Mistress Of The Evil Forest

C̴a̴̛͍s̶e ̶̆1̶9̵̖̓0̵:̶ ̴O̸͗u̵t̵͌ ̶̾o̷f̸ t̷h̴̓e̶̊ ̷̊c̵̝̋a̵g̸e̷ ̸̣͆–̷ ̶̫̓F̵͛in̴̡̏ali̶̐t̷́ỵ̴͂.

''Did you take care of the other big ones?!''

Over the cold wind, Ulaika's bright voice rings. Slowly, the grandmasters all gather around Aurora, seeming determined to fight.

''The academy should be fine now,'' Bianca replies. 

''We also took care of the two dragons at the palace.'' Graham follows. ''Thank you for the support, Silaerob. Your... creature is incredible.''

''...It's nothing.''

Knowing Blob is still fine, Aurora breathes out a sigh of relief. She can also feel her horror summons gradually coming back to Zircon, likely having finished their tasks spectacularly.

Led by Orcinus Nova, they have been cruising around the capital, trying to help clean up the dragons as much as possible, and according to the orca's telepathy reports, things seem to be getting better at this point.

Which means... the only hurdle left is right in front of her.

As long as they can defeat Yggdrasil and somehow repel the moon, peace will be back momentarily. Believing in Chloe's words, Aurora once again fuels her sword with mana, looking up at her opponent with conviction.

Yggdrasil, now surrounded, narrows its eye ever-so-slightly.

On that soulless face, something other than utter disdain and disinterest appears. Even then, it barely bothers to guard itself, rather staring ahead impassively.

And, of course, without hesitation, the grandmasters shoot toward their opponent. At the front are Graham and Ivan, whose mana lights up the sky. Sword cuts through the air, fists ripping with fire, and around them, screeching sharp fragments of ice follow.

Once again, facing the onslaught most wouldn't dream of surviving, Yggdrasil displays an unreal level of combat prowess. With its bare hand, the god dragon smoothly deflects incoming attacks regardless of their lethality, often releasing strikes of its own beforehand to deviate the grandmasters'.

It is a tactic to exhaust the enemies' energy while conserving its own. Alternatively, it can also be seen as intentional toying, and as if asserting its dominance, Yggdrasil hasn't even moved away from the same spot.

''You guys stay put for a while. Take a breather.''

Clicking her tongue, Ulaika, who has been eager to join the fight, conjures a shield slightly larger than her body and jumps forward. Shooting past the palpable shockwaves generated by the clash, the grandmaster shouts,

''Guys! I think we need to finish this quickly!''

''Agreed.''

Bianca's calm voice resonates amidst the snow, reaching her colleagues. One moment, Graham and Ivan glances at each other and nods.

And from then on, the real battle commence.

''...!''

''Those four really are incredible.''

''What monsters...''

With Kyomu and Sikare's sighs beside her, Aurora feels a tinge. In front of her eyes, the four grandmasters are quite literally showering in their own mana, which is to say that their output is so immense it can't be fully funneled through the usual channel. And for that, their attacks get significantly stronger, even managing to fluster the god dragon at some point.

Each blow Graham lands on Yggdrasil's guarding forearm, the earth itself seems to rumble, and a tunnel of shockwaves bursts through its body.

Each slash Ivan brings down cuts through space itself, slicing up Yggdrasil's body. It is the first time it has felt the need to regenerate.

Each javelin Bianca throws carries the essence of absolute zero—an absolute coldness. Upon contact, even Yggdrasil's divine skin freezes and crumbles.

Each attempt Yggdrasil makes to strike back gets cleanly neutralized by Ulaika's immovable shield, which seems to appear everywhere at all times.

'They're overclocking.'

Just looking at it like that, the grandmasters are clearly overwhelming Yggdrasil. With that momentum, bones snap, flesh burns, and the neck even snaps—it seems as if the dragon's regeneration will not hold up.

Yet, somewhere in Aurora's mind, an uneasiness remains.

''...Let's go in.'' Aurora softly says.

Feeling the heaviness in her words, both Kyomu and Sikare quickly ready their weapons despite their exhaustion. Yet, just when the three are about to take off—

''What—''

In half a moment, all sounds are swallowed. As space itself distorts and an undecipherable light burns the sky, a twisted, almost synthesized voice fills the forest.

At once, all the snow, the cold, the waving mana, all sensations are lost.

After what seems like an eternity, when the consciousness is no longer caged, what appears before everything is perhaps a perfect being. With its statue towering above the cloud, with beautifully carved, symmetrical scales of pure white, with a majestic, proud figure, and two eyes gleaming as though rubies, Yggdrasil returns to its true form.

''...Ah.''

Feeling the divinity washes through her being, Aurora immediately comes to the realization—she can't defeat it. Even if she pours her everything, she cannot defeat it. No one can.

It is merely her instinct speaking the truth—the painful truth. Both her rational mind and her romantic mind know—against such an absolute entity, she is but a mortal.

A word comes to her mind—God.

A god who looks down at her meaningfully, with a thinly veiled hostility underneath. Just like how Yggdrasil's crimson eyes stare at her from above.

A sense of helplessness. A sense of emptiness. A sense of... frustration.

She can hear distant, almost muffled sounds of the others desperately retaliating, but deep down, perhaps they, too, are aware of their defeat.

'Is this the end?'

Somehow, the trance leads to a moment of tranquility, and within that moment of tranquility, a ripping, fleshy sound blooms. Far, far away in the crimson sky, above the colossal god dragon... the moon opens its eyes.

An unblinking, protruding eye.

As if finally reaching its true form, the celestial body stops throbbing altogether. Instead, even more intense crimson waves hit the continent, turning the mad even madder.

Aurora stands still atop the Tower Horrors, paralyzed.

