Petra stood on the edge of a cliff.
Her small figure was outlined against the vast expanse of the western region. As the wind tugged at her cloak, it was cold and dry, carrying the smell of curse and decay.
Behind her, the broken carriage was still overturned.
The western region stretched out endlessly as a gray, desolate, yet still somehow livable expanse. It was not yet destroyed by the calamity, but it already looked half-dead. Perhaps, this was the last time anyone could see it in this way.
Below, the 'Grey Plains' spread out from the western border, cracked and dry, like a colorless beach. Dust rose in faint waves following each breath of the wind. There were no trees, only scattered stone and the barren paths.
Here, even small settlements were exceptionally rare.
Further on, a dark line split the plains and transitioned into the 'Dark Forest'. From above, it looked like a black sea, dense and motionless, its thick canopy swallowing what little sunlight it could. The trees there were unique to the western region, and their appearance could be spotted all around the west, but they were the densest in the Dark Forest.
These were Westwood Trees, a special type of tree whose dark trunk transitioned to a pitch-black color the closer it got to the ground. The crown of each tree was covered in dark green leaves, almost black in color, and had abnormally high durability and adaptivity to their environments.
At the border of the forest stood the city of Harnlum.
What was once a merchant hub during the early founding had been slowly forgotten in recent decades. Now, it was quiet and gray, its walls still intact but its towers slanted and old, its streets half-buried by creeping vines and wind brought ash. Despite the desolation, the city was still bright and populated. Even from this peak, Petra could see the many forces of the United Army gathering together.
Beyond Harnlum and past the Black Forest, the ground dipped into the 'Dark Swamp'. This was a stretch of black marsh and poisonous waters that twisted and bubbled faintly under the greying sky. Although still barren, the largest of its dozens of settlements lay in its center in the form of Darkwell City, a grand fortress city built on stone platforms and rune-raised towers, its buildings shaped like hexagonal pillars with broken bridges connecting it together. The wind made the swamp ripple, and for a moment, the swelling city seemed to sink and rise with the water, each city block (tower) dipping up and down together in a natural rhythm.
Even further west, beyond the Grey Plains, Dark Forest, and Black Swamp, the ground rose into uneven shapes and slides, forming the 'Cursed Hills'. Their slopes were filled with spires of brittle stone and pools of pale mud, cracked from years of acidic rain and devastating storms. The land was soaked with the ominous aura of uncountable curses, almost like this was a breeding ground for the dark arcane.
To the furthest possible point west, the faint pale streak of the 'Yin Forest' stretched across the horizon. This was a primordial forest filled with towering pale white trees with scale-like grey bark, their white leaves shimmering like snow. Somewhere beyond the face of the forest stood the walls of Oriest City, tall and strong, catching the dull sunlight like a castle made of marble.
Finally, beyond even the western horizon, barely visible through the rising haze of the distant atmosphere, lay the ancient ruins of the 'World Tree'.
The enormous trunk lay collapsed across the Yin Forest like a black scar, its body splitting the forest in two. It was petrified into something similar to black stone, its roots digging in and out of the earth, like massive hands that drilled through the ground and stretched throughout the western region. Its crown had long dispersed, and its countless branches had withered and lay limp on the forest floor. It was so large that small ecosystems had started to form, creating smaller forests on its towering corpse, and treating it no differently than a massive mountain.
The black tree was a stark contrast to the white forest.
* * *
Petra stood high atop her perch, not yet properly entering the western region.
It all began with one last quake…
Hoooong!
The entire western region shook.
Hoooooong!
The quake deepened until the mountains began to cry.
Hoooooooong!
At first, it was only sound, a low, rolling hum that grew heavier with each passing second. Stones vibrated, cliffs cracked, and the air thickened with the taste of dust.
Then… the ground started to move.
Rumble!
Petra could feel a deep vibration from under the earth.
The western region wasn't just shaking…
BOOM!
It was reshaping!
Across the Grey Plains, the entire sheet of land buckled, folded, and crumbled like a piece of wet paper. Great fractures tore across the earth, spreading outwards in deep scars, bending the land inwards, and displacing what few settlements there were.
Petra's eyes sparkled with starlight.
From the edges of those vast, expanding cracks, something began to slowly rise…
At first, it looked like black stone, smooth, glossy, and ancient, but as their surfaces twisted, flexed, and shed, they began to reveal their true form.
