Chapter 84: The Bloody Court

Chapter 84: The Crimson Court

At the heart of the Verdant Court.

The lanterns were already lit, but beneath the Sacred Tree, a good number of people had gathered—mostly couples.

A young elven couple held each other's hands, standing beneath a branch adorned with colorful ribbons. A heavy fruit hung at its tip, weighing the branch down.

The couple gazed at the ripe fruit, torn between joy and anxiety. The wife kept rubbing her husband's hand, as if that might steady her nerves.

"Why hasn't it dropped yet? It's definitely today—I've checked the timing more than once!" she said.

"Take it easy, the date can't be off! We've waited this long—what's a few more hours?" her husband reassured her.

"Now that you mention it, don't you think the forest's been a bit off lately?" the wife said. "The sky looks weird too, and the elk are all restless. You think this could be a bad omen?"

"Don't overthink it. Didn't the Councilors say the forest is protected now?"

Their child was about to be born. For ten months, they'd come to the Sacred Tree every day to check on the tiny fruit. As it grew and ripened day by day, something warm and bright grew steadily in their chests.

The Sacred Tree didn't answer every prayer. Many elven couples came to pray for a child from their very first day of marriage, praying hundreds or even thousands of times before the Sacred Tree would bear fruit. Some couples never got the Sacred Tree's blessing in their whole lives. That's why elves lived so long but had so few children.

Every fruit was born from countless heartfelt prayers. Every child came into the world through the endless love and longing in their parents' hearts.

This young couple was really lucky—they'd prayed less than a hundred times before the Sacred Tree bore fruit. Everyone said, with envy, that they must've done a lot of good deeds to earn the Sacred Tree's favor.

Lately, the Verdant Court had been anything but peaceful. Waves of homeless refugees flooded in from the borders, throwing the Court's order and safety into chaos. Rumors of war and the Stellar Conjunction rode the wind into the forest, stirring up elves who'd grown too used to peaceful days.

The thought that their child might be born into a dark, chaotic era filled the young couple with deep sorrow and dread.

But things were looking up. The Council of the Holy Descendants had spoken—they'd set up a cordon at the forest's borders, and no one would bother the elves' peaceful life again.

Once the Lady Saint came back and they could pray for more Sacred Seeds to build new settlements for the homeless, things would get better.

They were about to become parents, to raise a new life in a peaceful age, teaching him or her knowledge, virtue, and everything they thought was good and worth passing on.

"Ah! Look!" the wife cried out, pointing at the heavy fruit. A thin crack had opened where the fruit met the branch.

Her husband quickly set a thick, pre-stitched cushion under the fruit. Honestly, even without the cushion it'd be fine—the fruit would protect the newborn—but most people set one up anyway, scared the child might get hurt.

The fruit dropped from the branch and landed right on the cushion.

The young couple rushed over, overjoyed, dancing some silly, primitive dance around the fruit. Others shot them resigned, tolerant looks—this scene played out under the Sacred Tree every day.

After dancing for a good while, the couple knelt down, breathless, beside the fruit.

They'd seen countless times how newborns came to be. Trying to calm hearts that felt ready to leap out of their chests, they carefully touched the fruit's smooth shell.

A crack spread out from under their fingertips. They exchanged looks of pure joy and peeled the shell open together.

Their smiles went stiff.

A bloodcurdling scream tore through the Court.

"A monster! It's a monster!"

Curled up inside the cracked shell was a tiny creature. It wasn't the plump, fair-skinned baby they'd imagined, but a writhing, squirming lump of bloody flesh.

Its surface, slick with dark red fluid, was covered in blood vessels and things that looked like facial features and organs. One of those organs opened, letting out a sharp baby's cry.

The wife clawed at her hair, sobbing incoherently. Her husband, facing the crying mass of flesh, shielded his wife behind him and backed away, desperate to get as far from that awful thing as he could.

"This... this isn't our child! Someone help! Save our baby!"

His cries were soon drowned out by an even shriller scream:

"Look at the Sacred Tree!"

