How Was There a Backstab Too?

"High-end match..."

Windchaser repeated it instinctively.

The next second, the tree roots beneath her feet suddenly tightened.

The once-flat wooden floor came alive, slender roots extending from every direction. They did not stab at vital points directly, instead wrapping around ankles, wrists, waists, and weapons.

Windchaser reacted fastest. Air currents burst beneath her feet, sending her sliding half a step backward.

But the moment she avoided the first wave of roots, the tree wall behind her split open.

More black-red roots emerged from within, like a net laid out in advance, sealing off her retreat.

"Right side!"

Just as Vernacular Poet shouted, his staff was caught by tree roots as well.

Sunken Crow had already sunk into the shadows.

But this time, his shadow did not take him away.

Black-red patterns spread across the ground, dyeing every shadow beneath their feet the same color. Just as Sunken Crow tried to activate Shadowstep, his body sank slightly, as if something had grabbed him from within the shadows.

He frowned. "I've been silenced."

"Skill silence?" Vernacular Poet's tone darkened.

Windchaser raised her sword and slashed at the roots winding toward her.

The blade cut through the first root, but a second immediately split from the severed end and crawled up the sword. Her expression changed, and she instantly let go, retreating as she kicked the sword away.

The sword nailed itself into a distant tree wall.

The roots on it were still writhing.

"They split when cut!"

Vernacular Poet raised his hand, and Purifying Light descended at Chasing Wind's feet.

The pale golden light had barely spread when all the eyes in the surrounding tree walls blinked at once.

Purifying Light was swallowed by some dark-red pattern, glowing for less than a second before going out.

Vernacular Poet's expression turned utterly grim. "The purification was swallowed?"

Silver Wolf remained where she was as several thin roots coiled toward her wrists.

Her fingertips moved slightly. Silver-blue pixels sliced through the outer layer of the roots, and the things immediately shrank back. But the next second, more tree roots emerged from the side. They did not attack her, instead circling toward the exit behind her.

Silver Wolf raised her eyes at the eyes embedded in the tree walls. "Something's wrong."

While dodging the roots, Windchaser shouted, "What do you mean?"

"They're sealing off the path," Silver Wolf said.

Vernacular Poet understood immediately. If they died here, they could revive.

Rumors of immortal travelers had long since spread.

What this space truly wanted was to trap them alive.

Sunken Crow spun his dagger against his wrist, cutting off several thin roots that had wrapped around him. "Can we get out?"

Vernacular Poet looked at his interface. "The exit coordinates are gone."

Windchaser caught her breath. "Should we call for help?"

Vernacular Poet did not answer immediately.

Several roots wrapped around him again. He knocked one aside with his staff before speaking. "They're too far away."

"We can call Elena outside the tribe, right?"

"Even if we can call her, it won't help." Vernacular Poet spoke quickly. "This is an internal space, and the entrance has already shifted. By the time anyone gets here, the coordinates here might be all over the place."

Windchaser said, "Then what do we do now?"

Sunken Crow said, "Don't cut them for now."

"I've already figured that out."

"And don't touch the tree walls."

"I didn't dare touch those."

Seeing that they could still talk, Silver Wolf determined that they would not be dragged away immediately.

She raised her hand, layers of data unfolding within her goggles.

These tree roots were not acting independently.

They shared the same command.

Bind, seal, block Shadowstep, devour purification, hide exit coordinates.

It was meticulous and troublesome, but not completely without openings.

Silver Wolf narrowed her eyes. "Poet."

Vernacular Poet immediately looked over.

"Don't use purification. The brightness is too obvious."

Vernacular Poet paused, then withdrew the Holy Radiance from his staff.

The surrounding black-red roots indeed slowed for a moment.

Silver Wolf looked at Sunken Crow again. "Can you cut very fine things?"

"I can."

"Wait for my mark."

Sunken Crow nodded.

Three silver-blue points of light flicked out from Silver Wolf's fingertips.

They did not land on the roots, but in midair.

The next second, several faint lines seemed to appear in everyone's vision.

Those lines connected the surrounding roots, the eyes in the tree walls, and the shadows on the ground, like hidden stitches sewn through space.

Windchaser's eyes widened.

"What are those?"

"Battlefield control," Silver Wolf said. "Remember not to step on them."

Windchaser immediately drew back her foot, carefully controlling where she landed.

Sunken Crow moved.

His skill could not be used, but his physical speed remained fast. He slipped through the gaps between roots, his dagger precisely stabbing beneath the first point of light.

Crack.

It was like some fine thread had been cut.

The surrounding roots froze.

The second point.

The third point.

Sunken Crow cut through three control lines in succession, and the roots binding them all loosened by half an inch.

Vernacular Poet immediately seized the chance.

He did not cast large-scale purification. He merely placed a tiny Holy Radiance mark beneath Chasing Wind and himself.

"Chasing Wind, jump toward Wolf Venerable."

Windchaser did not ask why.

Riding an air current, she rushed out of the binding range, landing precisely where Silver Wolf's marked lines could not reach.

Silver Wolf raised her hand and lightly flicked her fingers.

The space in front of her distorted briefly.