They were roots, massive mountain-sized roots that were black, knotted, and cloaked with wet earth.
Their width was anywhere between 1 to 50 meters.
Each one burst through the crust of the western region with a thunder-like roar, stretching from the furthest point west, across the region, and all the way towards the western border where Petra was. Dirt, rock, and poisonous streams erupted outwards as the roots climbed, curled and snaked through the air before burying themselves somewhere else with an explosive boom.
One particularly massive root erupted within the Black Forest, splitting it straight down the center. The ancient and withered Westwood trees were torn out by the thousands, flung into the air as splinters and dust scattered.
In the distance, the Dark Swamp heaved, as something enormous passed beneath its surface. A moment later, hundreds of tower-like roots erupted out of the swamp one after another, then crashed down as a chain of devastating scars that rippled and connected, causing the unstable western continental plates to implode and divide. Following the devastation, a series of black water columns burst upwards, drenching Darkwell City, which vanished in and out of the bubbling mire with the waves.
The once sea-like swampland was scattered into thousands of smaller islands.
Beyond that, the Yin Forest, closest to the source of the change, screamed. Its towering primordial trees were still, just moments before being bent violently as a series of rising roots rose and broke through their ranks, snapping trunks, uprooting entire stretches of forest, and flinging white leaves into the wind like snow. These particularly massive roots ripped across the western region, cracking the Cursed Hills, and expanding to everything else.
Everywhere Petra looked, the world was changing.
The land rose and fell like waves.
Large sections of the western region tore free from their foundations, carried upwards or pushed away by the massive roots twisting beneath them. Hills turned into canyons, and mountains sank into plains. The once continuous landscape shattered into a vast patchwork of islands, divided by deep, growing ravines that flickered deeply with massive wriggling roots and blackened pools of Duskwood Dust.
There was so much Duskwood Dust that it liquefied.
Woosh!
From the coast, the true sea, yes, not the poison sea, the sea that surrounded the continent, began to encroach and flow into the newly created ravines. It came slowly at first, then all at once, forming a rushing wall of water that spilled into the new fissures, filling the gaps between the rising landmasses. The sound of it was deafening, and the crash of waves mixed with the roar of a continent. The western region was being remade, piece by piece, into something unrecognizable.
The quakes lessened for a mere moment, just long enough for the wind to carry the stench of burning wood through the air. Then, from the farthest point on the horizon, beyond the broken outline of the Yin Forest, 'something' exploded.
Hoooooooooooooooooong!
The Fallen World Tree, petrified for millennia, shuddered.
Boom!
Its colossal trunk began to glow, cracks spreading along its length like veins filled with fire. But the light wasn't that of a flame, no, it was darker, thicker, and carried the unmistakable aura of dusk, almost like thick crimson ink running through veins that had only just remembered how to flow.
The tremors returned, violent enough to shatter strongholds.
The roots that had spread across the western region began to twitch together, drawn by the pulsing waves of 'lifeforce' produced by the tree. Every scar of destruction, every fissure, every canyon, mountain, and every wound, all of it connected back to that single, impossibly large trunk on the horizon.
Then the world shook one last time.
BOOM!!
The Corrupted World Tree awoke!
Its roots convulsed, lifting entire sections of the western land into the air, only to smash them down. The trunk straightened with a sound like hundreds of mountains breaking, rising higher and higher until it pierced the clouds like an inflating balloon.
The quake rolled outward across the continent, shaking even the eastern region.
The petrified bark split open and fell off, revealing a living, breathing black surface that shone under the dim light of dusk. The ancient tree reached its full height, its branches unfolding in a slow, impossible motion, stretching far beyond normal sight, and piercing into the void.
Then, it bloomed…
The canopy erupted outward in a wave of black mist, unfurling like a stormfront. From it spilled thick grey clouds that swallowed the sun and stretched across the western region. The sky turned dark in minutes. Lightning danced between its branches, silent and constant, reflecting the distant Poison Sea.
From where Petra stood, she could no longer tell where the land ended, and the sky began. The region she had been watching had vanished into smoke, sea, and shadow.
The western region was gone, consumed by calamity.
What remained was an archipelago of shattered landmasses, bound together by the twisting roots of the corrupted world tree.
