Episode 263 – Star of Demtor (4)
Ku-ku-kung! Ku-kung!
The massive earthen wall conjured by Punkin trembled violently.
The wall, shielding over a hundred witches, resembled a colossal tomb.
Surrounding it like a swarm of wild dogs, Van Dyke puppets clung to its surface, relentlessly hamring away.
As chunks were torn out and cracks ford, the wall began to fall apart—but when spiritual energy surged again, it was rapidly restored.
Drdrdrdrdrk—
“...Kugh!”
“Punkin!”
A massive wind lash crashed against the ceiling of the wall.
Under Lindbergh’s relentless assault, Punkin—who had been holding on—coughed up a mouthful of blood.
As expected of the witch of earth, her spells were optimized for defense, but the external shocks raining down on them were too overwhelming.
She couldn’t hold on much longer.
“Everyone, stay strong!”
At Oarla’s shout, the hundred witches channeled their spiritual energy to her.
The necklace around her neck glowed violet and gently enveloped the wall.
The cracked sections of the wall quickly healed, and Punkin’s expression eased slightly.
Freed from the pressure thanks to Oarla’s energy support, Punkin spat out the blood in her mouth, closed her eyes, and quickly assessed the situation.
Through her spiritual vision, she read the battlefield and let out a soft groan.
The Van Dyke puppets’ attacks—like bombardnts—were purely physical, so she could endure.
The problem was the assault from the Stars.
“Thankfully, Keros arrived in ti and is keeping Modin occupied…”
Beyond the forest, Modin, ard and engaged in fierce battle with a massive beast covered in black fur, was fighting tooth and claw.
Krraaaahh—!
Trees were uprooted and hurled through the air as the ground split beneath them.
Keros, the forest sentinel, was aggressively pouncing on Modin with sharp fangs and claws.
Without Keros’ help, they would’ve already been wiped out.
Punkin grit her teeth as she recalled the artifacts Modin had just used.
Both his sword and shield were tailor-made for witch hunting.
His shield deflected witchcraft, and his sword could break through the protective enchantnts of even the great earthen wall.
If Modin had stabbed the wall just a few more tis, the spell would’ve been forcefully shattered.
Oarla had cast a powerful illusion right in front of Modin,
but his helt had dispersed even that.
“They really prepared thoroughly…”
While the witches remained hidden in the forest, Demtor had been preparing for war against them for decades.
Now that she was experiencing it firsthand, she understood.
When Demtor invaded the Forest of Spirits, they should have been deeply concerned—not falsely confident.
“That man was right…”
[Those who are stuck in ti will eventually be overtaken by those who keep moving.]
Arthur Clayton.
Punkin had resented the elders and Dorta who took his advice seriously.
But now, she had to admit it.
The Forest of Ordor could not win against Demtor. Not as things stood.
“P-Punkin!”
At Oarla’s urgent cry, Punkin turned and swore.
One side of the forest was being engulfed in massive flas.
Ffwoooosh!
Black wildfire scorched the vast forest.
From within the inferno, a robed man slowly stepped forward.
His billowing red robe and long staff crowned with a large ruby shimred ominously.
Bersen Clarke.
The Star of Dreadfire now stood face-to-face with the great earthen wall.
A pincer attack, huh?
They had tried to avoid Clarke’s approach but were ambushed by the Van Dykes instead.
Now unable to move, Clarke’s arrival was nothing short of a catastrophe.
Can the wall hold…?
“No, it’s impossible.”
Unless they stopped him now, every witch here would be consud by the Dreadfire.
“Oarla, I hoped your intuition was wrong… but you were right. He got here first.”
“Punkin…”
“Take care of things here.”
Punkin released her spell, but the wall remained intact with Oarla’s support.
“Wait! What are you going to do?!”
As Punkin straightened her witch’s hat and moved to leave the wall, Oarla grabbed her in panic.
She couldn’t just let her go.
Punkin gave a crooked smile and gently removed Oarla’s hand.
“I’m the only one among the Dorta who can block Dreadfire. The witch of earth.”
“But still…”
“Keros ca, so the others will follow soon. You must protect these girls, Oarla.”
With those parting words, Punkin launched herself forward, opening a small hole in the wall.
Guaaagh!
Grrraaah!
Screeches from the Van Dykes leaked in through the hole.
Without hesitation, Punkin slipped through it.
Inside the wall, they hadn’t realized it—but outside, the air was scorching hot.
Punkin rode the land toward the burning forest.
Black ash danced in the air.
She tore her ten fingers, scattering blood into the air.
The earth stained with her blood pulsed, and as she ford seals with her bleeding fingers, a 5-ter-tall stone giant was summoned.
Thump, thump, thump—
The golem charged at Clarke with a ferocious aura.
“Clarke! This ti, I’ll bury you alive!”
“You Dorta have really dulled, haven’t you? You think you can stop alone?”
With a twisted grin, Clarke swung his Staff of Ruin through the air.
“I’ll erase you from this world.”
