Game of the World Tree-Chapter 505

【 NO…THIS CAN’T BE! 】

Time always seemed to pass by quickly inside the game.

At least, that was certainly the case for those players who had become addicted to playing Elven Kingdom.

Even with their game time accelerated at four times the normal speed, players still felt the days slipping by in a blur.

Before they knew it, more than two months had slipped by in Seigües. The once-crisp autumn skies had dulled, giving way to the relentless march of another harsh winter. Yet, due to the continent’s predominantly southern location, regions such as the Desert of Death and the Dark Mountains remained largely unaffected by the seasonal chill.

However, in the northern reaches of the Elven Forest, winter had already made its quiet descent. The first snow had fallen, blanketing the ancient woods in a hushed layer of white.

During these past two months, the dragons had already sent their emissary to the Elven Forest twice.

However, due to their long lifespans, these great draconic beings remained largely indifferent to the passage of time, and so, as always, their emissaries arrived late.

Nevertheless, with each visit, the players welcomed ten more prospective Dragon Knights into their ranks.

As in previous cases, the newly hatched dragonlings primarily partnered with Silver-rank players, with only a few Iron-rank players making the cut—most of whom were max-level Druids.

This pattern further reinforced the belief that Druids had a unique affinity for dragons.

At this rate, the players might be able to establish a full-fledged Dragon Knight corps within a few years.

However, Evé knew that receiving a steady supply of five dragon eggs per month would not last forever.

After all, dragons had a low reproductive rate, and their eggs were both rare and highly valued among their kind.

Even if they had accumulated a stockpile of unmarked eggs, their numbers were finite, making it impossible to sustain such a pace indefinitely.

For now, though, the monthly visits of dragons could still be maintained for a period of time.

Meanwhile, under Li Mu’s initiative, all players who had formed pacts with dragons established a private Dragon Knight group.

This served as a hub for raising their dragon hatchlings, sharing training methods, and coordinating tasks.

Raising a young dragon required an immense amount of effort since some dragons were chatterboxes, constantly demanding attention, while others were battle fanatics eager to spar at every opportunity. Some, however, were insatiable gold gluttons, hoarding every shiny object they could find.

This chapter is updated by freēwēbnovel.com.

As such, in order to strengthen their bonds and accelerate their dragon companion’s growth and battle readiness, the chosen players had essentially become full-time caretakers—tending to their dragon companions’ every need when not completing quests.

Many found this experience enjoyable.

Of course, Optimist was an exception.

For him, it was a bittersweet struggle.

While others were exhausted by the sheer effort of dragon-rearing, his challenge was more on the financial side.

Bluntly speaking, his dragon partner was a bottomless gold sink.

To support his young Golden Dragon, Optimist, this well-known tank had fully embraced the grind.

He roamed the outer maps daily while also offering paid power-leveling services to wealthy public-beta players all for the sake of earning (gemstones) milk money for his little golden dragon, Christine… 𝘳Ἀ₦ổꞖÈⱾ

That being said, his partner Christine was undoubtedly the most majestic and beautiful dragon in the entire server.

Having seen the humanoid forms of Red Dragon Tiberia and Black Dragon Meryer, Optimist eagerly anticipated the day his own golden hatchling would finally take on her human form…

Although, given the time it would take for young Christine to reach the Gold-rank, that day may still remained a distant dream.

Overall, Evé was quite pleased with how players interacted with their dragon companions.

It was evident that the Dragon Knight players now felt a stronger attachment to Elven Kingdom.

Their numbers and strength were steadily growing, and these players would undoubtedly become a formidable force in the upcoming war of faith against the Orcs.

And it wasn’t just them either as the entire player base was advancing at an accelerated pace as well.

In just over two months, more than 80,000 of the game’s 160,000 players had reached level 30, with another 90,000 close behind.

As for the rest, although they are not yet level 30, most of them are above level 20.

At this rate, it wouldn’t be long before the majority of the player base attained mid-rank strength, significantly bolstering their collective combat capabilities.

One of Eve’s main objectives, which was to form an army of 100,000 elves was close to completion far sooner than she expected.

But it made sense, as the current public beta players weren’t stumbling through the game blindly like the early closed beta testers had.

By following the paths paved by their predecessors, these newbies received guidance from veteran players, avoided pitfalls, and thus, leveled up far more efficiently.

Among them, the biggest contributor to this rapid progression was the diligent Seventh Demon Lord, Azazel, whose hard work made it possible for players to continuously farm the Shadow Dungeon on a daily basis.

The monster-infested underground forests near the Hermetic Alliance city-states and the beast-laden northern reaches of the Elven Forest had also become prime leveling areas for mid-to-high-level players seeking to sharpen their skills and amass experience.

As a result, the number of max-level players surged, and the total count of level-capped Iron-rank players nearly doubled, surpassing 3,000.

It grew to the point where Evé even had to authorize another batch of promotional slots, which raised the number of Silver-rankers to 150.

