Inside the village, panic started to rise.
Ella and Elvie ran to the walls, gagging when they saw the massacre. Children were crying. The market had shut down. Shoppers and merchants ran to hide.
But no enemy could cross the threshold. The divine wall repelled the dark magic with a hiss and flickering runes.
Still... they left a message, scrawled across the wall in crimson strokes:
"Give us the tree, or his family dies screaming.
You know which brother.
You know who sent us.
– V"
Damn it! The evil Duke Asshole Vaelreth had sent his mages. And though he couldn't breach the village... he had made his move.
The war for my land—my people—had begun.
A few hours later at the town gates – That night the rain came without warning.
Cold and heavy, it poured from the heavens like mourning tears for the fallen. Their blood had already soaked the earth. Now it mixed with mud and rainwater, flowing in quiet rivulets through the stones beneath the outer wall.
The air stank of copper and charred ash from the wards that repelled the Duke's men.
The market was silent now. Stalls were abandoned. Lanterns dimmed. People whispered rather than spoke.
We stood before the fallen—fifteen heads. Fifteen good men.
I said nothing at first. Just knelt. Let the water wash the dirt from my hands. Sylphy's blood still stained my cloak. Kael and Karl leaned on Felix, silent. Their wounds were wrapped in haste, but the pain was etched deep into their faces.
Elvie stood beside me, fists clenched. "They died protecting our gates, Dirk. We must bury them with honour."
"I know," I murmured. "And we will. But not until I rescue Karl's family. Or this cycle continues."
Meanwhile, inside the modern infirmary building, hours earlier.
Elvie had screamed when they carried Sylphy's limp body. Igor screamed at them, "Help us!"
"Uncle Igor, what happened?" Elvie asked with worries as Sylphy's skin was pale, her heartbeat faint—her soul drained to a thread.
"Get me everything!" Elvie shouted, her hands already glowing as she pushed mana into Sylphy's core.
Gorland, the stoic dwarven healer, rolled up his sleeves. "We need divine reagents—her core's destabilizing!"
From the garden, Divina rushed through the storm, cradling a glowing blossom plucked from beneath the Divine Tree. The petals shimmered with stardust light.
"It's still alive," she whispered. "This flower... It sings her name."
Elvie didn't hesitate. She crushed it in her palm and let the nectar drip into a phial. Igor poured it between Sylphy's lips.
The room held its breath.
A moment passed.
Then another.
Then—Sylphy gasped. Her eyes flared open, dull and unfocused at first... but slowly, the colour returned. Her lips trembled. "I... failed... Didn't I?"
"You lived," Elvie choked, tears streaking her cheeks. "That's what matters."
Divina collapsed into Finn's arms. "That flower won't bloom again for another month. But it saved her."
****
I stood again as the rain soaked through my armour. My grip tightened on the Earth Rifle slung across my back—something I had bought from the Guardian Screen, a modified version of a hunting rifle from my world, enchanted to handle elemental ammo.
Beside me, Felix chambered a bolt into his own Earth Gun. "This won't be like before," he said quietly. "No monsters. No dungeons. This is a warzone we're marching into."
"We're not marching," I replied. "We're breaking through."
Around us, my best warriors had gathered. Drenched, scarred, silent—but ready. Some held earth-forged crossbows and ammo enchanted with wind. Others bore halberds and blades I had upgraded myself.
I looked at Karl.
His face was steel, but I saw the war inside. "You don't have to come."
"They're my family." His voice cracked. "If I die freeing them, so be it. But I will not let them die for something I caused."
Kael rested a hand on his shoulder. "Then let's go together, brother. One last time."
Outside the Village – We buried the fifteen fallen before we left.
Each grave bore their name, etched by my hand into a rune-marked stone.
Elvie gave each a piece of white cloth soaked with Sylphy's recovery potion—a symbol of life that still beats on.
The villagers lit lanterns, the flames bobbing in the dark as the warriors formed a silent line. Children wept in their mothers' arms. Men clutched hats over their hearts.
Divina stood beside me. "They want you to come back, Dirk. So do I."
I nodded. "I plan to. But I won't let him—Vaelreth—take another soul from me."
She handed me something—a potion vial shaped like a crystal teardrop.
"What is it?" I asked.
"A gamble," she said. "A dungeon drop from the Divine Tree's second bloom. It can purge dark curses. Maybe even the one afflicting the king."
I stared at it, then tucked it close to my chest. "Then we have one more person to save after Karl's family."
