Barely audible echoes still disturb him. If he concentrates, he can hear the first news that struck fear into the hearts of the people; that one elf had returned to barbarism and raised his hand against the other. When he closes his eyes, he can see the flames consume the wood of the trees, feel the earthquake that swallowed the statues and houses.

  Illusions move through the scorched earth that is ent's blurred memories. The truth is revealed in sweet nightmares, terrifying prophecies just like those of the unknown. A demon does not need to be chained to a physical body, and my vision is not limited to that of ehe Lion. I see through a deer with two heads that devours a soldier, a bear in raw flesh that dances with hatred.

  The Green Knights stood up in the name of purity and fought against corruption, even if everyone from their order was sacrificed.

  All of them, except for one.

  Slumped against the dirty swamp that was once a beautiful pasture, his vegetable body could no longer sustain itself. But a hand promised him salvation; the putrid light at the end of the darkness, Hilda, pierced the toxin and offered him a chance to finish his mission. At that time, there was only one will in his mind—and it was it that consumed him when he said “yes.”

  From the psychic to the real, the incomprehensible divine glows crimson and tears the air in a maddening sound. The spell explodes the statue of a fairy and throws the Knight to the ground, forcing him to take root to regain his posture.

  The Ent rises five meters above the ground, its human countenance replaced by the monstrosity of a gnarled tree. Legs like tentacles move across the earth, and long, reinforced arms hold leaves like swords. A hideous face sprouts a little below its crown, obsessed, golden eyes intimidate along with sharp teeth.

  To prevent another massacre like Dufae's, I contained the battle with the Knight in a specific district. Elves, more adept at magic and protected by the soldiers, soon fled to the walls, where they fight alongside the warriors of their people while singing about bravery.

  Hordes pursue them, orcs push against shields and ignore the spear wounds in their flesh. Spells shape the earth and air, protect from toxin, and create openings for archers to shoot enchanted arrows.

  Precious jewels that once proudly adorned the city lose their color; dilapidated houses are taken over by greenery. Incessant screams and explosions become part of the ambient noise; the consoling stillness comes through the salvation offered by the soldiers or the death they are unable to prevent. Pleasant despair hangs on my shoulders just as the dense fog weighs on them.

  One misstep and I would sink into the treacherous terrain; thorns of soil and ramparts form an uneven, rugged maze.

  My staff is gone. I don't remember when I lost it. I don't care. With soldiers protecting civilians, my concern is to prevent the war from destroying the entire city.

  I can't merge the divine and the arcane yet, but chaos seems to seep through everything I do. Whispering winds herald the agony; mushrooms threaten to shed their spores, but even they shrivel in terror before the lion's claws. I incinerate the rest of the plants with a heat wave and middle, landing on stone pillars. Green becomes purple, flowers bleed and cry.

  Steps. Wood and flesh meet. All that was needed has already been said. For the third time, Ent and I moved forward.

  I propel myself into the sky and manipulate the wind to concentrate the toxin in my hands. The Knight pulls his roots back in prevention of the attack, now filled with the contaminated water he has absorbed from underground. It molds its body and pressurizes the liquid as I use the spores as fuel and overheat the gases in the atmosphere.

  Flames glow in my hands and then towards the Ent, blinding light takes the surroundings and crashes into the city's water reserves. White steam explodes violently, tearing trees and rocks from the ground.

  I throw myself against the ground and dive into my shadow to transport myself to the epicenter of the impact; then throw smoke into my hands and cover the field divided between white steam and yellow fog with the scorching darkness of the smoke. As long as two-thirds of the vapors fight for dominance, the toxin will not affect me. Most importantly, when being blinded, the Ent is forced to adapt.

  He digs his hands to the ground and lifts the maze. A large claw rises from the hot rock on the ground, the giant avatar Knight returns with hundreds of meters and crushes me.

