The Crisis at the Eastern Temple

Seeing the enemy charge at lightning speed, Halduron acted without hesitation. He immediately nocked an arrow and drew his bow. The arrow, carved with flame runes, reached the Felhound in an instant.

The beast clamped its jaws around the arrow, but before the runes could activate, the magic inscribed on it—like metal drawn to a magnet—turned into wisps of pale blue light and streamed into the hound's belly.

The ability to devour magic was why these Felhounds were known as mage hunters.

Its jaws tightened, shattering the sturdy arrow in an instant. The Felhound, sated on magic, let out a low growl and charged at Halduron even faster.

Nearby, Lanlos took on another Felhound. Thanks to the attributes granted by Fel Combustion and his powerful, nimble fighting skills, he quickly gained the upper hand.

As for Lor'themar, he focused on the Succubus. It wasn't that he had lost his head over her and fallen for her supernatural charm. As a commander, he knew all too well that the real threat lay with the summoner and the two still-open portals behind her.

"Come join the feast!" Her alluring, seductive whisper rang in their ears. Everyone—including the Trolls—felt their hormones surge and their hearts race. That alone was bad enough, but some even walked right up to the Succubus and served as her human shields.

"Lanlos, Halduron, we need to fall back." Watching the brownish-green portal grow larger, Lor'themar furrowed his brow.

But Lanlos answered with a reckless laugh. "Fall back? Why?"

"Farstriders, attack!" Nearby, Halduron roared as he drove back the Felhound. The next moment, countless arrows poured down from all directions like torrential rain, converging on the Succubus.

"It's a trap, you fool, Layash!" The dense hail of arrows riddled the Succubus and the Troll warriors around her. Though she could still be reborn in the Twisting Nether, the rending of her flesh brought such sharp, relentless pain that she let out piercing screams.

There was no denying that the Succubus's supernatural charm showed in every little thing. Even her wails somehow made Lanlos blush and his heart race.

Watching the Succubus dissolve into rapidly fading green energy beneath the arrow storm, and seeing the two portals—still echoing with terrifying roars—gradually disappear, Lanlos finally relaxed. He had been about to join the slaughter of the Trolls, but the next moment, dizziness slammed into his head. The elven mage barely managed to keep from collapsing.

Weakened: All attributes -2, duration 29 minutes 54 seconds.

As the violent urge faded, Berserking ended. But the Weakened state that followed made Lanlos smile wryly and shake his head. He felt about as bad as someone with a severe cold. His attributes had dropped sharply, and a crushing fatigue washed over both mind and body. Under its weight, Lanlos stumbled and fell to the ground before everyone's horrified eyes.

Southeast of the Eastern Temple, in the shadows of the dense forest, a tall green figure watched the elven tower with keen interest.

Zumalosh, leader of the Amani Tribe's remnants in Eversong Woods, might not have been especially strong, but his eyesight and judgment were beyond question.

In the past, he would never have considered targeting this tower. But now, with these allies...

Glancing at the dozen or so figures behind him, whose backs were even more hunched than his own, Zumalosh gave a feral grin. The Darkpine Tribe's ambition and strength had truly startled him. But after witnessing these demon servants tear apart an elven patrol, his confidence had soared.

Besides, there was the Darkpine chief. Though he had never shown his strength, he always managed to resolve any problem that arose, leaving Zumalosh with the impression that he was unfathomably powerful.

"Kergash, my people aren't strong enough to deal with the arcanists in this tower. Even with your Warlocks, we couldn't win in a short time."

"The warriors of Tor'watha won't hold out much longer."

"Don't worry, Zumalosh. I won't waste the precious time they've bought with their lives." Kergash's low voice sounded somewhat casual, yet somehow, the thought that he could be trusted always surfaced in Zumalosh's mind.

"Come, show our chief the mighty power of demons!" Raising the black wooden staff in his hand, Kergash shouted to the Troll Warlocks gathered in a circle behind him.

The next moment, they each cut their wrists with daggers. Blood streamed down and became wisps of brownish-green light that took root in the ground beneath them. As they chanted in Demonic, the Fel energy gathered beneath their feet rapidly spread forward. It corroded the earth, leaving behind winding, intricate patterns.

As soon as the formation took shape, the earth rumbled. Amid a tremendous crash, two thick earthen spikes curved inward as they burst from the ground, forming a huge, open-ended oval.

Kergash grinned and lightly pointed his raised black staff forward.

Crack!

