But this power now appeared incredibly “weak” and “fragmented”; it was brutally torn, compressed, and refined by the pure and violent Abyssal Demonic Energy.
It did not disappear; instead, it was like being forcibly purified and then injected into an Abyssal mold, becoming a highly efficient fuel for the rapid expansion and targeted growth of Abyssal power.
The Abyss was plundering death! In an utterly domineering manner!
The creation born from that core was not some product of fusion at all.
It was a pure Abyssal predator, greedily and recklessly devouring the essence accumulated by Long City's undead for a thousand years.
Those pure necromantic energies were being violently transformed by Abyssal Demonic Energy, becoming nourishment to sustain the Abyssal essence and to birth terrifying minions.
This was why internal strife erupted—a desperate battle for survival and control between the puppets infected by the Abyss and the native undead who had not yet been completely devoured and transformed!
What the Abyss wanted was “food” and “control,” while the undead will, not yet completely obliterated, instinctively resisted the fate of being “digested”!
The mystery of the black mist contracting in the core area and the gray mist depleting in the outer regions was also solved.
It was not that the Abyssal creation was intimidated and retreated, but that its rate of consumption had reached an unprecedented peak!
It was like a bottomless black hole, frantically drawing all the death energy scattered throughout Long City's ruins to sustain its own existence, expansion, and the transformation of its minions.
Its retreat was because it was concentrating all its power for the final digestion and absorption, completing the crucial step from incubation to maturity!
That stillness was extreme focus before gluttony. That apparent weakness, seemingly abandoning outer defenses, was precisely a manifestation of its full-force nourishment, preparing for a sprint!
The fortress's temporary safety?
That was a fatal illusion.
Just like the brief calm before a storm, what brewed beneath were destructive, towering waves.
When the Abyssal creation completed its final “digestion” and “transformation,” the power it had accumulated would be unleashed in a terrifying manner far exceeding the previous projection's self-destruction.
Having devoured so much necromantic essence, it would inevitably give birth to a monster with extremely strong dominion over death energy, capable of even utilizing death rules to amplify its own Abyssal power!
“The gluttony of the Abyss… the cage of the undead…” Shen Mu slowly opened his eyes, cold breath forming white mist under his faceplate.
With a wave of his hand, the vine container was instantly sealed and frozen by an invisible force, and the chaotic aura within was completely isolated.
“Order!”
His voice suddenly rose, carrying an unprecedented urgency and resolve:
“First, command all reconnaissance outposts! Retreat to within ten kilometers of the ramparts! Focus on monitoring energy fluctuations in the core black mist area. Strictly forbid approaching within five kilometers of the core edge again!”
“Second, notify Bandak! Distribute all stored supplies! The Elf Forest's ballistas are to be prepared!!”
“Third, all Holy Tree Knights, Rodok Sharpshooters, and Vigia Sharpshooters, maintain the highest level of alert!!”
“Fourth, the Rooted Ramparts' highest defense core begins charging! Connect all faith altar nodes!”
“Fifth, activate the second reserve fortress construction chain! I want to build another ‘Ring of Thorns’ behind the ramparts! Execute immediately!”
A series of commands rained down like hail, and the faces of the surrounding officers changed drastically, especially when they heard terms like “War Forge” and “Ring of Thorns.”
This meant that the Lord's assessment of the threat level had been raised to the highest “Nation-Destroying” risk!
The Abyss was no longer a lurking enemy, but a terrifying predator frantically devouring the death of an entire city.
When it emerged from its cocoon, the Elf Forest's ramparts would face the most severe and terrifying trial since their inception.
And Shen Mu's response was to pour everything into preparing for a decisive battle where neither side had a retreat!
The storm was already upon them!
Four or five days passed quietly under an absolutely calm facade.
The sky was a leaden gray, diluted by the gray mist, and sunlight struggled to penetrate, casting faint light and shadow.
There was no invasion of black mist, no tide of undead, and even the scattered wandering Skeletons had vanished, as if the core area of Long City had completely fallen into a deathly silence.
However, not a trace of complacency could be found within the Elf Forest fortress.
Shen Mu's cold commands were etched into the heart of every warrior; the defenses did not slacken, but rather tightened to the extreme amidst this unusual tranquility.
In the early morning, Legolas, the captain, appeared silently like a ghost at the edge of the rampart near the northwest corner.