  I protect myself from pressure with a barrier, solidified aura cracks before physical force and makes me gnash my teeth. I transmit heat through his hand, flames ignite the structure and weaken it second by second until I explode the limb from the inside out.

  It's not enough. The Ent punches the shield and the impact launches me like a cannonball through dozens of houses. I roll along the pavement and ignore the burning of the shredded skin, I stand and grasp the wind like a sheet; ribbons of air redirect the dozens of stone arrows, spears of fire charring their remains and raining down on the earthen ramparts.

  His steps raise dust, the environment retracts and is agglutinated to your body. Running, the Ent gains more and more speed and charges at me in an almost suicidal advance.

  Diverting it would mean letting it pass free and destroying hundreds of buildings. In half a second, I raise my arms and maximize the emission.

  Red takes shape around me, aura solidifies into dozens of claws that dig themselves into the wood. Tons of rock at super speed sink my feet into the ground and drag me for miles. I gnash my teeth as thorns and chains pierce the creature's internal structure and transmit chaos; I weaken its vegetable muscles and slow down destruction by an inch a second.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  I am the cause of your suffering. Each use of the red power torments him with its failure, the memories threaten to consume me. I would never try to take down such a strong target straight away with illusion, but I thought I had a chance because of the mental fragility. Then, little by little, I knocked down the walls in his mind with a hammer, only to find that there are ten others.

  Chaos can deconstruct the power of the fairy and affect the emission of the Knight, but still, the force that dominates it is too great for my spells to break it. It doesn't matter if I try to stop his nervous system or make him hallucinate until he loses control, his eyes don't lose focus. It keeps getting up, again and again.

  Why?

  Debris flies through the air, dust mixes with the heated gases. An earthquake forms below our feet as the onslaught ceases. By keeping dozens of spells simultaneously active, my mana is drained every second.

  I breathe in. One last push. Another dozen spells. Houses collapse, tunnels open. Reducing the damage to a district still makes it unfeasible, as my magic seeps into the ground and curses it for decades to come. But I can fix them. I can still help those in need and…

  Why, exactly?

  Trapping the monstrous creature left over from the avatar, reduced to its original size.

  I have never desired peace with men, I have not cared for their conventions, nor do I believe I will. Despite this, I let my guard down around me for a few days, just so I could enjoy the company of a few. Given the conspiracies that brought the monsters to the city, I believe it was a terrible decision. Humanity. I don't care. But I care about Nia, about Wander, about Morgana. I fight for them.

  And yet, there is a remote possibility that, just as I feared the gods would, they will stab me in the back when I need it most. Who's to say these plans weren't their fault? Who can assure me that I am not being manipulated again by those who have always seen me as a weapon?

  “I want to know.” I say and approach the Ent. Chains buckle and pin him to the ground, he struggles to get away while chaos contaminates and distorts his magic.

  Wouldn't it be great if I could see it with my own eyes, about the vision of the one who once fought against the forces of the Demon King? Wouldn't it be helpful to unlock the secrets that would help me map the unknown?

  It does not matter what state of mind the Ent. It was he who killed Elron, and I want my truth.

  The Ent roars, his body deforms one last time. Another tree: larger, more monstrous than its first form, with multiple arms. Aggressive, he invests in a figure and attacks with all of them simultaneously, his precision lost amid the madness.

  I create barriers and counterattack, but with each arm I tear off, two more come into place. Steam expands. Ash from the smoke falls, boiling. Plasma glows, flames grows. Spells fly back and forth, explosions consume the far quadrant of the city. A drop of sweat falls next to my forehead and another of blood from my nose.

  Screams. So many screams. Influences mingle in the cacophony, acting simultaneously and turning the psychic scenario into a tug of war. A nostalgic reflection and similar to mine, echoes of a mission, a struggle that threatens the edges of consciousness, but which are still attached to the monstrosity of the being.

