Chapter 65: The Season of the Minotaur (14)

The moon was full, and everything was in place.

Sitting on his throne of wood with the Stone Muse watching over his shoulder, Simon stared at the black crystal ball in front of him. Specially designed to see through miasma, it could be used to observe his minions all across the Darkwood and coordinate them. Brands binding their wearers’ souls to Simon had turned out to be a rather powerful divination focus.

“The Paladin has entered the woods, Beloved,” the Muse said, her voice dripping with disdain. “I can sense his foul light despoiling my shadows.”

“It is time then,” Simon muttered in response. Princess Satine had purged the silver dagger of its enchantments with Cursebreaker, so he couldn’t personally track her party’s movements. He sent out a telepathic message to all his troops to warn them of what was coming. “The enemy has entered the forest. Ready yourself for battle.”

Simon had spent the weeks before the full moon reshaping his dungeon, laying traps, and preparing his troops for the operation. He was under no illusion that all of them would survive today’s conflict. They were confronting a high-level party that included an elven archmage. Casualties were both unavoidable and expected.

Nonetheless, he had been able to gather a few things from the enemy’s previous forays. Mel’s Stalker Class was apparently a Vassal of the Ranger, not the Rogue as Simon had originally assumed, with a focus on hunting and tracking down humanoids; Robert Flauros used a spear-wielding variant of Anna’s Lord Class which allowed him to buff allies and engage foes in melee; and Princess Satine’s Theurge Class, a Vassal of the Cleric, mixed both offensive and healing magic. He had taken contingencies to prepare for each of them.

Simon focused the crystal ball on Carrock. The treant remained cloaked under the illusion of a normal tree as a group of a dozen cultists approached the fairy ring area with hoods over their heads, using a lantern to light the path to the site. Satine’s group had likely infiltrated them after defeating and impersonating some of them.

“Some of those people are enemies, Carrock,” Simon warned him. “Proceed with the plan.”

“As you wish, Lord Belias.” Carrock activated one of his Illusionist Perks to manifest a false vision of Simon’s Old Man of the Woods in front of the tree, with Simon ad-libbing its text through the treant’s Brand.

“Welcome, children of the forest,” the illusion said, its eyes gazing at the group. “Welcome, Your Highness.”

It was rather easy to identify the intruders among the cultists, since one flinched and the others tightened their ranks in response.

“You may remove your hoods,” the false old man said. “We need not be enemies.”

The cultists removed their hoods, with the exception of five of them. After exchanging glances and realizing there was no way out of this, Frea, Robert Flauros, Alphonse, Princess Satine, and Tiella put on their Class outfits and revealed themselves.

Mel was missing.

“Carrock, their Stalker lurks nearby,” Simon warned Carrock as he continued to speak through the treant’s illusions. “I come to you on behalf of my mistress, the Muse of these woods. A message I bring. She wishes you nor Whispermire any harm, for all she seeks is freedom.”

“That cannot be allowed to happen, demon,” Frea replied sternly. “Your cursed manatree will not bloom under my watch.”

Bloom? Simon was slightly surprised by her response, but moved on as if nothing had happened. “A trade then, our Muse offers. Leave this place in peace, and she shall stick to these woods and offer any compensation you feel is appropriate.”

“Can she bring back my brother from the dead?!” Tiella snapped angrily, her sword raised. “You’ve murdered him, and I shall have my retribution in blood!”

“Your brother’s death was an accident, Lady Flauros,” the false Old Man said as it waved its staff. “But if you fight on his behalf, then allow me to offer you a compromise.”

Carrock conjured a vivid, lifelike illusion of Leonard next to the false Old Man. Tiella gasped in shock at the sight, though Frea immediately called the bluff.

“That is a mere illusion,” she said sternly.

“Yet you should know that souls who perish in these woods belong to the Muse,” Simon replied through the Old Man. “His spirit is bound to these lands until our Lady lets him go… or until we return him to life.”

Frea scowled, while Tiellia’s head turned in her direction. Simon couldn’t see the details through his crystal ball, but he could tell his former lover was taken aback. The elf knew of the state of Leonard’s soul and yet didn’t tell his sister. Interesting that she would keep something so important from her own ally…

“Leonard?” Tiella called out to the illusion. “Brother, is that you?”

Carrock manipulated Leonard’s illusion to make it look as if he was trying to speak without any words coming out of his mouth. Tiella flinched at the sight, and Simon felt her resolve waver.