He lightly tapped the intertwined, living thorns with his toes, his emerald eyes sharp as an eagle's, scanning the newly dug trenches and spike-filled chevaux de frise below.
Several Rodok Sergeants were meticulously checking the fastening iron rings at the shield connections, and the low clang of metal was exceptionally clear in the stagnant air.
“Who was responsible for the night watch on this section last night?” Legolas's voice was not loud, but it clearly reached the ears of several resting soldiers.
An old soldier, his face showing fatigue but his eyes still sharp, immediately stood up and saluted, hand over his chest: “Reporting, Captain, it was the Sixth Sentry Squad, Otto was in charge of the latter half of the night.”
“Any anomalies?”
“Very quiet… unusually quiet, Captain.” The old soldier, Otto, frowned, seemingly trying to recall the suffocating darkness, “Around the darkest period just before dawn, the gray mist seemed to… stagnate for a moment. Not the quiet of the wind stopping, but the entire sensation… solidified. And I heard a sound… a very, very faint ‘scratching’ sound, coming from the earthen wall at the bottom of the western trench. Like… a very fine bone claw, just scratched once, and then there was no more movement. We heightened our vigilance, but saw nothing. After daybreak, we went down to check the trench wall, but found no obvious holes or claw marks.”
Legolas's gaze immediately fell on that section of the trench, his expression growing a few shades more serious.
He knew that an old soldier's experience would not be easily deceived by darkness.
“Good work, stay vigilant. Pass the word down, all outposts near the northwest corner, pay attention to similar unusual movements and changes in the earthen wall.” He paused, then added, “…And the ‘solidified’ feeling of the gray mist.”
A young archer nearby couldn't help but rub his arms: “Brother Otto, don't scare people. Bone claws? Could it be that the things from the Abyss can also burrow up from underground?”
“Don't underestimate those bone beasts!” Another Vigia Sharpshooter wiped his composite bow and snorted, “You can't imagine what they can do. Better safe than sorry, it's better than losing your head in confusion. Last night in the arrow tower, I did feel that the chill coming from the direction of the black mist seemed to… hiss… I can't describe the exact feeling, but my hairs stood on end.”
“Hmm.” Legolas nodded, “Continue to investigate, any perceived anomaly, no matter how subtle, report it immediately.” He shifted, and like a nimble cat, climbed up a thick, living vine, continuing his patrol.
At this moment, in an area of collapsed buildings leading to the rear of the ramparts, the scene was even more peculiar.
Several tough vines and woven ropes crisscrossed like a spider web between the high and low broken walls and floorboards.
They were not chaotic, but formed a three-dimensional transportation network.
Several Wood Elf sentinels in dark green leather armor, like light birds, silently “hung” at different high points, either hidden behind broken window frames or crouched on fractured beams, their eyes vigilantly scanning the gray mist-shrouded area to the west.
Their positions cleverly utilized the terrain, allowing them to observe the outer perimeter while also being able to instantly move to the fortress's core area or support each other using the complex rope and vine network.
One of the sentinels was carefully adjusting the position of a newly laid vine, ensuring it was taut and silent.
A light thud of hooves broke the silence of the area.
A small squad of Holy Tree Knights, clad in gleaming silver mithril heavy armor, with even their warhorses covered in light chainmail, slowly rode through this architectural ruin, like moving miniature altars.
The helmet visor of the leading knight captain was raised, revealing a stern, unyielding face. His sharp gaze swept over the Elf sentinels in the shadows of the buildings.
A Wood Elf from a high vantage point made a brief gesture.
The knight captain nodded slightly, his gaze then falling on a broken wall near the edge of the gray mist, where a small charred mark remained.
“It's the phosphorescent burn mark left by that wave of Skeleton beasts struggling when they were cleared two days ago,” his subordinate whispered. “Bandak, who just came over, checked it yesterday, and there's no residual Abyssal stench.”
“Notify the engineers again to clean it with water after daybreak,” the knight captain's voice had a metallic quality. “The Abyss has too many tricks. Also have the Wood Elf Rangers focus on this area, any abnormal convergence points of black mist must be reported.”
He looked up, his gaze seemingly penetrating the three-dimensional network of intertwined vines and ropes, looking towards the distant, deathly silent core black domain.