  I make his arm not work, an opening to shoot against the leg. He switches the position of the blades, another attack. Small illusions that confuse him and allowed me to win from any magician of my level are ignored by the abominable mind. He advances, advances, advances, without caring about houses or walls. I recoil as I attack, throw him on the ground and surround him with fire. It's not important.

  Something still resists. Something I squeeze like a balloon in my hands, but refuses to burst. I inhale, push against the walls that protect the core of the psyche and try to pierce them, then…

  Explodes.

  The Ent stops, swords inches from my face. I push him with a shot and let his body collapse.

  I breathe in, then exhale.

  But the Knight rises.

  I frown. Why you...?

  He stares at his blade, eyes empty and dull but still full of purpose. Hilda, me, him and memories. Influences dueled to see who would dominate him. In the wake of the war, however;

  “No!” He screams.

  I am expelled from your mind. My head hurts like my brain has been punched. I grit my teeth and watch the creature, which, instead of attacking, stares at the Amber Blade.

  “… I…” he says, babbling. Wood falls from his body and takes on a humanoid form.

  “… I … Swore…”

  “… But they forgot you and left you to die.” I say. “What makes you fight, knowing they may not thank you? Why do you scream for them? Why defend them after so long?!”

  “I swore I wouldn't… You… You…” He lowers his head, his fist tightens on the Amber blade, and stares at me. Wood imitates armor, leaves simulate a cloak. Its deformed, giant form features useless limbs and unequal proportions.

  Still, the Knight takes the stance of the West, a man fighting a monster.

  “Honor an oath… It's the right thing to do…”

  “…”

  Ah. That's the reason.

  I always had trouble accepting the reasons I gave myself. How can I allow something bad to occur, knowing that the ultimate good exists? No. I'm better than that. And yet, my legs tremble at the thought of going on this path. Yet to go beyond the limits of the “I” still imprisons me; it is the pathetic hypocrisy that makes man hesitate before the divine. In this, at least, the king is similar to the peasants.

  The right thing to do.

  I thought I was over this fear. Maybe because they're human. Perhaps because its rejection is not a mere possibility, but a certainty. They will fail me. Morgana will hurt me. Hoffstein won't be there when I need him. Someday, at some point, they will fail; just as I fail them now by doubting their loyalty.

  Versati advances.

  The umbral Blade manifests itself in my hand, pristine as in my dreams, and blocks the thrust. Your movements slow down. His blows weaken. He rips the air vertically, takes a step to the side and cuts off his hand. His gun spins in the air, but he lunges forward and grabs it with the other. Versati turns and attacks again.

  Fire explodes from my hands and throws him to the ground. Wood disassembles like plates of armor and exposes plant muscles covered by sap. Blood.

  He invests, again and again. We dance on the rubble. Fighting for a war that has already been lost. Still stuck in the hell I caused. Winning doesn't matter as much as telling your brothers that you honored your oath, that you didn't cower in the face of chaos, that you fought the Demon King himself to avenge them.

  Mana is extinguished. Smoke and steam disappears, the heat returns to mild. Spores fall from the skies, I intensify my brain so that my senses are not affected.

  It's the end. The Knight vomits sap against the ground. His arm had been incinerated; the shield torn from his chest shows the faint throb of the emerald heart. Influenced by chaos and bombarded by spells, his exhausted mana no longer serves him. Unconscionable attacks. One, two. Reality finally catches up with him.

  I pierce his heart with the blade, and the structure that composes it disassembles. A faint golden glow still roars in the depths of his soul. His vision disappears, and one last illusion looms.

  Green pastures. Old buildings are surrounded by fireflies, cheerful and colorful songs delight your ears. Inside his dreams, Versati watches the horizon one last time.

  “It's okay.” I say. “I will kill the Demon King. For you and for everyone else. Your mission is over. You can rest now.”

  I turn to look at his face. Magic leaves his body, wood crumbles to the ground. He was already dead. Without forces, rooted to the ground like a statue.

  Still, the Green Knight remains standing.