The Stonehearted Knight-Chapter 464: A broken vine

The Divine Servants / 18:15 SS (Since Start)

"Where the heck is everyone?"

Hestia wandered the branch, careful to hide her presence in the bushes and amidst tiny branches at the side. The flags were with her. If she was captured or killed all their struggles so far would be for naught.

To reduce risks, they had even split from the Trident siblings.

A sense of unease filled her. They were close to the top and the scuffles against others had increased. She met Althea’s team but decided against a battle, which Althea had respected.

Her pockets and pouches filled to the brim, she played with the idea of retreat. Why go to the thirteenth branch if she didn’t wish to proceed any further in this competition.

She earned her riches, learned a great deal about Wrixia, and almost certainly qualified herself to be taught the ways of Dryads, which would push her abilities beyond what she would achieve on her own.

The sound of the nature element slowing down for a second, alerted her. Unlike others, she held but one element. Through the years her perception improved to a point she could detect the tiniest of changes within its flow.

She channeled the Blessing on the back of her hand, drawing the element and power contained within as fast as possible. A stream of green specks shot out and wrapped around her.

Her surroundings shifted at great speed too but the attacker failed to reach her before her element had covered her. It didn’t stop her attacker from sending a blast of air at her, sending her flying.

She bounced off the branch, without injuries, though shaken. Her mind spun, disrupting its ability to understand her sight.

"You’re very sensitive to nature itself."

She turned toward the voice of her attacker. The blurry figure became clearer as her opponent stepped closer. As suspected, Serenade stood there, appreciating her with her gaze.

Hestia cursed under her breath. She knew her journey ended here. Even one on one, she didn’t dare to tangle with the younger woman in front of her.

It wasn’t about strength or ability. Not solely, at least. She reckoned she could draw even with Serenade. The issue was her eerie husband and crazy sister wife.

"I am all alone, in case you are worried." Serenade guessed her worries, which wasn’t hard given that Hestia kept fidgeting about and turning toward each leaf rustling in the wind or each twig breaking beneath their steps.

"You could always escape later. I mean, you would sense my husband and sister come near based on the nature element, couldn’t you?" Serenade spoke, her voice soothing and convincing.

Hestia panicked.

’She is using her abilities, trying to stall for time.’

Hestia lacked in power, compared to every other surviving participant, or so she believed. Heck, she even rated the petite clerics around Althea higher than her in this competition.

But she had one thing none of the others had. Her age, which in her case wasn’t just a number. It represented her wisdom. From her very baby years she fought and crawled, many times literally, to reach where she stood now.

Serenade influenced her mind. Her words weakened her resistance, while igniting her desire to prove herself.

"Come on. Just one fight. You and me. To prove to the world ... and to yourself that you deserve to be here," Serenade sang, tugging at strings in her heart. Sore strings she often hid behind her laugh.

Her will to escape faded as her will to prove herself roared.

Serenade stood close. She felt her warm breath against her neck, fueling her blood to stomp on the young woman’s radiant smile.

The green cloak of the nature element wrapped around her flickered.

"Yes, let’s fight. No need to hide. You are the vine witch. Stop selling yourself short. Soar into the sky. You are worth it."

Hestia sensed the nature element retracting. Her cloak helped her withstand any element used against her at the cost of her mobility and strength.

Her blood burnt, and images of her triumph accompanied with praise and cheers from around filled her head, almost drawing her own voice, whispering ... urging her. Almost.

Gathering all her will, she pushed the images of glory and acknowledgement back. Barely enough to meet Serenade’s gaze. The twitch of her opponent’s eyebrow, subtle as it may have been, didn’t escape her.

"I ... want," she started to whisper, her breath heavier than her armor, causing Serenade to lean in, "to ... fight."

"Excellent," Serenade cheered, flashing a bright row of beautiful teeth. "That’s what I am talking about. You are the vine witch–"

Hestia didn’t hear the rest. Her fading nature element exploded below her feet, throwing her off the side.

"...BITCH!"

As the wind rushed against her, clearing her mind, she heard a thunderous screech hit her in the back. It pushed her faster down. Still, Hestia grinned. The air pressing against her face, while the ground blurred as it came closer, didn’t dampen her mood. She had escaped. With all the flags and treasures. Whatever happened next, she had made it. A win, as far as she was convinced.

Her Blessing flashed once more. Thick vines pierced through her skin and wrapped around her, huddling her. Hopefully, enough to survive.

Before the pain of thousands of small holes, out of which the vines grew, on her body could hit her, she hit the ground, knocking her out.

...

Hestia screamed in pain the moment she awoke. She lay in the middle of broken vines, half in the sea. Some of the broken pieces of the vines had gotten stuck in the sub roots around her, saving her from being taken away by the waves.

She should be grateful but feeling the salty water splash at her body riddled with holes and gaping wounds, she found it hard to breathe and survive the biting pain to have positive thoughts.

It took every ounce of battered will power and broken mind to focus on a single vine, still responding to her plea, to drag her out of the water. She lay on the massive root, allowing the salty air to dry her.

She grunted, and groaned with each cold breeze against her skin till she lost her voice. The flags she had won and treasures she gathered clung tight to her. She hoped they proved to be worth more than her confidence and worthiness.