The elves turned in unison toward the towering Primordial Sacred Tree.

The golden giant that had stood here since the Verdant Court was founded was going through some horrifying change.

A filthy black stain had appeared at the base of the trunk. Like a strangler vine climbing a host tree, it shot up the trunk, eating the radiant light wrapped around it. Wherever it passed, the glorious golden leaves quickly dimmed, withered, and turned ash-gray.

Plop. An unripe fruit dropped from a branch.

Its once-sturdy shell had long rotted away. It hit the hard ground, splattering a big puddle of thick, dark red fluid. Out of the broken shell, a deformed mass of flesh squirmed.

Plop. Plop. Plop.

Countless fruits rained down like drops. A pair of elven parents rushed over in a panic, arms out, trying to catch their child. The fruit shattered just two steps away, splashing them with stinking dark red liquid.

Another couple was lucky enough to catch theirs. But before they could celebrate, it burst with a "pop" in their hands, and a smooth, slippery mass of flesh oozed between their fingers.

A drop of red rain hit their foreheads. The elves looked up in a daze, their eyes reflecting the dark red sky, the withered black giant tree, and the blood rain falling from above.

No—that wasn't blood rain. It was the Sacred Tree bleeding.

Scream after scream erupted, taking over the entire Verdant Court.

***

"Livia! What's going on?!"

Lamanor stormed furiously toward the silver-haired, crimson-eyed girl. She was holding a wooden box with a sacred relic inside, leaning against the balcony outside the Grand Council Hall, staring at the dark sea of trees with a frown.

"Huh? What do you mean?" Livia asked, distracted.

"The Sacred Tree!" Lamanor raised his voice. "Can't you see it? What the hell is going on?!"

When the Verdant Court was built, clever architects made sure the majestic Primordial Sacred Tree could be seen from every corner of the Court. So Lamanor could see the Sacred Tree's transformation clearly even from the Grand Council Hall window.

Livia looked away and turned to Lamanor, sounding surprised: "Isn't this what you asked for?"

"When did I ever ask for this?!"

"Didn't you want to use the Life Energy Conversion Method to protect the forest?" Livia said with an amused expression. "So I followed your orders and finished this massive forbidden ritual device."

Lamanor was horrified and instinctively stepped back: "Wh-what are you talking about? Wasn't the protection supposed to be the human stakes?"

Livia watched Lamanor with keen interest—the Councilor's terrified face seemed to really delight the silver-haired girl.

"Oh, they're part of the device too. But dear Councilor, think about it—the human stakes' energy will run out eventually. What'll you do then?"

Lamanor broke into a cold sweat, his lips trembling. He thought of a terrifying possibility but didn't have the guts to say it.

"That's when you need a living creature with more life energy to power it."

Livia's tone was like a patient teacher guiding a slow, hopeless student.

"And in the Verdant Court, there just happens to be such a creature. Ah, yes, surprising, isn't it? Your Sacred Tree isn't actually just a plant—it's a higher life form, a living behemoth. How else could it grow kids?"

"Its roots spread throughout the entire forest, connecting all the Sacred Trees to one another, naturally forming an energy network. I linked all the Sacred Trees and the human anchors together, with the Sacred Trees supplying power and the human anchors serving as output devices—that's how we can keep the warning line running for a long time."

Livia said, unable to help giving herself a little round of applause.

"What a stroke of genius! If I wrote this up as a thesis, Omod University might even grant me an honorary degree!"

Lamanor trembled violently, his face flushing red one moment, then going pale the next.

"You vile witch! You deceived me!"

He sprang forward in a single bound, seizing Livia by the collar. The Silver-haired Maiden narrowed her eyes, snapped her fingers, and Lamanor went flying backward as if hit by an invisible sledgehammer, slamming hard into the balcony railing.

"I didn't lie. Everything I said was true—I just left out a few key details." Livia shrugged. "As for you, a Holy Descendant who's lived for centuries, you were so quick to trust an outsider. The second you heard you could banish the Lady Saint and take power, you agreed to anything. You were even willing to sacrifice your own kind.

