From afar—
the village of Eldwyn looked bright.
Far too bright.
Golden-yellow flashes flickered endlessly through the darkness of night, followed by massive explosions that continuously shook the air.
BOOOOOOMMM—!!
KUMAAAAAAAAAA—!!!
BOOOOOMMM—!!
Blinding streaks of light tore across the sky.
The trembling earth sent vibrations through the villagers' homes.
If someone saw it from the distance—
they might mistake Eldwyn for a village celebrating a sacred festival.
Or some grand annual ritual.
A night of light.
Of sound.
Of celebration.
But the truth—
this was no celebration.
It was struggle.
A desperate struggle for survival.
At the main gate—
seven giant bear golems continued to move.
Their stone bodies glowed with radiant golden light, ancient magical patterns pulsing across their surfaces in rhythm with the song echoing from the church.
They stood like living fortresses.
Unmoving.
Unwavering.
And without pause—
they attacked.
SUUUUMMM—
White-blue energy gathered inside the crossed mouths carved into their faces.
The air trembled.
Dust rose.
Then—
[KUMA BEAM]
BOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMM—!!!
Seven colossal pillars of light erupted at once.
Shattering the night.
The frontline of Hell Wolves exploded into chunks of black flesh.
Goblin Knights were thrown skyward alongside shattered pieces of armor.
Hell Bears skidded across the earth before their massive bodies were crushed beneath the blast of energy.
The forest floor split apart.
Trees collapsed.
Smoke and dust surged high into the sky.
Yet—
the monster parade...
did not stop.
Did not slow.
Did not fall into chaos.
No screams of panic.
No broken formations.
They kept marching.
Orderly.
Methodical.
As if all that destruction—
had never happened.
DUUM...
DUUM...
DUUM...
Hell Wolves torn to pieces—
moved again.
Their scattered flesh writhed.
Bones reassembled.
Black aura, like living sludge, stitched broken bodies back together.
Goblin corpses without heads—
collapsed for a moment.
Then rose once more.
Their necks swelled black.
New flesh forced itself into existence.
Red eyes ignited again.
Hell Bears with gaping holes in their chests—
stood slowly.
Dark flesh pulsed.
Poisonous claws hardened anew.
And behind them all—
the three Hell Kongs continued walking.
Slowly.
Silently.
Their enormous bodies showed not even the slightest trace of pain.
As though the world itself—
refused to let the army die.
"This makes no sense..." one of the watchtower guards muttered, face pale.
His hands trembled violently around his spear.
"They took direct hits..."
BOOOOOMMM—!!
[Kuma Beam]
Another explosion struck.
Dozens of monsters were obliterated again.
Yet seconds later—
they stood once more.
Marched once more.
Never stopping.
Cedric stood atop the watchtower, breathing heavily.
His face had gone pale.
Cold sweat dampened his temples.
His gaze remained locked on the seemingly endless procession of monsters.
"...Can we really win this?"
His voice was barely audible.
And even he—
was no longer sure he believed in the answer.
Yet—
amid the explosions.
Amid the terror.
Amid a night that felt like the end of the world—
a song still echoed.
Soft.
Clear.
Flowing from the village church.
"──Hoshi wa... mada kieru koto naku..."
The girls' voices intertwined.
Spreading through Eldwyn like a prayer refusing to fade.
Inside the old church—
candles still burned.
Golden light danced along the stone walls.
Dozens of young girls remained standing in a great circle.
But now—
their condition was far different.
Some had already collapsed to the floor, exhausted.
Their breathing ragged.
Faces pale.
Hands trembling.
Some clutched their chests as their Mana neared depletion.
Others shut their eyes tightly, fighting dizziness.
Sweat soaked their young faces.
Yet—
not one of them truly stopped.
They continued singing.
Softly.
Weakly.
But they continued.
Because they knew—
if this song stopped—
the golems would stop too.
And if that happened—
Eldwyn was finished.
"──Yami no naka demo..."
Their voices trembled.
The harmony faltered.
Yet somehow—
it endured.
Elder Harald stood in the center of the circle.
His wooden staff tapped gently against the floor.
Tok.
Tok.
Tok.
Like the ticking of an ancient clock refusing to stop.
The weight on his aged face deepened with every passing moment.
He knew.
The girls were nearing their limits.
Their young bodies were never meant to sustain a ritual of this scale for long.
That ancient song—
consumed tremendous amounts of Mana.
Far more than anyone had imagined.
Yet Harald—
had no other choice.
No magic.
No power.
No miracle left to offer.
Only—
guidance.
Keeping the rhythm steady.
And giving them strength to continue.
"Good..."
His voice was low, warm.
His gaze moved from one girl to another.
"You're doing well..."
Tok.
His staff tapped lightly again.
"Steady breaths..."
Tok.
"Hold the melody..."
Tok.
"Just a little longer..."
Even though—
he himself was no longer certain how long a little longer could truly last.
Outside—
the explosions continued.