Several eyes on the tree wall closed at once.

The hidden exit coordinates flickered.

Only briefly.

But it was enough.

Vernacular Poet saw them. "Front left!"

Sunken Crow had already rushed over, driving his dagger into a patch of bark that looked no different from the rest of the tree wall.

Vernacular Poet immediately added a trace of Holy Radiance. The bark split open, revealing a narrow passage behind it.

Windchaser's eyes lit up. "A way out!"

Just as she was about to rush through, all the eyes on the tree walls suddenly opened at once.

This time, the red in their eyes was deeper.

A massive number of fine roots fell from above like a torrential downpour, crashing toward the exit.

Silver Wolf clicked her tongue and raised her hand, silver-blue pixels spreading from her fingertips.

They shifted the "landing point" of the roots before the exit half a step to the side.

Half a step.

Enough for Windchaser to charge through.

"Go."

The instant Silver Wolf spoke, Windchaser dragged Vernacular Poet toward the passage. Sunken Crow gave Silver Wolf one last look, only retreating into the passage after making sure she was following.

Silver Wolf walked last. A black-red root grazed her shoulder, bringing a faint sting.

She did not look back.

She merely snapped her fingers behind her.

A silver-blue graffiti emoji stuck itself to the entrance of the passage.

The next second, the entrance closed.

The roots slammed against the sealed tree wall, producing a dense scrape of friction.

The four of them retreated all the way into a narrow branch hollow.

There were no eyes in the tree walls here.

At least, not for now.

Windchaser braced herself against her knees, panting. "Does this count as getting out?"

Vernacular Poet looked at the still-blank map. "No."

Sunken Crow inspected their surroundings. "We only left that hollow space."

Leaning against the tree wall, Silver Wolf raised a hand and pressed at her temple.

Those minor adjustments from before had not been difficult on their own, but stacked together, the strain had still climbed another level.

She glanced at her status panel.

[Silver Wolf]

[Cartridge LV55 (Roleplay Level Increase)]

[Hidden: Unknown Save Cartridge Level 999]

[Load: High]

[Status: Further activity not recommended]

[May you remain weak forever]

Silver Wolf stared at the recommendation. "What a load of nonsense."

She closed the panel.

Hearing her mutter, Vernacular Poet turned toward her. "Wolf Venerable... are you all right?"

"I'm fine."

Windchaser moved to shield Silver Wolf. "You need to rest properly from now on."

"You?"

Windchaser sounded a little indignant. "Hey, hey! I'm capable, okay?"

Vernacular Poet paused, his smile somewhat helpless.

Sunken Crow suddenly spoke in a low voice. "Mission changed..."

Vernacular Poet looked at him.

Sunken Crow opened his interface, his tone unusually lacking its usual lightness.

"It was originally an investigation. After completion..."

"But now," he raised his head and looked at the three of them, "the mission is called—Survive."

Windchaser fell silent.

Vernacular Poet closed his eyes. "Missions related to the main storyline really are never simple."

Silver Wolf looked back in the direction they had come from, memories of the Trailblazer protagonist's experiences flashing through her mind. "Of course."

Vernacular Poet asked, "If you don't tell us now, we might really get trapped here."

This time, Silver Wolf did not delay any longer.

She raised her hand and lightly tapped the air.

Several lines of data visible only to her appeared.

She read them aloud.

"The World Tree's interior is in a state of corruption."

"Record interference, ongoing."

"Contamination synchronizing upward."

"Exit coordinates have vanished."

The air fell silent once more.

Windchaser blinked. "Corruption?"

Vernacular Poet's expression darkened. "Has the Abyss been invading for a long time already?"

Sunken Crow added, "The route she gave us was problematic too."

Windchaser instinctively objected. "But she didn't look like a bad person."

Silver Wolf looked at her. "Are you judging her by her face?"

"I didn't mean that."

Vernacular Poet said quietly, "She may have been corrupted too."

As soon as he said that, faint footsteps suddenly sounded from deep within the branch cavity.

Windchaser tightened her grip on her sword.

Sunken Crow turned sideways and slipped into the shadows.

Vernacular Poet raised his staff, but did not immediately ignite Holy Radiance.

Silver Wolf looked up.

At the end of the branch cavity, a pale figure slowly emerged.

Long pink hair fell over her shoulders, and her pale dress was stained with a little dark red.

Lumina stood at the end of the passage, watching them.

Her eyes were no longer a clear azure blue.

They were a deep blood-red.

She was still very calm, and even her tone remained gentle. "As expected of you, honored travelers."

Windchaser's voice lowered slightly. "Lumina?"

Lumina nodded gently. "It's me."

Vernacular Poet tightened his grip on his staff. "You tricked us into going in."

Lumina looked at him. "I did not trick you."

She paused. "I simply did not finish telling you."

The tree walls around them began to pulse faintly.

Silver Wolf looked at the black-red patterns behind Lumina. "Then tell us now?"

Lumina's gaze fell on her.

This time, it lingered longer than before. "Heh..."

She raised a hand, and black-red roots spread out from beneath her feet.

"He has awakened, and I have received His grace."

"And you must stay behind."