In the central region of the Forest of Monsters.
Moor wiped the blue blood spilling from the corner of his mouth. The fight just now had taken quite a toll on him. “Damn it... How can those two Clerics be so strong? They've ruined my setup.”
He only wanted to refine a few low-grade Philosopher's Stones to heal his body. What did he do wrong?
“But, the targets have already been lured over... The next step of the plan can now begin.”
It would just be a little more troublesome...
He still needed to find those foolish ogres and greedy centaurs to help draw attention for him.
“Everyone is used to the usual beast tides by now, aren't they... Let's add some extra spice this time and see if the humans can still handle it.”
Moor waved his withered, twig-like claws, and deep-blue mana flowed and spread between his hands.
Under the influence of his mana, the surrounding trees began to twist and mutate one after another.
“After observing them for more than a decade, I've finally figured out these ancient trees left behind by the ancient elves... Now, rise! Wills of antiquity!”
As Moor's voice fell, the twisted, mutated trees actually wrenched their roots out from the earth, transforming into treants one by one.
This was none other than a common magic of the elven race—Treant Animation.
To use this spell, one had to analyze the essence of the trees, perceive nature, and possess elven blood.
At the same time, it required expending a massive amount of mana.
The older the tree, the stronger its combat power once animated. It was one of the elven race's trump cards.
The only price was that these animated trees would reach the end of their lifespans within a few years. Thus, the nature-loving elves would never rashly use it unless they faced a crisis of survival.
Moor, however, was obviously not one of them.
This was also why Moor had chosen the Forest of Monsters as the first Mana Weave node he wanted to conquer.
These powerful treant guards would be a critical part of his plan. To prepare for this day, he had put a great deal of effort into this magic—after all, he had never received the acknowledgment of the natural will or the tree spirits.
But there were always more solutions than problems.
Since he couldn't obtain their acknowledgment, he could simply twist the will of the tree spirits!
Blood, slaughter, logging, desire... countless filthy conflicts had transpired within this forest. All Moor needed to do was guide them appropriately.
“Rise! Rage, my twisted guardians!”
As Moor chanted continuously, more and more treants were twisted and awakened.
These treant guards, whose wills had been altered, were far more powerful than the original gentle treants!
Even though these twisted treants' lifespans were only a tenth of a normal treant's.
“Let the invaders feel your wrath!”
“Ssshh!”
...
“Goler, why do you think these beast tides happen...?” Kakafiel asked the knight leaning against the large tree.
“Because the monsters can't survive anymore,” Goler replied, picking up a withered yellow leaf.
“That shouldn't be the case. Based on my previous observations, this kind of beast tide should reach a balance after a few occurrences... It's really strange.” Before coming to the frontier, Kakafiel also thought beast tides were normal.
But after arriving, he no longer thought so.
For he had truly witnessed the destruction of a beast tide, which also gave rise to a doubt—it occurred once every two years.
Could these rampaging monsters even recover their numbers in that time?
And why didn't they slaughter one another?
Why did they have to attack humans every single time?
Logically speaking, a balance should have been reached long ago, even if those nobles ignored the issue.
“Perhaps someone—or something—is pulling the strings behind the scenes.” Goler crushed the withered leaf in his hand and stood up.
He knew very well the reason behind the beast tides—the damn things were not a natural phenomenon at all!
Most monsters could rely on hibernation to survive the cold wave.
If not for the humans who rashly entered, and his dear master who deliberately disrupted the balance...
“Sigh, in the end, it's because those nobles don't care about anything,” Kakafiel lamented.
As long as it doesn't affect them, they couldn't care less.
Why should they manage a territory that wasn't their own?
And if they did interfere, they might even draw suspicion from other nobles, who would wonder if they were trying to cultivate another dubbed knight using the crisis.
It would be fine if they actually succeeded, but if they failed, it would be a massive loss.
In any case, there was a geographical buffer, so the destruction would never reach their own heads.
Naturally, no one wanted to do such a thankless task.
They only needed to cooperate with the Professionals Association and keep the city folk in check.
“That is just how humans are.”
“Don't be so pessimistic, my friend. Things will get better, and problems will eventually be solved. Just like the tools in our hands or the magic mages use, they change and evolve as times progress. Human morality and social systems are the same. Just because they are flawed now doesn't mean they will always be.”
“I hope so, though I probably won't live to see that day,” Goler said indifferently.
To him, something he couldn't see was as good as non-existent.
“We will. Just like the sun always rises, perhaps the dawn is not far off... Alright, let's stop being so sentimental. This week's business has only just begun. It's time to set out again.”
“The two of us...?”
...
“Can we go any faster?” Ogre asked Macar.
“Horned horses have great endurance, but their speed is only average. We can't go any faster,” Macar replied.
In all things, there is always a trade-off.
Of course, perfect things did exist, but they were not something a village stable could ever get its hands on.
“Is that so...”
Ogre had never ridden a horned horse before, so he wasn't very familiar with them.
“If we were riding a gryphon, we wouldn't have this problem. They're fast, have great endurance, can fly, and can even fight... but those are mounts only people from the interior can afford. We certainly can't afford those around here.”
It was rare for Macar to complain like this.
“True.”
Ogre released his hands from Macar's waist.
At this speed, there was absolutely no need for him to hold on tightly.
“But we can exchange for a better demon-blood horse at the town ahead.”
“Mm.”
Rate on N.U.