Nowadays, most of these elite players had ventured deep into the Desert of Death, leading the charge in mapping and reconnaissance efforts. Their contributions ensured that progress on the second major objective of the Questline [Map Out the Desert of Death for Invasion] proceeded smoothly.

By now, they had already spent the past two months charting the desert’s northern and eastern regions. Although the area they’ve mapped covered only a quarter of the Desert, it was already sufficient enough for the players to formally launch their initial plan of invasion.

On the explored sections of the Desert map, numerous red dots of various sizes have been marked, representing the medium and large Orc tribes.

As for the smaller tribes?

At this point, these settlements had all but disappeared from the players’ explored regions due to their recent raids.

Although the exact location of the Royal Orc Court had yet to be discovered, intelligence gathered from captured orcs had allowed the players to mark an approximate location on their map.

Over the past two months, high-level players had turned the Desert of Death upside down, making the elves no longer seen as valuable commodities. Instead, they had now become figures of fear—evil demons that exacted vengeance upon those who had wronged them in the past.

Hence, the smaller and weaker tribes lived in constant anxiety, never knowing when the next raid would come. Meanwhile, the stronger ones, though still too powerful for the elves to defeat outright, found themselves constantly harassed by the players relentless ambushes and guerrilla tactics.

It was simply unbearable.

The elves were tireless, sweeping through the desert each day with relentless raids, as if they neither grew weary nor needed rest.

If that were all, the orcs might have managed.

But what truly unsettled them was the growing realization that, despite being on their own homeland and possessing greater overall strength, they were powerless against these relentless invaders.

Simply put, these lean and nimble elves were far too fast for the physically stronger yet slower orcs.

Enraged by the escalating raids, the Royal Orc Court did not remain idle for that matter.

In fact, within just half a month of the attacks beginning, they had mobilized an orc army and stationed troops at larger settlements. Whenever a tribe came under attack, these forces would immediately mobilize, rushing to their aid in an attempt to crush the elven raiders.

Yet, things never went as planned.

The elves were still too fast.

These long-eared nuisances were naturally swift, and to make matters worse, every single one of them also had a beast mount to ride onto as well.

Therefore, in the vast, open expanse of the Desert, they could cover great distances at breakneck speed.

By contrast, the orcs lacked this advantage, as the Desert of Death was largely barren, making large domesticated mounts scarce within this arid wasteland.

Although some fast and powerful beasts lived in the region, they were too difficult to tame and could not be used as mounts.

Furthermore, the Behemoths, which is the only beasts the orcs did managed to tame were far too slow. While desert camels and sand horses were rideable, they were merely ordinary animals, lacking the magical abilities of the elves’ mounts, making them significantly slower in comparison.

Had they been raiding human lands, it wouldn’t have been an issue, as human villages were stationary and seldom strong enough to mount an effective defense. However, facing a highly mobile and skilled force of elves, the orcs now found themselves experiencing the same terror that human settlements had once endured.

Raids were terrifying enough, but to also face a cavalry which can employ acceleration magic made these elves really a pain in the ass to catch.

Even if an attacked tribe sent a request for help and reinforcements rushed to intervene, the elves were always gone by the time they arrived.

Even if a tribe under attack sent a request for help and reinforcements rushed to their aid, the elves were always gone by the time they arrived. By then, all that remained were the smoldering ruins of their settlement, while the elves had already vanished over the horizon, carrying off spoils and captives.

Helpless, the orcs could do nothing but watch as their enemies rode away like thieving ghosts, appearing and disappearing without a trace.

Faced with such an annoying foe, they had no choice but to adopt human tactics, which were to build fortifications around their settlements.

Alas…constructing things was not their race’s biggest forte.

Even with the help of Sauron Group, the fortifications they could build were crude at best.

Nonetheless, they still provided some form of protection, especially since the elves had ceased desecrating their holy statues and incurring divine punishment. Without the use of divine punishment, the elves, even with their magic, found it difficult to breach mid-to-large strongholds when the defensive barrier of the tribe was finally activated through these enshrined statues.

This, at least, gave the orc army enough time to respond.

As a result, the larger tribes began constructing defensive walls while also forcing smaller neighboring tribes to migrate and seek refuge under their protection.

This led to the Desert of Death’s political landscape to once again shift dramatically, all because of the elves, as a tense stalemate began to settle over the region.

For the orcs, however, this outcome was already a significant defeat, as their original plan had been to use this time to amass forces for an invasion of the Elven Forest.

Yet, the elves’ relentless raids had completely disrupted their schedule.

Worse still, these long-eared marauders were directly threatening their trade with the Sauron Group, plundering vast amounts of their acquired resources. This not only threw their troop mobilization into disarray but also severely depleted their strategic supplies.

Winter had already arrived, and the deadline for their planned invasion had long since passed.

Yet, despite their best efforts, the orc forces remained largely unprepared.