In these short moments, memories suddenly begin to gush over. Memories of growing up alone, meeting Chloe, going to college, going to work, getting transmigrated to another world, building her strength in Zircon, meeting her new friends in the academy, and eventually...

Meeting her end.

Now.

—

Without lifting a claw, the god dragon rips the space apart, violently detonating a burst of mana near its attackers. The explosion sends massive shockwaves across the forest, flattening trees and sending just about every single human near that vicinity flying.

''Ugh...''

Slammed against a large tree, Aurora feels her squeezing pain in her organs as she slumps down. Powerlessly, her arms limply fall to the ground, and the mask slides off, forming a deep crack on it upon contact.

Blood floods her eye sockets, dampens her clothes, and sours her mouth. Before her eyes fully close, what appears the most damning are the shining, slit pupils of Yggdrasil looking down at her.

And then... nothing.

Silent.

...

''Hah...''

Breaking that suffocating silence are gentle footsteps approaching Aurora's spot. Soon enough, a figure emerges from the bushes. Her shoulder-length, straight white hair glistens under the moonlight, hems of the long, frilly dress swaying, and two charming waist wings bob along her steps.

The maid with a face identical to that of the fallen woman stands still before the large tree, an undecipherable mood lingers.

''You've done well until now.'' She mutters. ''For now... leave the rest to me.''

Unceremoniously, the maid reaches down for the mask, and̴̬͘ ̵͆s̵͍̓ḫ̸͂ ̵̱͎̮̤̙̯̮̩̰̰̎͑̅̇̈́̂̇͆̒͂̅̾̍̽̓́̓͌̈́͐ ̸̡̡͓̰̠̦̦͇͎̱̪̬̰̜̮͍̘̫̘́͆̊̂̔̇̔̽́͑͆̽͌̀̇̌͐̓̓̾́͘̕̚͜͜͠͝͠͝͝͝ ̵͖̜̞̬̻̘̺̮̭̦͚̰̠̮̲̺͇̟̫̖̭̻̦͖͈̳̲̫̉̌̀̚͘e̸̥͑—̸̗͘

̵̱͎̮̤̙̯̮̩̰̰̎͑̅̇̈́̂̇͆̒͂̅̾̍̽̓́̓͌̈́͐ ̸̡̡͓̰̠̦̦͇͎̱̪̬̰̜̮͍̘̫̘́͆̊̂̔̇̔̽́͑͆̽͌̀̇̌͐̓̓̾́͘̕̚͜͜͠͝͠͝͝͝ ̵͖̜̞̬̻̘̺̮̭̦͚̰̠̮̲̺͇̟̫̖̭̻̦͖͈̳̲̫̉̌̀̚͘                ̵̱͎̮̤̙̯̮̩̰̰̎͑̅̇̈́̂̇͆̒͂̅̾̍̽̓́̓͌̈́͐ ̸̡̡͓̰̠̦̦͇͎̱̪̬̰̜̮͍̘̫̘́͆̊̂̔̇̔̽́͑͆̽͌̀̇̌͐̓̓̾́͘̕̚͜͜͠͝͠͝͝͝ ̵͖̜̞̬̻̘̺̮̭̦͚̰̠̮̲̺͇̟̫̖̭̻̦͖͈̳̲̫̉̌̀̚͘                                      ̵̱͎̮̤̙̯̮̩̰̰̎͑̅̇̈́̂̇͆̒͂̅̾̍̽̓́̓͌̈́͐ ̸̡̡͓̰̠̦̦͇͎̱̪̬̰̜̮͍̘̫̘́͆̊̂̔̇̔̽́͑͆̽͌̀̇̌͐̓̓̾́͘̕̚͜͜͠͝͠͝͝͝ ̵͖̜̞̬̻̘̺̮̭̦͚̰̠̮̲̺͇̟̫̖̭̻̦͖͈̳̲̫̉̌̀̚͘
                                          ̵̱͎̮̤̙̯̮̩̰̰̎͑̅̇̈́̂̇͆̒͂̅̾̍̽̓́̓͌̈́͐ ̸̡̡͓̰̠̦̦͇͎̱̪̬̰̜̮͍̘̫̘́͆̊̂̔̇̔̽́͑͆̽͌̀̇̌͐̓̓̾́͘̕̚͜͜͠͝͠͝͝͝ ̵͖̜̞̬̻̘̺̮̭̦͚̰̠̮̲̺͇̟̫̖̭̻̦͖͈̳̲̫̉̌̀̚͘                                  ̵̱͎̮̤̙̯̮̩̰̰̎͑̅̇̈́̂̇͆̒͂̅̾̍̽̓́̓͌̈́͐ ̸̡̡͓̰̠̦̦͇͎̱̪̬̰̜̮͍̘̫̘́͆̊̂̔̇̔̽́͑͆̽͌̀̇̌͐̓̓̾́͘̕̚͜͜͠͝͠͝͝͝ ̵͖̜̞̬̻̘̺̮̭̦͚̰̠̮̲̺͇̟̫̖̭̻̦͖͈̳̲̫̉̌̀̚͘
̶̧̓— ̵̱͎̮̤̙̯̮̩̰̰̎͑̅̇̈́̂̇͆̒͂̅̾̍̽̓́̓͌̈́͐ ̸̡̡͓̰̠̦̦͇͎̱̪̬̰̜̮͍̘̫̘́͆̊̂̔̇̔̽́͑͆̽͌̀̇̌͐̓̓̾́͘̕̚͜͜͠͝͠͝͝͝ ̵͖̜̞̬̻̘̺̮̭̦͚̰̠̮̲̺͇̟̫̖̭̻̦͖͈̳̲̫̉̌̀̚͘I̷̎, put in on my face.