The mountain trembled. It wasn't strong, but it was enough to alert.
Lusian felt it first from where he stood. The Mother Tree sensed the danger, and it was as if it sent a signal that he received immediately.
Beneath the mountain, the Lithaar had begun to move. They opened tunnels under the earth to avoid being detected, but their advance was interrupted by the roots of the Mother Tree.
From the savanna, the wind carried the thick scent of carnivores: hunger, rage, blood not yet spilled.
The Tree responded. A pulse of mana moved through the mountain.
In the settlement, Kara stopped her training abruptly. The greatsword sank into the stone, and she ran toward where the mana was emerging.
Elizabeth lifted her head, her senses tightening. Her demonic mana tried to surface for a moment, as if reacting to something, but she quickly restrained it.
Below, near the trunk, Emily dropped to her knees among the roots. She extended her hands, and the sap flowing from the Tree calmed beneath her touch, as if it recognized her. Isabella, in silence, closed her eyes… and smiled faintly. It seemed she was thinking that their new home was in danger again. Peace never lasted long.
On the outer walls, Aren dropped what she was carrying. She grabbed her sword and followed the dark elves, who seemed to understand something she didn't.
—Selvryn…? —she called, her voice breaking.
The elf, who was sensitive to everything related to the Mother Tree, felt the attack immediately: one of the roots underground had been burned.
Leaves began to fall slowly, and the entire forest reacted as if something had shifted deep within. The roots creaked beneath the ground. Selvryn moved forward, alarmed. If the enemy was underground, this wasn't a matter of strength, but of reach: how do you attack something that moves beneath the earth? How do you reach it before it strikes first? How do you protect the Mother Tree from an enemy that doesn't need to reveal itself?
The mark on her forehead burned with an intense amber tone, but it wasn't a surface glow or something decorative; it moved beneath the skin, as if it were alive, as if it had always been part of her. It didn't look placed there, but grown over time. Her eyes no longer held the same expression. They weren't lost or confused, but they didn't react to the environment the way they normally would. It was as if she were seeing beyond what was visible, connected to something that didn't come from her, but from something greater.
Around her, humans and elves began to stop one by one, not fully understanding what was happening. Some brought their hands to their arms or necks, feeling something changing beneath their skin. It wasn't exactly pain, but it wasn't comfortable either. It was a constant internal pressure, as if the body were being forced to adapt to something new without choosing it.
Then they felt it.
How the mana flowed through them.
The mana of the Mother Tree began to fill their bodies.
It didn't come from outside, but from within, as if their bodies stopped being entirely their own and started functioning as conduits. It didn't overwhelm them or break them. It simply moved. It entered, spread, found its way through. As if the Tree wasn't just touching them… but using them to extend beyond its roots.
Amber veins began to appear across their bodies: forearms, temples, collarbones. They didn't appear all at once, but spread slowly, marking the skin with a clarity that couldn't be ignored, following the path of that invisible flow now moving through them.
Some stayed silent. Others exhaled with difficulty. But all of them understood the same thing, even without words.
The Tree was reacting. It was searching for the most effective way to ensure its survival.
It was turning them into anchor points, into a living extension of its own defense, into bodies capable of holding and distributing the mana it could not project beyond the mountain on its own.
Something had reached them.
And it did not intend to let go.
—It has sensed us —Selvryn said.
She didn't raise her voice, yet everyone heard her clearly. It wasn't a sound that traveled through the air like normal speech; it felt more direct, more internal, as if the words settled in the body instead of passing through the ears.
—Not just as defenders… but as part of it.
Aren lowered her gaze to her hands, trying to understand what exactly was changing in her. The exhaustion she had been carrying for days disappeared instantly, not as if it had faded, but as if it had never existed. There was no transition. Her body stopped feeling heavy in a single moment.
Then she noticed it.
It wasn't just her body.
It was something moving through her, an endless energy.
The mana of the Mother Tree began to flow inside her, not violently or out of control, but steadily, as if it had always had a path there and was now simply using it. It filled her core. It passed through her. It entered, spread, and continued its course, as if she had become part of something larger.
Her muscles tightened with a different kind of firmness, more controlled, more precise. When she closed her fingers around her spear, she felt the wood react—not move, but respond. It wasn't imagination. Something in the weapon had changed.
Small green filaments began to emerge from the shaft, extending slowly toward her hand and climbing up her wrist. They didn't wrap around her like something external or restrain her with force, but they didn't allow her to push them away either. They advanced without resistance, as if they already knew the path, as if her body had no way to reject them. There was no pain—and that was what unsettled her most. Nothing in her reacted to stop it.
When she tried to move her fingers, they responded, but not entirely as before. The spear no longer felt like something she held, but part of the same movement that began in her arm. There was no clear boundary between her will and the action. She didn't lose control… but she stopped feeling where it ended.
Slowly, she was becoming a tool.
A connection of the Mother Tree.
Something that was installing itself in her consciousness.