Black flas blood from the sky.
Rapidly growing in size, they exploded—showering the battlefield in a torrent of fire.
The charging stone golem was quickly lted by the fla storm.
The heat was unbearable.
Sssaaaaaaaah!
The Dreadfire storm swept over Punkin.
So hot…
Inside the wall, Oarla and the witches wiped the sweat pouring from their foreheads.
The temperature had started rising rapidly. Clarke’s magic had clearly begun.
Worried for Punkin, Oarla twisted her face and forced herself to stay focused.
“We have to hold out!”
Drdrdrdrdrk—!
Lindbergh’s pressure on the wall intensified, as if to crush it completely.
Now that Punkin had stepped outside, Lindbergh’s obsessive attacks had doubled.
The wall shook dangerously.
“Ugh!”
The impact made her chest feel like it was being squeezed.
Lindbergh’s spells were incredibly sharp, but with the energy of a hundred witches supporting it, the wall was still holding.
Also, since they were in the Forest of Spirits, the Stars were conserving mana—which helped.
But ti wasn’t on their side.
“Anyone… please, soone help…”
Oarla pleaded silently, but the one who responded wasn’t a witch.
Step, step—
“…Ah…”
Modin, helted and holding his sword, was approaching slowly.
Behind him, Keros, bloodied and stumbling, was retreating.
The lone guardian couldn’t hold off Modin.
Modin, now right before the wall, lifted his visor and spoke.
“The wall will fall.”
“Surrender. I will spare the witches inside.”
“And force us to live as test subjects in your Ivory Tower for life?”
“Survival without cost is aningless.”
“Shut up.”
“Foolish, then.”
Modin slowly drove his sword into the wall.
The blade trembled, letting out a low wail.
The mont the tip pierced through the wall, a sharp sword-cry began to ring out.
AAAAAAGH!
The piercing sound had the witches clutching their heads and screaming.
As one after another collapsed or staggered, the spiritual energy flowing through Oarla’s necklace weakened rapidly.
The wall was weakening.
Crack—crackkk—
All around, the wall caved in.
Van Dyke fists began punching through from the outside.
If this breached, it would be a massacre.
Tornted, Oarla made her decision. She gripped her necklace tightly.
The necklace had enough power to trap a local space within her influence temporarily—
but the cost was great, on the level of a high ritual’s Wish spell.
Is this as far as we go…?
Only now did she understand the smile Punkin left behind before leaving.
She had been ready.
Clasping the necklace in both hands, Oarla whispered a spell.
[Stop.]
In that instant, the world fell silent.
Ti had stopped.
No—
It only appeared that way.
It was a spatial illusion magic interwoven with ti. Within a set boundary, ti began to flow sluggishly.
Ssssss…
“…Ah…”
In the slow-flowing world, the wall finally shattered from Lindbergh’s magic.
The drifting fragnts looked like flower petals.
The outside world ca into view. And in the sky—Lindbergh, preparing another spell.
But within Oarla’s space, his movents looked painfully slow.
Worse than Lindbergh’s magic—
The Van Dykes were now charging through the ruined wall.
They aid for the witches.
And Modin’s sword was pointed directly at Oarla.
Each blink of her eyes brought the blade closer to her heart.
The puppets were the sa—Their nacing fists were about to crash down on the witches.
She shut her eyes—
Afraid to open them again.
“Help us.”
She wasn’t afraid of the sword aid at her heart—
She just didn’t want to see the witches die because of her.
“Please… help…!”
In that mont of desperation—sothing changed in the world she had created.
Oarla’s eyes widened as she looked beyond Modin.
Soone had entered her space.
Despite the distance, he moved faster than anyone else.
Passing straight through the Van Dykes, he was already behind Modin.
In this slow-flowing ti, he alone moved unbound.
A familiar face rapidly closing in.
Sharp eyes, light brown hair, surrounded by spiritual energy and scattering golden light—
Arthur Clayton.
He had pierced through ti control and reached Modin’s back.
“…Ah!”
At Oarla’s gasp, Modin’s helt slowly turned. His gaze followed behind him.
At the sa ti, his lips moved.
A sturdy shield ford around him, but a golden punch slamd into it.
KWAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!
A massive shockwave erupted—
“You sons of bitches!!!”
Arthur’s furious roar followed.
Suddenly, ti returned to normal.
Oarla’s absolute illusion shattered.
“Kgh…!”
Modin was sent flying, crashing into the ground.
The Van Dykes scread and hurled themselves at the witches.
“Lochter, Fenry, Elton, Samuel!”
Arthur shouted four nas, pointing urgently.
Figures leapt from the forest and shot into the air.
Surveying the battlefield, Arthur thrust his hand skyward.
“Reto!!!!!!!”
The mont he called the final na, the wind blew through the forest.
On the back of his hand, a beautiful sigil glowed—
[The Siren’s Hymn]
As the mark turned to radiant light,
Arthur shouted—
“Burst!”
And with his cry, golden light began to engulf the world.
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