"From the moment you had our order pose as bandits, attack villages, and drive people from their homes, you were destined for this end."

Lamanor, struggling, grabbed the railing and hauled himself up, glaring at the Silver-haired Maiden, burning with hatred.

"Curse you, curse you! You're the one who deceived and manipulated me! You—you shameless hag!"

He let loose a stream of curses, each one filthier and more blasphemous than the last.

Once he ran out of his already limited vocabulary, he started making excuses for himself: "Everything I did was for the elves! To protect the forest and the court, sacrificing some of the lower classes was unavoidable! But you—you..."

Livia burst into laughter. Her bright, piercing laughter cut Lamanor off mid-excuse, leaving him frozen there like a fool.

"What I did was for the greater good too, dear Councilor!"

Livia suddenly hopped onto the railing, balancing with impossible grace like a bird.

"This is my master's will! Your race, so stuck in its ways and outdated, has no reason to exist anymore!"

With that, Livia's face lit up with boundless joy. She leaned back, clutching the sacred relic box to her chest, and dropped toward the ground.

For a moment, Lamanor clung to a foolish hope: if only that woman would fall and die. But the next moment, the Silver-haired Maiden rose, carried by the wind.

Her silver hair and black robes whipped wildly in the wind, making her look like a black-and-white omen of death.

She shot Lamanor a glance, then turned and flew off into the crimson sky.

Lamanor stared blankly as her figure grew smaller and smaller. A crowd poured out of the council hall and swarmed around him.

"Councilor Lamanor, do something! The court is in chaos!" the female Councilor who often echoed Lamanor's words said anxiously.

"Councilor Lamanor, this isn't what you promised!" another male Councilor fumed. "You said it was foolproof, so I went along with your plan! But now..."

"Should we bring the Lady Saint back?" a third Councilor said in despair. "The Lady Saint has a spiritual bond with the Sacred Tree; maybe she can figure something out."

"Don't talk rubbish! The Lady Saint must never come back!"

"Rioters are heading toward the council hall! Send the guards to stop them!"

Everyone talked at once, throwing out ideas and then pointing fingers at each other. Blame quickly became insults, and insults turned into shoving matches. These noble Holy Descendants, born high in the Sacred Tree, were no better than the commoners born on its lowest branches.

"Enough!"

The crowd fell quiet. Lamanor straightened his collar, his bloodshot eyes sweeping over every face: "Send out the Sacred Tree Guards to crush the rioters! Use the 'holy blood'!"

Hovering in the air, Livia wore a cruel, contemptuous sneer.

She flew toward the withered, bleeding Primordial Sacred Tree, looking down at the chaos below.

*

The whole court had turned into a bloody hellscape.

People scrambled desperately in every direction. The cries of infants mixed with the wails of the crowd, and the falling blood rain stained everyone dark red.

Then, a squad of guards in gleaming armor entered the Sacred Tree plaza. They maintained a tight formation, cutting through the chaotic crowd like a sharp scalpel.

"Brothers and sisters of the court, return to your homes! The Council of the Holy Descendants will resolve this!"

The guards held their halberds, trying to block the crowd.

"Where are the Holy Councilors? Why don't they come out?" an angry voice shouted from the crowd.

"Didn't the Council say the forest was safe? Liars! All liars!"

"They took my brother away, said he was joining the army, but they've all disappeared!"

The furious crowd surged forward but was easily suppressed by the guards.

The guards were vastly outnumbered, yet each seemed incredibly strong. One guard swung his heavy halberd as if it were a wooden stick, knocking several civilians to the ground with a casual sweep. Another grabbed a stone statue over a person's height with one hand and spun it around like a weapon.

The captain of the Sacred Tree Guards shouted orders from the rear. If Leen were here, he would recognize him as the Elven Warrior who had recently recruited at the refugee camp.

The Sacred Tree Guards were a force directly under the Council of the Holy Descendants, accountable to no one else—not even the Lady Saint. Obeying the Council's orders was their sole mission.