Aren inhaled more deeply than usual, noticing even the air felt different. Denser. More present. As if each breath had weight. It wasn't uncomfortable, but it was unlike anything she had felt before. Her body felt stronger than it ever had in her life.
—It has marked us… —she murmured, not taking her eyes off her hands—. What are we now?
Selvryn looked at her, not answering immediately. There was no doubt in her expression, but there was a deeper understanding of what was happening.
—Now we are the blades that defend the Mother Tree.
The sound came shortly after, but it wasn't a surprise. It was confirmation.
From the base of the mountain, the carnivores began to attack. The sound of claws against stone and teeth striking rock spread quickly, filling the area with constant pressure.
Among them, the beasts altered by the Lithaar moved with a different presence—not only because of their size or the way their bodies seemed reinforced, but because of how each movement felt forced, as if the magic sustaining them was pushing them beyond what they should be, stretching muscle and structure to an unnatural limit.
One of them, a large hyena, leapt toward the walls. Its body was covered in irregular plates, as if its skin had been replaced by a hardened layer that didn't belong to it, and yet it moved with a speed that didn't match its weight.
Aren stepped forward without thinking.
The ground beneath her feet hardened the instant she chose to move. There was no visible change, but she felt it clearly, as if the earth responded directly to her intent, supporting her before her body even needed it.
She didn't retreat or try to evade. She advanced straight ahead.
When she threw the spear, the movement was clean, without unnecessary tension, as if her body already knew exactly how much force to apply. The tip pierced the creature's body without real resistance, ignoring completely the hardness of the plates. There was no impact or prolonged friction.
It simply went through.
The force didn't stop it in place; it pushed it back, tore it from the wall, and sent it into the void, where its body disappeared without touching the surface again.
Aren remained steady.
Her breathing didn't quicken. Her body didn't tremble.
But her perception had changed.
She could feel the others around her without needing to look at them. It wasn't expanded sight, but a constant awareness of their positions, how they moved, when they hesitated or needed support. When one lost balance, the ground beneath them responded before they fell. When another advanced, the environment adjusted to avoid obstructing them.
There were no orders between them.
They weren't necessary.
Meanwhile, Lusian closed his eyes.
His awareness descended beyond the physical, to a level where the body stopped being a limit and what mattered was the structure of what was happening.
There, the Mother Tree was not a symbol or a refuge. It was a vast mass of mana, ancient and without real control, a constant flow that did not distinguish between protecting or consuming, because it did not function under that logic. There was no intention to care for humans or guide them. There was only power… and the need to use whatever was available.
Thar'Kaal did not see Aren as a person.
It perceived her as a useful point within that flow.
An extension.
The Tree's consciousness moved over her without aggression, but without care. There was no difference between sustaining her or wearing her down, because for it both were part of the same process.
—No.
Lusian's voice did not echo as sound or thought. It imposed itself directly over that flow, forcing it to stop.
—They are not your tools.
There was a pause.
He felt the confusion of the Mother Tree.
—If you use them that way, I will destroy you.
Then he activated his divinity.
Darkness emerged from him, not as something diffuse or intangible. It took form, dense and structured, extending like a system closing over the Tree's flow. It didn't break it or disperse it.
A mark formed on the Mother Tree, and another on Lusian's hand. Both were marked.
Lusian contained it.
He forced it to have a limit.
The energy stopped moving chaotically. It didn't disappear or diminish, but it stopped expanding without control and was forced into order, into a pattern that wasn't its own, as if something else had taken that overflowing mass and forced it into a defined structure.
It was not the Tree that chose.
It was Lusian.
He defined the use.
He established the limit.
On the walls, Aren felt the change immediately.
Until that moment, what flowed through her felt natural, like an extension of the forest itself, something that moved without clear direction beyond sustaining and reinforcing. But that changed. It stopped feeling like growth or adaptation.
The Mother Tree did not seem angry. It was more like a child being corrected by its parent: it accepted the correction and adapted to what Lusian demanded.
Everyone who had been affected by the Mother Tree regained control.
Their bodies responded instantly, not with uncontrolled strength, but with coordination they hadn't had before. The mark on their foreheads stopped feeling like something moving beneath the skin and became something fixed, stable, like a defined point that didn't change but was always present.
They didn't need to see it to know it was there.
Lusian opened his eyes. He breathed with relief.
The threat seemed to have worked. No matter the situation, each person had the right to choose, to decide whether to fight or not.
On the battlefield, the difference became clear in that instant.
The Tree gave them the energy.
And the humans and elves decided how to use it.
Aren moved again, but this time it wasn't the Tree guiding her actions. It was her choosing to fight for her home.
When she threw her spear again, there was no hesitation in the movement. She didn't adjust midway or react after the fact.
She simply executed.
And the result was already defined before the weapon left her hand.
It wasn't that they fought better, but that they now had more energy to use.
And there was no longer any margin of error in what they did.
Little by little, without any sudden shift, the battlefield began to tilt in their favor.