Game of the World Tree

【 NOT GOOD! 】

Dark clouds churned above like an unrelenting tide, swollen and heavy, pressing down on the battlefield as if the sky itself sought to crush the earth beneath. A bitter wind tore through the air, sending the iris-emblazoned banners snapping like whips.

Above the orc stronghold, a shimmering silver spell barrier slowly took shape, forming an inverted bowl that completely enveloped the settlement.

Under the high priest’s command, a retinue of orc priests took their positions along the walls, praying continuously with solemn expressions.

With the support of the Sauron Group, their tribe had finally gained access to a protective barrier—a divine warding spell commonly employed during wars of faith.

Beyond the walls, thirty thousand troops had completely encircled the Golden Canopy Tribe. Several trebuchets had also been erected by the elves, launching relentless barrages from multiple directions at the orc stronghold.

Fiery “meteors” streaked through the stormy sky, trailing thick plumes of smoke before crashing into the orcs’ crude defenses.

Explosions thundered across the battlefield as flames burst outward in all directions. The shimmering silver barrier flickered violently, wavering like a fragile ship caught in a storm.

Meanwhile, the priests maintaining the barrier grimaced in pain, their bodies convulsing under the strain. Many turned deathly pale, beads of sweat rolling down their faces. As conduits of the holy statue that empowered the barrier, they bore the backlash of every impact—its force diminished, yet still enough to send searing pain through their bodies.

The divine barrier itself flickered erratically under the relentless bombardment.

Yet, despite everything, the orcs from Golden Canopy Tribe held firm. However, the high priest wore an increasingly grim expression.

Their tribe had once sheltered refugees from the Caverock Tribe, so he had long known that the elves had acquired the knowledge to build trebuchets similar to those used by humans.

Now, after witnessing their sheer destructive force firsthand, his heart sank into despair.

Too strong…

It’s far too strong!

These trebuchets weren’t like the siege weapons used by humans.

No, they were something far worse.

Each projectile struck with the force of a sixth-circle explosive spell—one that didn’t just shatter stone but also exploded with a power comparable to a spell wielded by upper silver-rank mages, condensed into raw, unrelenting destruction.

Explosion magic derived from the fire attribute was the most powerful of all offensive spells. If compared to the bombs from Earth, such an attack would be akin to a 500-kilogram warhead, capable of leaving craters several meters deep and spanning hundreds of square meters.

In other words, these stone projectiles could obliterate an entire building and decimate a small plaza in an instant.

What’s even worse was that the elves didn’t just fire these projectiles one at a time but rather, they unleashed them in coordinated volleys, sending dozens hurtling through the sky at once.

Seeing such a devastating onslaught hurling toward his tribe, even a high priest of lower-gold rank would struggle to survive the barrage without the barrier’s protection.

The high priest knew that they were in for some real trouble this time…

While the Golden Canopy Tribe’s high priest was reeling under the crushing pressure of resisting the Elven assault, Li Mu, the elven army’s commander, on the other hand, was studying the divine barrier.

That thing is really getting in the way…

He thought with a furrowed brow.

The stone projectiles they were using were expensive to produce, and every shot fired was burning through their wallets.

Just then, a familiar female voice spoke beside him.

“That barrier has a weakness, just like when we attacked Blackrock City. Similarly, to minimize faith energy expenditure and extend its duration, the orcs didn’t fully enclose their settlement, reinforcing only the airspace above and the walls beneath it.”

“Moreover, that barrier is rather…crude. They don’t have a proper defense core, meaning it can only be sustained by the priests standing in those specific locations.”

Hearing Zero’s words, Li Mu’s eyes gleamed with realization as a plan began to form within his mind.

His gaze sharpened with excitement as he suddenly raised his sword and shouted in a commanding tone:

“Attention all archer divisions, get into range and prepare to shoot! Target those priests on the wall!”

At his command, the elven army shifted their formation.

From atop the fortified walls, a legion of long-range fighters began to move. Some raised their bows, while others aimed their magical firearms, as each of them advanced toward the stronghold.

The orc high priest’s expression darkened as he realized their intent. His voice rang out in urgency:

“Don’t let them get any closer! Shoot them down!”

Orc warriors reacted instantly, nocking their bows with swift, disciplined movements. Within moments, a hail of arrows arced through the sky, darkening the air before descending upon the advancing players.

Yet the long range players pressed on, seemingly unfazed by the incoming barrage.

“Mage division, provide cover!”

Li Mu’s voice cut through the chaos like a blade.

At his command, the mage players raised their staffs and began chanting in unison as earthen bulwarks erupted from the ground, forming barriers to shield the advancing archers.

At the same time, the archers unleashed their own counteroffensive. Bows twanged, triggers clicked, and the air filled with the deadly hum of projectiles in flight.

Arrows infused with glowing energy and enchanted bullets streaked through the darkened sky, cascading down upon the orc walls like a brilliant, merciless downpour.

This time, the tribe’s barrier offered no protection.

In an instant, hundreds of orcs were struck. Pained screams echoed through the stronghold as bodies crumpled one after another, some reduced to nothing but ash amid the screams of their fellow tribesmen.

Countless others lay wounded, clutching at their burned and bleeding flesh.

And that was only the first volley.

By now, the archers had advanced far beyond their early days. With the introduction of magic firearms, their aim had been further honed to deadly precision with the aid of magic. Even those who still wielded bows, either by choice or because they couldn’t afford a firearm, had become seasoned veterans with unwavering confidence in the skills they had developed over time.

Under their relentless attack, the orcs were caught off guard and suffered heavy losses.