BOOOOOMMMM—!!
[KUMA BEAM]
The earth trembled again.
And the song from thousands of years ago—
continued resisting a night that refused to end.
Deep within the forest, far from those golden lights and endless explosions—
Lilya surged forward at tremendous speed toward the Treants blocking her path.
"GROOOOOOOAAAAAAHHHH—!!!"
The roar of cracking wood shook the air.
The level 40 Treant moved first.
Massive roots burst from the earth.
BRRRAAKK—!!
Five.
Ten.
Dozens of sharpened roots exploded toward Lilya like living spears.
Wild.
Unrestrained.
Destroying everything in their path.
Yet—
Lilya did not stop.
Did not slow.
[Battle Instinct]
The world narrowed.
Everything became clear.
The roots' trajectories.
The attack angles.
The tiny openings hidden between destruction.
WHOOSH—
Her body vanished.
[Quick Step]
SHHK—
Her sword moved.
One massive root split apart.
SHHK—
Another branch was severed cleanly.
CLASH—
A sharpened root struck her blade.
Split in two.
Wood fragments scattered through the air.
The level 30 Treant attacked as well.
Gigantic branches crashed down like living whips.
WHOOOMM—!!
The earth shattered.
Smaller trees collapsed.
But Lilya only moved faster.
Her body weaved through the storm of attacks like a streak of light refusing to be touched.
SHHHK—
Her blue blade carved into the Treant's trunk.
A deep wound split open.
Wood cracked.
Black sap sprayed outward.
Yet—
DUUM.
The wood moved again.
The cracks began to close.
Wild root fibers spread rapidly.
[Auto Heal]
Regeneration.
But—
not perfectly.
The soft golden aura lingering within Lilya's wound remained.
[Veil Resonance]
And just as before—
the healing faltered.
Fresh wood tried to form—
then stopped.
Dead.
As if the Treant's body had forgotten how to mend itself.
Lilya narrowed her eyes slightly.
"...Just as I thought."
Her breathing remained steady.
"...Even Treants can't heal."
But—
she did not stop to push the attack further.
Her goal was not to kill.
Not to fight until the bitter end.
There was no time.
Cecilia was waiting.
And every wasted second—
felt like a blade pressing deeper into her chest.
Lilya kept moving.
Her body darted low between storms of sharpened roots and swinging branches. The glowing blue sword in her hand flashed with every strike—not to kill, only to clear a path.
SHHK—
SHHK—
SHHK—
The level 40 Treant roared in frustration.
Its severed roots failed to regenerate as they should. The golden traces left behind by [Veil Resonance] continued suppressing the dark healing aura trying desperately to reform them.
Yet the Treant did not stop.
Could not stop.
Because [Berserk] forced it onward—without logic, without fear.
"GROOOOAAAHHH—!!"
A gigantic branch smashed into the ground beside Lilya.
BOOOOM—!!
The earth shattered. Mud and broken wood flew skyward.
But Lilya had already moved.
[Quick Step]
Her body slipped sideways, spinning through the narrow opening between two missed roots.
The level 30 Treant moved.
Its massive roots swept low—
aiming for her legs.
Lilya leaped.
WHOOSH—
Her body rose into the air.
And at the peak of her jump—
she saw it.
A gap.
Between the trunks of the two Treants.
Narrow.
But—
enough.
"...There."
Her eyes sharpened.
[Battle Instinct]
The world narrowed.
Distance.
Angle.
Falling speed.
She calculated everything within an instant.
And as gravity began pulling her down—
she swung her sword.
[Air Cut]
SHHHHHKK—!!
A blade of compressed air tore forward through the narrow opening between the giant trunks.
Right through the center.
BUAAAKKKK—!!
Wood splintered everywhere.
A small opening formed between the tangled roots.
Not large.
But—
enough.
Lilya did not hesitate.
Her body remained airborne.
Time slowed.
Dust drifted.
The massive roots still twisted violently below.
The opening created by [Air Cut]—
was already beginning to close.
No time remained.
Lilya narrowed her eyes.
Her leg moved.
And—
BUUM—
She kicked the air.
A thin burst of Mana exploded beneath her foot.
A small push.
But enough.
Her body shot forward like an arrow.
WHOOSH—!!
The tips of her blonde hair fluttered as she slipped through the narrowing gap between the enraged Treants.
A gigantic branch nearly struck her shoulder—
too late.
WHOOOMM—!!
The towering trunks collided behind her.
The sound of cracking wood echoed through the forest.
But Lilya had already escaped.
BRUK—
Her feet landed flawlessly.
Light.
Stable.
Unshaken.
Her knees bent slightly to absorb the impact—
and without stopping—
she ran again.
WHOOSH—
The blue blade remained firmly in her grasp.
The warm golden aura of [Veil Resonance] still moved around her like breathing light.
Her breathing had grown heavier.
Yet her eyes—
remained focused.
"...Cecilia."
The whisper slipped from her lips.
Steady.