The Holy Tree Knights continued their advance, their horses' hooves treading on the rubble-strewn ground, leaving behind only the barely audible faint clinking of armor and the shallow, holy glow on the ground that dispelled the shadow of death.
At the center of the fortress, on the hundred-meter-tall Rooted Giant Tree observation post, Shen Mu's solitary figure seemed to merge with the cold metal.
His gray cloak was motionless behind him, like a frozen sculpture.
His gaze swept over the reinforced shield line, the thick ballista barrels glinting with cold light, the soldiers busy reinforcing the trenches below, the spear formation with its forest of war halberds pointing obliquely west, the Wood Elf scouts appearing and disappearing in the shadows of the buildings, and the vigilant figures like hawks in the rope and vine network…
The wind blew through the newly grown living thorns, making a rustling sound like a whisper.
The soldiers below quietly discussed last night's “solidified feeling” and “scratching sound,” the Rodok technicians by the ballista were checking if the etched patterns inside the barrel were clear, and the Wood Elves between the buildings were silently adjusting the tension of the suspension ropes.
Everything was operating in an orderly fashion, preparing to meet the true engulfment that could erupt at any moment from the deathly silent Abyss.
The air was not relaxed, but filled with the ultimate suffocating sensation of waiting for thunder under the highest alert.
Shen Mu's fingers lightly tapped on the cold edge of the observation post, as if counting every unknown pulsation deep within the storm's core.
The tranquility of the Elf Forest ramparts was like a taut bowstring; beneath the surface were surging undercurrents.
Legolas's orders, relayed down, were like pebbles dropped into a pond, creating ripples.
Soldiers discussed the abnormal solidified feeling and scratching sounds, their vigilant gazes increasingly directed towards the depths of the deathly silent gray mist, searching for any subtle movement.
However, what arrived before the sound was the aura.
That Abyssal stench, which Shen Mu had long discerned and the soldiers were beginning to vaguely perceive, spread silently and intensified like a plague within the gray mist.
At first, it was a barely perceptible pungency, mixed with the usual charnel house stench, like burnt sulfur.
After only a day, this odor suddenly became viscous and acrid.
The Rodok Sergeants on duty began to feel a stinging in their nasal passages and dry eyes.
The Wood Elf Rangers perched on high tree canopy platforms had to frequently rub their eyes, which were slightly reddened by the irritating smell.
Even breathing carried a burning sensation, as if they were inhaling not air, but dust laden with the embers of a furnace.
This pervasive odor seeped into every crack of the ramparts, clinging to cold metal armor and scratched wooden barricades, forming an unsettling background hum that reminded everyone.
The power of the Abyss had not retreated; it was expanding, it was drawing closer.
“Damn it! The smell wasn't this strong during the shift change last night! Where the hell did this thing come from?” A young Swadian Infantry couldn't help but complain, covering his nose with his sleeve, looking at the clearly denser outline of mist on the west side of the rampart.
“Silence!” The leading knight captain barked, but his tightly furrowed brows and clenched reins also betrayed his inner solemnity. “If something feels wrong, report it, don't waste words!”
Just as the Abyssal sulfur odor pressed down like a heavy lead weight, the vanguard Wood Elf scouts on the front line sent back even more chilling news.
Several Twilight Rangers squads that had infiltrated the foremost gray mist areas encountered unprecedented sights in different directions, almost simultaneously.
It was not a large-scale clash of armies, but scattered small groups, even isolated, skirmishes.
But the strangeness of the scene was enough to overturn the soldiers' understanding of the undead calamity.
Under a broken highway bridge pier, Scout Captain Calain lay prostrate on the cold rebar Skeleton, holding his breath.
Through the sparse gray air currents, he saw four Skeletons fighting madly!
Three of the Skeletons were shrouded in an extremely faint but clearly visible, dark red mist, like burning ashes, and the viscous sulfurous stench originated from them!
Their bones were no longer purely grayish-white or black-iron in color; they were densely covered with dark red patterns like dried blood scabs, and their joints even produced tiny, teeth-grinding sparks when they moved!
In their eye sockets, the ghostly green soul fire was no longer the core; instead, it seemed to be stained and parasitized by droplets of deep, solidified “dark red blood.”
Their movements carried a wild, chaotic intensity far exceeding ordinary undead; their bones creaked from violent tearing, as if constantly on the verge of shattering. (End of Chapter)