If not for the cover provided by the walls they had built, the orc casualties would have been even worse…

For a brief but harrowing moment, chaos reigned atop the tribe’s walls. Orc Warriors scrambled for cover, shouting orders, desperately trying to regroup against the overwhelming assault.

Amidst the carnage, the orc high priest stood rigid, his hands clenched into trembling fists. His eyes burned red with fury—not just at the slaughter of his fellow tribesmen, but at his own helplessness to stop it.

Just that single elven volley had already killed several priests, weakening the divine barrier, which wavered unsteadily due to the sudden lack of conduits to sustain it.

Their situation was deteriorating fast.

Before the orcs could fully recover, the elves unleashed their second volley, this time even more precise and unrelenting than the first.

At the same time, the orcs who had taken cover behind the walls retaliated, loosing their own arrows in desperation.

The battlefield became a storm of projectiles. Arrows and elemental bullets crisscrossed through the air, intertwining into a dazzling rain of light—beautiful yet deadly, illuminating the storm-darkened sky with flashes of magic and streaks of fire.

For every orc felled by the players’ assault, a few unlucky players also took hits. Some staggered as arrows pierced through armor, while others collapsed instantly, their bodies vanishing into bursts of light upon death. Though the elves held the advantage, the orcs refused to go down without a fight.

Alas, compared to the vast number of players assigned to the archer legion, the orcs’ counterattack seemed pitifully insignificant.

Sensing the shift in momentum, the players’ morale surged even higher.

Li Mu barked another command:

“Special Operations Unit, mount your dragons and move out!”

At his command, several players with dragons stepped forward and leaped onto the backs of their partners.

Behind them, a handful of lower-level players, dressed in nothing but simple clothing and clutching bulging sacks, mounted the dragons as well.

Then, with a deafening roar, the dragons unfurled their mighty wings and took to the skies, their forms slicing through the stormy air like shadows of death. Winds howled in their wake as they soared toward the orc stronghold.

Below, the assault intensified. Arrows and elemental bullets continued to rain down, striking the crumbling defenses with relentless force. Flames erupted where spells landed, and the cries of the wounded echoed across the battlefield.

The orc high priest’s face darkened further.

His hands clenched at his sides as he watched his warriors fall one after another.

“Has the request for reinforcements been sent?”

His voice was low but sharp, cutting through the chaos. He turned to one of the priests at his side, his piercing gaze demanding an answer.

The pale-faced priest swallowed hard and nodded.

“Y-Yes, High Priest. The message has been sent…and we even used a black eagle as messenger this time.”

The black eagle was a species native to the desert, long domesticated by them as swift and reliable messengers.

With their settlement now fully surrounded, these eagles were their only lifeline to the royal orc court—their last hope for salvation.

“Good.”

The high priest’s expression eased, though only slightly.

He had no way of knowing how much ammunition the elves had left or how long their divine barrier would hold under the relentless assault.

But one thing was certain:

Should the barrier shatter, they would be powerless against the thirty-thousand-strong elven army waiting just beyond their crumbling walls.

Their only hope was to hold out until reinforcements arrived.

However, just as the high priest was about to steel himself for the long battle ahead, a piercing dragon’s roar tore through the sky—followed by a sharp, agonized screech.

His expression shifted instantly. Snapping his head up, his gaze locked onto the scene unfolding above.

Several juvenile dragons circled menacingly over the settlement, their powerful wings churning the air. Each carried two elves on their backs, but at the front, leading the assault, was a bronze dragon.

Its massive form cast a long shadow over the battlefield as it glided effortlessly through the smoke-filled sky.

Clutched tightly in its jaws was a black eagle—its body limp, wings twitching feebly before finally falling still.

The high priest froze, his breath caught in his throat.

That was their only messenger.

Their only hope of calling for aid.

His jaw clenched, and his fingers dug into the fabric of his robes.

A cold dread settled over his chest.

“Damned elves! Damned dragons!”

He spat the words through gritted teeth.

Raising a black eagle was no easy feat, and the one that had just taken flight was the only one they had.

Alas, now it had become nothing more than food for those vile dragons.

“Quick! Go to the temple and pray to our Divine Father! Tell Him what is happening here!”

The high priest barked at another priest.

Praying to their Patron Deity was their final method of relaying their message for assistance.

Though whether it would reach the royal court, however, depended entirely on their god’s will.

The priest hurried off, leaving the high priest to glare at the dragons circling overhead.

Furious, he pointed skyward and bellowed:

“Shoot them down!”

At his command, some orc warriors nocked their bows and unleashed a barrage of arrows.

But the dragons let out a resonant cry and twisted through the air with unnatural agility, effortlessly evading the incoming fire. Despite their considerable size, they moved with a grace that defied logic as if toying with their attackers.

The orcs’ arrows barely grazed them, proving utterly ineffective.

Then, something happened that made the high priest’s breath hitch.

Some of the elves riding the dragons suddenly jumped.

One after another, they leaped from their mounts, free-falling toward the settlement below.

What’s odd was that, those falling elves wore no armor or weapons at all and only clutched bulging sacks to their chests.

And the moment they leaped, the remaining elven riders wheeled their dragons around and retreated at full speed.

For a moment, there was only stunned silence.

The orcs below stared in utter bewilderment.

Were those elves… committing suicide?

The high priest was about to shout a command when he heard the falling elves above him bellow at the top of their lungs—

“HODÜR, YOU SON OF A—”

His face immediately turned deathly pale.

“Not Good—!”

— 516 —

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