A thick green beam shot from the tip of the staff and reached the space between the two earthen spikes in an instant. A deafening boom rang out as the Fel energy nearby was drawn in, gathered, and twisted. A vortex of chaotic energy gradually filled the gap between the spikes.

"As you requested, I've brought you an army." The Succubus Alisa emerged from the portal first. As she gave a charming little laugh, a series of terrifying roars and snarls sounded from beyond it.

Watching the scene, Zumalosh felt his heart tremble violently. But the moment Alisa appeared, confusion filled his mind.

Requested?

Lanlos's eyelids fluttered, and a rare glimmer of light entered his vision.

"You're awake?" Halduron gave him a sunny smile, and Lanlos's groggy mind felt much clearer.

Lanlos nodded and turned to look around. Troll huts and their owners' corpses were withering and crumbling away in the flames. Groups of Farstriders vanished among the trees, presumably still searching for and pursuing the remaining Trolls.

"How long was I out?"

"About half an hour. The battle just ended."

Battle? Damn!

The word jolted Lanlos awake. He had learned from the Troll patrolman's memories long ago that another group of Trolls was preparing to attack the Eastern Temple. But Berserking had affected his judgment, and his hatred for Landral had made him emotional, causing him to overlook how serious the matter was.

But Halduron hadn't, had he?

"Didn't I tell you? The Eastern Temple is in trouble!" Fighting through his weakness, Lanlos struggled to sit up.

"Actually, I told Lor'themar about it." Halduron helped Lanlos up, then glanced at the nearby Ranger Captain, who was assigning tasks to his subordinates. "But he thought the arcanists at the Eastern Temple could easily handle Trolls on this scale. 'Don't worry,' he said."

What could Lanlos say? Should he tell Halduron that he had deliberately concealed the Trolls' strength for personal reasons?

At a loss for words, Lanlos buried his embarrassment and advised Halduron, "Either way, better safe than sorry. We have to hurry to the Eastern Temple and help."

"Look over there!"

"What is that?"

"It's a signal flare! It came from our camp!"

Before Halduron could answer, a bright, dazzling miniature sun quickly rose in the western sky, turning one corner of the blue sky a deep crimson.

Watching the Ranger Captain seated before her, Landral felt utterly conflicted. She would probably never again be able to stand on equal footing with the lowly captain she had once mocked.

Once all the leaders of the Farstrider Enclave had gathered, Landral took a deep breath and dropped a bombshell. "The Eastern Temple has fallen."

Lor'themar furrowed his brow and motioned for everyone to quiet down, then turned his gaze back to Landral.

But to Landral, that look was gloating over her misfortune.

"We have to retake the temple as soon as possible." Gritting her teeth, Landral forced herself to speak through her inexplicable sense of humiliation. "We absolutely can't let those monsters run amok in my temple..."

"Your temple?" Lanlos, standing nearby, raised an eyebrow and asked. The mockery and surprise in his voice were unmistakable.

At that, Lor'themar, who had been considering the gravity of the situation, narrowed his eyes.

"Boy, you have no place speaking here!" Feeling everyone's questioning gazes turn toward her, Landral flew into a rage. She slammed the table and glared furiously at Lanlos.

"Magister Landral." Lor'themar waved a hand and spoke in a low, measured voice. "Lanlos is now a temporary advisor to the Farstrider Enclave. If you put it that way..."

"If even you couldn't hold off those monsters, then with our forces, we can barely defend this camp. We might not be able to spare anyone to help you."

"Temporary advisor? What's that supposed to mean?" Lanlos was taken aback and leaned toward Halduron to whisper.

"I'm backing you up, of course. To be honest, I don't like that old woman either." Halduron smiled and gently nudged the mage in the chest with his elbow.

"What?" Realizing the other man intended to refuse support, Landral sprang from her seat, so furious that she nearly hurled a spell with a wave of her hand. "Wind Message can't get through. Do you know how long it'll take Silvermoon City to send reinforcements?!"

"If those monsters do something to defile the temple, I'll hold you responsible!"

"Lady Landral." Since Lor'themar had stood up for him, Lanlos wasn't about to let him shoulder this alone. "That's not quite right."

After what had happened earlier, Landral chose not to insult Lanlos. Instead, she widened her eyes and glared at him, as if ready to attack at any moment.

"You're the Ley Line Warden of the Eastern Temple. If anyone has to take responsibility, shouldn't it be you?"

"Unless..."

"Are you trying to shirk your responsibility?"