I followed the wind blades racing forth, a cross of razor-sharp icy winds in the shape of the slashes I had conjured them with. Right behind were the ghostly twins of those slashes, thanks to the power of [Ghost Strike]. Behind me trailed the ever-growing cloud of noisy crows that billowed out from under my cloak, circled around me, dove alongside me, and cried their anger into the stuffy forest air.

I fell, the mass of flesh, the Weirderbeast, growing by the second. Eyes turning towards me, while claws reached out, mouths opened and glistening teeth were wetted with saliva in anticipation of the feast falling towards them.

The wind blades of [Cutting Winds] and [Ghost Strike] reached the Weirderbeast and the flesh split asunder in a criss-cross pattern several meters long, chunks of flesh were cut apart, whole stretches of the leathery hide laid open, innards and blood pumping out of the beast.

The roaring of a thousand voices shook the trees around us as the Weirderbeast reared up in pain, the whole mass quivering under the trauma, bucking with no way to escape the pain or the damage.

And still, I fell.

At the last second, I held my breath and activated my newest Skill [Tornado Catapult]. It was the refined version of the failure that had shot me across the bay and savaged the deck of the Raven‘s Nest. A violent storm, a miniature tornado, exploded at my feet, while I was catapulted wildly into the air.

I did not see it clearly -because I tumbled through branches and leaves - but below me, the split and opened beast was ravaged by the storm, torn asunder by its own broken bones dragged through the flesh. And that was before the murder of crows descended upon their prey.

I threw Zero around, just hoping that he would have a better overview and grasp of opportunities, while I tumbled through the air, and sure as the rise of the morning sun, he found a branch and snapped onto it, while I swung around, desperately holding onto the chain with dear life. I slammed against some rough bark, hurting my ribs something fierce, but managing to stop my desperate flight. My body was shaking under the excitement and naked fear pumping through my veins.

And the pain. The pain was there as well.

Somehow my breathing was raspy and tiring, but the air never had felt fresher in my lungs, burning as they may. I looked down from my perch. Below me was a scene of carnage painted in blood and bones.

The storm had torn a hole into the Weirderbeast as big as a boat. the mass of flesh was just completely gone. In the middle of it, where the blood was soaking the ground several feet high, severed parts of the beast moved and crawled around, suffocating in the blood and wriggling around in their death throes.

The torn edges of the hole were assaulted by my crows, darting into the chaos and tearing strands of darkness out of the beast. Were the darkness left the body, flesh fell to the ground like their seam had been loosened. It was the second Skill I had created. Inspired by my failures I had found a way around purging my own crows with [Cleanse Corruption]. I had not integrated the Skill into the heart of [Murder of Crows], I had changed the target of the Skill, the very nature really, and made the crows the bearer of my weapon against the Weirderbeast.

[Cleansing Corruption] would remain inactive until then, not harming the crows, but explode outwards in a small charge whenever the crows struck true. It was not nearly as refined as I had hoped. Each time there was a chance that the crow might get caught in the blast and disappear from the world of the living to return to my Demesne. What I had created was not only infinitely better than what I have had before, it was something I actually could use against a beast like that below me.

It would cause widespread damage by tearing the Wilderbeast apart without really needing to inflict massive wounds. No, just by purging small strands of darkness out of the body. The rest would fall apart. Sure, the parts would live and fight on. But what remained could be beaten by my [Knights], my [Hunters], the fighters, and the Wyldlings. Even the strange insects would have a chance, once my cleansing spread around. I knew they were fighting the beast somewhere, eternally.

Fitting to think of the Weirderbeast that way. Nightmares, wild creatures of life, sewn together by darkness. I had made a dent, now, and the crows would widen the gap. But it was far from enough. The Weirderbeast stretched out as far as I could see, in any direction.

What I had done was luring the mass, as much of it as I could, toward a certain area. The hole would fill, thus retreating from my companions. I wanted most of the beast here with me.

Because I needed the Mad King to battle his own creation. All I did now...was waiting.

Below me the storm of crows drowned out with my Mana, hundreds of Nightmares falling from the main body of the Weirderbeast. So many, that some of them drowned in the blood, or killed themselves by accident, trampling over and slicing each other in the lake of blood in the middle of the Weirdereast.

Time passed, while I hung uncomfortably at the tree, watching the - literal - nightmare below me. When finally - finally! - the blue box of Lily appeared in my field of vision.

[The Mad King sends his regards. Draw the symbol. -L.]

As taught, I cut the symbol of the Mad King into the bark of the tree, a tree with a crown, carefully making sure that the direction the symbol was facing was away from me and more importantly my men fighting on the ground.

