"Slaughter them all!"
"These rebels will make the finest sacrifices!"
Theron spread the grotesque spider limbs protruding from his back and let out a raspy roar. Cracks multiplied across his skin until his entire body resembled fractured porcelain.
A dense black mist seeped from the fissures on his flesh. His skin and muscle shuddered, veins bulging as though countless insects and serpents were slithering beneath, remaking his mortal frame.
He released a suppressed growl. "Remember! The great Mother Goddess foresees all of the future! Every agony, every grief, every death is part of the destiny She has woven with Her eight arms!"
Theron howled in agony and raised his arms high, glaring toward the scarlet blood moon in the sky. Behind him, more than a dozen elven elders chanted in low voices, their incantations intermingling with the hissing of spider beasts to form a macabre symphony.
Crimson light bathed the earth. A cruel, mocking female laugh echoed in everyone's ears, and an indescribable power began to warp the world.
"Stop them, at all costs!" Theron bellowed.
One after another, the colossal cocoons suspended from the Sacred Tree ruptured, disgorging foul, viscous fluids as well as thousands upon thousands of driders.
Once, they had been the paragons of the silver moon elves, the noble scions of the clan elders.
Now, their eyes were glassy and lifeless. Like walking corpses, they charged toward the coalition soldiers, while alongside them swarmed tides of sword spiders, phase spiders, bebiliths, and other horrors.
"For justice!"
With a resounding roar, a massive golden figure swept across the sky. Roaring flames rained down like divine retribution, igniting a raging sea of fire.
Yet a dozen drider sorcerers mounted on the backs of monstrous spiders raised their wands in unison. Volleys of webbing shot forth, weaving together into a sky-blotting net that intercepted the gold dragon and temporarily ensnared him.
Titus spewed searing dragonfire to burn the webs to ash, only to discover a faint reddish shimmer playing across their strands, miraculously shielding them from the scorching heat.
Countless spider abominations scrambled along the webs and onto the gold dragon's body, biting and tearing with mad frenzy, even driving venomous stingers into the gaps between his scales.
Yet the ancient gold dragon possessed overwhelming might. The mere shockwaves of his thrashing crushed swaths of the spider beasts, sending severed limbs raining to the ground.
"Quick, support Lord Titus!"
A dozen celestial warriors beat their feathered wings, attempting to fly to his aid, but an aerial contingent of evil dragons intercepted them, plunging them into a bitter struggle.
Far below on the ground, Melisandre drew her longbow to full extension, aiming toward the sky. Another gale coiled tightly around her arrowhead, steadily gathering strength until it was ready to burst forth.
*Whoosh—*
With an air-splitting screech, the arrow tore through the sky. Its infused magic formed a wind blade more than ten meters long.
The wind blade sliced cleanly over Titus, instantly slaying hundreds of spider beasts and severing the bundled spider silk. It ripped open a massive breach in the web, granting the ancient gold dragon the opportunity to break free.
"Cunning knaves!"
Titus roared. The powerful muscles along his back surged, and he snapped his wings open with tremendous force, tearing away the webs entangling his body before rocketing hundreds of meters into the sky.
A scepter forged of solid gold materialized in the dragon's claws. Pointing the tip toward the earth, he unleashed an immensely thick beam of radiance. It detonated against the ground in a cataclysmic explosion, engulfing over a thousand spider monstrosities.
Capitalizing on the blast, Rhea led the Silvermoon Followers straight into the heart of the enemy lines. Like a keen dagger, they tore open the opposing formation, cutting down over a hundred driders in rapid succession.
Dwarven cavalry, human rangers, and celestial hosts surged in behind the silver moon elves, storming directly into the vanguard and flooding into the area surrounding the Sacred Tree.
Catherine's eyes shone with brilliant radiance as she declared in a cold voice, "My people! My allies! Victory is at hand! The Sacred Tree of the Elves lies just ahead!"
"All forces, attack! Shatter their lies and malice, and let the silver moonlight grace this land once more!"
The scepter in the Elven Queen's grasp flared with silver light, expanding to envelop an area hundreds of meters across. Beneath this holy energy, countless spider beasts shrieked in terror and fell into disarray.
In the distance, the drider spellcasters raised their wands once more. Streams of acid, toxic fog, and bloody radiance surged toward the silver moon elves, every spell capable of snuffing out mortal lives with ease.
Yet Rhea gripped her sword in both hands, raising a barrier of sacred aura before them.