The Poison Sea surged from the east, rolling down the central region's mountain range, slowly replacing the seawater that had temporarily filled the gaps between the new islands. Above, the canopy continued to grow, its black clouds spreading wider and wider, reaching towards the rest of the sky that covered the Cross Continent.
'The sky had turned black.'
'The land was broken.'
'The sea was poisoned.'
The western region had become a cage, trapping all those overzealous fools who came for a fight.
Now, growing beneath the shadows, the greatest treasure of the High Elves, the resurrected World Tree rose once again, corrupted, and stretching its uncontrollable claws towards the world.
The Second Calamity had finally begun.
* * *
From the outside, the city of Harnlum was as quiet as a tomb. What had once been a proud city now staggered beneath illness, silence, and destruction. The banners of the United Army hung in tatters, torn by the violent gales and repeated shockwaves. Below, refugees crowded the streets, soldiers fought over rations, the remaining livestock starved in their pens, and the cries of the dying echoed between cracked walls and vine covered streets.
Above it all, in the war room of the temporary camp set up by the United Army, stood Kareth Tibon.
He looked at none of it, only turning his head to the future.
He stood perfectly still before a table covered in broken and redrawn maps, his pale hands folded neatly behind his back. His golden eyes were dull, unblinking, and unfeeling, presenting a chill to any who met his gaze.
Before him stood the leaders of each power that made up the United Army. Some came from large factions, while others came from small forces. There were local tribes and distant travellers. Five branches of the mercenary alliance, hundreds of gold rank adventurers with thousands of silver rank adventurers, an army from the Hellion Empire, the Runecoin Medics from the south, the Silver Crest Knights from the east, the Stoneback Tribe from the west, the Bloodhand Marauders from the central region, the Vineweavers Guild from the north, the Sea Forge Engineers from the south sea, and the Black Cauldron formed in Imai.
Together, they formed the United Army.
-
None of them spoke first.
It was almost as if the room was holding its breath.
When Kareth finally spoke, it was quiet and carried an absolute command.
"It's already been decided," he said in a cold and emotionless tone.
He didn't raise his voice, but it cut through the air with the sharpness of a knife. "The western region is finished. Those roots have reached into its very foundation, destabilizing the ground under our very feet. The sea surrounding the continent is entering through the fractures, filling it, but soon even that will be replaced by the poisonous black substance that's still flowing from the border. What's worse, the devastation is spreading and expanding like an illness. Soon, this land will drown. The only question that remains is how many of us drown with it, and how many of its inhabitants we can save."
Hexfill's eyes darkened. "You speak like it's already over."
Kareth's gaze shifted towards him, calm and slow. "It is," He answered simply. Like him, many of the other leaders also understood that the western region was doomed.
Some just didn't want to give up hope.
Hexfill's voice was grave. "Then why did we even come?"
"Because order must exist even within chaos," Kareth replied. "There is good news. First, the black wave near the border is moving very slowly, giving us a few months of time to act. Second, the sea surrounding the western region seems to be resisting the corruption and, in a way, is almost pushing it back, containing it for now. Therefore, we don't need to worry about it contaminating the sea outside for now. Finally, although the damage is great, many of the major cities have survived, providing the possibility of a rescue."
He turned back to the table, brushing the falling dust from the map with one hand. "Three jobs remain. You will each take one."
His eyes scanned over three people.
This was directed at Kilemin, Elena and Hexfill.
He excluded the rest of the leaders, as well as Arthur and Rotell.
He first turned to Kilemin.
"You will take your people to find a way out of the western region. The mountain passes are blocked, but some of the underground options may remain. I don't care how you do it, dig, burn, slaughter your way through if you have to, but figure out a path to evacuate. If you fail, we may all die. That's all." His eyes looked away, his disdain for the barbaric hero clear in his words.
Kilemin's brow rose with interest. "And if I find nothing?"
Kareth's tone didn't shift even a bit. "Then the continents will have a few less faces to remember."
Kilemin stared at him for a long time, saying nothing.
After a long pause, he turned away and left, leaving only a cold chuckle in the wind.
Next, Kareth turned to Hexfill.
"You will gather your remaining forces and split into hundreds of teams. Use everything you can find. Focus on the evacuation, save every survivor you can, and move through the cities, towns, and villages."