In that sense, even though the current standoff suggested a temporary equilibrium, the balance of power was leaning more toward the players’ side.

But even this state of affairs did not last long…

After two months of small skirmishes, the major guilds finally decided it was now time to make a real move.

→⟐←

Desert of Death, the Royal Orc Court

Inside the grand majestic tent, a dozen ornately dressed orcs sat on either side of a long chamber, their gazes fixed on the center of the room.

Kneeling in the middle, covered in wounds, was another orc—one who had clearly suffered much.

The kneeling orc’s face was filled with confusion and terror, as if he had yet to recover from a great shock.

Around him, the high-ranking orcs whispered amongst themselves, their gazes locked onto the trembling figure.

Meanwhile, atop the grand throne sat a towering orc clad in a heavy beast-hide cloak…

It was the new king of the orcs—Bazaan, the Oracle King.

Unlike his predecessors, Bazaan had not claimed the throne through conquest or inheritance. Instead, he was chosen directly by divine decree, an oracle bestowed by their Divine Father himself and enacted by the Church of the Hunt.

To his right, seated upon a throne adorned with white bone decorations, was an orc draped in ceremonial robes—

The newly appointed High Shaman.

To his left, on a much simpler chair, sat a human—

An emissary from the Sauron Merchant Group.

Both the Oracle King and the High Shaman regarded the kneeling orc with heavy expressions.

Even the Sauron emissary furrowed his brows.

“You said what?” Bazaan’s voice rang with disbelief. “Your tribe… was overrun by those accursed elves?”

His brows furrowed deeper as he continued, “But your tribe had five thousand warriors! Your settlement even had fortifications! A force of that size should have been more than capable of holding off those elves. They only ever raid in groups of a few hundred at most!”

His words shattered the kneeling orc’s composure entirely.

“My king… n-no! It wasn’t just a few hundred! This time, there were thousands—no, at least two thousand of them! And they were terrifyingly strong! So many were Silver-rank experts! And there were over a dozen dragons accompanying them!”

“Thousands? Many Silver-rank experts? Over a dozen dragons?”

Bazaan’s expression darkened.

With that level of strength…

Indeed, no mere medium-sized tribe could possibly withstand such a force…

Had the elves grown so powerful without them even noticing?

However…

“If I recall correctly, the Sandstorm Tribe, which is ranked third among the royal court’s factions, is near your settlement. Even if you were attacked, their reinforcements should have arrived swiftly to aid you,” Bazaan said coldly.

Then, his gaze sharpened as he turned to one of the seated orcs.

“You, from the Sandstorm Tribe…You owe me an explanation.”

The orc in question was the emissary from the Sandstorm Tribe.

The Sandstorm Tribe boasted powerful warriors, including Gold-rank experts.

Under normal circumstances, their reinforcements should have been enough to repel any elven force, no matter how strong if they were properly deployed.

Yet, at Bazaan’s words, the emissary’s face grew tense.

“My king… it wasn’t that we refused to aid them,” he said grimly. “By the time we arrived… their tribe was already annihilated.”

Silence fell over the court.

It was already annihilated?

Expressions of shock and disbelief spread across the faces of every orc present.

“I-Impossible!” one of Sauron’s mages interjected.

“With Sauron’s sorcerers supporting them, and the defensive barrier from the Winter God’s holy statue, their walls should have been impenetrable! There’s no way those elves could have broken through in such a short time!”

“Then what happened?” Bazaan demanded, turning his piercing gaze back to the kneeling orc.

The orc shuddered.

His eyes flickered toward the Sauron emissary, hesitation flashing across his face.

Bazaan narrowed his eyes.

His gaze swept between the Sauron representative and the kneeling orc before speaking, “The Sauron Merchant Group is our ally. Speak freely.”

Yet, even with Bazaan’s reassurance, the kneeling orc still hesitated.

Only when the Oracle King’s patience was wearing dangerously thin and his gaze growing ever colder did the orc finally stammer out an answer:

“I-it was… divine retribution! A god’s punishment! A divine scourge destroyed our walls!”

Divine retribution?!

A collective shudder ran through the gathered orcs.

For a moment, they recalled the fear that had gripped them months ago when those pesky elves used their own God’s divine punishment to ravaged their ranks.

But…

“That’s impossible!” the High Shaman immediately denied.

“The elves can no longer invoke our Divine Father’s wrath against us!”

Yet, the kneeling orc shook his head.

“No… it wasn’t our Divine Father’s punishment…”

Slowly, his gaze lifted, locking onto the Sauron emissary, his eyes burning with barely restrained fury.

“It was the divine retribution of the Lord of Darkness and Shadows!”

The tent fell into stunned silence.

One by one, the orcs turned their eyes toward the Sauron emissary which made him stiffened.

“…N-No…This can’t be! That’s impossible!”

His eyes widened in shock as the emissary instinctively denied it.

— 505 —

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