Behind her, Melisandre released a volley of arrows in rapid succession, instantly blowing apart the heads of the drider spellcasters.
With the ancient gold dragon paving the way with fire, the human ranger eliminating enemy casters with arrows, and the half-elf paladin cleaving every obstacle before them with her silver sword, the three legendary figures coordinated flawlessly. In mere moments, the path leading to the Sacred Tree was cleared, leaving behind only pools of blood, corpses, and scattered remnants.
"Charge!"
"Victory is before us! As long as we eradicate the root of this disaster, Therenia can regain its former peace!"
Rhea looked down the wide avenue blanketed by the Sacred Tree's leaves, observing the twisted, corrupted boughs flanking the path, her heart filled with complex emotions.
Once, this road had been hailed as the Sacred Way, the Glorious Silvermoon Way. It was the pilgrimage every Therenian elf had to walk to receive their baptism and divine grace.
Yet as a half-elf bearing human blood, she had once been deemed unfit even to set foot upon it, branded by the elders as a 'mongrel' and a 'defiler of pure blood.'
Now, however, that very Sacred Way was dyed crimson with blood and littered with the hideous corpses of driders. Even the Sacred Tree had been fouled by evil power, bearing little resemblance to the sacred monument in her memories.
And yet... did she truly have the right to call herself a Therenian?
As Rhea stood lost in thought, Catherine stepped forward and spoke in a voice both gentle and firm, "Come, Rhea. Stand with me... and end this tragedy."
"A thousand years have passed. It is time Therenia returned to what it once was."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Rhea looked up at the Elven Queen's fair face, met those eyes shimmering with silver radiance, and nodded firmly.
In the blink of an eye, they arrived before the massive trunk of the Sacred Tree. All that remained was to open the Gate of Ancient Wood to venture inside.
The Gate of Ancient Wood had once been dignified and majestic, imbued with the beauty of nature. It would manifest the wise face of a treant to discern the heart of anyone seeking entry, opening only for the kind and sincere.
Now, it was riddled with cracks, its perimeter lined with fangs and thorns like a yawning, bloody maw.
The corners of its mouth curled slightly upward in a gruesome, twisted sneer tinged with crimson gore. The darkness within its fissure was abyssal and deep, threatening to devour everyone standing before it at any second.
"Who comes..."
A raspy voice groaned, sounding as if it drifted up from the bottomless Abyss.
A grotesquely warped face filled with madness surfaced upon the Sacred Tree, glaring down at the elves with a sinister leer. "Are... there... sacrifices?"
"Is... is this the Sacred Tree?"
"That is the sacred gate?"
The silver moon elves present were overcome with horror and dismay, feeling the faith in their hearts crumble in an instant.
Catherine stepped forward without hesitation. Compassion flickered in her eyes, yet her voice remained icy as she asked, "What do you require?"
"Blood... fresh... blood. The blood of one thousand silver moon elves, and I will... let you pass."
The Gate of Ancient Wood stared fixedly at the silver moon elves, its eyes glimmering with a covetous, greedy light as if eyeing fresh prey.
"You must... pay the price..."
Beneath its gaze, a shiver ran down the spines of the silver moon elves.
The Gate of Ancient Wood, once a wise and venerable elder, had been corrupted by that malevolent power into an insatiable, bloodthirsty monstrosity.
"If that is so..." Catherine's voice turned even colder, like permafrost unthawed by centuries. "Do not blame me for disregarding our past ties!"
The voice spiked with alarmed fury. "What? I am the Sacred Tree's—"
*Swish—*
Catherine bit her fingertip, allowing her royal blood to drip onto the crest of her scepter before raising it high.
A blinding silver light erupted, striking the Gate of Ancient Wood. The monster let out a shrill shriek before being purified by the radiance.
The Gate of Ancient Wood swung open, at last laying bare the interior of the Sacred Tree before everyone's eyes.
"By Sehanine..."
Even Catherine could not suppress a sharp intake of breath.
"Gods above!"
"How could the Sacred Tree have become like this?!"
The tree's interior had been completely hollowed out, lined everywhere with corrosive scars and branches that resembled grotesque, flailing limbs.
Dense webs hung in every direction, suspending countless giant cocoons—at a conservative estimate, more than ten thousand of them. Spiders scuttled across the crimson silk strands, ferrying the blood and severed limbs of silver moon elves.
The Sacred Tree now resembled a colossal corpse standing a hundred meters tall. The crimson webs were its blood vessels, the spiders were its blood cells, and the butchered remains of the silver moon elves served as its nourishment.