Hexfill's lips pursed. "And if I refuse?"
He still wanted to go and take the White Wolf Trial.
Now was the last chance, or it would be too late.
Kareth didn't look at him again. "You won't."
Hexfill nodded and left.
Kareth was right.
Finally, Kareth's eyes turned to Elena.
She just nodded, already knowing her job.
Kareth continued. "You will go west."
Her expression was unchanged. "To the tree."
"Yes," he said. "You will observe its form and look for a weakness. If it can be wounded, wound it. If not, figure out a way and bring us back the method. I'm sure you can deal with it." There was no malice, no sarcasm in his words, only 'trust' in the title of hero.
Hexfill cut in and asked, "And what about you?"
Kareth looked back at him. His eyes were utterly still as he spoke in a cold and deep voice. "I will stay here and manage the refugees. I have no interest in running around." He turned towards the window. "And… my skills are far more suited to maintain order."
Kilemin grunted. "You'll die in this hellhole if you amass too much bad karma."
"Everything dies," Kareth said with a predatory glint in his gaze.
The two stared at him, but he didn't even flinch.
None of them believed such nonsense.
Those from the Tibon Family were not the kind to die easily.
If there was seriously a group of people who didn't want to wait to evacuate and tried to force an uprising in the camp before it was time to go, then this snake was more likely to go on a massacre than just stand there and receive their 'judgement'.
Kareth reached for a quill, marking three lines across the ruined map, east, west, and a serpentine stroke, each mark drawn without hesitation.
"Those are your orders," he said without looking up. "If any of you fail, there will be nothing left." Another quake rolled through the fortress, shaking dust from the ceiling.
Kareth didn't move, no, he didn't even flinch.
He waited until the tremor faded, then mumbled to himself, "At least it will be quiet when this ends. I've wanted to go home for quite some time…"
No one replied.
When the dozens of leaders left, he didn't watch them go.
Kareth just continued to mark the map in silence.
* * *
Elena took a small team of about one hundred elite cultivators and left Harnlum to journey to the corrupted world tree on an investigation mission.
The western region's winds were foul, thick with poisonous air and rotting wood.
Elena pulled her hood down, peering out with her bright green eyes.
She was standing on the edge of a broken Island. In the distance, the Corrupted World Tree swayed faintly against the horizon, its black canopy spreading wider and wider by the hour.
The clouds above it glowed faintly with the unseen light of blue and white lightning.
She smiled faintly, not with joy, but in excitement.
She turned and vanished into the darkness ahead, closely followed by her small team of elites.
* * *
Kilemin stood before the eastern gate of Harnlum City, already half-collapsed.
Hundreds of soldiers waited behind him, all of them ready to take on the important mission of finding a way to evacuate the survivors.
He looked back towards the city.
He could still feel Kareth's voice echoing in his head. It was cold, certain, and left no room for luck.
Kilemin had no doubt that he knew something.
Even he had to admit that that man was an oddity among humans. He shook his head, throwing that thought to the back of his mind.
He raised his fist, voice booming across the ruined courtyard.
"Move! Let's find a way out, or we'll have to tear one open!"
The men behind him roared.
* * *
Hexfill worked with the other small leaders to organize hundreds of smaller teams that would scatter across the newly created western region archipelago. Their mission was to rescue survivors, clear cities, collect resources, and gather anything that could be of use.
The soldiers were already loading carts, their faces already pale with exhaustion.
It was destined to be a long year.
Hexfill's eyes lifted to the western sky. That black horizon where the roots pulsed like veins and the clouds swam like a sea, he could feel that this was far from over. For some reason, he felt that there was still one piece of the calamity missing, he just didn't know what.
Perhaps with time…
He shook this thought from his head and looked at the nearest team leader. "Ready the empty carriages. If they can't walk and we don't have enough room, we'll have to carry them. If they can't be saved…"
He paused, then finished, "...make it quick."
"Now! Get ready and spread out!" He roared, ready to begin the long battle.
* * *
As all the pieces started to click together, something began to stir deep within the earth. Just as Hexfill's instincts had reminded him, there was indeed a piece of the calamity that was still missing.
To the west, beneath the Corrupted World Tree.
Deep underground…
Something very ancient slowly opened its eyes.