NOVEL WEB Chapter 8: The Warden Of Roots
"Barbarians! Barbarians!" The cry filled the air and the previously lethargic camp woke up with energy.
The calmness of the night was shattered by the sound of shouts, the clash of steel, and the unmistakable war cries of the barbarians.
Ren was instantly awake the moment he heard the first cry, his body reacting before his mind fully caught up.
The camp was under attack.
He sat up quickly, his heart pounding in his chest. The squires in the tent were already scrambling, grabbing weapons and struggling to pull on pieces of armor.
Fortunately for him, he'd had the foresight to wear his to bed. It had been uncomfortable but one doesn't just wait around for an opportunity. One prepares to seize it when it comes.
Around him, Marcus barked orders as he fastened his breastplate. "Move it, squires! Get your gear and get outside!"
One of the squires fumbled with his belt, his hands shaking. "I- I can't get it on!"
Thom yanked his own helmet onto his head, his face pale. "Forget the belt, grab your sword!"
Ignoring the chaos around him, Ren retrieved his torch from beside his cot.
While the others strapped on armor and armed themselves, he poured the oil he had prepared over the cloth-wrapped head, making sure it was thoroughly soaked.
He pulled his flint and struck it against the edge of the dagger he had on him. A few sparks later, the torch ignited in a bright, unnaturally yellow flame. It was close enough to normal flames but a bit more vibrant. In the chaos of the raid, no one should be able to notice.
The special oil would not only keep the fire burning longer, but it would also help with the effects of the Hollow Grove.
The squires barely noticed his actions, too preoccupied with the raid outside. Marcus threw open the tent flap, motioning for the others to follow. "We hold the line with the knights! Stick together!"
As they rushed out, Ren moved with them, blending in with the frantic energy of the camp. Soldiers were already engaged in battle, their shouts mixing with the screams of the dying.
He inhaled and nearly gagged from the scent of blood and burning wood that filled the air.
His father and eldest brother, Felix, were somewhere in the melee, but he didn't particularly care. He knew they wouldn't die before the Elnorian invasion.
But now that their attention was on the barbarians, it was the perfect time for him to do what he came for. He'd just have to pray that the time warping effect of the forest would help him return in time without getting anyone suspicious.
Slipping away from the main group, he ducked between supply crates and hurried eastward.
The sounds of combat dulled as he moved further from the camp, but his heart still kept hammering in his chest, pumping adrenaline through him.
He knew what this meant. He'd be leaving the safety of the world into the unknown.
He could die.
His legs burned as he sprinted through the forest, following the information he'd obtained from the squires.
The land sloped downward as he ran and the deeper he went, the quieter the world became.
No insects, no distant sounds of battle, just silence. A thick mist curled at his feet, swirling unnaturally, but the light from his torch pushed it away.
He smirked. Just as he expected.
In the game, the forest itself before the Blightwood awakened had been described as a place where reality itself was distorted. Now, experiencing it firsthand, he understood why.
Shadows stretched in ways they shouldn't, and the trees seemed to shift when he wasn't looking.
After what felt like forever, he burst into a clearing and standing there like it was about to take a huge step forward was the White Tree.
Its massive, pale trunk glowed faintly under the light of the moon, standing out in the forest. He paused, catching his breath as he wondered just how he'd not seen it before entering the clearing.
When he finally straightened, he quickly looked around, working out where he was in relation to the grove.
When he finally worked it out, he exhaled. This was the point of no return.
With a moment to steady his nerves, he began moving in the direction of the grove.
The further he went, the more unnatural the landscape became. Twisting vines snaked along the ground and the mist thickened but remained outside the range of the light of his torch.
Then, he found it. The entrance to the grove.
Two trees stood like pillars in the middle of a path, their branches intertwining overhead to form an arch. Decorating the arch were beautiful blue flowers, making it look like the entrance to paradise.
He cautiously stepped inside, following the path but a minute later, he found out that his caution was warranted.
Standing there like it was waiting for him was the guardian of the grove.
The Warden of Roots.
It was bigger than he'd expected. It looked like a kid had sat down and mixed bark, vines, and stuck a light in it to create this monster.
Its form was vaguely humanoid, but its arms extended into long, vine-like appendages that writhed in agitation.
Deep in the center of its chest, a glowing emerald core pulsed like a heartbeat.
Ren barely had time to react before the Warden moved. Vines surged toward him like a whip, forcing him to dive to the side.
He rolled to his feet, narrowly avoiding a second strike as the ground beneath him erupted with twisting roots.
He didn't hesitate and swung the torch in an arc, forcing the Warden back. The flames licked at the creature's vines, and it recoiled.
It was working. The special oil had properties that could harm the Warden, just as he had planned.
The creature let out a low, guttural noise, and the air around Ren became thick with floating spores. His eyes widened. Poison.
He covered his mouth and nose with his sleeve, backing away as the spores drifted toward him. If he inhaled them, it would be over.
He waved the torch around, burning the spores before they could get to him. He needed to end this fight quickly. The longer he fought, the higher his chances of dying.
Glancing around, he spotted a thick tangle of roots behind the Warden and an idea formed in his mind.
He took a step back, then another, luring the creature toward him. The Warden lashed out again, and he barely managed to dodge, feeling the wind rush past his cheek.
Rolling under one the swings and thanking Sir Robert for teaching him to fall and dodge, he darted towards the tangled roots.
As expected, the Warden pursued, its massive form crushing branches and undergrowth as it rushed after him.
Ren skidded to a stop near the roots and, with a flick of his wrist, tossed the torch into the mass of dry wood.
The fire caught instantly.
Flames spread rapidly and the Warden shrieked as it tried to stop but it was too late. He crashed into the roots and the flames began consuming its lower limbs.
It flailed, trying to retreat, but the fire spread too quickly, engulfing it. The guardian twisted and writhed, the light in its chest flickering erratically.
The Warden of Roots let out one final, pained cry before collapsing into the inferno. The glow from its core pulsed wildly before dimming completely.
Silence returned to the grove and Ren took a shaky breath. He had done it. He'd killed the guardian.
Now, it was time to get Unfettered Enhancement.