This was the Ensel Court!
The sacred sanctuary where the ancient elven kings had sworn their oaths to the gods and established Therenia had been reduced to this hideous state.
"Desecration..."
"This is absolute desecration."
Witnessing such a gory and vile spectacle, Catherine's voice trembled slightly.
Just then, the wizard from the Arcane Hermitage looked up. His expression was grim as he said in a heavy tone, "Your Majesty, I believe... I have found the anchor."
Everyone raised their heads together, following the direction of the wizard's staff.
At the center of a crimson vortex spun from spider silk hung an elven woman.
She wore a pale-gold coronet, her flowing, silver hair cascading over her shoulders like liquid moonlight. Faint blue veins showed beneath her deathly pale skin.
Her upper torso was curled inward, wrapped in silk like a newborn infant, radiating an aura of purity and sanctity.
Yet her lower half was the grotesque, terrifying body of a giant spider, eight barbed arachnid legs curled beneath her like an obsidian throne of thorns.
A drider.
A drider with closed eyes, seemingly sealed here in a slumber spanning a thousand years.
Yet upon catching a clear look at her visage, everyone present—elf, dwarf, and human alike—was stricken with shock, an ominous dread rising in their chests.
The reason was simple: the sleeping drider's features were a seventy-to-eighty percent match for Catherine's!
Staring intently at the drider, Catherine murmured to herself, "By Sehanine... that face, the silver hair, the coronet of the ancient dynasty, and that familiar resonance in our blood..."
"Could she be..."
"Heh, you guessed correctly, Catherine."
A raspy sneer drifted down from the canopy of the Sacred Tree. It was Grand Elder Theron.
Theron raised his staff and laughed madly. "She is none other than the overthrown tyrant of Therenia—and your grandmother: Fariti Moonchaser!"
Catherine was seized by fury, her brows knitting sharply. "You... how dare you desecrate her remains in such a way!"
Theron's face was sheer madness. "No! This is no desecration, but her supreme honor! She shall serve as the vessel for the Eight-Armed Mother Goddess, the worldly incarnation of the Weaver of Fate!"
He shook his head, sounding almost regretful. "You could have shared in this glory as well. Alas—you were too ignorant, too blind to see."
"Glory? Forcing her body to host the will of an evil goddess—that is what you call glory?!"
Catherine cursed coldly, "Never in her wildest dreams could she have imagined that you would sink to such deranged depravity!"
Theron paid her words no heed. He simply raised his staff high, splaying his eight hideous limbs as he screamed at the top of his lungs, "Come! Witness this glorious moment!"
Before his voice faded, the canopy atop the Sacred Tree split open like the jaws of a behemoth, revealing the crimson full moon hanging in the heavens.
Only at such a time could the evil deity's will exert its greatest influence upon the Material Plane. This was the pinnacle moment for the sacrifice.
The elven elders used blade-like spider appendages to slit the throats of captive silver moon elves, letting their blood gush forth.
"A blood sacrifice to the Mother Goddess!"
"Praise be to the great Weaver of Chaos!"
Accompanied by chanting of devotional prayers, warm blood flowed into eight prearranged braziers.
These braziers were magical vessels crafted from precious black materials such as onyx and obsidian. Burning with fat, coal, and incense, each represented one of the Mother Goddess's eight arms.
*Hiss, sizzle!*
As the blood pooled inside, bizarre flames erupted from the vessels, reflecting the eerie crimson moonlight.
Within the Sacred Tree, the worshipers of the Eight-Armed Mother Goddess seized one another by the throat, driving sharp daggers into one another's hearts in a savage slaughter.
Bathed in the scarlet moonlight, these fanatical cultists performed a gory dance, paying for it with their very lives.
Catherine felt a splitting headache, as though her soul were being torn apart, yet she still strained with all her might to shout, "Quick... stop him!"
"Your Majesty, I..."
Yet beneath that crushing divine pressure, ordinary mortals had already lost consciousness. Even the legendary paladin could barely move, struggling desperately just to retain her senses.
Meanwhile, the one truly capable of turning the tide—Titus, or rather Cassius—feigned being affected, coolly observing the progression of the situation.
*Fascinating...*
In the original timeline, even without the intervention of an ancient gold dragon, Catherine had ultimately secured victory, albeit at a far more devastating price.
And now, Cassius suspected that the Moon Goddess herself would descend in person to contend with Lolth's manifestation upon the Material Plane.
Chapter 761