Before departure, Councilor Lanmano had issued each of them a vial of "holy blood," which granted godlike strength upon consumption. It was said to be a miracle bestowed only upon the bravest warriors. It was this that gave the Sacred Tree Guards their superhuman physique.

The guards fought one against a hundred, scattering the furious crowd within minutes. Those who resisted were quickly subdued.

Livia hovered in midair, coldly observing it all.

"They diluted the true 'holy blood' to create a potion that enhances physique with fewer side effects?" she muttered to herself. "But 'holy blood' is the blood of a god. Have you never considered what happens when you consume a part of a god? Or perhaps, since only commoners would die, you simply don't care?"

She spoke softly, opening the box's lid a crack, then snapping it shut.

Yet in that brief moment, the situation in the court changed irreversibly.

The guard captain suddenly clutched his throat, coughing violently. Blood gushed from his nose and mouth, and then his abdomen convulsed as he vomited a large, writhing mass of flesh.

This flesh resembled the monsters born from the tree fruits. As if nourished by a life-giving rain, it swelled at a terrifying rate, its slime-covered surface bulging with massive tumors from which all manner of grotesque organs squeezed out.

A round, fang-filled maw opened where its stomach should be, swallowing the vomiting captain in one gulp.

Another guard collapsed. His back split open, and a mass of writhing tentacles emerged from within.

Meanwhile, the flesh monsters beneath the Sacred Tree began to writhe frantically.

Large masses devoured smaller ones, only to be consumed by even larger masses. They kept merging and growing, soon forming several towering hills of flesh. Countless twisted limbs extended from the masses, each covered in silver-vertical-pupiled eyes.

One of the flesh hills dragged its massive, heavy body toward the crowd, like a huge, ugly, deformed infant born under a curse, letting out its first cry of resentment at this cruel world.

The elves froze at the deafening, piercing cry. They forgot words and actions, staring blankly at the colossal flesh masses rising like mountains.

The silence lasted only a breath. Then panic exploded through the crowd like a bomb.

"Help! Monsters! There are monsters!"

"Someone do something! Where is the Lady Saint? Where are the Councilors?"

"Ahhh, my child..."

Brave civilians tried to confront the monster, but the moment their eyes met those countless orbs, fear and madness poured out of them along with their blood.

Livia snorted disdainfully and flew beyond the royal court. The elves were courting their own destruction, no longer a threat. With the sacred relic in hand, all that was left was to bide her time...

Suddenly, she halted mid-air.

"...What is that?"

She murmured, her crimson eyes staring in astonishment at the horizon.

***

A young elven couple sat slumped against the base of the Sacred Tree, drenched from head to toe by the blood rain.

They were the first to discover the tree's fruit turning into a monster. The husband had rushed to pull his wife away, but the frantic crowd quickly shoved them back.

With nowhere to go, they were forced to retreat toward the withered, bleeding Sacred Tree. They backed against the gnarled roots, with nowhere left to run.

The massive lump of flesh lurched toward them, raising a twisted, multi-jointed arm.

The couple had no strength left to even scream. All they could do was cling to each other's arms, helplessly watching the hellish sight before them.

Suddenly, a deep shadow fell over them. The last patch of dark red sky above was blotted out by something pitch-black.

—Was even the light being devoured?

The next moment, a colossal gray figure crashed through the Sacred Tree's dry, cracked branches, showering countless broken twigs as it landed before them with a thunderous impact.

It was a stone dragon as immense as a mountain range.

It spread its wings, shielding them from the rain of blood, then craned its long neck and bared its fangs. The stone statue showed no fear of the flesh monster's shrieks or staring eyes; it sank its fangs into the monster's neck in a single strike.

The monster let out a deafening shriek, its twisted limbs flailing wildly, and with one blow shattered the stone dragon's head.

Yet the headless stone dragon kept moving. It whipped its tail, the spiked appendage slicing through the flesh monster's limbs, sending thick blood spraying into the sky like a fountain.

Another stone dragon plummeted from the sky. It landed beneath the Sacred Tree, its claws pinning another flesh monster deep into the ground with a thunderous crash, sending a cloud of dust billowing into the air.

