The elder fairy lifted her head, looking towards the source of the aura.
A figure was slowly erging from the darkness.
He walked slowly, stepping on the soft humus, yet making no sound.
Moonlight filtered through the leaves, illuminating his silhouette.
It was a humanoid figure, but different from those invaders.
His skin was a pale cyan, glistening with a jade-like sheen.
Long dark green hair draped over his shoulders, with silvery tips like dewdrops.
His face was so handso it seed unreal, yet the eyes carried a kind of age-old lancholy.
Upon closer inspection, one could see lotus leaves naturally growing from beneath the skin on his arms and neck.
Several tender green lotus leaves covered the sides of his forearm, edged with faint golden patterns.
On either side of his neck were smaller lotus leaves, trembling slightly with his breath, like living creatures.
He wore a longsword at his waist, its sheath dark cyan and covered with intricate lotus leaf patterns.
The sword hilt was entwined with the vine of a plant, ending in a small lotus flower.
The flower was a light golden hue, emitting a gentle glow.
He stood at the edge of the tribe, his gaze sweeping over the chaotic ruins.
Broken sheds, shattered magic wands, crisscrossing battle scars on the ground, and trembling little fairies huddled in corners.
There was no emotion in his eyes.
But the elder fairy in the corner, upon seeing his face clearly, shuddered violently.
"Are you... Lord Cyan Lotus?"
Her voice was hoarse, yet couldn’t conceal her excitent.
The young man nad Cyan Lotus tilted his head slightly towards her.
"You know ?"
The elder fairy nodded shakily, "Ten years ago... you ca to our tribe... back then you were only Level 1..."
Cyan Lotus said nothing in return.
He stepped towards the tribe’s center, pausing occasionally to crouch down and gently touch the cracks and remnants on the ground.
Each ti he touched, he would close his eyes and remain silent for a mont.
Finally, he stopped where the Red Crown had once fought.
There was nothing left, only deep ruts in the ground and scattered broken vines.
Cyan Lotus crouched down, reached out his hand, and pressed it against the thorn-torn soil.
He closed his eyes.
A mont later, he opened his eyes and stood up.
"Level 2 Peak," he said softly, as if talking to himself, "The battle lasted less than a quarter of an hour, the opponents... were more than one, the bodies were taken away."
He turned around, looking at the survivors in the corner.
"Who did this?"
His voice was soft, yet clearly reached every fairy’s ears.
The elder fairy staggered to her feet, opened her mouth to speak, but could not utter a word.
A small fairy suddenly broke free from her mother’s embrace and stumbled to Cyan Lotus, clutching his garnt.
"Bad people... lots of bad people..." the young fairy’s voice was naive, tinged with sobs, "They killed the chieftain, killed the elder... huge sand walls, lots of thorns... they killed everyone..."
Cyan Lotus looked down at the young fairy.
He reached out his hand and gently patted her head.
"Don’t be afraid."
His voice remained soft, but his eyes narrowed slightly, looking towards that vast darkness.
"Which way did they go?"
The young fairy shakily pointed east.
Cyan Lotus nodded.
He released his grip, stood up, and gazed in that direction.
Under the moonlight, his figure seed particularly lonely.
The lotus leaves on his arms and neck swayed lightly in the night breeze, producing a faint rustling sound.
"Seven of them," he said softly.
He didn’t say anything else.
He simply stood there silently, looking into that darkness for a long ti.
The fear in the eyes of the little fairies in the corner gradually subsided.
The elder fairy looked at his back, lips trembling, finally squeezing out a few words:
"Lord Cyan Lotus... are you... here to save us?"
Cyan Lotus did not turn around.
But his voice drifted from the darkness:
"I will find them."
"And then—"
He paused.
"I will bring back their heads, all these invaders must die!"
Under the moonlight, his figure gradually disappeared into the depths of the forest.
Only the rustle of the lotus leaves lingered in the night wind for a long ti.
Cyan Lotus.
This na, among the young generation of ancient fairies in recent decades, was almost a legend.
No one knew where he ca from.
So said he was born in a long-destroyed lotus tribe, others said he was an orphan awakened from an ancient ruin, and so claid he was the last blessing left by the fallen will of the plane.
But everyone knew one thing.
His growth rate was unbelievably fast.
Cyan Lotus was growing at an astonishing speed, and had now beco a Level 3 ancient fairy.
In today’s world, with missing rules, harsh environnts, and crumbling civilizations, few ancient fairies could ascend to Level 3.
But soone like him, who reached Level 3 in just a couple of decades, was unheard of.
So said he was lucky, always encountering various adventures.
Others said he was innately gifted, born to revive the ancient fairies.
And so said he was the last gift of the plane’s will.
Although the will of the plane was dead, its influence wouldn’t entirely disappear.
It would still invisibly foster so descendants of destiny, aiding in the continuation of this near-extinct civilization.
Cyan Lotus might be one of them.
He never cared about these discussions.
He only knew one goal.
To find those outsiders who hunted tribesn and plundered essence.
And leave none alive.
At this mont, he walked briskly through the dense forest, as light as the wind.
The longsword at his waist trembled slightly, as if eagerly anticipating the forthcoming battle.
He raised his head, looking east.
The aura of those people remained on this land.
Faint, but enough for a Level 3 strong being.
...
Duke opened his eyes from ditation.
The sky was dimly lit, morning light filtering through layers of leaves into the camp.
The others were still asleep or ditating, the night’s digestion and absorption leaving everyone especially quiet.
The witch array they set up was still functioning normally, its triple protection of concealnt, warning, and defense fully covering this small depression.
Everything seed normal.
However, Duke sat up, frowning slightly.
He couldn’t quite describe the feeling.
It wasn’t a warning from spiritual power nor a gut instinct, but a deeper, indescribable unease.
As if sothing was watching from the darkness.
He turned to look at Vera, who still leaned against the rock, eyes closed, breathing steady, seemingly unaware of any anomaly.
He then looked at Selman.
Selman’s complexion was pale.
His eyes were open, pupils slightly contracted, gaze fixed eastward.
His thin body was as taut as a drawn bowstring, even holding his breath.
"Selman?" Duke called softly.
Selman did not respond.
He rely stared intently in that direction, lips trembling slightly.
The next second, he suddenly leapt up, his voice so sharp it almost broke:
"Sothing’s coming—!! Get up—!!!"
Everyone awoke instantly.
Leon grabbed his longsword, Edmond almost rolled off the rock.
Vera was already up, her gaze sweeping like lightning around her.
"Which direction?" she asked gravely.
Selman raised his hand, pointing east, his finger trembling.
"That way... fast... very fast..."
His voice was broken, as if sothing held his throat.
"Level 3..." he uttered the last two words, "At least Level 3..."
Everyone’s expression changed.
Vera opened her mouth to say sothing.
Then, the world changed color.
A flash of a blade descended from the sky.
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