Then, I felt power whispering and vibrating in the tree, a sound picked up by all the giant trees around us. I heard the voice in my head whispering a Skill, activated miles and miles away, but originating in the small and crude symbol I had carved into the side of a tree.

[Curse of Natures Revenge]

Power arrived and I fled for my life, jumping and swinging from branch to branch with every morsel of speed and agility I could muster, Zero rescuing me more than once from a misstep or a missed branch by snapping around something else, slowing my fall and changing my direction.

We made it. Barely.

Behind us, Death descended upon the Weirderbeast as every tree, every mushroom, and every plant turned on everything that lived and breathed.

Sometimes bark exploded from the trees in razor-sharp shrapnel, cutting and bleeding the flesh it hit, sometimes large branches, tree-trunks in their own rights, broke off and impaled whatever got buried under them. Tendrils crept forth, entangling and strangling, vines tripped and caught their prey, poison ran freely across glistening thorns.

It was fate manifested through the stronghold of a mighty godling. The Mad King had created the Shattered Lands, The Mad King had created the Weirderbeast, The Mad King had torn the earth apart. And he was doing it again.

I reached the battlefield sweating and heaving, Ravenports force still engaged with the Weirderbeast, driving it back. The looks they threw behind their foe were fearful and wary. The Forest was screeching, rumbling, and roaring. The Forest itself was fighting the giant mass of corrupted flesh. and every other critter under the leaves Nature was purging itself. The forest would be cursed forevermore, I feared.

But since the curse had started, and would never cross the imaginary border at my carved symbol, the beast in front of us was still intact as a formidable opponent, despite the endless efforts of the men and women fighting the beast.

“Sir Gideon, Sir Fisher! Fall back! The Raven takes the front.“ I shouted to them, dragging the blade of Kingsbane through a couple of eyes in the body of the Weirderbeast which had swiveled to me as I landed behind the knights. “Take a rest.“

Both of them were too tired to do anything but nod and stumble backwards, getting dragged further away by their brothers and sisters cutting them a path to safety. Those two would become legends in their own rights if they survived the day. They had risen to the task and proven to be true protectors of the people of Ravenport. If they survived they would level, and that would be a sight to see.

I turned completely to the Weirderbeast now, a quick look back the only distraction I had allowed myself. I had to make sure the others were in a position to engage the loose Nightmares and protect me where I had no eyes. There were too many mouths and claws in front of me to concentrate on anything else.

“Prove your worth Kingsbane, do not fail me now.“ I whispered. Then the scarlet mantle of the fighting frenzy clouded my senses as I struggled to keep calm against the assault of the unspeakable creature.

Kingsbane cut. Flesh and horns split as easily as teeth, leathery hide, chitinous claws and scythes, and whatever else the Weirderbeast was made out of. The weapon had been awoken, the artifact demonstrating its true power for the first time. A blade truly capable of cutting everything, even if I sensed a hidden ocean of knowledge I had to explore still, where the handling of the blade was concerned.

The sharpness ringing out from every strike and slash could be felt in the air, tasting like iron and a cold winter's breeze. I do not know how long I fought, dodged, rolled, and struck, but at some point, rough claws...the hands of Sir Gideon, pulled me back and took my place again, while I collapsed behind our lines, drinking water like a thirsting man in the desert. The clearing was littered with dozens of Nightmares. And still more came.

We fought until the very last ray of light disappeared, and reached the camp at the very last moment. The fires protecting us from the worst the forest had to offer still. And never once did the forest stop making the eery noises. Not a moment of peace was given as long as beings drew breath among the trees. Death reigned under the leaves, and nothing else would be permitted as long as the curse held strong.

Carefully and awake, screened by the most light-footed of the [Hunters], we returned to the scene of battle the next day. Not one of us had been spared a wound or two, every muscle was aching and everyone was fighting the fatigue that a night on the rough stones of the mountain slope had not completely been able to wipe away.

The Weirderbeast had fled the forest, fled the region the Mad King had cursed...the rest of it. Since we had fought on the other end with quite some success, the remaining beast was a pitiful shadow of what it had once been. It looked like a slab of meat, fallen from the butcher’s table. Open wounds on every side.

Sure, the creature was monstrous. Sure, the creature was still larger than Ravenport itself. But it was a fraction of the mass it had been the day before. In other terms: Today, we would kill it.

“Once more, brothers and sisters.“ I said, sounding tired even if I tried to show more strength. “One more day like the last and the hammocks of Ravenport will greet you with warmth and comfort.“

Grim nods answered me all around. The last day of the battle of, what we would call Weirdwood forevermore, had begun.