seeping from the corners of their mouths.

“Your Excellency—”

The old sorcerer raised his long-handled staff and struck it against the ground, instantly dissipating the shockwave into nothingness.

“Rest assured. The time for vengeance will soon arrive. You merely need to conserve your strength and await tomorrow’s retribution.”

A heavy silence settled within the mausoleum. The old sorcerer felt the malevolent gaze scrutinizing him from head to toe, knowing that a single misstep could drag him into the abyss.

“I shall await the rising sun tomorrow, for that shall be Cavendish’s end.”

“As you wish.”

The old sorcerer turned, raising his staff, and gestured for the blue-robed figures to depart. Though the demonic beasts outside still bared their fangs and glared menacingly, they inexplicably parted, clearing a path.

Once they had moved beyond the mausoleum’s perimeter, the old sorcerer solemnly whispered.

“Remember our true objective: it is never to offend Cavendish or King Duran. We merely need to wait for them to battle each other to mutual destruction, then seize the most crucial prize.”

“Yes, Honored One.”

“We head north now. Prepare to rendezvous with our people in Lanburg County, and also…”

Before he could finish, an anti-magic arrow streaked from the forest, piercing directly through a sorcerer’s throat.

“You Eastern Continent scoundrels, how dare you covet Auetland? Who gave you such audacity?!”

From behind the dense trees, a group of lightly armored rangers, their quivers strapped to their backs, emerged into view.

“Retreat! It’s the scout army!”

The old sorcerer barked the command, and the other sorcerers instantly reacted, their various defensive spells flaring into vibrant colors.

“It’s useless. Their arrows possess immense penetration power against conventional magic.”

He raised his hand, brandishing his staff, and chanted an ancient incantation.

“[Creatures of the Ancient Zhi Forest, I am the envoy of King Duran! I command you to devour my enemies! I compel you to clear my path!]”

Invisible sound waves rippled outwards from the tip of the old sorcerer’s staff. The entire forest erupted into a frenzy, as countless ferocious demonic beasts lifted their heads, gazed towards the source of the incantation, and converged on the area like a rising tide.

“Captain, that sorcerer is casting a spell! Should we retreat…?”

“No, we can’t go anywhere now.”

He had understood enough of the old sorcerer’s fragmented words to realize a monstrous tide was about to descend upon them.

“It’s already too late.”

For ordinary people, confronting even a single large demonic beast was perilous, let alone facing the wrath of half the forest.

The dozen or so rangers exchanged silent glances, hiding behind trees to evade the sorcerers’ stray magic bullets, all while listening to the steadily approaching roars of the forest’s malevolent creatures.

“Trees! Get to the trees first!”

In moments, the scout team had all scrambled up the towering pine trees, their feet finding precarious purchase on the outstretched branches.

No sooner had they ascended than the wolf-beasts, taller than any adult human, began to scratch furiously at the trunks below, tearing away chunks of gray-brown bark.

“Oh, my heavens, these things are better at tearing things apart than my little brother.”

“Ha, ha, ha. You should steady your trembling legs before you talk.”

“It’s the tree shaking, not my legs. And isn’t your voice trembling too?”

Even while trading banter, they continued to loose arrows at the growing horde of beasts below.

“Damn it, damn it, why are there so many, so many! So many…”

Arrow after arrow buried themselves in the wolf-beasts’ skulls, yet the creatures seemed impervious to pain or fear. More surged forward, pushing and shoving against the pine tree.

With powerful, agile hind legs, they leaped high, extending sharp claws to strip the lower branches bare, forcing the rangers to climb ever higher.

Finally, when a hand reached for the quiver once more, it found only emptiness. Their strained resistance was futile against nature’s surging wrath, and an emotion named ‘despair’ flooded the inner dam of their hearts.

“To hell with these wolf-beasts! I shouldn’t have come here! I don’t want to die!”

“Stop talking. I still feel a sense of unreality. Yesterday, I couldn’t have imagined such a sight. I never thought there would be so many wolves—look, they’re everywhere, all around us. We can’t escape. We don’t have wings like birds to fly away, nor the agility of monkeys to swing through the trees. We’re going to die here.”

“I bet they’ll have this tree toppled in less than ten minutes. I can already hear the roots groaning. Their strength is truly immense.”

“Buddy, I’m genuinely scared. Look how sharp their teeth are, like cleavers on a butcher’s block. If they bite you, it’ll hurt like hell, tearing you apart piece by piece.”

“Well, it’ll be a hassle when they come to find your remains. You’ll be in pieces then.”

“Can you put away your damn hellish jokes? I don’t want to be the protagonist of a hellish joke. You can enjoy your humor by yourself!”

“What else is there to talk about? Should we curse this cursed world, these sorcerers, and these beasts? Or should I just cry and whine that I don’t want to die… I still have so much wine left to drink, so many cigars unsmoked, and I haven’t even married yet.”

“If we’re talking—does our death truly have meaning?”

“Meaning? I can’t see it. So many wolf-beasts, so many… Just imagine, when they all swarm towards Lanburg County, who could possibly stop them? If Ferren were still here, it would be better… No, even the Divine Retribution Knight would likely be helpless. There are too many of them…”

“So our deaths are just a joke, then? A colossal joke! Ah, to quote my sister: ‘Your role in a novel would be, at best, cannon fodder. You wouldn’t even survive a single chapter, and the author wouldn’t bother adding more than a few lines for your dying words.'”

“If you think that way, our existence truly is an insignificant part. There are too many legendary epics out there. We are destined not to even leave our names behind, and readers wouldn’t care to watch a few unimportant people die for nothing.”

“Yeah, they’d probably just dip their ink and skip right over us.”

“To hell with it! Can’t you few talk about something substantial? We’re on the verge of death, and you’re still discussing your pathetic jokes and trashy novels?!”

“Then what should we talk about? Crayfish, perhaps? Crayfish are quite delicious.”

“Excellent, a perfect point. I’d love to eat crayfish again.”

“Perhaps our fate will be Auetland’s fate… Hope is truly slim. They will invade the city, destroy our homes, harm our families, devour our livestock, ruin our fields… This world is always like this.”

“Captain, say something, Captain. You should say something too.”

The scout team captain took a deep breath, casting one last look at the soft blue sky above the dense forest. The warm sunlight filtered through the trees, hazy and ethereal, like a mother’s veil.

“Those grand stories are always like this, aren’t they? Paved with the sacrifices of countless unsung individuals. We die, and it’s unfair—we are living, breathing people, not mere cannon fodder or punctuation marks in a tale. We shouldn’t have come, yet here we are.”

“We cannot decide our fate. All you can decide is what to do in this moment—”

He drew a match from his waist, smiling easily, ready to face death.

“Set the forest ablaze! Warn the Duke to return quickly and organize defenses. Lanburg County still holds our families. Warn them that a great enemy is approaching!”

“This way, this way we can save a little more… even if it’s just a little.”

As his words fell, the dozen or so team members simultaneously pulled out their matches, some trembling, some resolute, some silent, some sobbing, and struck them all at once.

****

“Duke, a fire has started! Deep in the Ancient Zhi Forest, in the direction of the mausoleum!”

Hassan gazed vigilantly at the black smoke rising above the forest.

“…That’s the scout team.”

“The scout team? What do they mean by this?”

“This is bloodshed before battle, a warning paid with lives. Blood burns the forest, a fire of honor.”

The Duke lowered his Cavendish half-sword, a gesture of profound mourning.

“Return to the city immediately to organize defenses! Civilian evacuation will proceed simultaneously!”