Unwavering.
From time to time—
she glanced behind her.
The level 30 and 40 Treants still roared furiously.
Their branches thrashed wildly.
But—
they did not pursue.
Their roots remained buried in the earth.
As though forbidden from chasing her.
"GROOOOOOOAAAAHHHH—!!!"
Their roars echoed from afar.
Yet Lilya never slowed.
WHOOSH—
WHOOSH—
WHOOSH—
The forest deepened.
The air grew colder.
Heavier.
And—
stranger.
Because more Treants appeared.
But they did not attack.
They simply stood along both sides of the path—
motionless.
Watching.
Lilya could feel their gazes following her.
Until—
she found it.
A living wall of Treants.
Dozens of towering trunks standing shoulder to shoulder, their backs turned toward her. Massive roots gripped the earth like soldiers surrounding something unseen.
Dry leaves drifted through the narrow spaces between them.
And from behind that living barricade—
voices.
Faint—
yet unmistakably familiar.
Heavy breathing.
Wood splintering beneath weapons.
Then, amid the chaos—
one voice rose above the rest.
"Kael! Don't go right—Darian, cover his left!"
Warm.
Familiar.
A voice Lilya had known since childhood.
The voice of the middle-aged man who used to smile from the doorway of a wooden house whenever she visited.
"...Uncle Harlan?" Lilya whispered, eyes widening.
Then another voice followed.
Rough.
Heavy.
Commanding.
"Bram, stop wasting stamina on unnecessary swings!"
Rhett.
Then Kael's exhausted sigh.
And Darian's cold, steady tone—
the voice of someone long accustomed to death.
"Uncle Rhett... Big Brother Kael... Big Brother Darian... Big Brother Bram too?"
"Why are they here...?"
Her grip around the glowing sword tightened.
But—
the answer came immediately.
Because she knew.
Of course she knew.
Her thoughts drifted back to this morning.
Cecilia.
Herself.
Going out to gather herbs.
Never returning.
No word.
No trace.
No explanation.
A small village like Eldwyn—
could never ignore something like that.
Especially—
when the missing people were Cecilia.
And her.
Her breath caught slightly.
"...Because of me..."
The words came out quietly.
Barely above a whisper.
Of course they were worried.
Cecilia was Harlan's family.
And Lilya—
though not related by blood—
had long since become part of that home.
Those people...
had come searching.
Venturing deep into the forest at night.
Fighting horrors no village should ever have faced.
Because of her.
Because of Cecilia.
And now—
they were trapped.
Encircled behind a living wall of Treants.
Another violent crash rang out.
BRAAAKK—!!
"Kael! Fall back a little!" Rhett shouted again.
"I know—dammit, this thing never stops!" Kael yelled back.
Harlan's voice sounded weaker now.
"...We're almost out of potions..."
Then—
the roar of an Elder Treant shook the forest.
GROOOOOOOAAAAAAHHHH—!!!
The earth trembled.
Leaves cascaded from above.
Lilya's body stiffened.
Her fingers slowly tightened around the blue sword.
Hard enough for her knuckles to whiten.
"...I don't want..."
Her eyes lowered slightly.
Her breath came slow.
"...anyone getting hurt..."
The night wind brushed through her blonde hair.
The soft golden aura surrounding her pulsed gently.
"...because they came searching for me and Cecilia."
Silence.
A few seconds.
Then—
Lilya closed her eyes.
Slowly.
Deeply.
A breath in.
A breath out.
She focused.
On the flow of Mana inside her body.
On the warm pulse of [Veil Resonance].
The aura surrounding her began to change.
Thicker.
Brighter.
Denser.
SUUUUMMM—
Leaves rose from the ground.
Dust spiraled around her.
The glowing blue blade trembled faintly.
Its light intensified.
And in her mind—
something surfaced.
A memory.
Not hers.
A movement.
Calm.
Precise.
Resolute.
Hikaru.
The way he stood.
The way he lowered his center of gravity.
The way he held a sword.
The way every part of his body moved as one.
Lilya slowly opened her eyes.
A faint golden shimmer glowed behind her pupils.
Then—
her feet moved.
One forward.
One behind.
Her body lowered slightly.
The sword pulled back to her side.
A stance.
Not wild.
Not rushed.
Calm.
Yet impossibly sharp.
Like an arrow drawn to its limit.
Golden aura gathered around the blade.
Denser.
Brighter.
SUUUUMMMMM—
The ground beneath her feet cracked slightly.
A small wind began spiraling around her.
Lilya's gaze fixed upon the living wall of Treants.
The towering wooden giants stood shoulder to shoulder.
Like an impenetrable fortress.
Something impossible to break.
Yet—
Lilya inhaled softly.
And whispered—
"...I'll break through."
Her feet pressed firmly against the ground.
Low.
Steady.
Her body leaned slightly forward.
Perfectly imitating the movement she once saw from Hikaru.
The motion before a single strike—
that felt as though it could split the world itself.