“Here is my Lady’s offer, Lady Flauros,” Simon spoke through the Old Man, hoping she would take it against all odds. “Sheath your sword and leave these woods in peace, and your brother’s soul shall be either returned from the grave in a new vessel, or be allowed to reincarnate.”

“He’s lying, and he’s not even there,” Alphonse said, his eyes glaring at the Old Man illusion. Did he see through it? “Don’t listen to him, Lady Flauros! He’s deceiving you!”

“But…” Tiella muttered, only for her husband to cut in.

“There is no spell that can revive the dead, Tiella,” he said, kindly but bluntly. “This demon’s promises are as empty as his future.”

Simon pushed on anyway, in the hope of either inducing discord in the group or convincing Tiella to back down. “You would call me a liar? It is your elven friend who deceives you and leads you into disa–”

A flaming blade flashed in the dark, cutting through both the Old Man and Leonard illusions.

The Stalker had come out of hiding from nowhere with a blazing sword and a shining dagger in hands.

“Sacrilege!” one of the hooded cultists shouted, a small sword flashing in his hand, only for Frea to easily freeze him and all the others with a wave of her staff. A cocoon of ice trapped them all in place. Tiella straightened up, her brief moment of hesitation gone with the adrenaline and rush of the fight.

So much for discussion, Simon thought with annoyance. “Carrock, proceed.”

“Yes, Lord Belias.” The treant chuckled to himself, relishing the thought of physical combat. “To me, soldiers of the forest!”

Still unseen, Carrock weaved an illusory mist around the clearing to disorient the group, while a small horde of mutated wolves, will-o’-the-wisps, and undead armed with poisonous, cursed weapons crawled out of the woods to strike them from all sides.

“Luster Sanctuary!” Princess Satine shouted, raising a golden scepter that cast a blinding flash upon the clearing. A barrier of golden light appeared around the group, dispelling the illusory mist and causing the undead and will-o’-wisps to crash against it. The animals jumped through, however, with one lunging at the princess before being thrown back by Tiella.

The warriors of the group gathered around the spellcasters, tearing through any wolf or beast with casual ease. Princess Satine focused on keeping her defensive spell up while Frea bombarded the attackers with contagious bolts of lightning that hopped from one target to another. A wall of corpses soon began to accumulate outside the forcefield.

Simon’s goal was very simple: either force Frea to activate the fairy ring in a rush so they could throw themselves into the next trap, or hopefully wear them down through attrition.

Carrock chose that moment to intervene personally by having his roots erupt from inside the forcefield, right beneath the spellcasters. Frea seemed to detect the attack and dodged it in time, but Princess Satine was caught in wooden bindings that disrupted her concentration. The forcefield collapsed and allowed the surviving undead to join the fray.

“Satine!” Alphonse shouted, his sword shining with light. He hastened himself like he did against Simon and sliced through Carrock’s roots in a blur. The treant roared as holy light coursed through him and cancelled out his illusions, dispelling the mist and revealing him for the monster he was. Simon watched as Alphonse caught Satine in midair while Tiella used Rampart to strengthen her husband as they tried to shield Frea from the undead.

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“It’s the whole damn tree!” Mel shouted, dashing past the undead in a flash of speed, leaping at the treant and then stabbing Carrock in the face with her flaming sword.

This would have been a pretty good strategy against a treant, had Carrock not been equipped with a Ring of Curse Flame. Mel’s sword hardly inflicted any damage, and Carrock retaliated by throwing a storm of leaves her way. The Stalker was thrown back to the ground with a dozen small cuts, more surprised than hurt.

And then Frea took flight.

Simon could only stare in disbelief as the elven archmage began to levitate in the air, not thanks to wings or an enchanted horse carrying her, but through her magic’s mere strength. Torrents of mana gathered in her staff, which she then pointed at Carrock with absolute contempt.

“Nova,” she cast.

Greenish particles gathered in front of Carrock, and then detonated in a cataclysmic explosion of raw mana.

Simon felt the treant’s brief, yet intense flash of agony coursing through his Brand, followed by the emptiness of death. His demise cut off both the telepathic and divination connection, blinding Simon to the rest of the fight. Not that it mattered, though; the outcome was already decided.

Frea had killed an ancient treant in a single spell. There was no way non-Class user minions could so much as slow her party down.

“What Tier is the Nova spell, Duchar?” Simon telepathically asked his necromancer ally.

“Tier 7, Your Majesty.”

Seven, which meant she was at least level sixty at the very minimum. Frea had been holding back against Belzemine.