—Were monsters fighting monsters?

The wife thought, dazed.

But then she saw several figures leap down from the dragon's back. Three of them were entirely deep gray, like walking statues. The fourth was a golden-haired elven youth, clad in light armor, with a sword at his waist and a longbow slung across his back.

He looked like he'd just come from a fierce battle, covered in wounds and blood. But he was full of spirit, showing no fatigue, his eyes blazing, as if an unyielding flame burned within them.

He glanced around, spotted the young couple, and walked over to them, reaching out a hand to pull them both up.

"Get to the outskirts of the royal court and find somewhere safe to hide!"

The young couple studied him, thinking he looked familiar.

"You... are you the Lady Saint's guard?"

The elven warrior didn't answer. He turned, drew his sword, and faced the flesh monster, leaving them with nothing but a tall, resolute silhouette.

In the distance, the chaotic crowd froze once again, stunned by the sudden turn of events.

More and more stone dragons flew in from the far horizon, their wings blotting out the sky like countless banners snapping in the wind.

Astride the dragons were elven warriors of stone, raising obsidian-forged weapons as they charged silently into battle.

Ancient legends came to life in that very moment.

Suddenly, someone pointed at one of the stone dragons. On its back, alongside the gray stone warriors, was a living person in vivid colors.

"Look! Isn't that the Lady Saint?"

Sylvira's armor was shattered, her face streaked with blood and grime, her features barely recognizable—except for her eyes, which burned with startling intensity—calm, sharp, and green as evergreen pines in deep winter.

She drew her silver bow and fired streak after streak of silver starlight. The light pierced the dark forest like a magnificent meteor shower.

"Elven warriors, hear my command—protect the civilians!"

Blood-soaked elven guards leaped from the dragons' backs. They rushed toward the crowd, directing them with hoarse but steady voices to split into groups and follow them to safety.

It was an order born of countless drills and training—absolute discipline.

***

Livia hovered in mid-air, watching in disbelief.

She'd thought nothing in the world could shock her anymore. Seems she'd underestimated this world.

"The Saint managed to escape death—lucky her... And what about those stone statues? Where did they come from? What kind of supernatural ability is this?"

After muttering to herself for a moment, she pressed her lips into a thin line.

It seemed the elven race wouldn't fall today. Still, the sacred relic was in hand, and the mission was complete.

Though many had been lost, it was all worth it. The fallen followers would return to the True God's embrace, and a place would surely be waiting for them in the new world.

Livia looked away and soared into the sky.

In the distance, where the horizon was being swallowed by dusk, a small black dot was growing larger, hurtling toward her at great speed.

It was a stone dragon—not large, but agile and swift. On its spiked back stood a man wrapped in a tattered black cloak.

The fluttering cloak was like shifting night itself, and for a moment Livia thought darkness had fallen on the land early.

The man didn't head for the verdant royal court like the elven warriors. Instead, he drove the stone dragon straight at Livia.

"Livia Vichard, so it's you!"

A hoarse, low male voice came from beneath the black hood.

Livia's crimson eyes narrowed. Her name was no secret among the cult and its collaborators, so it was hardly surprising someone called it out. "And who are you? Give me your name!"

"You can call me Mr. Shadow."

"I don't remember ever dealing with a superhuman like you. Are you a hired hand brought in by the Elven Saint? A mercenary? Or some elf-lover?"

The man flung open his cloak, revealing a hand wrapped in darkness clutching a crimson dagger.

"I'm here to stop you."

Author's Note:

In the lore, every Apostle, upon completing all their missions, receives a "venerated title" (like a game title). This title won't show up until the finale, but I can't wait to tell you all now!

Because I'm afraid I might not live to see the ending, haha.

The revered names of the six Apostles are as follows:

Sylen — Storm Herald

Tove — Torchbearer Forerunner

Dorian — Quill-and-Blade Duelist

Sylvira — Witch of Resurrection

??? — Iron-Crowned Queen

??? — Tattered-Robe Pontiff