The morning after the massacre was hollow.
The villagers had returned to their homes under heavy watch, the children fed and tucked safely into stone buildings now glowing faintly with protective runes. The market was silent, its stalls tied shut, colourful clothes billowing in the wind like forgotten flags. The bakery's warmth had gone cold.
Outside the barracks, a line of soldiers stood shoulder to shoulder, heads bowed as they faced the lake where their comrades had fallen. Fifteen torches stood in the mud, one for each soul lost. The flames crackled softly in the drizzle, refusing to die out, just like the fury in our hearts.
Felix stepped forward with a folded flag—the same one the fallen had guarded to the end. He planted it beside the torches.
"They died protecting something bigger than themselves," he said, voice steady but sharp. "They died believing in what we've built. In Dirk. In this land."
No one cheered. No one clapped. But every eye burnt with purpose.
I stood before them in my black armour—newly forged from the Guardian Screen, plates etched with the insignia of the Divine Tree, infused with defensive mana. My sword at my hip hummed faintly with purple light, as if aware of the blood debt it now carried.
"They thought they could break us," I began, my voice low, cutting through the quiet. "That killing our own would shake us."
I looked at them—three hundred warriors. Beastkin, dwarves, mages, elves and even humans. Some young, some grizzled. All armed with gear they would have only dreamed of a year ago—modern guns, enchanted arrows, reinforced alloy blades, and adaptive armour, all purchased through the system.
"They didn't break us. They woke us."
A few heads lifted.
"We march for justice. Not just for the fallen... but for the innocent held hostage. For the poison that festers in the Duke's land. For every cursed breath he's taken since he cast his shadow on our gates."
Behind me, five massive machines rolled forward with a low rumble, shaking the stone-paved courtyard. Towering and matte black, the military trucks were monstrous—five all-terrain war vehicles, each the size of a small house, retrofitted with mana reactors and mounted weapon compartments. The largest one bore the sigil of the Divine Tree etched across its grille in molten silver.
"W-what are those?" one of the younger warriors whispered.
"They're ours," I replied with a faint smirk. "They can carry us all, we will not be marching to the enemy; we will ride them." Thankfully, a week ago, I purchased a 4x4 truck and a motorcycle, then let the dwarfin guys modify them with magic stones and taught ten warriors how to drive, including Kael, Felix and Karl.
Following them, three HUMVEE-class military jeeps rumbled in formation—sleek, armoured, and ready for siege terrain. Warriors climbed into them with giddy fascination, already touching every switch and bolt with reverent curiosity.
And then came the final wave—dozens of mana-infused motorbikes, modified with spike-tread tyres and elemental boosters. The warriors assigned to them wore black riding armour, their faces covered by tactical visors, their swords slung across their backs like ghost riders from hell.
Even Kael, ever stoic, let out a slow breath. "They won't know what hit them."
Felix grinned darkly. "We're not just marching to war... we're bringing the apocalypse."
Karl stood by the trucks, his face hard. He wore new armour—charcoal grey with silver accents, light for speed. His hand rested on the hilt of a curved blade humming with wind magic. This war meant more to him than all of us combined. His family's lives hung in the balance.
I put a hand on his shoulder. "We'll get them back. Alive. All of them."
He nodded, voice strained. "If we don't... then I'll die trying."
Sylphy stood nearby, still recovering, bandages peeking from beneath her leather armour. "You better come back with them," she muttered, "or I'll haunt your ass in your next life."
Felix barked a dry laugh, handing her a reinforced staff. Elvie and Ella gave me a look that told me to come back alive. After all, I left Robinson Town with dozens of warriors on watch.
"I wish I could come with you guys. That gun looked promising," Sylphy pouted.
"You're still too injured to come."
"I'll heal," she snapped. "You're not leaving me behind again."
Kael chuckled. "We'll need her anger more than her sword."
A few minutes later, I raised my hand, and the camp fell silent.
"Today, we march. Tomorrow, we will fight. In three days, we will knock on the Duke's door."
The soldiers thudded their fists to their chests in unison.
"For the fallen. For the Divine Tree. For the Realm of Dirk!"
The air trembled with the force of it. A thousand boots began to move. The ground shook as the first engines growled. Our banners unfurled. Purple, silver, and green. The colours of a future worth dying for.
As the gates opened and the march began, the skies above finally opened too—rain falling like the tears of the gods, washing away the blood, but never the memory.